21 Comments
Mar 26, 2023Liked by Martin Philip

I love listening to you, Martin. Listening to the hearts of people is a treasure. Family and community are to be cherished.

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Jan 23, 2023Liked by Martin Philip

Wonderful! The story and the storytelling. I love your writing - it is so immediate. Thank you.

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Jan 23, 2023Liked by Martin Philip

Very cool story! I love the imagery and artwork that accompany it.

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Jan 23, 2023Liked by Martin Philip

Great story and hoping there are more biscuit tales to share soon❤️

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Jan 23, 2023Liked by Martin Philip

Kudos to you for your perseverance! Are we are able to hear you on the banjo and sing somewhere?

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Jan 23, 2023Liked by Martin Philip

Bonding thru food and music! The. Best.

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Jan 23, 2023Liked by Martin Philip

Love this piece- laughed out loud several times!

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Jan 23, 2023Liked by Martin Philip

Loved this! Brave man and great story full of soul . Food is the center of my universe too. 💕

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Jan 23, 2023Liked by Martin Philip

So good. Thank you.

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Did you feel at home or an expat on your trip? Who do you think you would be if you hadn't left when you were younger?

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Thank you for this sweet story. It got me to thinking about staying for midday dinner at my babysitter Maxines’s house in Pettigrew, when I was growing up in the Ozark mountains in the 1980s. Her biscuits, which I remember being like a wet drop biscuit, but cooked together in a pan so the edges met each other, with brothy canned pinto or purple hull beans, sliced raw onion, potatoes fried in lard (it was store bought and came in a plastic bucket, and the potatoes were salty and barely browned, soft inside, and they were pretty much addictive). She put out home canned green beans, skinned sliced tomatoes in the summer, maybe some fried pork or mystery meat, but it was all about the vegetables, and they were all so good. Plus home canned dill pickles or sweet pickles but dill were my favorite. Such generous abundance. We felt welcome.

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