Memory Monday: Another Generation Learns

my granddaughter and the nativity

ANOTHER GENERATION LEARNS

It started the day after Thanksgiving. We hauled in lots of boxes (actually they are plastic cat litter tubs with lids) and our artificial tree. We put up the tree and wrapped it in lots and lots of lights, then I put on tubs of ornaments. After that, I set out the rest of the decorations.

The one thing I don’t do is to set out the nativity. Years ago, when my children were young, I hosted some kind of home decorating party. One of the things I “won” was a nativity of cutesy people and animals. I don’t remember how it worked out this way, but the tradition started that my daughter would be the one that arranged all the items in the stable. For years, my daughter set it up the “normal” way, but then she started putting the wise men figures some distance away. She would say the wise men weren’t at the stable when the shepherds were. The wise men came later. Which is true—smart kid.

My daughter now has a three-year-old daughter. While I am not ready to pass the nativity set down to my daughter, I did want it set up (and she’s the only one that does it—tradition, you know). So, the Monday after Thanksgiving when my daughter came to pick up her little one from our house (we pick up our granddaughter after pre-school and keep her until her mommy gets off of work), I had her arrange the people and animals. She told her daughter who each person was and then set the wise men of a small table a foot or two away from the stable. When my granddaughter came to our house on Tuesday, and every day since then, she gathered up all the people and animals, then set them up again, always saying how the wise men were far away—quick learner, smart kid.

I love this time of the year. I love traditions. I love my family.

I thank God that He sent Jesus and that we can pass the story of His birth down to the next generation.

Time in My Family

my grandfather in his shoe repair shop

TIME IN MY FAMILY

Well, that title might be a bit misleading. I’m really talking about the watches we have had in our family. After my mother passed away, I found a zip-lock bag in her things. It contained a pocket watch with a strap attached. Mother had left a hand-written note in the bag . It said that the watch had belonged to her father and she remembered always seeing it tacked to the wall in his shoe repair shop. She said that she wanted the watch to go to my son—she thought it would look good with his suits when he was a lawyer.

There is another pocket watch that I have and it also involves my son. Years ago—after my paternal grandparents passed away, I was looking at some of the things that had been theirs. There was a box of old pocket watches, most of them were in silver (silver-tone) cases, but the case of one was different. It has a pinkish gold tone to it, not yellowish brass. It didn’t work but my father took it to the jeweler and had it repaired. Unfortunately, the jeweler replaced the button on the winding stem with a yellowish brass one—not really noticeable, but I knew. The watch was the style that had a covering that opened on the front and the back. When my son was little and watched some children’s show on TV where the characters had a “magic” something (I don’t remember exactly what the thing was—I’m just too old to recall something like that), he asked if he could use my pocket watch to play like the characters on the show. I let him and he had a lot of fun with it. By the way, that watch is safely back in my jewelry box.

Another watch that has seen multi-generation use in our family is my daughter’s Mickey Mouse watch. When she was younger (much younger), she got that particular watch for Christmas one year. She has asked for it and wore for some time, then set it aside (actually, she said I could have it, if I wanted it). Once again, I put a watch in my jewelry box (yes, it is a large jewelry box). Three or four months back, I came across the watch and had the battery replaced. I showed it to my granddaughter and told her how her mommy used to wear it. My granddaughter was fascinated by it, not because she could tell time or because it had belonged to her mommy (remember, she’s only three). No, what she really interested her about the watch was the two buttons on the left side of the watch. When you press one of the buttons the song It’s a small World After All plays and when the other button was pressed it plays The Mickey Mouse Song—you know M-I-C-K-E-Y-M-O-U-S-E. Mickey was on the watch face and his arms were the minute and hour hands. When the music played the hands moved faster and in time. When the song ended, the hands reversed and went back to the correct time. My granddaughter played both songs over and over and over and over. Fortunately, the volume on the watch wasn’t very loud.

This are other watches in my jewelry box, but those are the most interesting—at least, to me. Who knows, maybe if I think hard enough (remember, I getting older), I’ll remember more stories about those watches that are just sitting in that dark vastness known as my JEWELRY BOX.

