Mama’s Tshok

Mama never changed.  She always said it the same way—tshok!  When Mama chucked a bag of feed onto her shoulder or a bale of straw or hay, she always said tshok.

When Mama wanted to refer to chalk, she said tshok.

When Mama was asked what flavor ice cream she wanted, she said tshoklit

When Mama went to the butcher for meat, she usually asked for tshok steak.  Since Papa was a “meat and potatoes man” we had a lot of beef barley soup and Mama’s version of beef stew. 

Papa always said that his mother bought flanken, but Mama never used it.  It was always tshok.  For a while Papa purchased our poultry feed from the dealer who handled Purina feeds. 

Besides the mash and scratch, we got oyster shells (the calcium made the egg shells stronger) and grit (when chickens are not on the range they need little stones to help grind the feed in their gizzards).

The fellow that drove the “Purina truck” and delivered the Purina feed was Chuck.  He was a short stocky fellow and always had a joke for Papa who always laughed.  I think they were off-colored, because Papa never laughed with Chuck when we boys were right there.

Mama liked Chuck because he always took back the burlap bags for which we got credit, even when they were slightly torn. 

She called him Tshok, but he never corrected her.