All My Ancestors

7 March 2010

A Favorite Recipe Lost

Filed under: Mom, Texas — allmyanc @ 9:36 am

March is Women’s History Month and Lisa Alzo at The Accidental Genealogist has posted 31 prompts for celebrating the women in our lives.  I, of course, am late getting started, but here’s today’s prompt.

March 7 — Share a favorite recipe from your mother or grandmother’s kitchen. Why is this dish your favorite? If you don’t have one that’s been passed down, describe a favorite holiday or other meal you shared with your family.

Cooking was not my mother’s joy or strength.

She did it and she did it fairly well–especially since her boundaries were fairly fixed.  We lived in a rural area where it was almost too hot to have a garden–at least for my red-haired, fair-skinned mother.  And we always had beef in the locker in town, and later, in our home freezer.  I was shocked once to hear a friend’s mother talk about how tired she was as a child of eating lobster.  But she was a child of maritime Canada–I was a child of the Texas plains, and we ate beef.  My mom was known to sneak in a package of bologna or liverwurst occasionally, but it was never put on the table as the main dish.  She did pass to me her skill at making gravy–one of the secrets is letting the flour cook a bit first–I later learned this was called “making a roux” in official cooking terminology.  The other secret is having the right utensil to stir to keep from having lumpy gravy as the liquid (usually milk in our case) is added.  Mom’s utensil of choice was some sort of coiled, springy metal thing probably originally intended to beat egg whites or somesuch.

But at some point she had a great recipe for a dessert that has been lost.  She got it from her best friend Phyllis, and when I moved to the same city Phyllis left our small town for, I called her, but she couldn’t remember the recipe.  I can see it written on a scrap of paper and stuffed in the recipe drawer, but I cannot re-create it nor can I find one despite handy sites like AllRecipes that let you type in the ingredients and provide you with a recipe using those foods.

It started with graham cracker crumbs.  I think it probably had sugar and seems like some whipped egg whites folded in.  These, along with some undoubtedly additional forgotten ingredients, were patted down into a 9 x 13 pan and baked for a bit.  Then, what made it truly amazing, a boiling mixture of crushed pineapple and I can’t remember what else poured over it right as it came out of the oven.  This resulted in a yummy gooey bar that was so good, at least as I remember it.

And maybe it’s the best kind of recipe.  I certainly don’t need the calories, but I relish the memory of cooking in my mother’s kitchen, from recipes she’d scrawled on scraps of paper, making food that had come from her shared friendship with other women at the church.  I was able to locate her “quick” fruit-cake recipe after many years through the magic of the Internet, so perhaps the pineapple, graham-cracker bars will eventually appear as well.

26 December 2009

A New Home: My Mom’s Wedding Rings

Filed under: Holidays, Mom, Spindle Family — allmyanc @ 11:45 am

A few weeks ago our youngest son announced the time had come.  He was going to propose to his sweetie and they were getting married in the summer.

I thought about it for a while and wrote both sons telling them I had their maternal grandmother’s wedding rings, and while there was only one diamond, they were welcome to think about using the stone and/or rings if they and their beloveds agreed.

They talked and the rings were examined while everyone was here for Thanksgiving.

In the end, the oldest son agreed that since son #2 had firmer plans than did he, he should have first crack at the rings.

So #2 son brought his beloved over to check out the rings.  My mom had saved the original 1950’s Zale’s settings when she had her diamond reset into newer gold  rings about 1975.  When Ang viewed both the updated gold set and the old white gold, stoneless set with a break in the thinned, well-worn wedding band, she fell in love.

With the older set.

I predicted this as Ang wears clothes from vintage shops that look very much like what I wore to college 40 years ago.  Except they look much better on her.  She manages to make those double-knit a-line dresses look great.

The end of this story is that Ang received the old, repaired, restored engagement ring that my mother wore so many years ago for Christmas.

Mom would be tickled–in the sense that her grandson is marrying someone who values the history of that set of rings, but also because she (Ang) prefers what she (Mom) set aside almost 25 years ago.

Welcome to the family, Ang.

14 December 2009

Advent Calendar: Fruitcake Chronicles

Filed under: Holidays, Memes, Mom — allmyanc @ 10:23 am

December 14 – Fruitcake – Friend or Foe?
Did you like fruitcake? Did your family receive fruitcakes? Have you ever re-gifted fruitcake? Have you ever devised creative uses for fruitcake?

This is a repost from 21 Dec 2007–it seemed to fit today’s prompt.

I’m looking for a fruitcake to arrive in the mail.

Not just any fruitcake–it has to be one from the Collin Street Bakery in Corsicana, Texas.

