I didn't eat any of that blood stuff either. My late husband only ate it when his friends would bring it over. Sure wasn't going to cook it either.
Forgot about head cheese....disgusting as a child but didn't mind it as an adult. First time I ever shot anything was when I met my husband and he took me target shooting. He was impressed with my abilities and asked me to marry him. I was also a pretty good shot. @Marilyn Pahl, cooking blood sausage was tricky....it was encased in a very thin skin and my husband liked it browned well but it also took awhile to cook through and the trick was to get it perfect before it exploded and didn't look like a sausage anymore.
@Chrissy Page, you got it right. My father was a German "self ordained" Hard Shell Baptist preacher. He "got' religion when I was five. He used to be a hard drinking fighting drunk before that. He thought I was God's punishment for his past behavior. A female instead of the son he felt he deserved. I was his only child. And I was worth $500.00 in 1965. (A lot of money to them back then.), My mother got to take a vacation to AZ with it. When I left my first husband, I tried to get a restraining order against him. If he wasn't beating me up when he found me, he had some of his buddies 'ole ladies' beat the you know what out of me. The judge actually laughed like he hadn't had a good laugh in a long time. So much for child protection laws in Texas in the 60's. And people wonder why I think Native American beliefs are better for me. My father was a very prejudice man. He swore the devil drink was why he married my Native American mother. Between my father and mother I grew up ashamed of my mother's people. My grandmother is the one that taught me to see Native Americans for who they really were.
One cuz....Her husband brought home a duck during duck season. He went all out with the duck blind, and quackie noise maker. Anyway cuz was going to clean the duck and put it in boiling water. No one told her she had to dry puck it because the feathers are waterproof. We laughed to ourselves didn't want to hurt her feelings.
Jeez, well at least you made it despite him @Ina I. Wonder. At 13 I was still so naive about boys and sex. I had barely quit playing with my dolls at that point. I was starting to like boys but had no idea what it all involved beyond a kiss, lol.
My grandmother told me I could eat life, or it could eat me. Took me awhile to understand that one. At least life doesn't have calories, and at times it can be very fulfilling.
When my brother died and we were 4yrs. old of spinal meningitis there was a lot of blame and guilt for mom and dad. This was 1945 and the doctors didn't have the things to work with like now. My brother was treated for a cold by both folks and doctor. Folks separated I lived with mom and grandma in Waterville. Dad and uncle went to Hot Springs and started the bath house business. He would always come back to Waterville in the fall and hunting season.And we all took the train to Hot Springs on summer vacation to see dad and uncle. Sometimes alone with my cousins to see their dad. Mom worked as head bookkeeper for a large hardware wholesales in Northwest Ohio, but would never cash her checks stick em in a drawer. The company got after her about it. She just worked to forget...Dad loved his family and didn't know how to deal with grief. Both grandma's said, it was best they separated. It was magic to see mom happy on the trips to Ark. Hot Springs had so many auction houses. Grand articles from the mansions in the South to look at.
I remember a butcher shop that had lockers for rent like you described. We didn't get any time off for hunting though. However, I was "sick" quite a few really nice days for hunting. When my parents saw the absences on my report card, that ended.
I can imagine it's tricky to work with. I'd wreck it for sure. Dad and Mom being French loved escaroles with hot melted butter and garlic.Oysters in the half shell. Couldn't look at them.
Hunting was first priority over football, fishing, all the holidays, even January thaw. The town coffee shop would be jammed. Many farmers would let us hunt on their property if they knew you real well. Last time I hunted with dad was 1973 most of his friends had passed. So we went to hunt on a State Game Reserve. I guess that's what it was called. It was like armpit to armpit. Dad said, it was to dangerous to hunt like that and we stayed about an hour. Then went to Bartells he had free water and food for the dogs. a waterhole for hunters and located in the cornfields. When we open the door all our friends were in there. Eating and drinking and complaining, then went home. That was the last of found memories.