Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: DIARY (05/16/19)
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TITLE: A Mooving Moment | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
05/20/19 -
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She marched me right back to the two-room schoolhouse and into my grade four classroom. Miss Simpson was gone but she had spelled it out on the top right corner of the chalk board. “Write every day in your dairy. Read one entry on Fridays. Make it not too personal.”
“See,” I said. “She wants us to go to Eddleson’s Dairy and write something.”
Miss Simpson had to drive from two towns over so she came on time and left right after the last bell. Mom worked as a nurse from 7 until 3:30 so she was never free to question Miss Simpson on school days. “That’s sure what it says,” she admitted. “I’m sure she meant diary. Maybe she’s dyslexic.”
I didn’t know what that meant then but I was determined to make my favorite teacher happy. So, by 3:15 I faithfully entered Eddleson’s Dairy and tried to think of something to write.
Every time I entered was an adventure. The first day Mr. Eddleson leaned on the counter by the Vanilla, Chocolate and Neopolitan ice-creams. “Well if it isn’t Cindy Taylor,” he said. “Did your momma send you on an errand?”
“Nope,” I said. “My teacher did.”
“Okay, what would you like today?”
“I’d like to write something,” I said.
“What would you like to write about?”
“What do you write about in a dairy that’s not too personal?”
“Well you could write about how to make ice-cream.”
“What would I say?”
Mr. Eddleson patiently told me how he made ice-cream. That is, between all the customers he served. He even checked my spelling to make sure I got all the words right. When I stood up in class that Friday and read my entry I was very clear.
“I went to the dairy and Mr. Eddleson taught me how to make vanilla ice-cream. He likes to sing hymns while the mixer is going because he thinks God blesses what he makes. First you stir sugar, cream and milk into a huge pot over low heat until the sugar disappears. Pour the cream mixture into a large measuring cup. Add vanilla extract and put in the big freezer overnight. Get up early and pour it into an ice-cream maker and mix it for 25 minutes. Put it in the freezer again until the customers come.”
My mom helped me practice so I sounded smart. Everyone clapped and Mr. Eddleson got more business.
Every day I faithfully went to Eddleson’s Dairy. I got to try new flavors and learned about the other things Mr. Eddleson made. The second Friday I read my dairy entry.
“I went to the dairy and Mr. Eddleson taught me how to make yogurt. First, you sterilize everything in boiling water. This is a good time to memorize verses while you wait. Pour milk into a saucepan. Heat the milk until you see the steam rise. Simmer for five minutes. Repeat your verses to make sure you know them. Use a thermometer and cool the milk until 110F by putting it into a sink of cool water. If you don’t have a thermometer stick your finger in the milk off and on until you can count to twenty without taking it out. Pour the mix into big jars. The rest is pretty complicated but cool it overnight and get ready to share it in the morning.”
By the sixth Friday, after telling everyone about pasteurizing milk, decorating ice-cream cakes, and visiting the cows that produced the milk, I noticed the clapping wasn’t so great anymore.
Miss Simpson took my speech paper and then asked after class. “Cindy, it looks like you’ve developed a good friendship with Mr. Eddleson. Is there anything else you can write about beside dairy products?”
After school, I walked through the Dairy door, sat myself down and thought and thought. What else could you write about in a dairy?
That’s when I wrote my first devotionals. I wrote about memorizing verses and singing hymns while you worked. I wrote about the beauty of how God let’s people work with nature to make good things. I wrote about happiness, friendship, neighbourliness, hospitality and what it’s like to get older. Of course, I used simpler words in those days.
The habit continues. Only now I know that I write all these thoughts in a diary which gets translated into life.
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