This fruitcake has lots of memories for me. To begin with, when I was in band (5th grade through senior year) in school, we sold these fruitcakes every year as a fundraiser. As far as I can tell, the sales financed our trip to Hemisfair in San Antonio my junior year in high school. (Who thought taking 200+ high school kids to San Antonio in the summer on school buses was a good idea? I remember melting in my wool uniform slacks and our chairs sinking into the asphalt.) It may have also financed some of our weekly trips to out of town football games and various contests. I don’t remember selling them to anyone other than my mother who loved them.

Fast-forward 30 years or so, my husband and I are driving my parents home from what proved to be my mom’s final visit to M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. We sail through Corsicana and Mom starts waxing eloquent about the fruitcakes. Hubbo turns around and we go back to Corsicana to buy a fruitcake. Mom, of course, says we shouldn’t and that just because she thinks one sounds good doesn’t mean that she can eat it what with all the chemo. But she digs into it and sure enough, a bite or two satisfies her. Six weeks later, she is gone, but the fruitcake stays in my freezer for 2 years. When the fog lifts, I finally gather up the courage to discard it, blue tin and all.

The next year, someone from our church sends us one in the mail. My sons start their “ewwwww, fruitcake” spiel, but I am comforted by the site of the tin and all the pecans and sugary fruit and memories inside.

I’m still waiting.

2 December 2009

Advent Calendar: Ornaments

Filed under: Germans from Russia, Holidays, Memes, Mom, Texas — allmyanc @ 8:30 pm

December 3 – Christmas Tree Ornaments
Did your family have heirloom or cherished ornaments? Did you ever string popcorn and cranberries? Did your family or ancestors make Christmas ornaments?
(Note: this post can be used for Treasure Chest Thursday as well)

So I’m late joining this exercise, but maybe it will serve the purpose of getting me started writing again.  And help take me away from the frantic-ness that is too often part of these holidays.

I’d love to say we have some heirloom or cherished ornaments.  I think we have some that are on their way to cherished status, but not a lot.  A few years ago, I purchased some retro ornament that reminded me of those smaller glass ornaments of my childhood (1950s)–there are lots of blues and purples and stripes and some sort of rough white glitter “snow.”  They aren’t circular like today’s bulbs–I’ve enjoyed putting them among our other ornaments the past few years.

My favorite ornament that I kept for many many years was a Santa Claus head I made as a first grader.  We were assigned to make or bring an ornament for our classroom tree.  As I recall, Mrs. Price put up some sort of painted twiggy looking tree at the back of the classroom on the counter next to the sink–as I recall, it got decorated for each season so it wasn’t a true Christmas tree in the sense that it was not evergreen.

To make my ornament, my mom blew out an egg and I drew on the face.  He was a little cross-eyed as I recall.   Mom helped me further by sewing a red hat–I remember we had a time making it big enough to fit over the egg–and I glued on some cotton for the white fur.  I loved putting this ornament on the tree for years–first at my parents’ home and then on my own tree.  However, egg-head Santa suffered a crushing blow–someone stepped on him.  I don’t even remember who now but I do remember it was a very sad day when I had to do away with my Santa.  I think his scruffy little red hat still fills one of the corners of the Christmas storage boxes.

But we do have another ornament that is taking on the “heirloom” mantle–it is already cherished.  Our oldest son made an ornament one year out of an even more unlikely household item than an egg–a toilet paper roll.  The ornament represents a man dressed as in Biblical times–or a young child’s idea of what that would be, anyway.   Construction paper was used to make a red undergarment with a blue outer robe.  Now-raveling burlap forms the headdress–glued over the top and partway down the back–and the face matches the artwork of my 1st grade Santa–but this one has a very dark beard colored on.  It’s just so primitive and representative of my son at that young age–I love it and love to tuck it into the tree each year.

I don’t remember ever stringing cranberries or popcorn, but one year I did decorate our family tree in the tradition of what I’d read and learned about our Germans from Russia ancestors.  Here in Oklahoma City, there is always a display of trees decorated by various groups who want to participate.  Persons can tour the display and the event earns money for a local charity.  The local Germans from Russia chapter had a beautiful tree up and it made me think about my own ancestors.   My family were Mennonites so I can imagine their choice of decorations as being practical.  I put unshelled walnuts and apples and candles on my tree that year.  I did spray paint the walnuts with gold paint, and the apples were not “real” fruit–the were smaller shiny apple ornaments, and my candles were lights.  It was beautiful to me but I remember my sons being a little puzzled.  It took me back to the year my mom “flocked” (with that spray snow that was available and a staple of 1950’s Christmases) a tumbleweed for our Christmas tree in the Texas panhandle.  Looking back on it, it seems appropriate but I really was embarrassed and thought it was weird at the time.

7 July 2008

The Doctor: A Medical History

Filed under: AnceStories Prompts, Ball Family, Dad, Grandmother O, Mom, Osborne Family, Perryton, Texas — allmyanc @ 3:31 pm

Here’s my response to Miriam’s AnceStories2 prompt for this session, “The Doctor”  

*Who was your doctor or health practitioner when you were growing up?

