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“When a friend deals with a friend, Let the bargain be clear and well penn’d, that they may continue friends to the end.”
— Benjamin Franklin, writing as Richard Saunders in “Poor Richard’s Almanac”
This is the first week of fall and I am glad.
You might ask, is it because of fall foliage, pumpkin-spice coffee or cooler weather? All of that, but also because the 2025 almanacs will ship soon.
An almanac will never make the New York Times Best Seller list, but they are still one of my favorite reads. Whether it’s the Texas Almanac, the Old Farmer’s Almanac or the C a r d u i calendar and weather chart my grandparents swore by, almanacs are still informative and entertaining.
Indelible childhood memories of the house in Pittsburg where my father grew up include what was always behind the back door: a single- shot .22 my grandfather used to dissuade blue jays from fleecing fruit from his prized trees, a flyswatter for insects invading the un-air-conditioned house (and unruly grandchildren), and the Cardui calendar for wisdom and advice.
Cardui calendars and almanacs were primarily to promote the elixir by the same name. It was good. I know that because Dolly Parton and Porter Wagner hailed its virtues every Saturday afternoon on their country-music television show between “Holdin’ On to Nothing” and “Just Someone I Used to Know.”
Parton’s endorsement aside, some folks might say if you’ve seen one almanac, you’ve seen them all. But that’s just not true. They are all gems for weather forecasts, planting tables, zodiac secrets, recipes, astronomical tables, tides, holidays, eclipses, articles and all sorts of aches and ailments.
One thing that makes a good almanac interesting for “city slickers and country folk alike,” as the Old Farmer’s Almanac markets its publication, is that scores of advertisers and writers compete for space each year. The result is a “duke’s mixture” of diverse ideas offering new and old information, all of which defies usual descriptions, let alone any sort of conventional book review.
According to Don Jacobs – my old friend, fellow columnist, writer, musician and folk historian – the standby book has saved many a columnist from “mundane mumbo-jumbo writings.”
Jacobs once said, “Faced with the prospect of having to turn out yet another Halloween column as October looms were writers dreading the dilemma of trying to describe orange-colored wax whistles to kids who know how to program computers.”
“Then swooping in just as deadlines approach,” Jacobs added, “the Old Farmer’s Almanac manifested itself on countless shelves.”
The columnist compared the almanac to the Great Pumpkin himself “leaving a bag of goodies that could be reviewed from early fall clear through to Christmas and still have ideas left over.”
And he was right. The ads are just as interesting as the text.
For instance, who remembers the turn-ofthe- century Mail Pouch Tobacco thermometers? Still need one for the barn, the house, the garage or the man cave? Faithful reproductions are available, as are windmills, weathervanes and Rosebud Salve … all in the almanac.
Other vital information you’re likely to find can also include pitches for learning to be a locksmith, learning how to read small print easily or instructions on sending off for a mail-order government surplus directory.
If it’s your health that concerns you, the almanac has that covered, too. Dealing with a hernia, hard of hearing or just plain worn out? There are products guaranteed to “perk you up, hold you together or cure what ails you.” Things such as “Rooster Pills” that, according to the ad, will have you “crowing again.” Not to mention feeling active and vigorous.
The articles are interesting, too. Where else can you read about how one family of seven cut their water heating bill in half, the latest on comets, the history of the mule or how to pick the perfect mate? Sure, there’s the internet now, some say. The difference is you know you can trust the almanac.
Plus, you can trust pearls of wisdom by philosophers such as Old Nels, Reese Davis, Homer Stillson, Padric Gallagher, Gertrude Bailey or one Miss Keller. Their writings might cause modern philosophers to take notice.
Miss Keller wrote, “I’ve never met a trollop who was a good cook, or a good cook who was a trollop.” She also had some choice words about tomcats and high-heeled shoes, but her all-time classic was on chickens.
“If you want to raise chickens,” she offered, “you have to put up with the rooster. And if you want to raise children, you have to put up with a husband.”
So, if you find bestsellers to be boring, grab an almanac for guaranteed good reading.
Just ask Parton.
— Contact Aldridge at [email protected]. Other Aldridge columns are archived at leonaldridge. com.
