Mimi

Poor Mimi is traumatized. She is upset because I got a new bed. It’s queen size and replaces the single bed she and I have shared since she was a baby. I can’t believe that she lost her usually tranquil demeanor over the event, but she carried on like a banshee all night. My plans for a comfy nights sleep in my comfy new bed turned out to be one of the worse nights I’ve had in a long time.

She cried all night, sometimes meowing softly, sometimes more loudly, and sometimes in my ear. She jumped on and off the bed. She walked on my pillows, and she walked on me. I thought eventually Mimi would settle down and divide the night between sleeping at the foot of the bed and stretching out on the window sill next to the bed, and as usual, make her nocturnal forays from room to room leaving her toys scattered around for me to find in the morning.

Instead, around 3 in the morning, I was awakened with a noise that made me sit straight up in bed. In my ‘sleep-confusion’ I reached for a light that wasn’t there, on a night stand that wasn’t there either. Because the queen size bed took up so much space, the night stand had to be moved to a different spot. When I did turn on the light, I saw that Mimi had turned over a large floor fan that had a strand of jingle bells attached. Nothing was broken. The only damage was to my nerves.

Not having been born a true cat lover but having ‘acquired’ the affection like one ‘acquires; the taste for green olives, I’m learning that cats do not tolerate change well. ‘What to do Percy? What to do? I believe that when Mimi finishes sniffing and realizes the bed is here to stay and discovers that it might be more comfy for naps than the old, lumpy, narrow single bed was, she’ll be my sweet, lovable Mimi again.

Weather

I get annoyed about the way weather people report the weather on television. This annoyance has been building for years, but like Mark Twain’s famous saying that everyone complains about the weather, but no one does anything about it, I complain but I don’t do anything about it.

Doing something would probably mean writing a letter to the TV station asking the weather people to change their ways. Or more precisely, asking them to stop hogging the camera. In fact, get out of the picture all together!

In the old days of television, weather reporting was done by a person at the edge of the TV screen, holding a long stick and pointing to the map where certain weather anomalies were taking place or might take place. It was a fine system, simple and direct. You always knew where the weather was!

Modern weather people stand in front of a map with myriad symbols representing clouds, rain, snow, flood, sun, wind, humidity, heat index, jet stream, highs, lows, temperature and warnings. They speak in a rapid gun fire weather jargon while drawing on the electronic map and adding more lines to the scribbles and never moving from the best camera angle.

They are always standing in front of the weather I want to look at! If I want to see the weather at the border of Texas and Louisiana, the weather person is either standing in front of that portion of the map, or the map cuts off at Houston. If I want to see the weather in southern California, the map stops with Colorado as the most western state.

Give me Radar Weather. At least with the sweep hand centered near ones location you can see where the weather is!

Aunts

I had two aunts named Bessie. Mom and Dad both had sisters named Bessie. Mom’s sister, Bessie Ross, lived in the north; Dad’s sister, Bessie Denison, lived in the south.

Bessie Ross was like an older sister and always a port in a storm for me. She was a pragmatist and over the years demonstrated her ability to cope with difficult situations and not only survive but come out on top. Bessie was married to Uncle Wallace and their son, Homer, was their only child.

Bessie Denison was the pivot around which Uncle Alvin, their children, Rosalee and Albert plus Grandma and Grandpa Abbott revolved, and we always stayed with them during Dad’s annual vacation. The trips to visit relatives in various parts of Kentucky and Tennessee radiated from their home.

Bessie Denison was soft spoken with a charming southern drawl that contrasted mightily with the quick, hard edged speech we in the north were used to hearing. It was great fun to have Rose and Albert repeat words such as ‘time’. Adeline was always quick to pick up the nuances of language and within a few days of our visit, Adeline was talking like Aunt Bessie. Apropos of the spoken language, when my daughter, Kim was 5 years old, she asked Aunt Bessie Ross to tell her about sewing the flag. We had a wonderful laugh when we realized that Kim had confused the names Betsy and Bessie.

I will never forget the wonderful visit my husband and I had with Aunt Bessie and Uncle Alvin when they lived in Bowling Green, Kentucky. While Bessie and Grandma prepared a wonderful meal, Uncle Alvin took us on a tour of the tobacco crop and we helped put the milk cans on the road for the milk truck to pick up. Albert was our special guide and made certain we saw everything. I loved his enthusiasm and I still recall his saying the words, ’flatter’n a fritter cake’. At that time I never thought such an engaging youngster would grow up to look like the proverbial distinguished Kentucky Colonel with snow white hair and beard that Adeline and I met again years later when we visited him in South Carolina.