When I was a child, my doctor was “Dr. Roy.” At that time, there were only 2 doctors in town, I think.  Dr. Kengle had his own hospital and had delivered me, but I found in the county history that he started practicing in 1929, so I think he was probably retired shortly after my birth.  I rdo emember being in that hospital as a child–one of my aunt’s worked there.  I don’t remember why I was there, I don’t think it was for an appointment.  But I remember that it was built more like house.  It had wooden floors.  The building was later the local USDA office–pretty appropriate for the small rural town I grew up in.

Dr. Roy’s hospital was on Main Street and was a 3-story building.  I can still smell what it was like.  One of my brothers now has an office in the basement of that building–a few weeks ago we went up to the first floor.  It really still looked the same–the pharmacy, the waiting room, the two halls that the receptionist sat in front of.  It was all office space now but I could still see the hospital there.  We rode up to the first floor on the elevator–probably the first one I’d ever seen as a child.  I remember going to visit my dad in that hospital–he’d had to have an appendectomy.  Hospital rules prevented me from visiting him, but for some reason, they brought him down on the elevator and I got to see him.  He was in a hospital bed and I don’t remember getting to be very close, but somehow just getting to see him and have him speak to me made me feel better.  It was amazing being in that space again–somewhere in the late 1960s the county built a new hospital on the outskirts of town–probably about the time Dr. Roy retired.

So with that move to a new hospital, we could no longer tell by driving down Main Street whether someone was having a baby.  On the top floor on the north end of the building was the labor and delivery room, according to my mom, who ought to have known.  If the lights were on, we knew there would soon be another citizen of our area.  It was one of those rituals we always went through when we drove down Main Street.

*How often did you go to the doctor? Every year for a check-up, or just when you were ill?

I remember going only when I was sick, which wasn’t very often, and when I had to get vaccinations for school.

*Did you have a lot of illnesses as a child? Or were you fairly healthy?

I must have been fairly healthy.  The only childhood illness I can remember having is the mumps in the second grade–I still have the “get well” cards my class made, drawn on that thick now-crumbling paper we used for art in our classrooms in those days.  Earlier, I know I also had the chickenpox and have the scars to prove it, but I don’t remember having them.  The family story is that I got them from my brother who’d been hospitalized with the croup–he came home with chickenpox.

*Did you have any injuries (broken bones) or surgeries? Have you ever had to be hospitalized?

Not as a child, and it’s a miracle, really.  My brother built tree houses and I would help him and then sort of take them over for my own purposes–usually reading.  And we would walk the top of the corrall fence, which was essentially a 2″ x 4″ several feet in the air.  Grandad’s barn was always fun, too–despite dire warnings, we climbed to the top of the hay bales stacked to the top of the barn.  And if he was in the field for the day, we ventured onto the roof of the barn.  I only had brothers and there were only boys in my neighborhood so playing rough was part of my growing up.  My brothers ended up with stitches but I managed to escape with neither stitches nor broken bones.

*What specialists did you have to see?

I never saw a specialist of any type and I don’t remember anyone else having to see one.  Except maybe my cousins might have seen one because they had to wear special shoes.  I’m not sure that as a child I was aware of specialists.

*Did you have to see an optometrist and/or wear glasses?

We always had health screenings at school.  I remember the year I couldn’t read the eye chart–I was in the fifth grade.  So off to Dr. Nowlin’s.  His son was in my class and the last time I checked, he was the town optometrist, following in his father’s footsteps.  My first glasses were pink cat frames.  So cool.

*Was going to the doctor a pleasant or unpleasant experience? Share both your most unpleasant and your favorite medical memories.

I was always scared when I had to go to the doctor.  Probably because it wasn’t any sort of regular event.  My most unpleasant childhood medical memory is getting my diphtheria vaccination.  Those were the years when they stuck your arm repeatedly and then an awful scab almost the size of a dime appeared.  I still remember thinking the nurse wasn’t ever going to stop sticking me and I find myself checking the upper arms of people about my age for a similar scar.

I don’t remember any particularly pleasant experiences, except I do have this vivid image of sitting in the waiting room at Dr. Roy’s hospital, reading magazines.  I think the floor was those green tiles of linoleum and the chairs were red vinyl–it was the 1950s after all.  In my mind, I think I remember reading an article about Twiggy, but she was hot in 1966 and that was kind of late for me to have been at that hospital.  I don’t know–I just remember there were always lots of interesting reads in the waiting room.  We always had the newspaper at home and we went to the library, but there weren’t the glossy magazines that were in the waiting room.  It was a peek into a world I didn’t have much access to.

*As an adult, how do your current medical experiences compare with those of your childhood?

