Our Thankful Tribute: Lefty’s Beer Bread
Lefty’s Beer Bread
2 cups milk
¾ cup honey OR ¼ cup Sugar
¼ cup oil
3 pkg DRY yeast
2 eggs well beaten
1 7oz bottle beer (Miller High Life)
5 cups of all purpose flour (bread flour)
+1 ½ cup all purpose flour
1Tsp salt
Mix first 3 ingredients together and place in boiler to simmer about 5 min (do not BOIL) Cool to tepid temperature
ADD: yeast, eggs, beer, flour and salt
KNEAD 10 minutes- add extra 1 ½ cup flour as needed
PLACE in greased container and let rise to double its size (must be in quiet place)
DIVIDE into 4 portions & place in 4 greased cake pans
LET rise 20 more minutes
BAKE on 350 degrees – 15 minutes
PLACE on rack to cool and brush with butter
YUMMY!
About Lefty…
by Simeon Cardwell
USC English 460
9/27/2000
LEFTY
The Methodist Church sat squarely on the corner in the middle of Richlands, N.C., its double doors overflowing with people as the church had been filled to capacity. The funeral was August 24,1996 for James Nevada Cardwell at 11:00 a.m. The day moved kind of slow and having never experienced a death in the family, I felt awkward the whole day. I remember seeing my father moved to tears as he gave the eulogy in front of a crowd of over 200 that day. There was also that knot in my stomach that came from the reality of the situation slowly replacing the numbness. Out of the things that remain indelibly imprinted on my mind though, the most incredible were the number of people who came to bid my grandfather a farewell.
My grandmother leaned over to whisper as the casket was carried down the aisle. She said she had to turn down offers for pallbearers because so many men volunteered. They said “Lefty” had touched them and out of respect they wanted to offer themselves in return for his kindness. She also scanned the church trying to place strange faces. “Lefty was loved by everybody” was her simple explanation.
That night I asked my grandma about the life granddad lived before me. I had known him for sixteen years so I had an idea of who he was while I was around, however, I didn’t give much thought to his life before me. I did know something of his generosity though. I was there when he would bake five loaves of his beer bread and take four of them in a bag and drop them on doorsteps around town. Many times he wouldn’t get an answer at the door and would leave the gift there, never hoping for recognition. There was more to him than this as I listened to my grandma. The more I heard, the more I found out about the real Lefty Cardwell.
Growing up in rural North Carolina, James spent a lot of his childhood in different boys homes. Born in 1912, he never knew his parents because he was abandoned. He refused to talk even to my father about his family or his years in the homes. Once my dad asked about granddad’s history for a fifth grade genealogy report and a look that my father has never since forgotten fell on James’ face. It was the cold stare and a tensing of jowls that ended my fathers search abruptly.
James preferred to begin his story in Beaufort North Carolina at the age of seventeen. Standing at about six feet with a ruddy complexion, he had an extended jaw and thin face. His hair was a wavy brown that swelled in the front from a cow-lick. In Beaufort, N.C. while admiring the view of the brown-blue water of the inlet and the columned houses that overlooked it, he made his way down Main St. Suddenly he seized. Having never had any major physical problems before, the piercing pain in his side was frightening. A man in a suit walking down the other side of the street glanced over to see James curled into a ball on the sidewalk. Upon reaching him he asked if he could help. With short gasps James replied pain was getting worse.
After being hospitalized for a few days, the doctor came back with the report that his appendicitis had been taken care of and he’d be good as new in no time. The next visitor into his room was the man who had stopped to assist him. It turned out that this Samaritan was the mayor of Beaufort. After finding out that James had no place to live, the mayor offered him a room in his house. The same house James lay helpless in front of two days before.
I suspect that this is the first time that my grandfather was given love with no strings attached. The fact that he chose to begin his story at this moment in time instead of at some orphanage says a lot about where his heart was. The kindness he was shown was special to James.
Thank you, Simeon. Papa…