Thanksgiving and Popcorn

my sweet granddaughter

THANKSGIVING AND POPCORN

Thanksgiving is this week and I am so excited!!! I love this time of the year with all its get-togethers, food-eating, and food-preparing. It’s not just excitement about all the “busy things,” no, it’s just that each of those things makes me remember what I’m truly thankful for.

The get-together means that I have family to love and who love me, especially my sweet granddaughter. Last year, she was still getting used to being her with her new family. But this year, she “knows” us—she grins and runs to me when she sees me, she has started bringing books for me to read to her in my office/library, and she even had her pre-school teacher write my name (chest puffing out in pride) on a strip on her “Thankful pumpkin”—in all reality, I probably got a whole strip to myself because nothing else would fit after the teacher printed “Grandmommy.” The pumpkin wasn’t huge, after all. Also, this is the fifth anniversary of my husband’s liver transplant. He’s strong and hearty—well, he’s strong and hearty enough to keep house and do the laundry (seriously, a writer’s got to have time to write, and I am a writer).

The food-eating makes me thankful that God has generously poured out His blessings on us all year long—not only our food, but our home, our marriage, our family, our friends, and so many more blessings. And most especially Jesus and His sacrifice.

The food-preparing means that I’m healthy enough to do the things I love to do. Even though I have RA, diabetes, and a few other thing going on in my body, I can cook (which I love to do), I can write, and I can play with my granddaughter. Being able to do all of those things is due in large part because of the blessing of having wonderful doctors who take care of me.

One thing I’m going to TRY and do again this year is something we had done years ago when my children were younger—tell the story of the three grains of corn. I had read that the Pilgrims had a very hard time in the New World. At one point, their daily ration of food was three grains of corn (now, I don’t know if this is really true, but it led to a way of showing what we are thankful for today). I would put three grains of unpopped popcorn on everyone’s plate and before we ate, I would pass a small dish around and everyone would put their popcorn in, telling three things they were thankful for. I love hearing the things. The kids hated doing it. We finally stopped doing it when the kids BEGGED me to stop making them it. But we have added a new generation to our family, SO-O-O-O, I think it’s time to try it again. After all, our granddaughter needs to be reminded to be thankful and needs to hear what others are thankful for. Do you think it will go over any better this time than last? Who knows, but a mother/grandmommy has to try.

Memory Monday: Coffee in Our Family Part 1

my father and grandfather - they both loved their coffee

COFFEE IN OUR FAMILY—Part 1

I didn’t start drinking coffee until after I graduated high school, but I remember my parents and grandparents drinking it. My grandfather had a special cup that he used. It was oversized and part of a set of light yellow and brown plaid dishes that my grandparents always used. Every morning at the breakfast table, he would pour his coffee from his cup into his equally-large saucer, then sip it. As a child, I thought that odd, but later learned that was how many of his generation (and those before him) drank their coffee. My dad always had at least one cup of coffee before he got out of bed. My grandmother-in-law would only pour an inch of coffee into her cup at a time—she liked it really hot.

Today, my husband has a metal insulated mug that he fills in the morning and drinks from it all day. I, on the other hand, have several large glasses that I use to make iced coffee year round. I fill one of the glasses full with ice cubes, at a bit of fat-free half & half or heavy cream (depending on which diet I am currently on), a good splash of flavored syrup (sugar-free since I’m diabetic), then give it a good stir. This is the way I drink my coffee year round.

On the other hand, our husband and daughter always drinks their black and unsweetened whether it is from their Keurig, their French press, cold-brew container, or the local coffee place. (A side note—a couple of those coffee devises were lost when a tornado passed by their home.)

It doesn’t matter how we drink our coffee—hot, cold, black, sweet, unsweetened, or (as my husband says of mine) not real coffee, we love it.

Memory Monday: Sometimes Things from the Past Are the Best

SOMETIMES THINGS FROM THE PAST ARE THE BEST

Lately when my husband and I babysit our granddaughter, we’ve noticed that she loves to play with a certain toy—a plush tomato from Veggie Tales. It was our daughter’s when she was much younger. I understand my granddaughter being attracted to that certain toy because she has started eating tomatoes, but only the small, yellow ones. Still, they are tomatoes, or “tatoes” as she calls them. By the way, this can get a little confusing—I’m not sure if she is asking for tomatoes or potatoes.

