Bidding for Frog's Legs

Dear Nett,

It was raining--Not just a little bit of rain, but the kind of rain that keeps on coming, not in gallons, but in mists and light drops, in quick pours that demand scurries to cover and allow puddles to assert themselves, in short blows and dollops on shoulders and cheeks that make us shiver.

This is the kind of day for frogs and I was in a froggy mood having just watched an episode of Untamed and Uncut where one frog, clenched in the extended jaw of a garter was being slowly gulleted by the snake when another frog, apparently of heroic intent, pounced on the now monstrous double head, rescuing his amphibious friend. It is not easy being green. But today, with no snakes in sight, frogs were happy in Leiper's Creek valley.

And the rest of us were kicking back too, for this was the day of the annual fish fry at Bethel Community Center. Proceeds for the volunteer fire department seemed a secondary issue on a day like today. No fires beyond the coals under the giant fryer could ignite on this drizzly day. As you well know, spirits in Bethel Community just don't get dampened by a rainy forecast and apart from the specially constructed clear plastic walls being raised by the roadies of the Homer Dever Band, all went as planned.

The band had reason to be concerned about the dampness, for the instruments of pickin' can swell. Plus it had been whispered that a celebrity of "some notoriety" might make a guest appearance. You know all about such appearances of course, since your establishment casually caters to the likes of Judds, Urbans, and Williams.

So while we grinned and the other band, Highland Rim, picked, Homer Dever t-shirted men ceremoniously unfolded tarps and snagged grommits onto previously prepared hooks. The ladder was somewhat unstable. We used to call that "rickety" when I lived in central Pennsylvania. Here, we just say, "Dat dere got a wobble to it, don't it." Rather than finding a different step stool, a sturdy, four by four gentleman stood alongside the Dever boys. They steadied themselves with a hand on his balding head whenever the ladder tottered.Meanwhile, children flowed in and out of the pavilion, oblivious to all but the most intransigent expressions of meteorologic discourse. Oh, Nett. Remember the days when play was all and getting wet was just one of many dressings for a day, presenting not obstacles but adventures and mysteries. Faces upturned we investigated drops in tactile pleasure, gauging possibilities. This afternoon, little girls of Santa Fe were standing on picnic benches conscious of nothing but glory, I think, with their faces glowing after a quick dash through a sloshy set of indentations dug, throw by throw, on drier days by gnarly men with horse shoes.

I saw that Nett's Country Store and Deli participated in the other option of the affair, the silent auction. Now, a regular auction exerts no power over me. I can sit as stone while a rackety-rack auctioneer chants,

"l dollar bid, now 2,
now 2, will ya give me 2?
2 dollar bid, now 3,
now 3, will ya give me 3?
3 dollar bid, now 4,
now 4, will ya give me 4?"

Impassively, I think, "No dollar for you!" But a table silently sitting there offering an array of wares from cookie jars to country hams? Now that has me at hello. So my daughter and I walked about, low balling bids on necessities such as packs of Ivermectin wormer for my horses, 50 lbs. of high quality dog food, hand crocheted afgans, and a weed whacker with a 32 cc engine that can swing a 2.75 mm line, when I came upon your offerings. Perfect, I thought, and it's all for the benefit of the fire department. Dinner for two? Sunday buffet for the family? Supper on karaoke night? Which should I choose? On which line should I stake my claim, a solid bid that wouldn't be challenged by locals? Then, tucked behind the offering for a pedicure I saw the auction I would fight for. This is the page I would come back to over and again while listening to bands and munching on fried fish. This was the auction offering for which I would contend.

Nett's Country Store and Deli
Dinner for One
Friday Night Only
Frog's Legs
(Starting bid: $5.00)

See you very soon.

BRD

Bethel Community Club--An Open Letter to Non-Members

Note: Welcome to Guest Writer, CADH8! She knows of my continuing interest in the doings of people of central Tennessee and has graciously sent this open letter to non-members. The open roads running south along Leiper's Creek epitomize charm. But it's the people who live there that make this community a wonderful place to live or visit. They are gracious, friendly, and never lacking in kind hospitality.

