SignPost Monday to Wednesday, Week 3—Bootlegger Blues

Psalm 84

Growing up, I heard Bible stories about Zion, and I was mystified. I knew where Zion was. It was just 12 miles south of Kenosha, just on the other side of Winthrop Harbor. Zion, Illinois, was important to us because it had a really good Chinese restaurant and a family steak house that had the best onion rings. It also had a grocery stores where we would get colored margarine. But why it was important for the Bible was beyond me.

There are those who will still remember that the Wisconsin Dairy Board had insisted that because we were the dairy state, margarine could not be sold with coloring in it. Margarine was sold with little color packets that needed to be mixed into the margarine, or one could eat the anemic looking lardish stick.

For those of us who lived on or near the state line, smuggling colored margarine across the line was a slightly naughty practice. It was illegal to transport already colored margarine across the state line, but many did it. Yes, my momma was a bootlegger. She was a trafficker in colored margarine. 

I can remember hearing that margarine was on sale, and then the orders would come in. My aunts and grandmothers would call and place their orders. Then we would climb into my aunt’s blue ford station wagon and make the trip.

One time I remember picnicking at the beach and then going swimming in Lake Michigan. Afterwards, we drove over to the grocery store. We filled the back of the wagon with thirteen cases of margarine. We carefully covered them with layers of newspaper (to keep them cool) and blankets. On top of that, went all of our beach gear. The picnic basket was clearly in sight.

At the state line the state patrol checked cars for contraband margarine as they crossed into Wisconsin. Every one was nervous as we stopped, but when the police saw two women and five kids with all of the stuff in the car, they waved us through.

When we got home, family members stopped over for coffee and took their contraband booty. The cases of margarine were then quickly stacked in the bottom of the freezers. For several months, or until margarine was on sale again, we lived peaceful, mostly law-abiding, lives.

In Sunday School I learned that Jesus ate with tax collectors and sinners. “What about pirates and smugglers?” I asked.

Prayer
Lord, we give thanks to you that Jesus ate with sinners. For we try to live upright lives, but find ourselves always in need of your grace. Amen