Throwback Thursday: Another Little Girl

 "I'm ready for the New Year. Are you?"
That's my caption. What's yours? Feel free to leave your caption in the comments below.

Memory Monday: The New Year Poem

My grandfather during the Civil War

THE NEW YEAR

As some of you know, I “reprint” a historical magazine dated 1865. It is filled with chapters of books, articles, and recipes from that time period.

Last month while I was researching for my magazine, I found a poem in The Family Christian Almanac from 1864. My grandfather was a soldier during the Civil War (1862-65), and I wonder if his first wife (my grandmother was his second wife—she was born in 1862) sent him this poem while he as far away from her. Maybe she read this poem to their children.

I would like to share it with you as the New Year begins.

THE NEW YEAR

I know not what shall befall me,

God hangs a mist o'er my eyes;

For each step in my onward path

He makes new scenes to rise,
And every joy he sends me

Comes as a sweet surprise.

I see not a step before me,

As I tread on another year,

But the past is still in God's keeping,

The future his mercy shall clear,
And what looks dark in the distance

May brighten as I draw near.

For perhaps the dreaded future

Has less bitter than I think;
The Lord may sweeten the waters

Before I stoop to drink;

Or if Marah must be Marah,

He will stand beside its brink.

It may be he has, waiting

For the coming of my feet,

Some gift of such rare value,

Some joy so strangely sweet,

That my lips shall only tremble

With the thanks they cannot speak.

Oh, restful, blissful ignorance!

'T is blessed not to know;

It keeps me still in those arms

Which will not let me go,

And hushes my soul to rest

In the bosom that loved me so!

So I go on—not knowing;

I would not, if I might,

Rather walking with God in the dark

Than going alone in the light;
Rather walking with Christ by faith

Than walking alone by sight.

My heart shrinks back from trials

Which the future may disclose,

Yet I never had a sorrow

But what the dear Lord chose;

So I send the coming tears back

With the whispered word—"He knows."

I don’t know who wrote this poem, but I really like it. I hope you will also.

Throwback Thursday: Child in the Snow

"Oh, my goodness! I think I see Santa Claus coming!"

That's my caption, what's yours? Feel free to leave your caption in the comments below! Merry Christmas!

Memory Monday: Christmas Traditions in Our Family

My daughter and me (on her second Christmas)

CHRISTMAS TRADITIONS IN OUR FAMILY

Through the years, there have been lots of different traditions involving Christmas. With my husband’s family, they always had a big Christmas Eve party get-together. It would go something like this—my husband (as a little boy) had to get all dressed up and then wait until his grandfather finished his job at the grocery store, cleaned up (in a suit, no less), and came over with my husband’s grandmother. Then my husband had to wait (oh, so patiently, I’m sure) while his grandfather ate supper. Next, there were the family pictures to be taken—you know where each person has his or her picture taken, then there are the couples, then the couples with their children, then the grandparents with their grandchildren, and on and on. When that was done, the presents were distributed, usually by the grandchildren, and everyone sat around the room, and one by one each person opened a present. Once everyone had a turn, they repeated until all the presents were opened. Then they played 42 (a domino game) while eating candy and drinking eggnog. The next morning, they would find a new present under the tree. It was from Santa.

In my family it was a little different. On Christmas Eve when we were little, I remember us practicing how we would wake each other up, then run to the living room where the tree was. Early the next morning, we would gather around the tree—when Mother and Daddy finally got up. Once the word was given, we all dived under the tree trying to find our presents, then we would rip them open. Lots of laughing and yelling.

One of the best things about having these traditions, when my husband and I married we didn’t have to alternate families from year to year (by the way, our parents lived in the same town) since they opened presents at different times.

Through the years, my husband and our children have held onto some of those traditions and changed others. Both sets of our parents are gone and our children meet out our house (in jeans and tees, no posed pictures taken) on Christmas Eve for Snack Supper (with eggnog, of course) and games—this tradition we all love and plan to carry on for years to come. But there is one tradition that will change starting this year. Ever since our daughter married, they have slept our house so we could all wake up on Christmas morning and open presents (one person at a time). This year, we will open presents on Christmas Eve and everyone will go back to their home to sleep (my daughter and her husband now live about eight minutes away and my son lives about ten minutes). They will return Christmas morning to get their filled stockings and open the Santa presents, then eat Christmas dinner (it is always roast with all the trimming).

Oh, one more tradition that we still keep. My mother always bought a box of chocolate-covered cherries for each person, wrapped them, and put them under the tree. Mother has been gone for ten years now, but everyone knows that there will be a box of chocolate-covered cherries with his or her name (but no giver’s name, but we all know who they should be from) under the tree—and we all open them at the same time. When I’m old and gray, I will have one of my children promise that he or she will carry on this tradition—a nice link to the past.

What traditions has your family shared in? Which ones have you dropped? Which one do you still keep?

Throwback Thursday: Horse and Carriage

Woman: I can’t believe you brought me to a one-horse town and this is the horse.

That's my caption, what's yours? Feel free to leave it in the comments below.

Memory Monday: The Bookcase and What's On It Now!

My daughter (years ago) and the bookcase my mother made 

THE BOOKCASE AND WHAT’S ON IT NOW!!!

A long time ago, my mother built a bookcase to hold all my father’s books. As we moved from town to town, it always went with us. I don’t ever remember it not being in my parents’ house. After Daddy died, Mother moved to the same town in which I lived, and she brought it with her.

After she passed away, several years ago, my husband took the book case apart and stored the wood in our garage. After I started writing (and collecting so-o-o-o many books), he took part of the wood and made me shelves above my computer.

The bookshelves my husband built

 And now I have to cull out some of the books because I have something new to put on those shelves—MY BOOKS!!!