As the years went by, both Aunts continued to be the hub for family gatherings and sources of news about distant cousins, aunts and uncles. Even after Uncle Wallace and Uncle Alvin passed away, I often turned to them for comfort when Mom and Dad were not at hand. They were a grounding rod for me during difficult times and I will never forget how gracious and willing they were to show me kindness when I needed it most. I have been very lucky to get bunched in with such a generous and loving family!

What fun to recall drinking coffee with Bessie and Grandma Abbott and watching Grandma’s parakeet sitting on her shoulder and saying, “I’m a democrat”.

A Wonderful Birthday Cake by Esther

[note: this story was written by my sister Esther]

It was so nice to see Mom and Dad. They came to spend a few days with us on their way through to Florida. And best of all they brought along with them Mom’s sister, Aunt Nettie and her husband Matt. Aunt Nettie is everyone’s favorite and she was one of the best Aunts any one would want.

Vern and I enjoyed taking them sight seeing what was to be of interest and in general what made Baton Rouge a growing city. First stop was the capitol. It’s always a good place to spend several hours. We left there to go eat lunch and then we were off to a hard ware store.

It was a general store that was long past it’s time. But it was not about to close it’s door and go out of business. They had so many customers that needed them. I told the owner I had to bring my parents in to show them and he was more than pleased to show us around. He had farm equipment for the small farmer and for the rice and cane big time farmers.

If you needed harness for any animal he had it all. If you needed tools, he was your man. If you wanted bees he had them for sell too. By now Dad and Matt were really enjoying this place. We had a first class tour and he was a fantastic guide. The owner was as pleased to know Dad and Uncle Matt were old time farmers too.

Us ladies also had a great time there just looking. It was like being back a few generations, where a general store meant the store had everything to sell. It had fabric, buttons, ribbons and patterns for the one who sewed. The furniture was the best made and in style, from the kitchen all the way though the house.

Mom and Aunt Nettie and I spent a nice afternoon and we all thanked the owner for his time showing us how good the old days were. I really loved taking everyone there.

The children loved it when Grandma and Grandpa came to visit. They really spoiled the kids. That’s what they are suppose to do. They loved to hear grandpa tell about when he would work with Paul Bunyon. He would tell the same stories my brothers and sisters would ask him when we were small. And Dad would have one of them cut the string in to two pieces and then he would make it back into one string. His fingers were fast.

The day before they were to leave to continue to Florida, was my birthday. I was going to bake my cake, a devils food cake with white mountain icing and lots of shredded coconut flakes all over the top and sides. Mom always made the best cakes, but there just was not enough time so Aunt Nettie and I went off to the bakery to see what I could find. She wanted to buy me something and there was not a thing I would let her get for me.

We made a stop at the grocery store and got several items I needed for supper and after that we went to the bakery and looked at the cakes in the glass cases. They all looked so good. It was like when I was very young and I had a penny and could only buy one piece of candy and there was twenty five different kind to choose from.

Aunt Nettie saw one that she liked and pointed it out to me. It was really a nice looking cake. Had five layers, was a rectangle, and each layer was a different color. It was a rainbow cake. It was just the best looking cake and I told her she pick a winner. She wanted to get it as my birthday gift and I let her do it. I have always treasured that cake and it was several years later I found the recipe for it and if you do make one, you will love it for sure.

I don’t make five layers and so I don’t have all the colors at one time. Any flavor is good and the frosting is a glaze drizzled over the top. I will leave the recipe for you to try, knowing it’s a winner.

Cake

1 white or yellow cake mix
1 3 oz any flavor jello
½ cup oil
¼ cup fruit juice to match jello*

Follow directions on cake box and add the dry jello powder,
oil, fruit juice or water, with an electric beater

Bake in two layer cake pans or a 9x13 inch pan at
350 degree oven till done. Cool before icing.


Icing

½ cup butter room temperature
1 lb. powder sugar

Start with a few drops of lemon juice till you have glaze icing

Spread icing over first layer put second layer on top first layer
and spread the rest of the icing on top.

Bastille Day

After seeing the eye Dr the other day, I stopped at the appointment desk to set the date and time of my next appointment. It fell on the 14th of July. I casually mentioned to the nurse that July 14th was Bastille Day. She and another nurse gave me a questioning look and asked what I meant. I had surprised myself when I blurted out the name of the holiday, but I explained that it was a National holiday in France, celebrating the storming and liberation of the Bastille prison and the beginning of the French Revolution.

In 1948 my husband and I, along with our 2 year old son, went to France. Soon after we arrived, we rented rooms in the apartment of a Jewish couple, M’sieur and Madam Dryfus, who had been in concentration camps and had taken in their 8 year old niece whose parents had been killed by the Nazis. They rented us a combination living room/bedroom and a dining room/kitchen but the bathroom was shared with them.

