The Lucky Spoon
I grew up in the ’60s and ’70s on a farm near Kenansville. During that era, most wives were stay-at‑home moms and my momma was no exception. I remember her enormous passion for feeding and taking care of us. My daddy was a workhorse. He took pride in doing a job right and providing for his family. He also was a bit of a jokester.
I remember many nights sitting at the table having supper with my sister, two brothers and of course Mom and Dad. There were conversations of farm situations, garden topics and school stuff from us kids.
One night as we were eating supper, I noticed my spoon was different from everyone else’s. I told Momma, “I don’t want it because it’s different!”
Daddy took one look at it and exclaimed, “ David, you got the lucky spoon!” He really poured it on thick. After that, everybody wanted the lucky spoon.
Quite a few years later, I realized he made that up so we wouldn’t NOT want the spoon. If there is such a thing as “luck,” my good luck was having the parents that I had. Thank God for good parents and spoons of all kinds!
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