Christmas Dinner 140 Years Apart

my great-grandmother and grandfather

CHRISTMAS DINNER 140 YEARS APART

Well, it’s almost that time of the year again—CHRISTMAS DINNER! Or rather, buying and planning the prep of things for that family dinner. I bought a rump roast and put it in the freezer (it is only Dec. 10^th but it was on sale and just what I wanted). I put it in the freezer so that Christmas Eve night I can put it in the oven (frozen, but with enough water in the covered graniteware roaster so that it won’t cook dry) and let it slowly thaw/cook/braise until 7 AM the next morning. The house will smell wonderful, the broth will be just right to make gravy, and it will have time to do whatever meat has to do before cutting it with an electric knife in nice thin slices. My daughter is making the mashed potatoes this year (they have allergies, so it’s best she makes these). About an hour before mealtime, I slide the poppers and stuffed mushrooms (which I prepped the day before Christmas Eve), along with the potatoes au gratin (made from a mix, of course) into the oven. By the way, I have a large oven. When those come out, I will heat the garlic knots and Hawaiian sweet rolls while I get out the different soft drinks everyone wants. As everyone sits down at the table, I take out the bread and put in the Marie Callendar’s Crumb-topped Apple Pie. Yep, Christmas dinner will be a breeze and leave me lots of time to visit with family.

The other day, I came across a Christmas Dinner menu from a book titled Fifteen Cent Dinners, published in 1877—my great-grandparents would have been married for about two years when the book came out. Here is the way they could have done it WA-A-A-Y back then:

A DOLLAR CHRISTMAS DINNER.

IN buying poultry for Christmas-tide I have found that it is better to go market at least three days before that holiday. The prices are very much lower, and the weather is generally cold enough for you to keep your bird fresh until you want to use it. In estimating the cost of this dinner I shall suppose that you buy your turkey in advance at a shilling a pound, instead of waiting till Christmas eve, and paying at least twenty cents for it. If you are obliged to Wait you must add the difference in price to my figures. The following is our bill of fare:
ROAST TURKEY,

BAKED POTATOES,

APPLE SAUCE,

PLUM PUDDING WITH CREAM SAUCE.

Begin your preparations by making your pudding as follows:--

Plum Pudding.^—Mix. well together, half a pound of flour, (cost two cents.) four ounces of raisins, stoned and chopped, (cost four cents) four ounces of currants, well washed, (cost four cents,) four ounces of chopped suet, (cost two cents,) three tablespoonfuls of molasses, one teaspoonful of ground spice, (cost one cent,) and one gill of cold water; put in a floured cloth, or a greased and floured mould, or tin pail, and steam until yon are ready to put it on the table. It will cost you thirteen cents, Next, peel one quart of potatoes, and lay them in cold water while you get the turkey ready.

Roast Turkey.—Draw a five pound turkey, (cost five shillings,) carefully enough not to break the entrails, so that you will not have to spoil its flavor by washing it; singe it, and wipe it with a clean, damp cloth, stuff it with about a pound of stale bread, seasoned with salt, pepper and herbs, (cost about three cents,) sew it up, tie it in shape, lay it in a baking pan with one quart of peeled potatoes, (cost five tents,) and put it into a hot oven; as soon as it begins to brown nicely, take it Out, season it With pepper and salt, baste it with the drippings from it; and put it back in the oven; baste it every fifteen minutes until it is done, which will be in about an hour and. a quarter. Then put it on a dish, with the potatoes around it, and set it in the mouth of the oven to keep it hot while you make the gravy; do this by pour ing a pint of boiling water into the dripping pan, letting it come to a boil, and stirring into it a tablespoonful of flour mixed smoothly in half a teacupful of cold water; season it to taste with salt and pepper, and dish in a bowl.

Apple Sauce.—As soon as you get the turkey in the oven, make the  apple sauce as follows. Pare, core, and slice two quarts, or five cents worth of cooking apples, put them over the fire with a half cup water and stew them until soft: then stir in four ounces of sugar, (cost three cents,) and one ounce of butter, (cost two cents,) and cool it, or keep it warm, as you like. It will cost ten cents. Next make the pudding sauce.

Cream sauce—Stir together over the fire one ounce of butter, one ounce of flour, and a little spice, (all of which will cost about two cents), put a little mill; into a pint of boiling watt;, and stir t gradually in the flour and but, when it is quite smooth stir in two ounces of sugar, (cost two cents,) and let it boil up once; then set the sauce-pan you have made it in into another containing a little hot water, so as to keep the sauce hot until you want it, without thickening or burning it. It will cost about five cents, and be good enough for the nicest of plum puddings.After you have done with the sauce the rest of the dinner will probably be nearly cooked, and you can get it ready for the table.