A large double bed in one corner of the living room was enclosed with heavy gray velvet drapes separating it from the rest of the room. The dining room had a large dining table and chairs in the middle of the room with a mini kitchen in one corner. A cot for our 2 year old was along one wall. There was a large window overlooking Paris in the dining room and a similar window in the living room overlooking shops on both sides of the street below and a park, which was catty corner across from our building

At the beginning of our stay in France, neither of us spoke French. The Dryfuses did not speak English, but we quickly absorbed enough French to understand them. They told us about the customs and habits of the French which paved the way for us when we shopped and traveled around Paris and the countryside. They urged us to join others of the 15th Arronndissment, (a working class neighborhood), and dance in the streets on Bastille Day to celebrate French Independence Day.

We were hesitant, but wanted to see how they celebrated. There was loud record music coming from an open doorway and 5 or 6 couples were already dancing in the street, but it wasn’t long before more people came to dance. The general atmosphere was one of gaiety and laughter. Many were strangers to each other and as greetings were exchanged, they realized we were Americans. Regardless of our limited French, and our decision to only watch, everyone insisted on dancing with us. I was very shy and tried to hold back, but found myself being whirled and turned as I tried desperately not to sprain an ankle as we twirled over the irregular pavement. My husband was also dancing and as busy changing partners as I was.

Besides being an evening to remember, it was a wonderful welcome to the neighborhood as well.

Kentucky

I must have been born with a ‘travel gene’ because from earliest memories I have been interested in far away places. By ‘far away’ I mean anything beyond home and environs. About the time I was in third grade at school, the names of states began to make an impact on my consciousness. I used to coax Dad to tell me once again the name of all the states he had been to. I kept track of them and if he forgot to name a state I would remind him. Mom’s list of states was meager compared to Dad’s and so was mine.

I loved to hear the folks tell me about the places I had been as a baby. In their telling, my birth state of Kentucky took on a quality of specialness that I never applied to any other state I’ve lived or traveled in. Neither have I spent much of my life there, but perhaps birth states are special. I certainly seemed to have bonded to mine.

In those early childhood days, any bit of history about Kentucky got my attention. Kentucky was called both ‘the dark and bloody ground’ and ‘the happy hunting ground’ but my grade school history books never explained the reasons. As an adult I read that Kentucky was not home to any tribe per say, but surrounded by many that hunted in the area and oft times clashed, thus, the bloody connotation.

When ever Dad would say that Kentucky was the home of fast horses, beautiful women, tobacco and whisky, he always had a twinkle in his eye and gave Mom a knowing look. I could tell a secret meaning had passed between them and it seemed as if Kentucky was special to them too.

Growing up I sifted the remarks about horses from Calumet Farm when the Kentucky Derby was run and took childish pride in having the famous race at Churchill Downs in ‘my’ Louisville. Even today when I watch the run for the roses on television, I get a delicious shiver when the crowd sings My Old Kentucky Home.

It has been many years since I was last in Kentucky, but I’ve had the pleasure of visiting Kentucky relatives who now live in other states. Favorite cousins, brother and sister, RosaLee and Albert and their families now live in Georgia and our last visit was memorable! Just hearing Rose’s voice on the phone brings back a wave of Kentucky nostalgia. I never get tired of remembering the house on Phillips Lane in Louisville and the love and warmth I experienced there. Viva RosaLee! Viva Albert!

Parades

Last night I watched a 1950’s movie about a small Iowa town’s high school baseball team winning the season’s championship game. To celebrate, a long line of vehicles, with horns blasting and occupants hooting and hollering, paraded through the center of town. The parade in the movie reminded me of the time Mom and I were forced to join a July 4th parade in Orange, Texas. It was scheduled to start at 10 o’clock in the morning at one end of town then pass thru an intersection near our house before turning onto McArthur Blvd, the main route of the parade.

Knowing the intersection would be blocked to ordinary traffic during the time of the parade, Mom and I, believing we had enough time to avoid the blockade, got in my 20 year old Buick Centurion and drove to a grocery store located on the corner of the intersection. We planned to quickly shop and return home before the parade started, but on reaching the intersection, we discovered the parade in progress! Mom and I were astounded that we had miscalculated the time. As we began to grasp the consequences of the situation, we assumed we would be watching the parade pass directly in front of the car for as long as the parade lasted since there was no way I could turn the car around and leave.

A policeman, monitoring the parade, held up his hand and stopped the flow of the parade. A marching band came to a halt but continued playing and the horses following the band began to prance in place. I thought the policeman was going to let me drive thru the intersection, but instead he motioned me to turn left and join the parade. I hesitated, but he again motioned me to get in line and I had to comply.

The idea of driving my old, battered up vehicle in a 4th of July parade was ridiculous enough but we had to endure the embarrassment the full length of the parade. All we could do was giggle. After a few moments, making the best of the situation, we actually got into the spirit of the day and waved to bystanders.