Probably the biggest difference is that I try to do “preventative maintenance” with fairly regular visits to the doctor.  I’ve had surgeries, including knee replacements and a couple of C-sections, with two healthy sons to show for it.  I use health insurance which is not something my parents dealt with until I insisted.

*Do you still see the same doctor?

Dr. Roy is long deceased and I am long gone from my home town.  About 8 years ago, my physician of 30 years retired–much to my distress.  :-)   He certainly deserved some time with his family without the stress of his practice, but I felt pretty abandoned.  I shopped around until I found a good replacement–I was careful to look for one younger than me (easier and easier to do these days) so I don’t have to go through the retirement trauma again.  

*What kinds of health problems are prevalent in your family? Are there any genetic diseases of which your relatives should be made aware? How have you attempted to avoid these risks or diseases?

The two diseases I know of that may be genetic are arthritis and heart disease.  I was diagnosed with osteoarthritis at a fairly young age (35) when I weighed what I should.  I had to have my first knee replacement 20 years later–again, a bit young for such an intervention.  My weight is more than it should be, but I also know that my dad and many of his cousins had knee and/or hip replacements.  Both of their grandmothers were in wheel chairs because of arthritis.  When I first visited him for my knees, the osteopath asked me if there was some sort of cartilege disease in my family–there very well could be but as far as I know, it has never been diagnosed.

My paternal grandmother’s family has strokes and my paternal grandfather’s family has heart disease.  That said, my grandmother lived to be 83 (she did have a stroke a few years before her death) and my grandfather lived to be 93.  And my grandfather smoked unfiltered Old Gold cigarettes until his late 80s. 

And then there’s my mother who had breast cancer despite there being none in the family.  Her mother lived to be 92!

So I eat healthy and attempt to be active.  I’m not as active as I should be but I’m doing better since my knees no longer hurt.  My weight is more than it should be, but my “numbers” are good–no high blood pressure and decent cholesterol.  I cannot discount fate’s role in my health.

*Are there any doctors, surgeons, specialists, nurses or other health practitioners in your family, or in your ancestry?

I have a sister-in-law and a niece who are nurses–they do not currently practice, but it’s nice to have them available as “resources.”

My fourth great-grandfather was evidently a country doctor.  William Greene Ball was born about 1808 in New York City, trained for his medical career in Clark County, Indiana, and practiced for many years in Warren County, Iowa until his death in 1881.  He’s referred to in the family as “Dr. Ball.”  :-)   I have a couple of his “recipes” for various ailments.

*Are there any stories about certain medical problems or injuries, or about interactions with medical practitioners that have been handed down through the generations?

My dad was always proud to have had Dr. Denton Cooley (whom his staff called “LJ” for “Little Jesus”) do a valve replacement on his heart.  My mother’s family didn’t have much use for “doctoring.”  My grandad on that side had a pacemaker implanted and never went back to the doctor–until about 25 years later when the battery was apparently run down.  And the other family story is of “Ol Doc Smith” who came to the family home in Beaver County, Oklahoma, in the early 1930s when my great-grandmother drank carbolic acid.  He left a signed death certificate there because he didn’t think she’d live until morning but left instructions to try feeding her raw eggs to cause her to throw up the acid.  She lived through that episode but was untimately successful in taking her life.  I don’t know where Doc Smith was based, but I do know my grandparents lived several miles out in the middle of nowhere, so he must have truly been a country doctor who made house calls on those dusty roads.

Thank you again to Miriam Midkiff for her prompt down another memory lane.

31 May 2008

Swimsuit Edition: Bathing Beauties in the Family

Filed under: Carnival of Genealogy, Mom, Oklahoma, Photos, Texas — allmyanc @ 6:36 pm

As I’ve said here before, I grew up in the Texas panhandle. Needless to say, the region is not known for its recreational water spots.

wading

Here’s my mom on an outing with her girlfriends–they’re wading–barely. This is about the extent of the water in the area of the panhandle I know.

There is a picture somewhere in my family of me, my brother and my aunt when we were about 5, 4, and 9 (respectively). We all have on swimming suits that are way too huge for us. I certainly don’t remember the occasion, but I do know that both my granddad and my uncle carried that photo for years. We were standing in the driveway of my South Dakota grandparents’ home–South Dakota was the only place we ever swam.

More frequently we fished.

Thad and Doug

There was the truly old-fashioned swimming hole down the road from my grandmother’s country store. We often spent entire afternoons in that lake–the Hilmer kids from next door to the store could usually be persuaded to come along, or vice versa, and we had a lot of fun there. (That’s Doug H. with my brother Thad in the photo above.)