I really like my menu better, but then I live in a different time and place. But whatever you have for Christmas Dinner, I hope you have a wonderful day.

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: Precious Memories

four generations of our family

PRECIOUS MEMORIES

I was traveling in the car the other day and the song “Precious Memories” came on. The lyrics nestled in my heart. I thought of all of who came before me—the examples they left, the words of wisdom they shared, the stories of perseverance they left behind.

My grandmother raised seven children as she cleaned other people’s houses and took in laundry, while her husband had a shoe repair shop. The thing I remember most about my grandmother was when she was about 95 or so, she needed paint for her house but she insisted that it come with a 25 year guarantee. Oh, and another thing, my mother said Grandma didn’t care what grades her children got in school, as long as they got an A in deportment. She knew how her children acted and treated others was so important. Growing up, the thing I remember most about my grandfather was that he hated to have his picture made, even snapshots—NO PICTURES. That is until their 50^th anniversary—which by the way was when my grandmother got a wedding ring. After that, he seemed to love having his picture taken. I just realized that I have something in common with my grandfather—I hate to have my picture taken, too. Maybe when I have my 50^th wedding anniversary, I won’t mind so much.

My daddy always dreamed of trying to do things to improve his life, from reading to trying to start some type of business, to changing types of jobs. For him, it never seemed to work—BUT HE TRIED. I guess that’s where I got the part of me, where at 60 years old, I published my first three novels. My mother always voiced her acknowledgement of God’s working in her everyday life. When it rained, she would always mention how God had washed her car or watered her flowers and vegetables. Her words still live on in my heart and make me recognize how God is in all the things we do—big things and little.

I hope that my children have precious memories of me that will live in their hearts and minds for years to come, and maybe even be passed down to future generations.

I wonder what memories of me my granddaughter will cherish in years to come. Will those memories help her in trying times? Will they nestle in her heart and help her to be a better woman? Will memories of a loving grandmommy help her when she feels lonely or troubled as she goes through life?

What precious memories do you have of your parents or grandparents that have helped you through life? 

Memory Monday: Halloween Through the Years in Our Family

my son as a gorilla

HALLOWEEN THROUGH THE YEARS IN OUR FAMILY

Growing up, I don’t remember doing a lot for Halloween, but then we lived in the country for a lot of those years. I know that when we did live in town, there was a lot of Trick-or-Treating going. During the early years of our marriage and children, we had lots of kids coming to our door for their treats. But that has changed now. No one comes door-to-door anymore, at least not in our neighborhood. They all go to community activities or church Trunk or Treats. If you aren’t familiar with Trunk or Treat, it’s when the adults gather in the parking lot, decorate the open trunks of their cars, and wait for the little ones—all dressed up, of course—to come by so they can get their treats.

Costumes have changed, too. I have an old black and white picture of my older sister and brother with me. They were wearing scary masks and I was crying (I was only 2 or 3 at the time). Those masks were the thin plastic kind, with a rubber band stapled on each side to hold it on. When the rubber band broke or slipped out from the staples, well, the mask was useless—unless you wanted to hold it up to your face all the time, and who wants to do that. My children dressed up when they were little—usually in “creative” costumes. We never went out and bought full outfits for them. These days, my son buys his own costume. The first one he bought was a gorilla. That’s him pictured above. This year, he got a T-rex inflatable costume which is almost 7-feet tall. He wore that to the church Trunk or Treat and let the little ones hunt for mini-dinosaurs in a portable sandbox (our granddaughter doesn’t know that her sandbox isn’t in our backyard right now).

my son's costume

Speaking of my granddaughter, she went to school as Anna from Frozen. Of course, she was adorable—See how adorable below (naturally, all grandmas think their granddaughters are adorable, no matter what the situation):

she'd rather be playing with cars

What are your memories of Halloween? What was your favorite candy to get? Do little ones still come to your house Trick or Treating?