My Sister Marion Elizabeth By Esther

[note: this story was written by my sister Esther]

Marion Elizabeth was the oldest of the children . She was always the one to baby sit us younger ones. She loved to teach and would show us how to do what she wanted done. Also, she taught us to make nice craft items and she loved to sing. After the chores were done and before bed time we would sing together.

I don’t remember how long it was that Mom and Dad were gone, but I was missing them. It seem like they should have been home and I looked every day for them to drive up into the drive way.

They left Jerry, Dick and me with Marion and Charles to take care of the farm and help with us three kids. We did help to feed the dog, chickens, gather the eggs and help in general with the chores. Chuck would supply the wood needed to cook and bake in the wood stove. Marion would do the cooking, cleaning and washing the clothes.

Marion would tell us what the plans were each day. She said if we did every thing she wanted done, she would bake us something good. And we understood she meant being good and doing what she wanted done. She cooked as good as Mom did.

Chuck liked it when we did the chores in a reasonable amount of time. We three did like to play and some times we did not get it done as soon as we should of but Chuck was never one to fuss. Most times, he would jump in and help us to finish the chores. Than he would take us to the back pasture to treat us to an apple from the tree. It was great to climb the tree, pick the one apple you could reach and sit on the branch and enjoy the ripe apple. Most of the time the apple was not all the way ripe but it was still good to eat.

Marion did the cooking and baking. She was as good at fixing the meals as Mom was. She would bake cakes and cookies and pies or most any desserts we three wanted. Meal times were good.

Chuck was also good at fixing food. He made a pumpkin spread to put on a slice of bread. It was his secret blend of spice and brown sugar, he would put butter on the bread, toast it in the oven and then added the pumpkin. We three loved it.

When Marion needed someone to run to get her something from the cellar she would call one of us three to go get it for her and the three of us went after it. Then we would know what was going to be for the next meal.

Mom had been gone for some time and I kept asking Marion, “Is Mom coming home today”? And she would tell me, “Maybe”. She would tell me to watch and see if I could see them coming up the drive way. Marion knew I was missing Mom and she told me to try to understand that Mom was needed there with Dad, more than I needed her and if I was patient she would let me wear her gold coin that was on a very thin gold chain. And I could make a wish on it but it was not a magic coin, it was only to be a wish. I wore her gold coin and it was a very special favor she let me wear it.

I did wish Mom and Dad would come home now. Today. It was almost supper time and I was sitting out in the drive way when Marion called us to supper. As I got up to go in I looked back and there was the car turning into our driveway and it was Mom. They were home.

We had a great supper. I was content. And Grandpa was well and so was Grandma. Every one was happy to have our Parents home, where life went on in a normal way.

River Town

I grew up in a river town, but the fact was such a natural part of my childhood it never became a point of distinction in my stories. It’s only in recent years I’ve come to realize we took the river for granted. We accepted it as naturally as one accepts the existence of trees. It was just there. The following photos are a trip down memory lane.

Vehicles traveling north on highway 65 entered town underneath a railroad viaduct, then jigged a precarious ‘S’ jog to the left before heading in straight line to points north. If the vehicles managed the ‘S’ jog safely, (sometimes trucks carrying watermelons and eggs didn’t), they crossed over one of the high concrete bridge spanning the Iowa River.

The 70 foot high limestone cliffs near the dam gradually diminished until the river banks were at water level on the far side of town.



















We hiked, picnicked and gathered wild flowers on the river banks, swam in the river water during the summers and ice skated on the frozen river in the winter.














The above photos are of the library, the Princes Café, the Metropolitan Opera House and Movie Theater, and the High School.

The Band Shell in the city park, the Post Office, and the ice house

There were Friday night concerts in the Band Shell during the summer. We watched Ice being cut from the frozen river in the winter time. I earned nickels and dimes running errands to and from the Post Office.

Change

It’s a time of change; it’s a time of confusion. Each day brings new aspects of a world in flux. Television coverage of local, state, national and global events depicts humanity struggling to cope with powers beyond their control.

From an individual’s need to provide daily sustenance, to the masses of humanity searching for the means of survival and security, the struggles are shown in digital color over and over on television and are reminders that certainty is not an absolute.

Breakdown of financial institutions and failed economies have caused hardships and confusion for populations as well as governments. Tyrannical movements based on fear and religion have spiked around the globe. The behavior of countries striving to gain power advantage over neighbors through weapon development is incomprehensible as it creeps us ever closer to the destruction of war.

I am totally bewildered when I listen to the myriad discussions on television and radio about the whys and wherefores. Everyone has a solution but also opposition.

"What to do, Percy? What to do?"

