I have to admit right up front, this is not a completely unbiased review, as the author was my dad.
Though Mac Barrick spent his professional life teaching Spanish, his real passion was folklore. He was never without a 3 x 5 notepad and a disposable Bic pen for jotting down an overheard joke, expression, or superstition. I remember on one occasion, eating in a diner with my dad, his food grew cold as he took down everything our waitress said. "I'm busier than a one-armed paper hanger," she announced. She threw salt over her shoulder after a spill, and loudly proclaimed, "Company's comin'!" when she dropped a knife.
He was approached by August House Publishing in the mid-eighties to write this book for their American Folklore Series. The book contains proverbs like the old kitchen apron standby - "Kissing wears out, cookin don't", "A blind pig finds an acorn sometimes" and the rather ominous - "Girls who whistle and hens that crow will in time get their necks broken". Hmmm.... There are also riddles and rhymes, songs, ghost stories, tall tales, jokes, games and recipes that should appeal to everyone, not just those of German heritage. Also included is my favorite Amish folk cure for chapped lips: "You take your finger and rub it around a horse's hind end. Then you rub it around your lips. It works, because you don't lick your lips."
Unfortunately, this title has been out of print for years. I'm mainly reviewing it as a tribute.
His files have been collected by Penn State University, and the database is available here: http://sites.psu.edu/folklib/
My dad, like most dads I suppose, was a unique individual. He was a shy man, yet he was absolutely fascinated by people. Well, okay, he probably wanted to mine them for their folklore nuggets, but he was always willing to listen to anyone's stories and complaints. He was an avid reader of everything from the classics to scholarly journals to cheap detective novels. In his thirties, he taught himself to play the banjo, mandolin and the dulcimer. Every Christmas Eve, he was on the roof, stomping and shaking old sleigh bells, pretending to be a reindeer. On Halloween, he'd run through the yard covered by a sheet til I happened to notice that the ghost was wearing the same slippers as my father.
Reader, writer, teacher, collector. That was my dad in a nutshell. He died 20 years ago today. I still miss him.