The First Few Servings of Hash by LouElla Jones Bronson

Hash
By Lou Ella J. Bronson

(Note from Laura Lyman Debenham: I found another page of columns which I believe were miss labeled. One has a question mark and another has no date at all. I think whoever dated these columns – very likely my mother, as the hand writing looks like hers – put ’38 when she meant ’36. I could be wrong. I have been before. I will be again. However, when reading the content of the columns it makes sense to presume that they were at the beginning of Grandma’s writing for this paper which would coinside with 1936 rather than 1938.)

March 27, 1936 (I assume this was one of Grandma's first pieces for the paper, written before she was hired to write the weekly column)

Water is so plentiful in the roads at certain points at Moulton that a flock of ducks has been making regular visits here the past week or two. So well do the ducks seem to enjoy the novelty of swimming in the road that passing motorists are almost upon them before they rise and fly away.
Last week a deer was seen near the road down the Birch creek canyon and a few days later a coyote was surprised standing in the middle of the road in the same locality. As the high rock wall of the canyon was on one side and the creek bed on the other side of the road, Mr. Coyote showed almost human intelligence by dodging back and forth in front of the car till he almost got run down by the auto – before he disappeared in the thick growth of brush along the roadside.
On three consecutive evening recently two rainbows have formed complete arches across the eastern sky. Could anything more beautiful than those gorgeous colors be imagined?

Sometime between March 3, 1936 and October 9, 1938 (6)

Moulton Brevities
Friends of Mr. and Mrs. Albert Herbold were pleased to hear of the arrival of a seven and a half pound daughter at the home of our former teacher in Decio.
County Superintendent Florence Haight visited the Moulton school Tuesday. She recommended some improvements which are badly needed in the school building.
Charles Augestine, a former resident and a notable bachelor, has been visiting here recently.
Many of our people have left for the potato and beet harvest on the flat.
October 9, 1938 (6)
One day being in a restaurant and thinking something unusual would be a delightful change, I ordered Hungarian goulash. To my surprise it turned out to be just plain American hash and a rather inferior hash at that. The incident taught me that things do not change because of a fancy name and that I should know enough to order what I really want. Hence the name of this column, which is to consist of items on various subjects, will be Hash without any fancy additions.
How many people know that the old immigrant road crosses the Junction valley from the Immigrant canyon on the east to the Granite pass on the Southwest? This old road is still plainly visible and its route proves that those old timers knew at least one axiom of geometry: that a straight line is the shortest distance between two points. A deep indentation in the present road is the only sign left showing where the old road crosses the new. A suitable marker at this spot might read: this bump is to jog your memory concerning the hardships your pioneer ancestors endured that you might ride in luxurious cars on these good (?) roads.
Speaking of roads one of our mail carriers says the latest thing in road engineering can be found just south of Oakley, where one has a choice of four different roads on a certain hill. He says he has tried all four and not one of them has anything that tempts him to take it again.
By the way, I should think the road south of Oakley would be a good place for our county officials to conduct at least a part of their campaign for election or re-election of office this fall.

October 16, 1936 (8)

Mountains with their rugged strength and beauty always give me a feeling of exaltation combined with a sense of security. The skyline of our little valley at night is one of the most beautiful scenes imaginable. The mountains seem to draw near and stand like sentinels till day returns.
The poet who said, “the meadow lark now croons a sadder lay.” Must have heard the lovely singers in the autumn. Though their songs are just as sweet, the sadness comes from knowing that the charming melodies will not be heard again until the birds return to herald the arrival of spring.
Airplanes which fly over our heads during the spring, summer and autumn have created a pleasant diversion. They have a strange attraction for me, and even the skeptic who thinks flying would be all right if he could keep one foot on the ground, looks as if he could be persuaded to take a ride, without too much coaxing.
Plowing time! Don’t’ you must love to see a freshly plowed field? It seems symbolic to me: all the useless weeds recovered, and the farmer plants only the crop he wants to grow. If he can keep those weeds from growing his field is beautiful and much more valuable.

October ? (likely 23), 1936 (8)
My sympathy is with some of the weary travelers who going over these terrible roads lose their way and have to return about 8 or 10 miles to the nearest ranch to inquire the way; only to find that when they finally do get on the right road it’s worse than the wrong one.
It has been almost impossible lately to pick up a paper or listen to the radio without hearing the name of tetown of Ipswich in England. Hearing it so much I caught myself humming the chorus of a song which was on one of those old cylindrical phonograph records years ago. It would probably be popular with some of the hundreds of reporters who were frantically trying to get the Simpson case to their papers over the phones.

It goes like this:
“Which switch is the switch Miss for Ipswich?
It’s the Ipswich switch which I desire.
Which switch switches Ipswich with this switch?
You’ve switched my switch on the wrong wire,
You’ve switched me on Northwick not Ipswich.
And now, to prevent further hitch,
If you’ll tell me which swithch is Northwich and which switch is Ipswich
Then I’ll know which switch is which.