I remember another time during a depression when similar happenings took place. Weapons were tested on the people of Spain and Ethiopia. An Asian country caused mass upheaval the world over, another created a thousand year reign.

What is it about ‘human rights’ and ‘sovereign nation’ that we don’t understand?

Thank You

Thanks to one and all for the many birthday wishes. I’ve had a wonderful day. I’ve received lovely gifts and treats galore!

I’ve been ‘hugged’ and ‘grubbed’. Virtual hugs by email and IM chats. I got bear hugs from my son, who also treated me to wonderful dinner at Ninfa’s, Houston’s famous Mexican restaurant.

After such a nice day, I’m ready for anything the fates throw my way until my birthday next June.

Love and hugs to all,
marion

A Memory of the Fair by Esther

[note: this story was written by my sister Esther]

It was a day that my sister had promised to take me to the fair. I had looked forward to going and the best part was my sister was going to make it a special day just for me. Adeline was going to treat me to an all day event. I was about five or maybe six years old. I was to see any and every thing there was to see at the fair. Having never been to one, she had told me what I might see and how the day was to go. She was waiting for me to finish my breakfast so we could be on our way.

Adeline had our lunch packed in her carrying sack and her book to read was in her pocket. She took my hand and off we started to town. We lived in the country. It was a long way to town. We walked down the gravel road to the main highway that would take us to the main street in town. It was a good day to walk. The sun was shining and the wind was just a gentle breeze. Adeline and I were laughing and having a good time hiking and playing tag as we went on our way to town. Adeline was always happy and she was telling me I needed to be a good girl and not give her a bit of trouble today. She said it was to be a special treat only for a good girl. So I promised to be a good girl and do just what she told me.

It was not long before we had other people walking to the fair with us. There was soon a crowd. Everyone was talking about what we would see at the fair and it was not long till we were there.

There were rides that I knew were not for me to even want to get on. The one I did like was like a a big round wheel. It was very tall. It was a Ferris wheel. Adeline was not sure if we could ride on it. She looked to see if she had enough money. Yes! She did and we got in line with the others who were waiting for the next ride. It was good to just watch as it went around and around. Just looking up as it went over and started down was exciting. We got on a seat and the man put the bar down and Adeline put her hands on the bar and I did my hands like hers. When the Ferris wheel started up, I began to get scared, it was not like I had thought it would be. Adeline was telling me not to be afraid, I was going to be fine. And she reminded me of my promise to be good. I really did hold on tight and made it till we got back on the ground. I did promise myself I would never do that again.

We made our way through all the fair and at noon we stopped at a picnic area. Adeline found a table and bench and we had the lunch she had in her carrying sack. We were really hungry and could have eaten another sandwich if she had had one. We sat there for a while. Adeline had her book out and was reading it. She always had a book with her to read. She loved her books for as long as I knew her. She was never without one handy to read if she had a minute or two. She finally put the book away and we started out toward home.

We had planned to walk back to the starting gate and then head home. She lead the way and I walked behind her. It was at the puppet show I stopped for a minute; then when I looked for her she was gone. I had lost her and I look all around me and she was no where to be seen. I was alone in the crowd and this really frightened me. I started to cry and it was not long till every one was looking for my sister. The last time I saw her, she was reading her book walking in front of me.

A nice man helped me to quit crying and he said he would see to it that Adeline would be with me and it would be alright. I just needed to wait and see. It was not my sister that came and got me, it was my father. One of the people who was looking for Adeline knew who I was and went to the telephone office where my father worked and he came to get me. I was so happy to see him. I cried and hugged him, I knew I was safe with him. I held his hand and would not let go. He walked with me to his company office and it wasn't long 'til Adeline was there and he told her to never let me out of her sight again. He did fuss at her and I felt so bad. I was not the good girl I had promised to be.

In the end, Adeline did give me a hug and made me promise to never stop when walking behind her. Which I did. She said “Sisters have to stay together.”

Memories of Long Ago Part 1 of 3

During the Great Depression years, we three girls and five boys lived with Mom and Dad on an asparagus farm in Iowa. The girls: Marion Elizabeth, Marie Adeline, and Esther Lavern and the boys: Herod Jr, Charles Hamilton, Elbert James, Richard Lee, and Gerald Dean had nicknames that changed over the years. We changed Junior to Mickey when he was in his teens. The only person to use Marie was her husband Larry. She was always called Adeline or Addy by family. Charles was sometimes called Chuck. Richard was Dick and Gerald was Jerry. My husband and his family called me Abby but I was always Marion to the family. When Elbert went into the Marine corps and later married, he was called Abby by his wife, Mary and his co-workers, but remained Elbert to the family.

