Carved into a steep, rocky hill overlooking the
Portage Canal sits a ramshackle mining house that my daughter called home during
the school months. It barely looks stable enough to withstand the area’s couple
hundred inch yearly snowfall. The windows stay open with the help of scrap two-by-fours
propped in the jambs. The red tar paper shingles are missing some gravel. To
say it is a little run down is an understatement.
Inside, the 70’s rust velvet loveseat is a decade shy
of the mauve sofa. The combination is nauseating. It is home to four girls and
a gathering place to the rest of their sisters scattered about the tiny college
town. I am no snob, but I cannot imagine
walking around in a nightgown and bare feet in that place. Knock out a few
windows and replace the expensive whiskey with bottom shelf and it could easily
be mistaken for a crack house instead of a sorority.
My daughter got permission from the landlord to bring
along her ginger tabby, Finn. She tweeted a picture of him
#trumpyourcat. The only other males allowed are Jack Daniels and Jesus Christ.
Believe me when I tell you they are both very present in each and every room.
Every horizontal surface is lined with Jack Daniels bottles. Some are bejazzled
and some are not. The only thing they share in common is that not one has a
single drop of whiskey left, not one. Am I too optimistic to assume that the
girls are done drinking?
Hanging on the living room wall was a glossy plaque of
Jesus knocking on a cottagey door. It looked more like it belonged in Nonna &
Papa’s house. One sister, not a nun, taped a bubble message on the plaque that
has Jesus saying, “Hey girls, can I party with you?” I found it way too funny.
Jesus also had two round circles taped on top of his robe. My daughter said it
was a Jesus bust, which at first I didn’t understand.
A Jesus statue sat on a shelf in the billiard
room, aka the dining room. My husband suggested she start a new viral craze #trumpyourjesus.
After she refused a few times I said, “You will put a bust on him but you won’t
Trump him?” She explained that the taped bust was temporary until they found a
new Jesus “bust statue." They had one,
but apparently he had too much Jack one night and fell down the stairs and
broke his neck. The girls had been scouring the local thrift stores for a new
one. I didn’t know people got rid of their Jesus chatchkis. Apparently they do.
It’s not like he goes in and out and back in style like a macramé owl on a
driftwood pole. I’m not making this up. I recently saw a macramé owl in a
magazine that I purchased called “Boho Chic” or something. Anyhoo, I will be keeping my eye out for Jesus
statues to add to their collection. I think Jack and Jesus at least should be
equally represented in the sorority house, if not a little heavier on the
Jesus.
After visiting Lynchburg, Tennessee I had an idea for
their sorority fundraiser: a Jack Daniels cookbook! I started collecting
recipes that called for whiskey. I would name the Perfect Manhattan on the
Rocks with a Twist “The Auntie Evelyn” for obvious reasons in our family. I
even found a recipe for chocolate cupcakes with Jack Daniels frosting. I
thought the sorority girls could make those and sell them at a bake sale (with a
disclaimer & ID check of course). I don’t know if I will ever get around to
the project or not, but I figured it would serve as a valid explanation as to
why I have a bottle of booze in my baking cupboard.
