LOOSE GRAVEL

                "Cream cheese, Hersch," from front porch, Toni Jo hollered, "two eight ounce tubs please, don't forget."

                "I am a cream cheese man on a mission!" Hersch shouted back.  The motivation of fresh baked pear cake topped with cream cheese icing burned his brain.  With saliva glands in high gear, the Hersch jumped into wild Mustang.  He spun out in the loose gravel of driveway, spewed volley of rock on a mission of its own.  And so it was that rear window and right tail light of Toni Jo's pride and joy four wheel drive pickup truck suffered Hersch's loose gravel exuberance.

                As Hersch burned rubber in all four gears down near town country road, a tad overly taut Toni Jo shuck the tawny locks of her head, stoically said, "That is the second time this month.  I just got my truck out of the body shop.  The Hersch just might not get' any pear cake." Tony Jo smiled, added, "It's a tuff job, but somebody has gotta love that pudgy receding hair line little geek."

                Toni Jo, being a little bit of country n-all, fit right in that west Texas Alpine town.  But her husband, Herschel B. Ward, well Toni Jo often thought, yet never out loud said, "The only thing keeping my Hersch from being a ward of the state is the Lord blessed him with me.  How can a man be a PhD of Philosophy at the university and a PhD of knuckle headedness at the same time?  Must be the thin air of Alpine."

                 So Tony Jo did, what Toni Jo did most Saturdays.  She returned to kitchen kingdom.  For Toni Jo baked, not just for her and her Herschel, but baked for family and friends, baked for the ill and the home bound, baked for Sunday morning church and just about any worthy charitable function. Indeed, the whole town of Alpine appreciated her God given culinary gift and humble servant heart. Not uncommon were the most every day hugs of previous baked goods recipients in the chance meetings of side walk or food market aisle or Toni Jo's Judo Dojo downtown.

                "Let's see," Toni Jo mulled pear cake recipe, "time to get started.  Combine a little less than 2 cups of sugar, 2 sticks of this good old Alpine Dairy melted butter, and half cup vegetable oil." She gave it a stir.  "Now add 3 eggs.  Stir it a bit.  Stir it a bit more.  Beat the devil out of it.  This would be so much easier had Hersch not knocked my mixer off kitchen counter yesterday."  Yet Toni Jo smiled at the sound of his name.

                Meanwhile, Herschel had reached the end of the road stop sign, just as an Alpine Dairy 18 wheeler topped the hill of what locals called Last Breath Highway.  So there the Hersch waited what could possibly be better said than un-patiently agitated, where end of the road loose gravel met intersection with Last Breath Highway.

                "Now, combine in a separate bowl 3 cups of flour, about one and a half tsp baking soda, with half tsp each of cinnamon, nutmeg and allspice."  Toni Jo stirred it together, sighed, "Now all I gotta do is alternately stir this mixture into the first with my pre-grated 3 cups of pears.  Next we stir in 1 cup grated coconut and 1 cup chopped pecans."

                "That load of moo-moo juice is slower than the cold chocolate syrup to pour in it.  I have plenty of time to beat it." And Herschel would have had plenty of that afore mentioned time had not the down hill momentum of Last Breath Highway propelled moo-moo-milk 18 wheeler ever faster; and had not the rear tires of wild Mustang went a spinning in the end of the road loose gravel.  About that somewhat less than plenty of time, Herschel decided to put his PhD of Philosophy to good use. He screamed, "Crap!  I'm gonna die!"

                "Now, all I gotta do is coax this delicious lumpy goo from mixing bowl into two floured 9 x 5 loaf pans." Enraptured in happy baker glow, Toni Jo began to flow, "Thank you, Father above..." A faint ripple of danger disturbed her flow of glow, her praise of song, made her cock head a tad.  But then, oh then, she glowed with adore, opened lips and sang the more, "Thank you Father above, in Jesus name..."

                As milk truck bumper near kissed Mustang butt, the Stang's rear tires suddenly caught hold, smoked and set pavement aflame.  And as Herschel felt the the G-force astronauts feel at blastoff, he philosophized, "Squashed back in padded seat is much better than stink bug squished on 18 wheeler windshield."

                "Time to slide these babies in the oven," Toni Jo slid in one pear cake laden loaf pan, rose the other to nose, breathed in sweet spicy aroma from one end of pan to the other. "Now that is pear cake fixin' to happen.  Nutmeg, cinnamon, coconut, allspice and pear, hmm-hmm, no one will miss one little lick," and she did.

                As the milk truck shrank in rear view mirror, and Herschel sped down Last Breath Highway, a certain cocky philosophy re-grew. "Death can't catch the Hersch!  No death for me!" But then again little did the Hersch know... the real loose gravel lay just ahead, right past Holy Smoke BBQ in the parking lot of the local Last Chance Mart.

                "One hour or so at 350 degrees ought to do it," Toni Joe closed oven door, "and the way Herschel farts around it'll be at least that long before the cream cheese arrives for the icing.  Lord please help him not to be so easily distracted.  Help my Hersch to find You as central focus."