Adeline and I walked to a school in town but Esther and the boys went to a country school and were driven there in a car. Their school had only one room with one teacher that taught first grade thru the 6th grade. Adeline and I took shortcuts thru several pastures to reach a road that led to our school.

Every morning Esther had her beautiful long, red hair braided French style. If Mom was busy, I braided her hair, but I did not know how to do French braiding so did plain braids and tied them with ribbons. Esther was always patient and never squirmed or wriggled when she was having her hair done.

Adeline had ash blond hair that was extremely fine, cut shoulder length. Sometimes she got chewing gum in her hair. If she went to sleep with chewing gum in her mouth, it would fall out onto the pillow and get into her hair. Mom would use oil to carefully remove the gum without using scissors, but sometimes it was too difficult and the gum had to be snipped out. Once Adeline spilled a bottle of blue ink in her hair and regardless of many shampoos, she had to wait until her hair grew long enough for the color to be trimmed away.

My hair was a lighter red than Esther’s. I worn it page boy style but when I wanted curly hair, I’d do it up in pin curls at night before going to sleep. In the morning, when I removed the bobby pins and combed my hair, the ends would be curly. Sometimes Adeline and I would ask Mom to put our hair up in rags. Locks of hair were dampened and wound around strips of rag. When the hair dried, the rags were removed and we’d have long curls like the children wore in the old south.

Memories of Long Ago Part 2 of 3

Memories of Long Ago Part 2 of 3

In spring time when the asparagus started to grow, all the children got up early in the mornings to help Mother and Dad cut the asparagus and get it ready for sale to the grocery stores. The stalks had to be rinsed with water and bundled with an elastic band into one pound bunches. The grocery stores bought the asparagus for 25 cents a pound.

The older children helped with the chores when it did not interfere with their school work. Sometimes Adeline and I were asked to milk the two cows the family owned. I was very skittish around cows. I knew they are gentle creatures but their size intimidated and frightened me. I was even afraid of cows in the pastures that Adeline and I crossed on the way to and from school. If any of the cows grazing at the bottom of the hill near the creek started ambling toward the fence line where the path was, I asked Adeline to run ahead and shoo them away.

Tippy, a collie was our favorite pet, but we also had a pet pig. It had received special attention to help it survive and was kept in a box close to the kitchen wood stove. As the pig grew it was housebroken and slept in the corner of the kitchen at night. The pig was very intelligent and learned how to open the kitchen screen door by itself. When it wanted to go out, it would gently bump the screen with it’s snout until the hook popped open. When he wanted to come back in, he would make oink sounds. If the pig was ignored or no one heard him, the noises got louder. The pig was very gentle and loved having his tummy scratched. One day Mom gave orders that the pig had to stay outside; that it could no longer come into the house. We children protested, but knew that eventually the pig would grow too big to be a pet. We took him to the barn where he joined his siblings in the pen with the other pigs.

Another pet we had during those years was a white calf. It had to be taught how to eat from a bucket. Dry feed was mixed with milk for the calf to drink. To teach the calf to drink the food, we dipped a hand into the food, and then slipped it into the calf’s mouth so it could taste the food and start sucking. When we dipped our hand back into the bucket, the calf learned where the food was and in a few days he eagerly gulped his meals. While the calf was young it was staked near the house in a grassy area. When it learned to graze, we moved it to a new grassy plot several times during the day.

There were many chores that had to be done on the little acreage. Besides the acres of asparagus, there were large beds of strawberries, blackberries and raspberries that had to be picked. We always had a big vegetable garden and there were chickens to feed and eggs to collect. Dad helped with the chores before going to his office at the telephone company and again when he got home from work. We girls and boys helped before and after school.

One day Dad called everyone together and told them that he was going to get some bee hives so the family would have honey and there would be enough to sell. Dad showed everyone the catalog from a company in South Carolina that sold queen bees and the equipment needed to work with them. There were hats with screens covering the face, heavy gloves and other protective clothing for protection from bee stings. There was a can used to make smoke which calmed the bees when you took honey from the hives.

Every one was excited when the hives arrived. Father chose to put them near the berry patches so they would not interfere with activities near the house. As time went by, we children learned a lot about bees and helped Dad check the hives to see how much honey was being made. When a colony of bees got too big to live in one hive, they swarmed, which meant half the bees would leave with a new queen bee and start a new colony somewhere else.

One day one of the children saw the bees beginning to swarm and called for everyone to come and see. The bees began to form a buzzing mass in the air above the hive with a new queen surrounded by worker bees protecting her. As more bees streamed out of the hive to join the new queen, Charles picked up a clod of dirt and tossed it into the air and into the swarming bees. He held out his arm and the new colony settled on it. He was able to very gently push the bees into an empty hive without getting stung. Everyone praised Charles for being so brave! It had been a very exciting event and everyone was happy and very proud of Charles.

