When I was a little girl, mom, dad, Lila and I went to visit a distant relative of dad's, John and "Jennie" Stout Reneau, of Wakita. The evening we visited, the Reneau's had already eaten and so had we, but I spied a big pot of noodles on the kitchen stove. That was my favorite dish. Aunt Jennie noticed me staring at the pot and asked if I wanted a dish of noodles. Of course, I did!

Over mom's objections that we had eaten, she dipped her ladle deep down into the pot and came up with a chicken's foot dangling off the side. The foot had been skinned, de-clawed, and I am sure cleaned well enough for cooking. It was hard for me to keep the look of shock off my face. I stammered a bit and told her that I had decided I did not want any noodles anymore. I fooled her none, as she chuckled and said something about the foot changing my mind. My mother had a few words with me when we were in private.

Not too long after I married Wayne in the late 40's I was about to eat some "scrambled eggs" at his parent's home. I wondered why Mom Guffy scrambled eggs for lunch. I was just about to spoon some onto my plate when Dad Guffy said. "Lois, you are going to get smarter eating those." It dawned on me that they had just butchered and I was about to partake of calf brains. Other than liver, I will not eat most organ meat, tongue, headcheese, tripe or any of the more unusual parts of an animal.

When I was small, Gordon and his mother Maggie Smith, our neighbors, had butchered a goat and invited our family over for a goat roast. I was hesitant at first, but decided I would try it. That night my asthma kicked in gear and I started wheezing so badly I could barely catch my breath. Mama tried to pass it off that I was getting my reaction from playing with the baby goats until we ate goat meat there again. From then on I declined eating any goat meat.

In the mid 1950’s, my sister Lila and husband Don got goat meat from his parents. Lila invited me to stay for goat burgers. I told her my history of my reactions to goat’s meat, so she said she would make me a hamburger. I ate my hamburger while they ate the goat hamburger. We sat down to visit and after a while I excused myself by telling them I needed to go home and lay down as I could barely catch my breath. Only then, did Lila tell me she did not accept my story and had mixed goat meat together with the hamburger. I was upset with her, but soon forgave her as my story did not sound unreasonable.