There was a time when Hubs was against the microwave. It just looked evil, spouting sounds of craziness and also a clear danger, he thought, to anyone standing within twenty feet of the thing.

The marvelous machine had just entered the market with advertisements of unheard cooking achievements, like a beef roast cooked to perfection in 30 minutes. Why everyone knew, especially granny, a real southern-style pot roast must simmer slowly in the oven for three hours and forty-five minutes.

So yes, Hubs was suspicious.

Not to mention that the new fad cooking machine could not fry chicken. That was unheard of – and to serve Sunday dinner without a big platter of golden-brown chicken was criminal. Also Hubs was concerned that his fav chili-dogs might be a flop if prepared in the new-fangled cooking machine.

But I was all for it. If I could save an hour preparing a meal, then I thought, “Let her rip!”

Thus the contention began.

Now it wasn’t all out war but the battle lines had been drawn.

On one side were Hubs, and the mighty cook, his mother, plus my granny, a renowned cook on her own, with perfect credentials. I must quickly mention Hubs was not there as a cook but as an eater.

And on the other side were all of the girls in my office plus the gals in Sunday School Class. The office girls just wanted a way to prepare a quick supper after working all day and the Sunday School gals wanted a quick way to cook up a grand Sunday dinner for the family.

I was the first of the girls to actually witness the cooking phenomenon. It was on my lunch break when I drove downtown and peered through the window. There it set in all of its glory with shiny, metal sides, just like a brand-new car in the showroom.

I couldn’t wait to return to the office and tell all about it. The next day I took two of my working partners with me. There were six of us in the office and we had to go to lunch in shifts. This time the three of us went inside and actually laid hands upon it. When we opened the door, we were nearly blinded by the inside lights, high-tech, high-tech; however the term was not known at the time.

As we were leaving, I picked up a brochure. The price tag was $179.95 – a huge amount at the time, but it was cutting-edge technology and I had to have it.

Let the campaign begin.

First I brought the brochure home and put it on the kitchen table. I laid it angled just a little to the left so’s I could tell if Hubs had picked it up. I saw that on a Perry Mason show.

Sure enough, the next morning the brochure had been angled a little to the right. Got him!

For supper that I night, I drug it all out and when the meal was finally ready at 9:16, I thought Hubs would be very hungry, maybe too hungry to be happy. But, oh no, he arrived to the table with a grin on his face.

But I had another plan.

We would compromise. If we could buy the microwave, I wouldn’t shop for a dishwasher, which was also a new-fangled appliance. He agreed and we brought the microwave home. Hubs eventually gained a true liking for it, especially when he figured out how to make popcorn.

True to my word I didn’t shop for a dishwasher then, however that appliance also made a home at the McKee Ranch the next year. Hubs didn’t even try to organize a ban on the dishwasher. He knew when he was beat.

But it was the day I found fresh turnip greens in the top rack of the dishwasher that I was flabbergasted. What the heck? Yep, Hubs found a shortcut washing the greens.

What did I do? I popped them in the microwave, of course.

Life at the McKee Ranch – never dull.

Anne B McKee is a Mississippi historian, writer and storyteller. She is listed on the Mississippi Humanities Speakers Bureau and Mississippi Arts Commission’s Performing Artist and Teaching Artist Rosters. See her web site: www.annemckeestoryteller.com.