Someone had rigged up a diving board–I, of course, was too chicken to jump. And if you got to close to the underside of the board, you were at risk of getting leeches. I suppose it was actually a fairly clean lake as it was spring-fed, but when I think back on it now, I’m surprised we survived. There was a very small island a few yards out–I wasn’t a strong enough swimmer to make it out there except floating in my inner-tube. And in those days, it really was the inner tube from a tire that we used. If we could wrangle a tube from a tractor tire, we’d hit the big time! There was gravel in the bottom of the lake so it really wasn’t a bad place to swim.

Here’s the best picture I have of someone in my family in a swimming suit:

Mom

It’s my mom, and I think this photo was taken on her honeymoon. Mom and Dad married 21 May 1950 in Beaver County, Oklahoma, and came to Oklahoma City for their honeymoon. I suspect that’s Lake Overholser in the background.

My mother had red hair and the palest skin you can imagine. She really really didn’t like water–she’d never learned to swim and it terrified her. It’s just as well my brothers and I did most of our swimming in the summers we spent with grandparents. She also sunburned through her clothes so this picture is pretty amazing. But it was her honeymoon, and she was very young, so I’m sure allowances can be made. :-)

But I love this picture of her–I’d saved it as “Bathing Beauty Mom” in my files. I’m really surprised it survived her culling of the family pictures, but I’m really glad it did.

Written for the 49th Carnival of Genealogy.

9 March 2008

AnceStories: Laughter, the Best Medicine

Filed under: AnceStories Prompts, Anderton Family, Dad, Mom, Unruh Family — allmyanc @ 11:02 pm

Miriam’s most recent journaling prompt asks us to think about who and how humor works in our families.

This is a topic I should be an expert on. I wrote a dissertation on humor. The main thing I learned was that the dissection of humor is the only operation in which the patient ALWAYS dies. (That’s not original with me, by the way, but I can’t remember–or find–the source right now.) It seemed like a good idea at the time, but anyone who’s done that sort of sustained, intense project, soon realizes that there’s nothing funny about it, no matter the topic.

We laughed a lot in our family–it seemed to be a point of pride to get others to laugh, in fact. Not that we were/are all clowns, but we do appreciate a good turn of phrase. My husband is from a family that laughs as well. And he’s the youngest, so he’s the performer, as is our youngest son. Our older son and I tend to be the “critics,” though that’s typically phrased humorously as well.

*When you laugh, who do you sound like? Your father, mother, a sibling, or other relative?
I don’t know who I sound like. I suspect I sound like my mother–everything else has gotten to be like her as I’ve aged–my hands, my skin, my looks. I know I don’t sound like my siblings–one brother sort of grins and giggles and the other laughs a bit louder than him, but we don’t sound alike, though we can enjoy some of the same things to laugh at.

*Who in your family giggles? Belly laughs? Chuckles? Guffaws? Knee slaps or does some other large physical act while laughing?
My grandad used to slap his knee sometimes when he was laughing, particularly if it was something he thought you should be laughing at also. The only person I can think of who giggles is a most unlikely candidate–he’s a cousin who is a big, tough, (at least in his youth) cowboy. I couldn’t help joining in the fun when Willie giggled. My brother laughs a bit like him though he would probably clobber me if I said he giggles. :-)

*Who has the most unique laugh in your family, and why
In my immediate family, our youngest son has the most unique laugh–it just sort of bursts out and is there before you know it’s coming.

*What kinds of things did your family laugh or joke about?
All sorts of things, including each other.

There’s also a tradition of telling stories about serious events but using a humorous twist. I wish I had a recording, for example, of my cousin’s tale about setting his house of fire right before Christmas. His daughter was getting married and his dad, who had cancer, was there. It reminded me of Ogden Nash’s tale of “The Night the Bed Fell.” The event wasn’t funny but the telling was hilarious–all the things going through his mind, his dad, my incorrigible uncle, facing off the official who wanted to replace his meds from the fire-damaged pouch, the interaction with the firemen–not funny, but hilarious in the telling. My husband has a few of those types of stories as well–the first wedding he performed had a bomb threat called in AND a tornado siren go off during the service. They had to evacuate the church twice, in pouring rain. You can imagine what the wedding pictures look like from that one!

*What best describes the style of humor in your family (dry, wet, ironic, silly)?
I’d say it is ironic and even sometimes sarcastic. It’s not mean-spirited but it does have an edge.

There’s some silliness, as well. My dad lived with us for a couple of years after my mom died. His stroke and aging made him all the more susceptible to my sons’ silliness–and they loved having the audience. He loved the antics of the pets as well–he chuckled when he told me about the dog stealing his sandwich off the counter while his back was turned as he was putting the sandwich makings back into the fridge. And then there was the time the hot air balloon came over the back yard and scared the dog.

*Did you ever have tickle fights?
Maybe one. At least with me. Because I probably beaned whoever tried. I always thought they were sort of mean–probably because I was on the receiving end as a child. And maybe it wasn’t all that much of a fight–I was just being tickled and I didn’t like it.