Memory Monday: Identifying Family in Old Photos

IDENTIFYING FAMILY IN OLD PHOTOS

Sometimes, I have a hard time looking at an old photo and recognizing who someone is. Other times, it is fairly easy to identify someone, even though the person has aged through the decades. I came across the picture above in a file of my husband’s family. These are three siblings—a brother and his sisters. Their names are Oval, Ira, and Vera. Obviously, I know which one is Oval, since he is the brother. The sisters are twins named Ira and Vera (and one of them was my husband’s grandmother). But who is who? I knew they weren’t identical twins. Both of these women have passed, so I can’t ask them. When I looked at a more recent picture of the two:

I know that the sister in red is my husband’s grandmother. The other one is her sister. When I look at the “old” photo, I can see the difference in the two women. Look at their chins in each picture, one has a more rounded chin, the other one has a more squared chin. Now, I know that the lady sitting in the black and white pic is my husband’s grandmother.

Then like I said earlier, I an old family photo of someone and can’t identify him in a second photo.

Here is a picture of my great-grandfather in his later years:

And here is a school picture of him:

Now, can you pick out which of these boys would be my great-grandfather? I can’t, so I just say this is a picture of him when he was in school in the 1860s—he was born in 1851.

How have you identified people in old photos? Have you ever been wrong? How did you go about figuring out who was who?

Memory Monday: Dirty Diapers in Our Family

four generations of our family

DIRTY DIAPERS IN OUR FAMILY

Several years ago, my mother noticed that (at church) many of the fathers were the ones who took their little ones out of the service because the child was acting up, crying, or (if the dad was carrying a diaper bag) to change the baby’s diaper. That observation really amazed her. But when you think back about when she raised her children (starting in the late 1940s), most women were “stay-at-home” moms and care of the children was just part of what they were responsible for.

I don’t think my dad ever changed a diaper—wet or dirty--in his life. Now move forward to when my husband and I had children. He will tell you that he changed a couple of wet diapers, but never a dirty one. I got all that “fun.” But then, like my mother, I was a full-time at-home mom. Last year while we watched our new granddaughter during the day while both of her parents worked, my husband didn’t want me to go anywhere and leave him alone with our granddaughter for fear that she might have a dirty diaper. Now that she is potty-trained, he’s fine with me going on a few errands and leaving him alone with her.

The other day, my daughter and I were talking. She mentioned that the father of one of their friends wouldn’t change his grandchild’s dirty diaper. I told her about her father’s aversion to the same thing last year. She shook her head and said, “Men of my generation are different from that.” And I agree with her. I’ve seen her husband change his daughter’s dirty diapers.

All I can say is that my husband is happy that our granddaughter has passed the dirty diaper stage and hasn’t reached the “boy” stage yet.

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: The Beginning of Another Generation Passing

THE BEGINNING OF ANOTHER GENERATION PASSING

For both my husband and me, all of our grandparents (Grandma, Grandpa, Papaw, Mamaw, Mawmaw, Granddaddy, Grandmother, and a grandfather who died before my husband was born) have passed away. We have precious memories of time spent in their homes. Our children knew some of their grandparents (Grandma, Granddaddy, PawPaw who passed away before our son was born, and Granny who passed away before we had children). Fortunately, our children were old enough when my husband’s father and my mother passed that they also have a wealth of memories of them.

But life moves on. Our granddaughter has lost her first grandparent. Appa (her paternal grandfather) passed away over the weekend. At three, she may not have formed many of those precious memories that we have of our grandparents. But maybe, as we (and our family) did with our children, she will learn about him from those who are still here.

Memory Monday: Could It Be?

my sister in front of my grandmother's house

COULD IT BE?

Last week as I was in the middle of re-posting my Thursday blog to several locations, something in the picture caught my eye. As I looked at the house in the background, something clicked. That house looked familiar in an odd way. You have to understand that that  photo had nothing written on the back of it to identify who was in the picture—I had just liked the look on the face of the woman. But the more that I looked at the house, the more I thought that I recognized it as my grandparents’.  The “bones” were the same—front door placement, windows placement, the height of the steps. The outside of the house was different. The posts were different. But my grandfather had bought the house sometime in the 1910s so it only make sense that some changes had been made in the sixty or so years that he owned it. I found a picture of the house (on Google Maps) as it looks now. It has siding covering it, as well as a metal handrail up the middle of the steps—the house was sold to an older couple years ago.

I remember the outside covered in a faux brick with concrete steps from a sidewalk up to the porch. The picture above was taken about 1949. Other than a block walkway and wooden (I think) steps, this is the way I remember the front of the house—even to the concrete planter on the concrete post on the porch by the steps.

