Grandpa and True Doctoring


aboutGrandpa lived prior to enjoying the privilege of paying four or five hundred dollars for five minutes of a Physician Assistant’s time.

Surely, pure luck accounted for his living to the good old age of 86 years.

The truth is Grandpa didn’t need doctors—or medicines for that matter. He had his stash. With a can of Wool Fat, some Percy Medicine, Vicks, and a box of Morton’s Salt, he cured all ills.

Wool Fat ointment worked for scrapes and burns. Percy Medicine was good for whatever the ailment, and Vicks served for cough and colds. A big glob of Vicks periodically sucked from one’s index finger kept a sore throat at bay.

Oh, there was his raw egg recipe, but I will get back to that in a minute.

grandpaGrandpa lived across the dusty ally on 3rd Street and only one house to the left of ours. Hardly a day of my childhood passed without paying him a visit.

Sometimes, I would obtain permission to go visit him in the evening. As I recall, permission in our house was more like making an announcement. My parents always seemed more concerned about knowing where I was going to be rather than the formality of the permission granting routine.

One evening I walked into Grandpa’s living room. There he was in his favorite chair, watching his black and white sears television with a box of Morton’s Salt in his hand.

As the plot of Gun Smoke or Cisco Kid unfolded—I don’t remember the exact show—he poured a generous portion of salt into his hand and with both hands rigorously massaged it into his full head of thick, white hair.

Everyone knew Morton’s Salt would keep hair healthy and prevent baldness.

I never argued with him about success and know today that my balding head is a direct correlation to having never rubbed it with Morton’s Salt.

My wife and I received a letter from him written on January 17, 1973. A portion of the letter contained these lines:

I had the 83rd Birthday. I feel real good and haven’t had hardly any stomach trouble since I was in the hospital the last time.

I still stay with the egg milk shake.

raw eggs[In his letter of 1973, I saw for the first time a shift in the formula of his raw egg medicine departing from direct shell extraction- GS]

We make a change in it now. We put the egg white, a little milk, and vanilla—I use a teaspoon full, with a lot of ice cream. It makes you think you have been to the Dairy Cream. We sure like them that way.

At the end of his letter further expounding on family, fishing, and his cat named Junior, I found one more addition:

P.S. I forgot to put the sugar in the milk shake. We sweeten ours now. It makes it real good.

From the viewpoint of a young boy, Grandpa also watched after his spiritual health.

Grandpa’s relationship to God always seemed to be solid. He followed the “do unto other folks, as you would have them do unto you.” He didn’t participate in church fusses.

He worshipped in the church when the doors were open and on the banks of the Pecos River with his fishing pool across his lap when church doors closed.

As the years pass, it doesn’t seem to be a bad doctrine to follow.

It does run the risk of finding unity within the church.

Just for the record. There is also wisdom in doctoring with Ice Cream. I’ve changed the formula. I deleted all of Grandpa’s original ingredients and substituted the cheap ice cream component for Blue Bell Peach instead.

Stay tuned.

Dr. Gary J. Sorrells – Reflecting on Cross Church
Gary@GodReflection.org

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