*Who were the practical jokers in the family?
My brothers were practical jokers when we were younger–I was probably a really good target. Once they left jelly beans on their bed that they knew I would eat. They’d made sure our dog had licked them first.

I’ve been known to pull a few myself–I used to tell my youngest brother that chocolate milk came from black Angus cattle–I suppose this is sort of a region-specific joke. Back in that time and place, Herefords were the most common and desired brand.

And I told my husband-to-be at the time that we didn’t sing our school song, we whistled it. He made the mistake of checking with my parents and then he married me anyway.

*What private jokes did you have as a family? What key phrases were giggle starters?
One of the things that can send us into gales of laughter is the mention of hearing aids, or talking about not being able to hear. Our grandad got progressively more and more hard of hearing as he aged. We were all gathered in my parents’ family room, and Grandad kept having us, or more likely, Grannie, repeat to him what was being said. My younger brother, the shrink-in-training at the time, said, “Grandad, have you ever thought about getting hearing aids?” To which Grandad roared, “An airplane! What do I need an airplane for?”

*What do you remember about your own children’s first laughs when they were babies? What silly things did you do to get them to chortle?
Almost anything could send son #1 into a fit of the giggles–getting down close into his face or rolling him around a bit or just talking silly. Son #2 was a tougher audience, but usually with some patience, he would laugh at the same things.

*What books, magazine, or cartoon strips were favorite humorous reads in your family?
We always read “the funnies,” in both the daily paper and the Sunday comics. My dad liked “Dennis the Menace,” “Alley Oop,” and “Nancy,” as I recall. My own sons like reading “Calvin and Hobbes” and it’s probably pretty telling that #1 son loved (and understood) Matt Groenig’s “Life in Hell” at a very early age. They both, along with their dad, like to watch “The Simpsons.” And they love to make fun of me because I don’t like watching it.

*What comedy television shows or movies were favorites in your family?
As I’ve said before, we didn’t have television when we were kids. But sometimes we got to go over to Aunt Eva’s and watch cartoons. I think I enjoyed more watching my brother giggle at Huckleberry Hound than I did watching them myself. Later, my aunt kept my oldest son when he was a little one, and she introduced him to Peter Sellers’ Pink Panther. He does a great Guy Gadbois to this day. My grandad loved Red Skelton–again, it was as much fun to watch him as it was to watch the show.

*Do you ever play games that get your family giggling up a storm?
Password, when played in a multi-generational setting, nearly always set us off into laughter. My grandad, no matter how hard he tried, just couldn’t keep his salty language under control during the pressure of the game, which, of course, sent us kids into gales of laughter–our mother, his daughter, was not so amused. We would practically wet our pants when he and my dad, his son-in-law, were paired up and trying to get the other one to say the magic word. And my grandmother would throw salt at my husband and walk backwards around his chair when she thought he was winning at cards too much. All cause for lots of laughing.

*Do you have digital recordings, videotapes, audio tapes, or home movies with family members talking or laughing in them? I’m a fan of Susan Kitchen’s blog, Family Oral History Using Digital Tools, and she has lots of good tips for preserving these recordings. Perhaps you should plan to do some recording at the next family gathering!
I wish I did have recordings of some of those card games and games of Password. So maybe it’s time to use my digital recorder at the next family gathering. I will say that one of the favorite recordings that makes people laugh in my family is the an old movie of me, at about age 3, gagging myself repeatedly while cleaning my sunglasses. I’m decked out in my two-piece sun suit, and just can’t seem to get those glasses smear-free.

*Besides preserving audio recordings (and perhaps posting them on your blog!), you can post photos of family members cutting capers, laughing, or joking around.
I have done some of this. My grandmother’s 4 sisters astride the horse at Knott’s Berry Farm is a good example. I think the Anderton’s always had a good time when they got together. My grandmother was not rambunctious, but she did like to laugh and make others laugh.

This was a fun reminiscence. I’m glad to be a part of a family that laughs–some of those times and the shared experiences make our lives all the richer. They give us a bond with family members who are no longer around but who can still make us smile when we remember some of our times laughing together. And the stories repeated give other family members information about those they may not have known first-hand. I’m so glad my great-aunt Edna told me the story about “fur-bearing Christians,” for example. I can still see the twinkle in her eye when she told me that tale.

And I remember going to sleep with a smile on Christmas’ Eve because from the living room, I could hear my two adult sons doing what can only be described as giggling as they were playing “Guitar Hero.”

21 December 2007

Fruitcake Chronicles

Filed under: Mom, Perryton — allmyanc @ 2:10 pm

I’m looking for a fruitcake to arrive in the mail.

Not just any fruitcake–it has to be one from the Collin Street Bakery in Corsicana, Texas.

