By Deborah Sickle Hill
What is it about bacon that holds such power? T-bone steaks, chocolate cake, homemade ice cream—delicious, sure. But none of them have the mysterious, magnetic pull of bacon.
In my house, we’re a full crew—seven people and one dog. I can yell “Dinner’s ready!” or even “Breakfast is on!” and maybe, eventually, people will wander in.
Unless there’s bacon.
The moment I lay that first strip on the griddle, something primal awakens. The entire family—dog included—suddenly appears. No yelling. No group text. Just the unmistakable scent of sizzling bacon, working its magic.
Because of this, I’ve decided to stash an emergency pack of bacon in the freezer. Not for breakfast. Not for BLTs. For actual emergencies.
If the day ever comes when I need everyone’s immediate attention—when yelling “We’re all going to die unless you run like hell!” won’t cut it—I’ll skip the home alarm system and toss that sacred bacon on the stove. It’s the one sound and smell that guarantees a response.
Bacon: It’s not just for breakfast. It’s a homing device.
Deborah Sickle Hill 
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