But I am most surprised by the TV show that she asks to see. We have cable, Netflix, and Amazon Prime, but the show she wants to see the most is from 1956—GUMBY. There is only one season on Amazon, so we have watched it and re-watched it. When other shows come on, she plays with her toys as she watches Little Einsteins, Paw Patrol, Sesame Street, or Thomas the Train. But with Gumby, she pulls up a chair and sits there fascinated by the show.

So, that’s something from my daughter’s childhood that she loves and one thing from my childhood. And as a very loving (but never an indulgent) Grandmommy, I ordered our granddaughter poseable Gumby and Pokey figures from Amazon this morning. They should be here the day after tomorrow—just in time for her to play with them for one day before she starts her first day of Preschool Three. Who knows, maybe those dolls will be passed down to the next generation to be played with as my great-grandchild watches Gumby on whatever will be used to show ancient shows to children.

Memory Monday: Children and Their Hair

my daughter in a bonnet that hid her almost bald head

CHILDREN AND THEIR HAIR

From the time our daughter was born until she was in elementary school, she never had her hair cut. It wasn’t because we were against getting her hair cut (although my husband loved long hair on girls). When she was born, she had a nice covering of brown hair. Everything changed when she was about five months old. We had stopped at the grocery store for an item or two—not enough to get a cart or anything. While the checker rang up my purchase, I laid my daughter on the end of the counter and pulled back her blanket so she wouldn’t get too hot. I was shocked when I pulled the sides of that blanket away from her head—most of the hair from the sides of her head stayed with the blanket. Basically, all she had left was the strip on top of her head and to long tufts above each ear. I was able to twist the two tufts above her ears into pin curls which held those plastic blow clips. And I loved dresses that had matching bonnets, like the one in the picture above. Her hair grew back slowly and when her hair was long enough, I put her hair up in pigtails—so no need for a haircut for years.

Now, our son was a different matter. He was born with a full head of black hair and never lost any of it like his sister had. I still remember how my husband gently held down that poor screaming baby (he was only about 5 months old) and told me to trim his hair—my husband didn’t like long hair on boys. Well, I cut my son’s hair as his face turned red from screaming. But after that day, I made it a point to take a snip here and a snip there whenever I had him playing with this bath toys. I don’t think he ever caught on. But eventually that didn’t work because I wasn’t very good at shaping his hair properly. So I took him to a barber shop. Only problem was that the place scared the little three-year-old. I tried to talk him into sitting in the chair, but he cried and the female barber said that she wouldn’t cut his hair with him so upset. In defeat, we went home, but amazingly, a few minutes later as we were watching Sesame Street, the skit with the haircut song came on. We sang with the characters and I got my son to agree to go back and get his hair cut. This time the barber was able to make my baby look like a little boy.

As a new generation has come to our family, our daughter took my granddaughter to get her first haircut. At the children’s hair salon, they have a TV for the children, there is a play area, and when the hair cut was over, the hair stylist sprinkled glitter in my granddaughter’s hair and took a picture of her “first hair cut.” No fuss. No crying.

My, how things have changed! 

Memory Monday: My Daughter Had Another Birthday

my daughter eating her first birthday cake

MY DAUGHTER HAD ANOTHER BIRTHDAY

Years have come and gone since my daughter had her first birthday. We celebrated that one with her granddaddy and her step-grandmother at their home in Texas. My husband and I decorated the cake (I had planned it with a cupcake on top to give to her). We make a brown sugar bear on it because we had called her “Becky Bear” since the day she was born (just to let you know—we don’t call her that anymore). Here’s a picture of that cake:

After she blew out the candle—with help from her parents, we gave her the cupcake on top and let her have fun. As you can see in the first picture, we put newspaper underneath her to catch the mess. We had a lot of fun and memories from that day. As a side note, it was on her first birthday that she took her first steps by herself.

A few days ago, I was watching my granddaughter and I told her that in two days’ we would be having her mommy’s birthday. She said, “Birthday cake.” I told her that Mommy would blow out the candles. She said that she and her mommy would blow out the candles. I didn’t make a big deal out of it, after all, who would win in a fight like that with a three-year-old.