This fruitcake has lots of memories for me. To begin with, when I was in band (5th grade through senior year) in school, we sold these fruitcakes every year as a fundraiser. As far as I can tell, the sales financed our trip to Hemisfair in San Antonio my junior year in high school. (Who thought taking 200+ high school kids to San Antonio in the summer on school buses was a good idea? I remember melting in my wool uniform slacks and our chairs sinking into the asphalt.) It may have also financed some of our weekly trips to out of town football games and various contests. I don’t remember selling them to anyone other than my mother who loved them.

Fast-forward 30 years or so, my husband and I are driving my parents home from what proved to be my mom’s final visit to M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. We sail through Corsicana and Mom starts waxing eloquent about the fruitcakes. Hubbo turns around and we go back to Corsicana to buy a fruitcake. Mom, of course, says we shouldn’t and that just because she thinks one sounds good doesn’t mean that she can eat it what with all the chemo. But she digs into it and sure enough, a bite or two satisfies her. Six weeks later, she is gone, but the fruitcake stays in my freezer for 2 years. When the fog lifts, I finally gather up the courage to discard it, blue tin and all.

The next year, someone from our church sends us one in the mail. My sons start their “ewwwww, fruitcake” spiel, but I am comforted by the site of the tin and all the pecans and sugary fruit and memories inside.

I’m still waiting.

18 February 2007

After School Snacks

Filed under: Cooper Family, Mom, Osborne Family — allmyanc @ 3:58 pm

This week’s peanut butter scare got me thinking about after-school snacks. And more.

Our mom didn’t work “outside the home” as they say–but I don’t remember any snacks awaiting us as we alighted from the school bus. I do, however, remember occasionally getting a couple of nickels to buy a coke and candy bar (those were the days!) after school. In the first grade, I got out of school at 2:30, but I had to wait in “bus room” until 4:00 when the school buses ran. The teachers rotated bus room duty a week at a time–I was terrified when it was Mrs. Ryan’s week–she flew into a rage one week and hit me when I got out the sewing cards to pass the time. I still don’t know why that was the wrong thing to do but I do remember the terror and not being able to explain to my great aunt who kept telling me how great a teacher she was. That was the 1950s and teachers were always right and nutrition didn’t preclude lots of sugary treats. It was one of those coke machines with the bottles lined up in a vertical row down one side of the machine and all you could see were the pop caps through the skinny glass door, and you pushed down a short, fat metal lever after you put your nickel in. It was a real luxury to get to stroll down the hall, past Mr. Wright, the Principal’s office, and all the other now-darkened 1st and 2nd grade rooms, to the snack machines standing just outside the cafeteria. Sometimes we bought peanuts and put them in our coke bottles–it wasn’t the food as much as it was another way to pass time until it was time to home.

The other thing I remembered was one of the times we got to go over to our great Aunt Eva’s after school. She was our Granddad Osborne’s sister and married to our Grandmother Osborne’s brother. Our dad worked for her husband Uncle George and we probably saw them more than we saw our Osborne grandparents because we often lived just across “the orchard,” (home of one pear tree and several failing elms and at least 2 of our tree houses) from them. We loved going to Aunt Eva and Uncle George’s–they had a television, a big yard, a piano and a pump organ, indulgent ways, two lily ponds in the yard–those terrified my mom but they fascinated me–see indulgent ways above :-) –Aunt Eva had a yard full of flowers and a huge vegetable garden. She was also likely to have guineas and bantam chickens (sometimes she kept the chicks in a box in the chair beside her in the house) and very, very fat pug dogs, which her grandchildren called “JinglePig” because they wore so many tags as they waddled through the house. She did oil painting and china painting and had a kiln in her house and had little tiny bottles of Dr. Pepper under her sink out on the back porch that we had to walk right by to enter her house. We looked at those particularly longingly each time we went in. She let us paint and fired our tiles for us. We still have them. There was a big bell out in the yard that her parents had used to call the family and workers to dinner–they didn’t care if we rang it at will when we came over. One of my mom’s favorite stories was one day when she’d relented and let me go over for a visit, she asked me if I’d told all the family secrets (which gives you a read on how she felt about us kids going over there). My answer was “What family secrets?”

But I remember one day getting to go to Aunt Eva’s after school and her fixing my brother and I a snack–leftover biscuits from breakfast, some sort of meat–probably a piece of steak, lettuce, tomato, and what I found the strangest of all, French salad dressing. I can’t really tell you why that is such a vivid memory for me. Aunt Eva and Uncle George had a table that folded down from the wall–it was put down, my brother and I were perched there at the table, and there was a little room off where that table was, and in that little room was the stove and fridge and a little counter space, and when she brought those little sandwiches out, I just remember being so amazed that someone would put French salad dressing on a sandwich. In retrospect, I’m not surprised. Aunt Eva didn’t follow rules recipes, of any sort. And I have to admit to being that way myself. I find myself reading through recipes–whether for making food or building something or crafting an item–but then I start thinking about ways to “make it my own.” My visiting brother was looking at my house shoes the other day–I’d cut the toes out of them. I told him I was channeling Aunt Eva–they were hot but I still needed to have them to wear for the sole support. So I’d modified them. I thought she would approve. And I’ve been known to put French dressing on a sandwich now and then as well. I think she was just ahead of the curve of putting Ranch dressing on everything.