Thanks for your letter CADH8!


To all non-club members:

cc: Bethel Community Club members

Dear folks,

I am writing this letter to extend an invitation of membership to our club, the Bethel Community Club. We meet on the first Monday of every month, right here in historic Bethel, TN.

Bethel is a small corner of the world, just south of Leiper's Fork, although please don't think we are a simple extension of that burgh. (Make such an association in the presence of Garfield, or worse, his wife Doris, and you will receive a scolding the likes of which you have never experienced.) No, we are a place in our own right. Newly posted signs mark both edges of this unincorporated town, thanks to Reece, who had some connections that helped to provide this distinction.

Settled in the early 19th century, or perhaps before, there has only been electricity, running water, and indoor plumbing in many local homes for perhaps the past 50 years. Many a club member knows what it means to kill his own food and then chop the wood to cook it with while his wife hauls the water to cook it in. But we are moving into the 20th century, although we understand that everyone else has now moved on into the 21st. No matter, we won’t let ourselves be rushed.

We are a right vibrant club, although the average age of members is probably around 70. It is not required that you live in Bethel to be a member, but it is suggested, for where else would you rather live after all? The only membership requirements are that you pay your dues and do your part, which means helping with the annual Fish fry and Homecoming events.

Inflation reaches all areas, sadly, and dues have doubled in the past year! We had to raise our fee from $5 per family per year to a full $10. And on top of that, even members must pay to rent the building now...a steep $25 per day. However, it is $50 for non-members, so you can see the benefits of joining.

Founded in the 80s, (that’s 1980’s) many of the original members still direct this group and attend every function. Many former members are not members of this world any longer, for if they were, we know they would still be present club meetings and bringing covered dishes to the functions. As stated above, the main functions of the club are holding an annual fish fry and an annual homecoming. Club members cook lots of pies and other food items in preparation. There is often something raffled off (although some in the community refuse to participate as such activities smack of gambling) for the sake of building club coffers. At homecoming there is a train ride and horse shoe competition. All proceeds go to the club that in turn tries to help the community as needs arise.



You could not ask for a better group of people than our members. And you don’t have to do much for them to win their hearts forever--just be a willing worker with a love for this place. Do this and you will have all of Bethel at your side if ever you find yourself in need. Why just this month we are giving a benefit for a local couple who have hit hard times. We will spend the day selling BBQ plates, pies, glasses of tea, and chances on a shotgun, and auctioning off all sorts of items in the hopes of making their lives a bit easier. Everyone will do their part. I am making 2 pies, myself. What will you do?

Well, time for me to close, ya’ll. We hope to see you soon down at the club.

Your friend and neighbor,

Cadh8

P.S. Come on down Leipers Creek Road. Watch for Nett's Country Store and Deli on the right. Turn in there and bear left. You'll see the club straight on.


Or, you can take the scenic route and go down the Natchez Trace Parkway and get off on Hwy. 7 in Fly (where you might want to look out for such famous people as Nicole Kidman or Keith Urban when they aren't off to Australia), then come up Leipers Creek that way.

Nett's Country Store and Deli Revisited

Dear Willie Nelson,

I was at Nett's the other day and saw a poster advertising your upcoming concert in Leiper's Fork.
Annette told me, and I should have listened, that 4,000 of the 5,000 seats (in the grass) had already been sold in just a couple of days. If I wanted to go to the concert, I should have turned over my $35 that night. Fie. According to the media that has swarmed around this event, I am now too late, for each sod-seat up at Aubrey Preston's farm is claimed.

But, hey, I don't go to Nett's for ticket information. That night, I had gone for their grilled chicken-topped salad, as had my daughter and a burger for her husband. It was Tuesday and the menu was tame, but we did catch up on the news. As Mrs. Rachel Lynde would say, "There is so much going on in Avonlea." That is how it is at the crossroads of Santa Fe, just a little north of Columbia, TN. The door post of Nett's was plastered with the pictures of the community's high school seniors. Debonair boys and beautiful girls are hanging about the porch in proxy while in reality they are off to the prom and finishing their finals.