After the family dinner of manicotti, salad, and garlic bread (all my daughter’s choices), I brought out the birthday cake with candles. And as my granddaughter had said, she helped her mommy blow out the candles. By the way, my daughter’s birthday cake this year was tiramisu (again, her choice) and there were no bears anywhere around.

Throwback Thursday: Girl Riding a "Horse" Leg

From my "old and known" file:

Little girl—"What do you mean this isn’t a real horse?"

That's my caption. What's yours? Leave it in the comments below.

Memory Monday: What My Daughter Ate as a Little Girl and What She Eats Now

My Daughter Eating a "Normal" Meal

WHAT MY DAUGHTER ATE AS A LITTLE GIRL AND WHAT SHE EATS NOW

When my daughter was little she LOVED cold hot dogs. If I heated them, she refused to even touch them. They had to be cold. Everything else she ate was “normal” but not hotdogs. Well, there was that time she insisted on eating spinach right out of the can—like Pop-Eye, the sailor man (Toot, Toot), but that only took her one bite to decide that canned, cold spinach was not for her!

Well, today, she still tries new things and she loves to blog about them. Recently, she and her family tried Burmese food, then wrote about what she had on her blog, You Ate What...? The strange food adventures of a suburban girl in Oklahoma.

I would love for you to take a peek at what they ate. You can find out all about it here

You Ate What? Burmese Food (This link will open another page).

I hope you enjoy it. You might even want to try Burmese food sometime. What were some of the “unusual” foods your children insisted on eating when they were little? Do they still eat them today?

Memory Monday: Photos in Our Family

PHOTOS IN OUR FAMILY

My mother always loved pictures—having her own taken and taking pictures of her family. I remember how she would take us kids outside—in the bright sunlight, and then tell us to open our eyes so she could take our picture. (Later, by the time her grandchildren came along, she had a camera with a flash, so all those lovely darlings didn’t have to go outside and open their eyes wide.) Through the years when money was tight, she would save up until she could afford to send off several rolls of film and get prints made. When she passed away, I found a lot of pictures of Mother from her teens forward. Even after my father passed away, she kept getting her picture made every couple of years at our Walmart photo studio. I also found all those envelopes with strips of negatives from the rolls of film she sent off to get printed from the fifties through the eighties or nineties.

Well, I never was interested in taking pictures, but my husband was. Which is fortunate for our children, otherwise we wouldn’t have any pictures to display when we had a celebration for our son’s Eagle Scout ceremony or a video to show of our daughter growing up for her wedding.

Recently, my husband got a new camera—his first in years. He’s still learning how to use it. He did get an interesting picture of our granddaughter. It’s the one shown above. By the way, she is wearing the glasses from the Potato Head toys that my children played with. And she insists on wearing them upside down. Ahh, young ones—when they set their minds on something, you can’t change them.

While I’m not interested in taking photos, I am so thankful that there are others in our family who do. This way the generations to come will have faces to put with names as they look back at those who came before them.

Memory Monday: Cooking, Mother, and Tempura

My Mother

COOKING, MOTHER, AND TEMPURA

The way my mother cooked and the way I cook are different. There are a few of her recipes that I still make, like Swiss steak and beef stew—although, I have altered both as far as seasonings go, as well as beef enchiladas–which you can only make the right way with Morton’s chili blend. From me, she learned to make rump roast in a way that it is so tender that it falls apart.

But this weekend, my cooking abilities were stretched to almost breaking (at least, for a while). Here is the short version.

Yesterday, we celebrated my son-in-law’s birthday and Father’s Day—my husband’s thirty-fifth and my son-in-law’s first. In our family, the person whose special day we are celebrating gets to choose what we will have for our family dinner. In the past with things being equal (birthday vs Father’s Day), our son-in-law usually got to choose and we often had fried catfish. This year, he decided to pick Papa Murphy’s Pizza (my husband’s favorite), but he also requested tempura vegetables (one of his favorites and something I had tried making recently with a mix I found at Homeland).