                A tad more than too fast lead foot propelled the Stang into freshly graveled Last Chance Mart parking lot.  Hershel stomped the brakes.  The Stang slid sideways, then backwards, buried itself up to the axle in loose gravel. "Man on a cream cheese mission!" Herschel squealed, not thinking even once how close he had come to wrecking the van full of kids and mom trying to exit parking lot.  He tried to open car door, but deep loose gravel held it fast.  He tried to pull forward, but rear wheels only spun, dug the Stang in deeper.  Herschel climbed out car window.  Fell head first into loose gravel.

                Toni Jo settled back into easy chair.  Wafting aroma tickled her nose. "Pear cake heaven is just a breath away," she sang.  In mid aroma sniff, the cell phone rang.

                "I'm stuck," Hersch let fling.

                "Stuck as in you do not know what you went to the store for?" Toni Jo truly wondered.

                "Stuck in loose gravel at the Last Chance," Herschel mumbled.

                "You are mumbling.  Herschel are you picking your nose?  You always pick your nose when you are nervous."

                "No," Herschel mumbled, was near up to second digit deep.

                "Get that finger out of there!  People are going to see you," Toni Jo commanded.

                Yes Maam," Herschel obeyed.

                "I will be there in a minute, sweetie," Toni Jo comforted, hung up, did some off phone mumbling of her own. "I am supposed to be his wife, not his momma.  But I should pray, not murmur, not grumble, but ask for forgiveness and pray for my husband." Toni Jo sat still.  And she did.

                "Looks like you might need some help there, Herschel," offered a bewhiskered Big Mike.

                "Yeah, if they had packed the gravel down properly, I would not be' stuck," Herschel complained.

                "Well maybe," Big Mike raised right eyebrow, "but what do you say we get you pulled out. I'll hook up a chain to my truck.  When you get back in the car, put it in neutral and let me ease you out."

                "Trust in the Lord," Toni Jo thought. "I will be back before the pear cake is done."

                Chain in place, Big Mike eased out the slack, began to pull the Stang and the Hersch out of loose gravel.  And no sooner than, "No problem," passed Big Mike lips, and all seemed so well; that well morphed into well of hell.      

                Whether it was loose concentration, or easy distraction, or impatient agitation, or most likely chronic humanistic philosophy dodo bird flu; the Hersch dropped Stang tranny in gear and hit the gas.  The Stang fishtailed and slid.  Spinning tires spewed loose gravel thru front window of Last Chance Mart, and into the tail lights and rear back glass of near every hapless vehicle parked in the lot.

                Meanwhile, on the way down Last Breath Highway, Toni Jo prayed, "Lord, knowing my Herschel like I do, please don't let things get out of hand before I get there."

                In a really mean meanwhile, the Stang crashed into the rear of Big Mike's brand new pickup.  Twas then Big Mike swung open truck door.  Sparks from the flint neath his size 18 boots alit, as loose gravel they hit.  And with every boot stomp more sparks flew, as the madman's brow grew ill brew.  With one mighty paw Big Mike from car the Hersch he withdrew.

                Toni Jo arrived to see Last Chance Mart mob in the mood for a lynching party.  Not so nice things were a bein' said bout her Hersch.  And Big Mike, well Big Mike held fast the left shoulder of Herschel, while aiming massive fist at bulls eye nose.

                Toni Jo lept out truck just in time to hear Herschel once again put his humanistic philosophy to no good use, "Oh crap!  I'm gonna die!" He screamed. winced, closed his eyes.

                Toni Jo was about to Toni Jo Dojo Judo the Big Mike, when...

                Big Mike gave relenting, "Grrr," and his face with light began to stir. "Oh Lord," Big Mike's fist transformed to massive slap readed hand, "just one little smack?" Big Mike pled.  But then he said, "Herschel, if all you got is a PhD in humanism, then oh crap, you are gonna to die."

                Herschel opened one eye.

                Big Mike gave Herschel one big bear hug, whispered in his ear, "You need Jesus."

                Like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide open, Herschel repeated the name, "Jesus," and he 'not at all' flippantly repented, "No more, no more loose gravel for me."

                Toni Jo dojo judo-ed her way right into that hug, sighed, "From fool... to cool."

                And it came to pass, cream cheese icing adorned pear cake heaven.  The Last Chance Mart had donated that cream cheese and ice cream too for 'evening celebration'; where partied: store manage, employees and patrons, and one local pastor by the name of Big Mike... For they and Toni Jo and the Hersch had found the way home...

                Too oft ism morphs idol... worship not man... but the Creator of him...

                If your wheels of life are a-spin in loose gravel... you need Jesus... the only path to God the Father... John 14:6; John 3:16

                To better understand:
                                             The Parable of the Wedding Banquet - Matthew 22:1-14
                                              Isaiah 61:10
                                              Revelation 19:7-9
                                              And many awesome more...

                Oh, and Herschel in Hebrew means deer... Psalm 42:1-2

               Oh, and Fresh Pear Cake Recipe by beloved neighbor: Minnie Powell...