One of the most popular and over-used words on television, especially the news programs, is historic. Everything is historic. What makes anything historic? The dictionary says that events that are significant, important, memorable, remarkable, and so forth are historic.

Many aspects of Pope Francis’ recent visit to our country were historic. It certainly was covered by television to the maximum. Of course, television coverage doesn’t always make an event historic; as much as they try.

When our President was to meet with his Russian counterpart, Mr. Putin, it was described as an historic meeting. I wouldn’t go that far.

Most of us will have very few historic events in our lives so we have to exaggerate just a little when choosing our historic moments. When using the defining words of significant, important, memorable, or remarkable, two recent happenings in my life will be none of those. At the same time, since I am desirous of doing something to be called historic, I am going to proclaim these two events as such. If television can do it, so can I.

Number one event. I cooked pigtails for the first time! How historic is that? Probably not at all for some of you, but I had never done that before and it was significant, important, and memorable. Maybe not remarkable, but, hey, if television can go “ga-ga” over the Pope, can’t I have my historic moments?

Cooking pigtails was not my first encounter with the south end of a hog. When I was in FFA and showing pigs, I learned that if a pig gets contrary and won’t move, just reach around to the backside, grab that pigtail and twist it. Works every time!

It’s time to admit, though, that twisting a pig’s tail and actually cooking and eating one are two different things. A few prejudices must be overcome, if you know what I mean.

A friend had given me some cooked mustard and turnips that had been seasoned with pigtails. They tasted pretty good; actually really good and I said to myself, “Myself, you gotta cook some greens with pigtails.”

I went to the store not imagining that to ask for pigtails would be easy. The butcher said, “Sure we got pigtails. Pig’s feet, stomach, tongue…they don’t throw away anything anymore.”

“Just the pigtails, please.” I wondered, “Why don’t they throw away some of those other things?”

Anyway, I put on my pigtails. That’s an interesting phrase, isn’t it? “Put on my pigtails.” You know what I mean, but I wonder if the Pope would know what that means?

While they were boiling, I washed my mustard and turnips. They were quite gritty, so it took a while to wash them.

After the pigtails were “falling apart,” (another interesting, cooking phrase), I added my greens and after an hour or so, I tasted them and they were just right. Everyone who ate them, liked them and said “You seasoned them perfectly.” Thanks pigtails.

Now the second historic thing I did this past week was also not very significant to the world’s wellbeing. I told you that when judging personal, historic events one doesn’t have to set the bar too high.

Actually, I copied my mother-in-law, but it was historic for me. I was wondering just what I might eat for breakfast. No, I didn’t eat a pigtail, but I did eat the mustard and turnips. In all of my protected life, I had never eaten greens for breakfast. Really historic; at least for me!