I sliced and diced the veggies he requested—green beans, carrots, taro root, asparagus, and daikon radish. All set—right? Wrong! I went back to the store where I got the tempura mix (I only had a half of a box left), and they didn’t have ANY—not even a place on the shelf where it had sold out. I checked other stores, same thing. By the way, this was on Saturday and everyone was coming for Sunday Dinner. So, I got googled “recipes tempura” and got a ton of sites. I started checking them out and decided on a couple that I would try. Sunday while the pizzas were baking, I mixed up the half package and started frying a few of each kind of veggies. By the time, I had finished using the half box of tempura mix, the pizzas were ready. I decided we had enough veggies prepared and closed my laptop without using any of those recipes I had researched so frantically. It turned out that I had fixed plenty. There were even a few leftovers.

I wonder if Mother would ever make tempura veggies if she had ever tried them. Somehow, I think not. They just don’t go with the meat and potato meals that she always seemed to make for her family.

Now, my daughter is a different matter. She makes so many different things. Maybe someday when she takes over doing the special family dinners, she will introduce us to a new set of recipes.

Memory Monday: Father's Day

My Son-in-Law and Granddaughter

FATHER’S DAY

I love the months of May and June because I love Mother’s Day and Father’s Day! I love the family get-togethers and dinners. And I love the presents, especially since I’m the mother now. What can I say—I love getting presents. But more than the presents (well, kinda), it is wonderful to see the next generation getting to share in the celebration—not as children honoring their parents, but as the ones being honored for the role they have taken on as parents. There is no way a child can understand the responsibilities (and worry, fear, joy, and hopes) of a mother or father until he or she becomes one. And only parents who see their children become parents can appreciate what their children are going through as they raise another generation (even though, the grandparents may wonder sometimes about what their children are thinking or doing).

This year is special with my granddaughter here now. I was privileged to share Mother’s Day with my daughter. In the same way, my husband will share Father’s Day with our son-in-law next week.

I want to say something to my father and father-in-law who have already passed on (as well as all the greats and grandfathers who came before them) as well as to my husband and son-in-law (and all those fathers who come after us): Thank you for the care you took to provide for your children, the examples you set, and the love you poured out on your families.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY!!!

Memory Monday: The Next Two Generations of Cooks

(We don't have a lot of pictures of us. I'm usually behind the camera. - Daughter)

THE NEXT TWO GENERATIONS OF COOKS

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve shared recipes from my mother and mother-in-law. Now I want to share two of my recipes and a couple of my daughter’s as we celebrate her first Mother’s Day with her daughter. They are pictured above. (By the way, the coat my granddaughter is wearing was sewn by my mother for my daughter more than thirty years ago.)

My recipe is a variation of my mother-in-law’s Pineapple Upside-down Cake. Growing up, my mother’s recipe for this desert always used pineapple rings with a whole cherry in the center of each ring. She baked her cake in a round pan. My mother-in-law used crushed pineapple, chopped cherries, and pecans in a 9” x 13” pan. I can’t remember the exact proportions that she used so I made up my own recipe using the same ingredients that she used.

Here is my version of Pineapple Upside-down Cake. Also, I am adding a second recipe, which is my variation that I created for a cooking contest (I didn’t win, but it was sure fun making and sharing the tries until I came up with the perfect recipe.

PINEAPPLE UPSIDE DOWN CAKE

1 stick of margarine or butter

1 lg can crushed pineapple, drained

1 cup brown sugar

1 jar of maraschino cherries, halved and drained

1 cup pecan halves

1 box of yellow cake mix with ingredients on package instructions

Combine 1^st five ingredients in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Pour into a 9x13" pan.

Prepare yellow cake mix, according to package direction.

Carefully spoon batter over hot pineapple mixture.

Bake at 350 for 40-50 minutes. When done, immediately invert onto serving tray.

PINEAPPLE RIGHT-SIDE-UP PIE WITH PRALINE TOPPING

Prep time: 15 minutes (Ready in 1 hour and 45 minutes)

Filling: 2 tablespoons cornstarch

1 cup brown sugar

¼ cup (½ stick) margarine

1 can (15 ¼ oz.) crushed pineapple, in its own juice

1 cup pecans pieces

1 (6 oz., approx. 25 cherries) jar maraschino cherries

Topping: 1 cup brown sugar

¼ cup (½ stick) margarine

1 cup pecans pieces

1 package (2 crusts) refrigerated piecrust

1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.

