Stormin’ Norman

The Secret of Peanuts & Whiskey

Norman Johnson might greet you wearing a snap-front, bright, purplish-plaid western shirt or he could be sporting a cuban style number that even Charlie from Two and a Half Men would love. At 94 and 1/2, his shirt style matches every pair of his denim-knit jeans and slip on tennis shoes perfectly. While my dad and mom, Sally, just celebrated 73 years of marriage some might wonder, how in the actual you know what is that possible? My mom would probably say, “Yepper, it hasn’t always been easy, but, then again, what is?” These two life partners said “I Do” in a small ceremony back on August 19, 1951. High school sweethearts, he played basketball and she was a cheerleader. He graduated in 1947 and she in ’49. Their story was not unlike many from the time, you meet in high school, fall in love, get married and begin your life together.

Where’d Ya Come From? Where’d Ya Go?

Mom was a school teacher for a few years before shifting gears as a full-time momma and farm wife and just for a little more to do, she catered and decorated elaborate cakes. My grandfather, Bill Sass, found a farm that would be the perfect fit and helped my parents get their start on 80 acres just east of Uehling. In addition to farming, my Dad launched a long career as the manager of the Farmer’s Co-op. After doing that for some 30 years, he had another 30-year career managing the bank with a bit of mail delivery, auctioneering and real estate in between.

My parents were the epitome of givers. They were involved with anything and everything in our small community. Well, I take that back. One thing I never participated in was girl scouts. Maybe because I was the end of the line out of the four of us kids and my mom thought we didn’t need one more thing on our plates.

Throughout our lives, these two were setting an example without even trying. But, I just think, or thought that’s what everyone does. Nothing was called “volunteering,” it was just they way life worked. Participating with church activities, community picnics and functions, local Bingo, pancake feeds, parades, 4-H, Lion’s Club (my dad was the District, Head PooBah Thingamajig of the Lion’s club back in the day). He served on boards of organizations, my mom made pies and cookies and all the baked goods and food for local events. Word has it she made the best Sour Cream Raisin pie in three counties and she proved her worth behind the whisk and bowl by winning the Baker of the Year at the Nebraska State Fair back in 1984. If there was something happening in the community, in town or with our one-room country school, they were there participating or leading the charge. They were part of a pinochle card club for more than 50 years. They hosted around 75 - 100 people at our farm every summer on the 4th of July from morning until fireworks.

Each summer, they found time to take us on a family vacation. Dad would come home from work a few days after the fairs were over and say, pack your stuff, we’re going on vacation. I can see him in a cotton, plaid camp shirt and a green Felco-branded foam trucker hat with his window down in the Ford LTD or Super-cab pickup, whichever he deemed the right vehicle for the trip. He was rarely without a SwisherSweet cigar between his teeth. He’d have his special little cocktail case along and his 8-track loaded with either Tennessee Ernie Ford, Johnny Cash, The Oakridge Boys or some sort of comedy album. Somehow, mom would magically have egg salad sandwiches and a variety of cookies and bars she’d have stored in the freezer and off we’d go. No seatbelts, no worries. Just the wide-open road awaiting Norm’s spontaneous direction and a lazy motel with an outdoor pool when he was too tired to drive any further. In many cases, our destination was usually Minnesota for a fishing trip, but, I loved the unknown adventure when my Dad would have no idea which way we’d go next until he’d pull out his road map and decide which way it would take us.

My parents even hosted families and students from Japan and New Zealand when I was little and after I graduated from high school, they hosted nine exchange students over the years from Italy, Switzerland, Sweden, Denmark & Germany. It’s like they have a disease or something. They just can’t help but give. Now, at 94 and 92 years of age, it is finally slowing down. It’s exhausting just thinking about it, right?

What’s It All About Alfie?

With all this coming and going in our lives and in our community, our parents encouraged us or pushed us, I don’t really remember, it didn’t seem like pressure, I know that, it just seemed fun. We played every sport that was in season. We were always in something, but, it never felt like too much. We loved to play all of it! We were also in music, taking piano lessons and dance lessons. We played instruments in the band, we were in school plays, drama club, science club, pep club, drill team, cheerleader, held offices, yada yada yada….. it just seemed normal for us. I helped my mom cater, helped my grandpa and family walk beans, dig up potatoes, mow, play with our dogs and cats, take care of my cattle, sheep and hogs, and this was just how life was. While sports were a central cog to our daily life, the other huge part of our lives was 4-H. That’s where much of my true evolution came along in parallel with sports.

4-H for Heifer and Heifer

We were so impacted by our 4-H experiences that we even had our kids show too once we were adults. My dad started helping with the Burt County Fair in 1964. I was born in ’65. He finally is retiring, like, now as I type this. He just told me he hopes to find someone to show the ropes to in the next few weeks. Our family was recognized at the Nebraska State Fair this week for the Multi-Generation Award. I don’t even know if they normally have this award or invented it because it seems so remarkable that we have four generations of humans running about the fairgrounds keeping it all together. I mean 60 years? This is ridiculous. Who is this committed to anything? MY DAD! Well, my brother just put in 40 years, so when you start adding it all up…well that’s 100 + all the others that come after that. Did my Dad love the fair more than his own children? I’m just kidding, of course he didn’t, unless he did sometimes, which makes sense.