But I'm sure they will be at Nett's for Thursday's Karaoke night. Handwritten signs on the wall next to the cooler and beside the cash register assure us that even if we can't carry a tune in a bucket, we are welcome to come and just have a good time.

So Willie, while you are in the region, just 22.39 miles up the road, via Natchez Trace Parkway, at Leiper's Creek Farm, you really need to plan a stop at Nett's Country Store and Deli. And make sure you meet Annette. She won't be offputting, but may give you some tips on how to make that concert of yours just a wee bit better.

Don't miss the chicken salad.

Betsy

P.S. Rooster Fries and Frogs Legs on Friday and Saturday nights.

Does Naomi Judd Love Rooster Fries?

Dear Naomi,

I see that you and I are both fans of the same eating establishments in the hinterlands of Nashville. You have just got to love this place, don't you? Sunday noon's "meat plus three" can't be beat, except by the Saturday night menu, but that later. I walked into Netts and there you were, right on the counter next to the cash register that really goes ca-ching, with a personal Sharpie message written with high regards to Annette.

When I stop by Netts Country Store and Deli, I have to wait in line like everyone, rubbing shoulders with locals who are dressed in either Sunday best or hunting gear, or last week, bicycle helmets. But I suppose you are ushered straight to the head of the cafeteria serving cart, aren't you? And that is how it should be, because the folks in Santa Fe and Netts Store love the Judds. Over fried chicken and catfish, they talk about the weekend entertainment, a concert to benefit the victims of the tornadoes that ripped through the area several weeks previously. "Wynonna sang, Hagraaaydoware. Oh, honey, that was good!" It took some cogitation on my part before I could conjure the excitement she must have felt, to hear dear Wynonna Judd sing those sweet words, "Then sings my soul, my Savior God to thee. How great thou art. How great thou art."

These are good people here along the stretch of country from Leiper's Fork, through Santa Fe, and down to Columbia. Cyclists geared up in Lazer cockscombs and Pearl Izumi Attack shorts descended on the store while we sat eating. And as these bikers, pedaling through from Franklin, complain that the store doesn't carry the right Red Bull concoction, the locals are planning the next community center event, or figuring out how to pay the church electric bill since everyone decided it was important to send that check for $180.00 to tornado relief.

Meanwhile, I'm enjoying the home-cooked green beans and cole slaw, served by a young and friendly girl from up Skelly Hollow. When I asked if, as I suspected, the trophy deer, sporting the St. Patrick's Day get-up, did indeed speak, a momentary shadow passed almost imperceptibly across her face. Yes, he does speak. I judged from the stretch of her neck that it would be impertinent to ask for a demonstration, so I fell silent. Yet my waitress, ever a member of this kind community, could not forget my curiosity, and before my plate was empty, Buck spoke, remotely animated, by my hesitantly accommodating waitress from behind the deli cooler.

There is no smoking here at Netts any longer. I know, for there is a no smoking sign next to the Newport clock. But you can still get all the supplies you need for a day in the field. It wasn't until I paid my check at the front counter, there where you smile at all the customers, that I considered the breadth of the variety of products available from Netts. Behind the coolers is a smaller refrigerator, dorm-sized. On it's door is a hand written sign offering Nightcrawlers—$3.99 and 100% Doe in Estrus—$11.99. Of course, I know nightcrawlers, big, juicy, and easy to slip onto a fishing hook, but the Doe in Estrus was a new concept for me. What? It wasn't until I consulted with my friends at Arkansas Duck Hunter that I understood the import of this product. Rather than having to hunt for a buck in the wilderness, the product known as "100% Doe in Estrus" promises that Buck will be hunting for you!

There's something for everyone at Nett's, but I'm thinking that for you, it must be the Saturday night specials, Frog's Legs and Rooster Fries. I've talked to others before about the quality legs that are one offering, but yum, I think it's the Rooster Fries that have to take the Gourmet Grammy for this menu. Succulent.

Are they your favorite, too?

I know your schedule is always tight, but let's meet, you and I, some Saturday night real soon and have Annette fix us up some of those Rooster Fries.

Be seeing you.

Betsy

(Netts--2007)