2. In a medium saucepan, mix cornstarch and 1 cup brown sugar. Add 4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) margarine, pineapple, and 1 cup pecans; heat mixture over medium-high heat. Drain and cut the maraschino cherries in half and add to the mixture; stir frequently.

3. In a small non-stick saucepan, combine the remaining brown sugar, margarine, and pecans. Mix well and heat over medium heat, stirring frequently while preparing crusts.

4. Unwrap and line a 9” pie pan with one pie crust. Unwrap and score second piecrust.

5. Pour boiling pineapple mixture into the prepared pie shell. Place scored piecrust on top the hot mixture and crimp the edges of the pie crusts.

6. Pour nut mixture into the small saucepan on top of the pie, spreading out the nuts evenly.

7. Bake for 30 minutes or until the edges of the pie are lightly browned. Let the pie cool for 1 hour. Makes 10 servings.

Here are my daughter’s recipes:

FAUX STROGANOFF

1 bag of Amish noodles

2 cans of Amy's semi-condensed cream of mushroom soup

2 lbs ground beef

1/2 cup sour cream

Garlic, salt, pepper to taste

Parsley for garnishing

1. Brown meat with garlic, salt, and pepper. Drain after.

2. Boil noodles as per package directions

3. Mix cream of mushroom soup and meat, heat in a saucepan until warm.

4. Take meat sauce off the heat and add sour cream, mixing thoroughly.

5. Pour over prepared noodles.

6. Garnish with parsley.

Makes 8 servings.

SLOW COOKER CHICKEN RICE

3-4 boneless skinless chicken thighs

2-3 cans of Amy's semi-condensed cream of mushroom soup OR chicken stock

1-2 bunches of asparagus chopped into 1-2" pieces (exclude any really woody parts)

1 cup of uncooked rice

1. Place chicken and asparagus into the slow cooker with 2 cans of soup or stock. Cook on low for 6 hours.

2. Shred chicken with forks in the slow cooker.

3. Add rice to the slow cooker and turn up to high (20 minutes or to taste for white rice, 40 minutes or to taste for brown rice). Add extra soup or broth if needed.

Makes 4-6 large servings.

(Just a note, I, the daughter, am a very "by my gut" kind of cook, which is why my recipes are not terribly precise. I just go with what feels pretty right at the time and it almost always turns out okay. Except when I am baking. I am very precise with that.)

Well, over the last three weeks, I have shared the recipes of three generations. I can’t wait to see what the next generation’s favorite recipes will be. (A little added note: my grandmother-in-law, my mother-in-law, my daughter, and granddaughter all share the same middle name. Another little fun fact about our family across the generations.)

Memory Monday: The Day I Became My Mother

Me with my mother and daughter

THE DAY I BECAME MY MOTHER

I remember the day very well. I was sitting in a recliner in our living room, watching my children in the hall as they examined and discussed our new cell phone. Now you need to understand that this was a number of years ago. My daughter had recently turned sixteen and we had given her permission to date (yes, I know that my husband and I are old-fashioned). We decided to break down and get one of those contraptions—after all, we never knew what situations she might get into out with a boy and all.

Anyway, back to that day. As I sat in that chair, I realized that I had become my mother. Often when my brother and his family came to visit Mother, we had a family dinner. It could always be counted on that sometime while we were eating, or just after, there would be a discussion about computers. At that time, we had Apple ones—not the fancy ones of today. No, we both had the kind that didn’t have hard drives, just floppy discs. We discussed the pros and cons of the different styles.

I remember glancing over at Mother at these times while she stared off into space—not that she didn’t want us all there nor did she have any kind of medical problem. She loved her family and always welcomed them to her home. No, the problem was that she just had no idea of what we were talking about.

That was how I felt that day as I sat in my chair, listening to my children discussing something that I had no understanding about—how you set this or how this feature works or, or, or. It was all just beyond me.

Separated by time, Mother and I had become one while our children discussed new things that are and things that were to come.

Mother never had a computer, but I do have one of those new fancy cell phones (which I hardly ever carry). My son gave me his old one when he purchased a new one—now I can take pictures as well as make phone calls (if I remember to take it with me). Everything else about that iPhone is just beyond me (don’t even get me started on texting).