Peanuts & Whiskey

Now, you’re probably still curious about the peanuts and whiskey. Well here’s the real scoop and I can’t even make this up. My dad swears beyond a shadow of a doubt, that even though he had back surgery at 19, almost died from a heart attack at the age of 51 and then had several issues in between and then had a massive quadruple bypass at 86, and a cracked pelvis at 94, and has popped more nitro pills than he’d probably like to admit, that if you have a real desire to do things, and if you have a real positive outlook and if you have a regimen of consuming two (not one and not three, but, two) highballs and 39 peanuts every day, you will live a long life.

More info you say? I get you. Here’s the thing, he’s a creature of habit (sometimes it’s super annoying, but, we all have our things). He started this more than forty years ago. You must know that the only peanuts that qualify for the Stormin’ Norman Johnson regimen are Planters Dry Roasted Lightly Salted Peanuts. You can’t buy any random brand because they are packed with additional weird ingredients that are not good for you. These peanuts even have a sign on them letting you know that they are good for heart health. And if you wonder why it’s 39, you now can see by the attached photos that one serving, which is 1 oz., is about 39 peanuts, which divided accordingly match up perfectly with two highballs. If you ever see dry roasted peanuts, please think of my Dad, but, please do not disrespect the process by purchasing some willy-nilly off-brand peanut. Only these will do. And assure they are Lightly Salted - no need for all that extra sodium. And if you do see these on sale, please advise so that we may purchase as many jars as is allowable by the merchant for my Dad’s stash as long as he is living and breathing to consume them in his daily regimen - or yours if you feel like this might be your new revelation too.

What’s a Highball?

It’s the opposite of a lowball. For Norman’s recipe, you need an old Tupperware glass. Don’t worry, there’s a picture attached. I used to sell Tupperware back in the 90s and my parents were very efficient when holding on to treasures like these that never wear out. These glasses have the perfect line at the fluted part of the glass. You could use your own special glass that is special for you and fill it to whatever damn line you please, but, to humor you and allow you to make your own choices, you can follow my dad’s recipe or adjust per your imbibing desires. You fill the glass with ice, you fill the bottom portion up to the line with whiskey and top it off with Diet Coke and there you have it…you are golden. (Diet Pepsi is also not allowed in this concoction, only Diet Coke for the Stormin’ Norman version, preferably, Diet Coke that was purchased on sale) Wait, the whiskey is a special one. Meaning, you can find it on special because, likely, no one else wants it. I mean my dad loves the good stuff like any good whiskey drinker would and he’d never waste a drop if you brought him the Woodford or Crown, but, he’s a believer in frugality and that darn Canadian Springs does the trick! You could do the Canadian Club or Canadian Mist, but, why, when you can get the Springs?

I can remember the smell of that whiskey and seeing that cigar smoke circle his smile way back when I was young. So is bad stuff good for you now? Is that what I’m saying? Probs not, but, a damn good attitude (most of the time, let’s go with the 80/20 here and assume 80% of the time my dad lived pretty yippy skippy and 20% of the time my mom wanted to kick his ass, but, loved him anyway) My mom never drank. Well she might have taken a taste of a really, really, really cold beer once in a blue moon or a sip of wine, but, it was never her mojo. She just didn’t like the taste of any of it. But, she never minded that it was Dad’s jam. He’s a card-playing, fair-going, paper-reading, Gunsmoke-watching, cheap, whiskey-drinking, peanut-eating, son-of-a gun and there ain’t nobody, nowhere, nohow changing him. We all learned years ago when we were fishing in Minnesota and dad was out grilling the burgers and mom wanted him to put some onions in an iron skillet on the side of the grill to sauté them and my dad went all bonkers and lost his marbles (this was a 20% day) and said, “I’m not grillin’ those damn onions because I don’t understand ‘em!” And I mean he was ticked off!!! We were all like, “Wow Dad, it’s just some onions.” And my mom says, “Well girls, it just goes to show you, you have to keep trying to train them until their dead.”

Well, they are still kicking and my mom isn’t training as hard anymore. We are trying to train Dad now that mom has lots of memory issues. He kinda sucks at it sometimes because he doesn’t like things to interfere with his routine. But, he still thinks mom has sexy legs and is the cat’s pajamas. And that’s pretty cool for school. . And remember this very important lesson that my dad taught me in December of 2018. A few of us were at my folks’ house. I had just finalized my divorce of 32 years and was in this weird place that only people in the divorced landscape of life can comprehend. My sister, Cherie, said, “Ang, have you asked Dad about Mom’s chicken salad?” I’m like, “Huh? No.” And I turned to dad and I said, “Dad, I’m supposed to ask you about Mom’s chicken salad.” And he said “Oh, yeah! I tried it!” I said, “Dad, You are almost 90 and you are just now, for the first time in your life trying Mom’s chicken salad?” And he said, “Yes!” And I said, “Well, what’d you think?” And he replied, “Well, it’s damn good, I’ve just been eating the hell out of it. You know, it’s never too late to try something new and when you find out how good it is, you need to eat the hell out of it!” And it hit me, it was like a secret, #chickenf@#*insalad story that I needed to hear right then and there! My life was just beginning. I wasn’t too old to make new things work. And with each step of discovery, I was going to just enjoy it - and “eat the hell out of it!” What’s your chicken salad? ‘Cause it’s never too late to try something new. Even peanuts and cheap whiskey.

Cheers to staying in the 80%!