I rode up to this place, seeing it as the ruby of my day. I knocked on the door getting no answer, walked down the side and noticed the electric meter was running, surely someone was near. I propped myself on the bit of porch still standing hoping my rear wasn't gonna go south through it. About 17 minutes of 'chillin' ', I see a bicycle approaching. The older gentleman parked his bike and said, "Well mercy me, I got 'compny' ! You here to see me?" LowRider, "Yes, sir, if you'll welcome me."

To make a long conversation brief, I learned people called him Scratch, he said he was just always scratchin' sometin' and the name jist got glued to him. Scratch had been down the road to get onions and garlic, cause he can't hardly eat without 'em. It was time for him to have his 'fixen's' and I offered to help. He was going to have a simple meal of cabbage and onions, so I asked permission to explore the kitchen. With a bit of diggin' and request of Scratch, we both had 'fixen's' of cabbage with garlic and butter, homemade spiced sausage, fried potatoes with onion, fresh tomatoes, and 'Johnny Cake', (cornbread fried like pancakes). As we were eating, Scratch asked, "You was grown in the south, baby girl?" I nodded, he smiled and said, "Really happy ya made it up my way, good eatin', now I know 'fur sur', God really is, ta'day he shared one of his angels." Scratch is 92 years old and we still cook together every couple of months.