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Many are the memories of Hoosier farm life as a lad that I recall.
One was what Dad called 'hog renderin' that occurred every fall.
When he proclaimed the old boar had reached his maximum weight,
That meant for sure that the old feller was soon to meet his fate!.

After Dad did him in, puttin' an end to his squeals,
He was hoisted by block and tackle and strung up by his heels.
Dad wielded his butchers' knife with the deftness of a surgeon's hand,
Carvin' out loins, hams and bacon from our late-departed friend!

Curin' bacon was Dad's specialty in which he took great pride.
He performed secret incantations which he never would confide.
Massagin', injectin' stuff and smokin' them again and again,
To ensure they were suitable for Mom's iron skillet fryin' pan!

After milkin' the cows and sloppin' the hogs at the break of dawn,
I could smell the bacon sizzlin' in the skillet as I walked across the lawn!
Enterin' the house the aroma of the bacon wafted about the place.
Even Dad was so anxious to dine that he waived the prayin' of grace!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired

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