Memories of Long Ago Part 3 of 3

One of the reasons Mom and Dad moved to the asparagus acreage was the chance to supplement Dad’s telephone company salary by selling asparagus and berries to the local stores as well as the surplus produce from the vegetable garden. With the addition of the bee hives, honey was added to the list of things the family could sell along with chickens and eggs. It was an ideal situation since the chores were not overly labor intensive and we children pitched in and helped according to our ages. We raised our own vegetables, had a cow for milk and raised several pigs for our own home grown hams and bacon.

Grandma and Grandpa A came from Kentucky and while they were with us, Grandpa helped with the chores and Grandma helped Mom with the canning. Adeline and I were expected to help with all the chores as were the older boys. We washed canning jars and were generally available when called upon. When tomatoes and peaches were canned, they were first put in a big galvanized tub and covered with hot water so the skins would slide off. Adeline and I helped pick them out of the water and remove the skins then toss them into a tub of cold water. A lot of the canning was done by pressure cooker. Large crocks of sauerkraut stored in the cellar lasted the winter.

As the depression deepened, families struggled to get by. At one point, Dad and several of Mom’s older brothers joined together to buy and sell coal. Dad bought a stake truck and my uncles did the driving. During the winter they would buy loads of coal from mines in Missouri and bring it to our house in northern Iowa to sell to the local farmers. They often got orders and as soon as one load was delivered they would immediately return to Missouri for another load. In the spring instead of coal, they hauled fence posts. As soon as the truck arrived at our house, the men would get on the phone to farmers in the area and often sold the load on the first phone call.

I liked school. My favorite subjects were English and Biology. I often thought of becoming a Biology teacher, but I assumed my fear of snakes would prevent me. I barely scrapped by in Latin and Math. I sang alto in Glee Club. In the Journalism club I worked on the school newspaper. I was a baton twirler in marching band and had a part time job in one of the dime stores in town. I was not allowed to date until after I graduated from high school. Adeline and I went to parties, movies and roller skating. Adeline and I were both girl scouts and went to one summer camp for a month, and another year went to camp for two weeks. I thought of being a nurse, but money was scarce and going to nursing school seemed out of the question.

The depression affected everything in our lives and was to blame for the banks being closed, empty store fronts on the street and the piles of oranges in California being burnt with petroleum. But the photos of the war in China, the radio spouted news of the Italians warring in Ethiopia, and the Movie Tone news reels showing Russians dying in snow at Stalingrad was a parallel world compared to the asparagus farm, in which my days continued to melt into each other with an endless sameness, and innocence.

June

June is bustin’ out all over. It’s my birthday month.

I’ll be 87 on the 15th!

That, of course, is a most important event, at least as far as I’m concerned, but June also represents the National interest in a myriad of other topics. Depending on your sense of humor and/or interest, here is a short list:

National Dairy
Great Outdoors
Adopt a Cat
Drive Safe
Fruit and Vegetables
Iced Tea
Rose
National Safety
Potty Training
Turkey Lovers
Zoo and Aquariums

As a child, I took delight in sharing my birthday with a famous Opera singer, Madam Schumann Heink. I only knew about her from reading a newspaper column of events happening on that day. I was an adult when I actually read anything about her other than her birthday and discovered that she was a brilliant and world famous singer.

I’m glad I celebrated her birthday along with mine for years, even as she faded from memory and renown as a diva.

For the last 65 years I have celebrated D Day. Perhaps the better word is ‘Marked’ not ‘Celebrate’. This year the speeches, the 21 gun salute, the fly over of planes and Obama’s remarks made it seem more poignant than in years past. The Crosses in the cemetery, each with a fluttering flag, brought forth emotions of patriotism that Nazism and Fascism were defeated, but they are also reminders that we are engaged in two wars.

It seems as if the only time we have a short period of peace is when our economy is bankrupt and we have to mend our ways. Then when the economy has gained back the ability to sustain a new war action we find ourselves involved in another righteous fight.

Creating A Cookbook

For several weeks I have been recuperating from emergency surgery for a detached retina. The Dr. says everything is healing nicely and I no longer have to wear an eye patch.

I had the surgery when I was half way thru a project of re-typing a few recipes for easier reading. I had been motivated by my sister, Esther when she told me she was re-typing some of their favorites and giving copies to her daughters. I wanted to do the same for Kim and Bob.

Esther and I began referring to the re-typed pages as our ‘books’. We compared notes on how many recipes we should include. At first we thought between 7 and 10 then decided 15 or 17 would be ok. We didn’t want to write a real cookbook, only one that had some of the family favorites. When our families found out about our little books, some of them wanted us to add one or more of their recipes. Esther and I agreed they definitely should be included, which in turn led to the promise of our exchanging books because we wanted copies of everyone’s favorites.

