[Tribune7]

Only if you like pig’s feet.

[Artemis Webb]

My mother was a farm girl growing up in the Great Depression. When I was a boy I remember her happily sitting alone in the kitchen (mid 1960’s) eating pickled pigs feet, limburger cheese and washing it down with buttermilk. This explains why my father was in the living room with us instead of with mom in the kitchen.

[JoeProBono]