Back to peanut butter. My brother was the master of peanut butter for after school snacks. He had it down. He’d get out the peanut butter, the jelly, sometimes honey or syrup instead, get out the bread, and always a saucer and a knife. Through lots of experience, he’d mastered the precise proportions. First he’d scoop out the peanut butter. Just the right amount amount, scraped off on the edge of the saucer and then moved to the middle of the saucer. Next came the jelly or the honey. It was ok to use the same knife in the jelly jar because he could scrape off all the peanut butter on the edge of the saucer–it was usually strawberry jelly–our dad didn’t like grape jelly, but we did, so sometimes it was grape. But it could also have been apple butter or some other kind of jelly. Or honey. Or maybe even pancake syrup. Like I said, he had it down–he liked “mixing it up.”

And then he really did start stirring up the peanut and the sweet additive of choice. When it reached just the right consistency, then he started spreading it on the bread. It was usually white bread, of course. Sometimes it was saltine crackers, but usually bread. He topped it off with another slice, and with a glass of milk, he was set. There was never any peanut butter left over–he always got just the right amount for one sandwich and that’s all he ever ate. And he cleaned up after himself. What a guy.

I don’t remember what I ate–I know it wasn’t peanut butter. I really didn’t like peanut butter. I had a roommate who ate peanut butter for breakfast which I thought was slightly gross–she probably thought the same thing about my eggs and toast. I’ve grown to like peanut butter very much. But I remember my brother eating it often–he loved it. The peanut butter in my cabinet had the magic 21111 number. I probably won’t get around to sending in the lid, but I’ve pulled the jar out and bought a new one.

Amazing what the talk of salmonella can bring back.

24 December 2006

“….of Christmases long, long ago.”

Filed under: Holidays, Mom, Oklahoma, Perryton, Photos, South Dakota, Texas, Unruh Family — allmyanc @ 6:16 pm

Christmas 1964

This is my brothers and me at the house where our great Aunt Lorene (of bladder training fame) was working as caretaker for an elderly woman in Beaver County, Oklahoma, probably about 1964. Check out the wallpaper in the background.This picture re-appeared out of my grandmother’s things–it was probably one my mom had sent her and she had it enlarged and framed which is how I found it.

The gifts aligned in front brought back all sorts of memories. The basket of apples, the horse and the clock, which also helped me date the picture, reminded me of Mom and Aunt Lorene “decorating” the room for the boys that had been built on the back of the house we moved into when we moved back from South Dakota. The year I was in the 6th grade, and that Thad was in the 5th, and that Mike went to kindergarten, we lived in an apartment above our grandmother’s country store in Canning, South Dakota. When we decided not to buy land there and stay, we moved back to Perryton to the small house my folks had lived in right after they married and that I’d come home to after being born. It was two bedrooms, and now it was too small for we three, so a room and (I think) another bathroom had been built on the back for the boys.

This mean bedspreads and curtains had to be made, so Mom and Aunt Lorene sprang into action–I don’t know if Aunt Lorene already had the fabric–it’s possible, but it was red with insets of horses and apple trees–hence the things under the Christmas tree. It was certainly a different time–I’m not sure 8 and 12 year old boys would go for that now. (Maybe they didn’t then, but they certainly didn’t say so.)

It looks like Mike and Thad have also been the recipients of an ear of corn with a harmonica implanted. I think the transistor radio was Thad’s, though I’m pretty sure I coveted it. And the walkie talkie-was undoubtedly theirs as well. The game of Concentration was undoubtedly a family game–I remember playing it a lot–it took forever to set up, but it was fun. I really didn’t have much call to use a muff in that part of the county, but I liked having it as a fashion statement, along with those glasses, don’tchaknow? Don’t think I wore the hat much–it would have mussed that great hair. I think there’s also a photo album of some sort and a some sort of Christmas ornament. Mike’s truck is red–to match their room, no doubt.

I wish I could seee the boys’ boots better–those and the Levis and the buzz cuts were constants for them. I sort of remember getting that lavendar outfit–out of some sort of polyester, as I recall, which was great since it meant no ironing–”wash and wear” we called it. And I’m pretty sure there was an argument about the hemline.

Youngest brother Mike recently told my sons that he’s looking at me like that because I’d just hit him and he didn’t know why–hmmmmm. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have done that.

Here’s hoping for the generation of some great family memories for you and yours this holiday–and that someone’s taking pictures.

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