Goulash

When I was five years old, our next-door neighbors, the Chappells, moved away taking their son David to Oklahoma.  David was also five, my constant companion and ally.  I wasn’t devastated; I still had my other best friend, Randall Brooks, living right across the street, but I was very unhappy about the whole thing.

To make matters worse, the buyers of the Chappell house didn’t even have kids.  They were a newly-wed couple from Alabama, Jetty and Joe McClymond.  Joe was a brand-new lawyer, nice enough and liked kids, but he was seldom home.  I don’t think I even questioned that at the time, but looking back I can see that he was putting in the ungodly hours law firms often require of young associates.

Jetty was her real name. She told my mom that  her mom told her Jetty was an old, traditional Southern name, but she had never met or even heard of anyone else named Jetty.  In the 60-plus years since, I haven’t  either.

Jetty was sweet, pretty, kind and outgoing - as special as her name - and every Friday, Jetty made a marvelous supper she called GOULASH. 

In truth, her concoction had only an accidental resemblance to the real thing- if there was any resemblance at all.  I can’t remember for sure, but I don’t think it even contained paprika. I know I never saw her add any .

After lunch on Friday, Jetty would gather up all the leftovers from the previous week and throw them in a pot.  She would add a can of tomato sauce, a shot or two of Tabasco, and depending on the previous week’s menu, she  might or might not add a can of kidney beans.  She let the concoction simmer all afternoon and served it with Corn bread and sweet iced tea. 

Jetty’s goulash was never the same from one week to the next, but somehow it was always wonderful.  I did everything I could to wangle an invitation to Friday dinner; after a while, it was just assumed  that I was eating each Friday at Jetty and Joe’s.

It isn’t even Friday,  I’ve taken my tea un-sweetened for the last thirty years and can’t stand the taste of sweet tea anymore; but I woke up this morning craving a bowl of Jetty’s goulash.