All this led me to take a closer look at the woman in the picture from last week. Who was she? I enlarged the face as much as I could. The eyes look a lot like my grandmother who passed away when my father was nine years old. I compared her wedding picture (the only one we have of her as an adult) to the lady with the baby.  The lady with the baby has a fuller face. But if this is my grandmother, she would have been about twelve years (and two children, if the child she is holding is my aunt) older. My daughter and husband both looked at the picture and couldn’t decide if it was the same woman, but we all agree that it might be her mother. Unfortunately, the only picture I have of my great grandmother (She died in 1927, a year after her daughter.) is below and I don’t think that it is her in the picture with the baby:

So this still leaves me with my question—Is the woman with the baby the same woman who posed for her wedding picture twelve years earlier? Do I have a “new” picture of my grandmother? Below are the two pictures I have been comparing:

This was taken from her wedding photo:

AND

The above is an enlargement of the picture below:

Do you think these are the same woman?

Memory Monday: What Would You Save?

my husband, his grandmother, and our daughter

WHAT WOULD YOU SAVE?

The other evening, my husband and I were watching a movie on TV. A question was asked during that move that has had me thinking ever since—If your house were burning down and you could grab one thing to save, what would it be?

Now you notice, the question didn’t ask who would you save, so I guess that I’m the only one in the house. So what one THING would I grab? We don’t have any expensive artwork or anything like. There are lots of family “treasures” in our home. But for the most part, those things are only treasures because I have personal memories of them. As I have said before, most of those things aren’t things my children will want. Then there are lots and lots of photo albums, but I can only take ONE item. Which one of those books of pictures, would I choose—the one of our wedding, the one containing pictures of our daughter’s first year, our son’s? Or one of the several others that contain photos of our families (my husband’s and mine) through the years?

I have decided what the one thing is that I would grab—my external hard drive. It contains all of the stories I have ever written (some of which I might revise and publish one day), as well as much documentation for different things. It also contains a lot of our family pictures—especially those from several generations back. I know I need to scan more photos into that drive (from all those photo albums), but what I have now would be a good selection to pass down to our children.

If you had to choose ONE ITEM to grab from your burning house (and yes, assuming you had the time), what would it be?

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.

Memory Monday: Just How Accurate Are Those Family Stories?

My daddy, his sister, and their cousin

JUST HOW ACCURATE ARE THOSE FAMILY STORIES?

As I was growing up, it was always an exciting time when we got to go to my mother’s parents’ home. There were often a lot of relatives since several of my mother’s siblings lived somewhat nearby. And then there were the times when one sister decided to come “home” and then one or more of the sisters would plan on coming at the same time. It was during these visits that I learned a lot of family history. Later, after I interviewed (and taped) these get-togethers with my mother, aunts, and grandmother. I am pretty sure the stories that I got were accurate—at least, as accurate as older women wanted to share.

Now stories from my father’s side of the family are a little sparse. One reason is my father had only one sibling—my mother had six. Another reason is my father’s sister lived far away and we hardly ever saw them. While we visited my dad’s parents, those visits were usually day trips. We would leave early Sunday morning, stop along the way and go to church, then get to my grandparents’ home in time for a late lunch. We hardly ever stayed the night. Usually, when we went we just played outside while the adults visited.

All that was said to explain why I don’t have a lot of stories of my father’s family. From a few things my dad had told me, I was able to piece together some of his side of the family. And thanks to Ancestry.com, I have also been able to learn more about that part of my family (and a bit more accurately). My sister told me that when she questioned my dad’s sister (our dad had already passed away when she needed this information for a college class) that she was told our grandfather had run away from home when he was eleven because his new step-mother was so mean. When I hear a story like that, I’m thinking he never went back home (and my aunt never said he returned). Well, when I looked at the census for when he was a little older, he is listed there living with his father and step-mother. He might have “run away” to his older brother’s house, which was only a few streets away, but he eventually came back home.

Another story I heard years and years ago, was that after my granddad married for the second time (my dad’s mother had died eight years before) was that my dad went to stay with his aunt (his mother’s sister) and her family during his last year in high school because she and her husband had lost a son the year before. I always thought the cousin who died was in his teens, like my dad—see the picture at the beginning of the article. I thought this was the cousin who had passed away. But today, I was to look at Ancestry.com to see if I could find just when this cousin passed away and what his name was. I got another surprise. While it is true that my aunt and her husband lost a son the year before my dad came to stay with them, the son that passed away died the same day he was born. I really think the reason that my father spent that year with his aunt’s family was he didn’t get along with his new step-mother—he called her “Madam” then and I never heard him call her anything but “Myrtle” as I grew up.

I think I need to spend more time on Ancestry.com. Maybe I will learn more about my dad’s family. I wonder what other stories that I’ve heard aren’t exactly true.

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!!!