I now better understand that faraway gaze Mother used to have in her eyes when we jabbered away about computers. I wonder what new invention will cause my daughter to realize that she has become me one day.

Memory Monday: A New Generation in Our Family

A NEW GENERATION IN OUR FAMILY

The title of this blog is FAMILIES ACROSS THE GENERATIONS. Well, we have added a new generation—officially—to our family this week!!! I have mentioned her a few times in past blogs, but I could never show her face until she was officially ours.

The first picture below is one I posted on my second blog post. It is my great-grandmother and her family, including my grandmother. The second picture is my grandmother, my mother, me, and my daughter (and son). The picture above is our latest "three generations" picture—me, my daughter, and my newly-adopted granddaughter. That’s a total of six generations—six generations of love shared, six generations of memories made and passed on, six generations that take us from the past to the present and on to the future.

May God bless the generations who come after me as He has blessed those who came before.

Memory Monday: The Continuing Saga of My Last Doll

My daughter and my last doll

THE CONTINUING SAGA OF MY LAST DOLL

I wrote a while back about the Tradition of the Last Doll in our family. I got her when I was in the 4^th grade and was told that she would be the last doll my parents would give me. I treasured her. By the way, I never named her. I just called her “my doll.”

When I had a daughter of my own, she played with the doll. The picture above was taken the weekend of my daughter’s 3^rd birthday. My parents had come from New Mexico and my mother had made matching dresses for my daughter and my doll. (Aren’t they so cute together?)

Last month was my granddaughter’s third birthday, so I got MY LAST DOLL from a top shelf in the garage. I even put the dresses (which I had saved) on my granddaughter and the doll. There was only one problem. My granddaughter is somewhat taller at three than my daughter was. The dress is too short for her to wear in public, but it will make a fine play dress—for the next few months—if she doesn’t grow too fast.

The doll’s index finger on her right hand is still in my jewelry box, but I noticed that the area around the next finger has cracked and the middle finger is close to coming off. I’ve already looked up a local doll repair expert so I can get her taken care of because my granddaughter really, really likes that doll. The other day, she pulled the doll over to the table where she was playing, gave the doll a hug, and bent her forward so she could “see” what my granddaughter was doing, talking to her the whole time.

So far the doll has lasted three generation. Let’s see if we can go for four or five. Wouldn’t that be amazing?

Memory Monday: My Mother, the Seamstress

My mother in 1947

MY MOTHER, THE SEAMSTRESS OF THE FAMILY

As long as I can remember, my mother sewed. She had an old treadle Singer sewing machine when I was growing up. Later, she got an electric one. She made a lot of her children’s clothes—after all, there were four girls in the family. She sewed my wedding dress, as well as my brides’ maids dresses. Even after I married, she made many things for me. One time when she and my father came for a visit, she brought me 10 pantsuits (OK, that happened in the 70s), all with coordinating shells that she had also sewn. After my father passed away, she moved to the same town where my family lived. After that, “Grandma will fix it” became a common saying around our house if you had a button come off or a seam rip. She sewed all the patches on my daughter’s Girl Scout uniforms, as well as my son’s Boy Scout patches—and that was a lot since he became an Eagle Scout.

Well, the years have passed and my mother’s gone. And the mantle had to eventually move from one generation to another. I knew how to sew—I took Home Ec for three years and made a very pretty green suit. After I married, I even made my husband an unlined suit—he wore it often. But I never really liked sewing. No, that’s not true—I hate sewing!!!

I was thrilled when our daughter wanted a sewing machine. So for her birthday a while back, we got her one. I figured out it operated and planned to teach her. I also asked if I could keep it for a little bit to repair something (I can’t remember what that was now since this happened a couple of years ago. But that’s another story.) Since I had the machine, she asked me if I could repair her husband’s pants. She brought a couple of pairs to my house and it only took me two years to get them fixed. He has his pants back as of last week, and maybe, my daughter will learn to sew this summer.

If not, I may have to wait until my two-year-old granddaughter gets old enough to sew and then the saying will be “Sophie can fix it.” 

