Dorie had grown up in a farm home with several siblings. Her grandmother had spent several of her last years in the home and had not only exhibited her cooking abilities to her daughter, but Dorie, her granddaughter had learned wonderful cooking secrets. One of the great results of this talent was cornbread. The grandmother was always able to bask in the praise for her corn bread, Dories' mom had also.
When Dorie lost her husband to cancer, it was a sudden loss in many ways. He had been the only source of income for the home and had adequately provided. As she searched for ideas and directions, someone suggested she do something with her wonderful recipe of cornbread. Folks had already come to her on occasion to have Dorie make them cornbread. Dorie asked some of her friends for advice on the thought, and all suggested she go for it. Dorie put a little classified ad in the paper that she would make cornbread for any occasion, and immediately requests started coming in. Her little oven was seldom cool for more than what her recipe called for, for she was cooking cornbread constantly. She would bake a sheet and it was still warm when the customer would be at the door to pick it up. She now was assured she could perhaps support herself and her home with the cornbread demand. Though she had never held a regular job, she realized that there were certain things she would have to do to satisfy tax codes. After all it was to be her source of income. She began writing down the number of orders she was filling, and keeping records of her expenses. She would be able by the month of April to pay the assessed taxes.
One day, she opened her mail to discover a letter that demanded that she fill out an enclosed form. It asked how large her home was, how large her kitchen was, and how large her oven was. She dutifully filled out the blanks, thinking how the Lord had given her ample supply of space in every way for her new venture in the baking of cornbread. She sent in the form feeling it should satisfy any requirements that might exist. A few days later, she received another letter, with another form. This letter was wanting to know the volume of the exhaust she had over her stove where the cornbread was being cooked. She took a tape measure and did the best she could to get the dimensions. She also mentioned that if the kitchen became too warm for her, she would raise a window or open the door. She sent that form in with the little note explaining her ways of doing things. A couple of days later her phone rang and the authoritative voice asked if the door and window had screens? Dorie answered yes, but the voice then wanted to know if the screens had any tears or holes bigger than 10 centimeters. Dorie couldn't answer that question because she didn't know how big a centimeter was. She was frightened of centipedes! The voice said, "We will call back for an appointment for someone to come out and measure the screens. Dorie had heard the mail drop through the slot while she was on the phone, so hanging up she went to get the mail. In the bundle was another official looking letter. This letter told her that this organization had the authority to examine the ingredients she was using in her cornbread to determine if they met the Department of agriculture requirements. Would she please give details of the type of corn that was being used in her cornbread and also, "was the milk she used, approved for commercial use?" The next letter she opened was from the E.P.A. and it wanted to know if the exhaust from her oven was overheating the air above her house and how high the temperature was at the 25 foot level above her house at the peak of the day?"
By now you are probably tired of reading my little parable, and hopefully a little disgusted at what our society has come to in all these similar governmental regulations and gerrymandering.