Somewhere between 20 and 30 recipes, I decided to decorate my pages with food photos. I didn’t realize I was in for a long bout of learning ‘how to’. I knew how to crop photos, etc. but I was in for a shock when I didn’t know how to place and keep them where I wanted them. Then along came the surgery.

When I was able to get back on the computer and work with the recipes and photos again, I mentioned to Esther, who was printing her pages on her printer that I thought the cost of Kinko’s publishing might be cheaper than my having to buy color cartridges for my printer. I had long since passed the number of books I planned to give away. Originally it was only going to be 3 or 4, but the list grew and grew. So did the number of recipes I kept putting in the book as I continued to ignore warnings from my son that I should seriously think of limiting pages or I would be in for STICKER SHOCK when I went to have it printed. Well……and then……

Necessity is the Mother of invention. I can email a copy of my book in PDF format to those who would like to have a copy.

UPDATE: The cookbook can be downloaded by clicking the link on the left panel.

Memories

Memories are like rivers and streams of scenes I’ve known and places I’ve been. Sometimes a few notes of music, a chance word, or fragrance will trigger a chain of remembrances. My sister, Esther and I often reminisce about our shared experiences. In the telling, we compare notes for accuracy and are delighted when our memories mesh.

I have been engrossed in the television coverage of Obama’s train trip to Washington and the preparations for his inaugural, I know those who waved as the train passed, and those who will attend the actual inaugural, will have treasured memories of a significant event in American history. Those of us viewing the events on television will also have a sense of history and memories to talk and write about for a long time to come.

During the last several days I have remembered a couple of moments when something pertaining to a president of the United States has lingered in my mind. Why they should still be with me with such an acute awareness is beyond me because the moments are just that, fractions a second and without a preamble or a follow up indicating a grand design.

One moment that replays itself from time to time is President FDR’s inaugural speech when I was 15. In my mind’s eye I had started climbing the stairs to my bedroom after being outside shoveling the snow from the front sidewalk. It had been snowing heavily all day and I had gone out several times to clear the sidewalk, but at this moment I wasn’t feeling well with a headache. I heard Roosevelt’s speech on the radio and stopped on the stairs to listen for a moment. As I leaned against the banister, I watched the falling snow thru the bay window in the living room. I have no idea what the weather was like for Roosevelt, but I associate falling snow with inaugural speeches.

My memory also holds a newspaper photograph of President Truman on his daily walk with reporters trailing after him. I don’t remember the caption, but I associate that photo with his being angry with critics of his daughter’s concert.

I have never seen an American president in person. I know them from newspapers, radio and television and of course the movie tone news. I also read about them. My perceptions of them individually come form those sources. Attitude toward them for approval or disapproval is determined by my interest in politics.

I wonder and hope I would have supported Lincoln if I had been present at his debates with Douglas. In those very early years when he was a country lawyer I might have been a supporter because he might have been a neighbor with a reputation for winning law cases. As a northerner, I would have been against slavery and would have approved the emancipation of slaves, but I seriously doubt I would have ever dreamed a black person would be president.

In a few days Obama will be sworn into office with an approval rating of 78%. The problems facing him are dire and complex, but the country is anxious and willing to help him. His confident smile is encouragement to all of us that this memorable moment in our history will truly empower us to be the Americans our constitution says we are.

United_States_Constitution

Happy New Year 2009

Happy New Year 2009

Wars are raging across the planet. Groups of humans are fighting for power to control other groups of humans. Almost any excuse is used to agitate and manipulate situations for advantage by either individuals or factions within communities and countries. Borders are no longer indications of ethnicity but have turned into highways and byways for refugees fleeing violence. Pestilence and starvation have become norms as a result of massive greed and selfishness by self appointed rulers. The acquisition of money, which represents power, is so extreme in every country that large populations are in want of housing and food. Pollution of earth and water exists almost beyond the ability to prevent a global catastrophe.

I wonder that I have the temerity to wish loved ones a happy New Year, but as hope springs eternal and tradition calls for celebrating the passing of the old year as the New Year comes into being...

I do wish all a happy, healthy and prosperous 2009.

If you would like to help....

Oxfam America

Heifer International

Justgive.org

Sea Shepherd

Is It Fate or Do We Choose?

Is It Fate or Do We Choose?


For all the good times
Thru all the years
For all the joys
The laughs, the tears
Is it fate or do we choose?
We pay the piper
And dance a tune
We swing and sway
From side to side
Then turn and bow to start anew.
Is it by luck or chance
We masque the tune and
Start a dance?
For all the laughs
And tears, a few
Would it differ if
We knew?
If it’s fate or if we choose?

Marion Bigelow, December 22, 2008