Memory Monday: Teaching Table Manners to Children

My Great-grandparents

TEACHING TABLE MANNERS TO CHILDREN

Teaching manners has always been important. As I have gathered information from the 1800s for my historical website and my “reprinted” historical magazine, I have come across many books on etiquette. The following is from The Ladies Repository, dated 1865. Knowing from raising my own children, some of the easiest ways to teach are in rhyme. My great-grandmother (pictured above with her husband and children) was born in 1862. I wonder if her mother taught her the rhyme below, or if she taught it to her children.

In silence I must take my seat;

And give God thanks before I eat;

Must for my food in patience wait

Till I am asked to hand my plate;

I must not scold, nor whine, nor pout,

Nor move my chair or plate about;

With knife, or fork, or napkin ring,

I must not play—nor must I sing;

I must not speak a useless word;

For children must be seen—not heard;

I must not talk about my food,

Nor fret if I don't think it good;

My mouth with food I must not crowd,

Nor while I'm eating speak aloud;

Must turn my head to cough or sneeze,

And when I ask, say, "If you please;"

The table-cloth I must not spoil,

Nor with my food my fingers soil:

Must keep my seat when I am done,

Nor round the table sport or run:

When told to rise, then I must put

My chair away with noiseless foot,

And lift my heart to God above,

In praise for all his wondrous love.

I know that when my daughter was little, we read the book, I Live in the City ABC, so many times that we could recite it from memory—as we often did when we were driving around doing errands. Maybe my great-great-grandmother or my great-grandmother said it enough to their children that they could recite it when they were out in the garden picking beans or hoeing weeds. 

Memory Monday: Yet Another Look at What My Daughter Eats

My daughter, more than 30 years ago

AND YET ANOTHER LOOK AT WHAT MY DAUGHTER EATS

I love the picture above. My mother made the red dress that my daughter is wearing. Mother sewed the dress after she saw the white pinafore that I had made and embroidered. That little covering took 30 days to complete and left me with callouses on my index finger and thumb where I held the needle, but it was so worth it. My only regret is that by the time my granddaughter came to live with my daughter and son-in-law, she had already outgrown the pinafore. Oh well, I’ll just keep it for the next generation.

Now, back to the purpose of this article. My daughter went to an Asian dessert restaurant and tried something new. She writes about it. Here’s a link to her blog:
 You Ate What? Bingsu: A Korean Dessert

I hope you’ll check it out. What do you think of this dish? Are you daring? Would you like to try it?

What is the “most interesting” dessert you have ever tried? Did you eat it more than once?

Memory Monday: The Tradition of the Christmas Present Ornaments

THE TRADITION OF THE CHRISTMAS PRESENT ORNAMENTS

When my husband was five years old, he wanted a watch. His parents told him that he had to learn to tell time before they would get him one, so he went to his grandmother and she taught him. At Christmas, he had a package under the tree with a red, loopy ribbon bow on it. As you probably already guessed, the package contained a watch. But there is more to the story—something that affects what my family does today. His mother saved that red, loopy ribbon bow and put it on his “main” Christmas present the next year, and the year after, and the year after, for as long as she lived.

My husband and I dated for two years before we married. During that time, they put a blue package ornament on my present from them and continued to do so as long as my mother-in-law lived.

After her death, my father-in-law gave us their Christmas decorations and he just used the 12-inch ceramic Christmas tree that his mother had given his wife. That red, loopy ribbon bow and the blue package ornament were among the things he gave us. We kept up the tradition of using those package ornaments through the years.

We were married about ten years when our daughter was born. We bought her a Holly Hobby package decoration to keep the tradition going. When our son was born, we got a green and white stick horse for his “main” present.

My husband was five when the red, loopy ribbon bow first appeared on his present, so it has seen about 65 Christmases. We’ve been married for 44 years, so my blue ornament has been used about 45 times. Holly Hobby and the stick horse have been on presents for more than 30 years each. When our daughter married over 10 years ago, we got her husband a snowman for his package decoration. It has been on his packages ever since.

The next generation has come along with our granddaughter. Last year—her first Christmas with us, we got her a pink heart to attach to her present. We will be using it again this year.

Oh, there is one more thing about the present ornaments. We never put names on these presents. Everyone knows by the ornament who gets the present and everyone knows that the present came from us.

One of these days, we will have to pass down these package decorations to the next generation. I have every faith that our children will keep the tradition going.