Don’t my girls look pretty? And don’t you think they will look good sitting on my shelves?

If you like inspirational historical romance, I invite you to get the first one (it’s free as an e-book), and lose yourself in a time 150 years ago in the Colorado Territory. Then I hope you'll get them all. Happy reading.

Throwback Thursday: Little Girl

What do you mean naughty or nice? Can’t I be both?

There's my caption; what's yours? Feel free to leave your caption in the comments below.

Memory Monday: Memories of My Father-in-Law

My father-in-law and his mother Vera

MEMORIES OF MY FATHER-IN-LAW

Because so much of family history is lost when just one person dies, I wanted to try and save as much as possible of ours. About a year after our son was born in the mid-80s, we bought a camcorder, and I started interviewing family members. (Unfortunately my father and my mother-in-law had passed away by then, so I will never be able to record their personal histories and stories). The first person I interviewed was my father-in-law. In recalling stories, he repeated how his mother one day was out in the field hoeing cotton, when her young beau came by. It was very uncomely for a young lady of that day to be see bare-footed (which she was at the time), so she quickly dug two holes in the ground, stepped into them and covered her feet with dirt. She could then properly greet her young man.

My father-in-law, also, told a story about his father. “One day, Dad and I were sitting at the table while Mom was fixing supper. Dad noticed that the punched-out S and P lids on the salt and pepper shakers had been switched when they had been refilled. So, Dad carefully poured out the salt into one pile on the table and the poured out the pepper into another pile. He then scraped the salt into the container that had held the pepper and then he put the pepper into the other shaker. After replacing the caps on both shakers, he sat back in his chair with a smile of satisfaction on his face for a job well done. I was just a little kid, but as I looked at the salt and pepper shakers and then at my dad, I asked him, “Why didn’t you just change the tops?” Laughing now, my father-in-law said that his dad just sat there looking stunned.

If possible, try and record or write down your memories and stories that you were told growing up. They will make a great bridge from the past generations to the future.

Throwback Thursday: Three Adults

Here's my caption:

Younger woman: Now dear, I know I should have told you Mother is going to move in with us before we got married.

That's my caption, what's yours? Feel free to leave your caption in the comments below.

Memory Monday: Pets Before Kids

Me, my husband, and our daughter

PETS BEFORE KIDS

We did not plan it that way, but I glad it happen. My husband and I were married nine years before we had any children. We had raised two generations of cats in that time of B.C. (Before Children), and we learned some very, very valuable lessons about child rearing from our experiences.

With our first cat, Molasses, we were very strict. We taught her how to behave, not to get on the furniture, not to scratch the doors, and, definitely, not to get on the kitchen cabinets (in fact, the only time she did get on the kitchen cabinets was when she had been outside, chased by a dog, came streaking in, leaped on the counters, raced across the hot griddle, and cowered in the corner). We taught her and we disciplined her.

Two years later, she got her grandson, McArthur (by way of a neighbor who had taken two of Molasses's kittens). By this time we were more lax in our raising of this little kitten. We were not as careful with our training—we did not enforce our discipline as consistently; we just did not bring up the second kitten as well as we could have because we did not put as much into it as we could have.

We had lots of fun with both of them. They made our lives richer for having them, but the best thing about them—the very best thing—is the lesson we learned about the responsibility of raising a living creature from infancy to adulthood.

In a relatively short span of time (about 4 years), we saw what the results our proper training (and lack of proper training) with them could lead to. Molasses was well-behaved, sweet, gentle, and hardly ever in "trouble." McArthur, on the other hand, was constantly having to be disciplined—he would scratch the window ledges, get on the furniture, climb on the kitchen counters, tearing open the bread if I forgot to put it up. We loved McArthur (the grandson cat) just as much as we loved Molasses (even though they had such different personalities—one was gentle and quiet, the other was rambunctious and playful), but we made life so much harder for everyone all the way around by not raising McArthur right, by not giving him the time and teaching that he needed.

I am so thankful that we had pets before kids because we learned some very valuable lessons in miniature. My husband and I would often discussed the results of the way we had dealt with our cats and the results and we tried to learn from them as to what we could do differently when we had children. We learned that we needed to be consistent. And if we weren’t consistent, there would be results (and those results would not be good). We learned that just because the older one knew the right thing to do, the younger one would not automatically do it also—each one must be taught individually. We learned that each one that we raised was different, and we had to take those differences in to account in the way that we dealt with them. We loved our cats (they were 17 and 18 when they finally died), and my husband and I will always be thankful for the lessons we learned from them about child raising before we made some of the mistakes we could have made with our own children.

P.S. That all happened over 40 years ago. A few of years ago, we got our next generations of cats—MacIntosh and Malcolm. With them, we are not nearly as strict in disciplining them, much more patient, more indulgent—definitely more indulgent. They are everywhere, on everything (except the kitchen cabinets and table), they get their way in just about everything they want, and we bought them all sort of toys. Yes, thanks to the training of this new generation of cats, you can already tell: my husband and I are going to be wonderful grandparents.

Throwback Thursday: Cattle Ranching

Head ’em up. Move ’em out.

There's my caption; what's yours? Feel free to leave your caption in the comments below.

Memory Monday: The Last Words

LAST WORDS

The other day I was scanning some family pictures and came across one that had been among my mother’s things when she passed away. It was a picture of my daughter combing my father’s hair. I know the day, month, and year it was taken—Saturday, July 28. 1984. My parents had come to celebrate our daughter’s third birthday.

My parents left the next day and went home. I hugged my father and said, “I love you, Daddy.” He hugged me back and said he loved me, too. I watched them drive away. Three days later on Tuesday, we got a call. Daddy had been killed in an accident.

Several years later, Mother moved to the town where I live. Through the almost 20 years she was here, we traveled from mother and daughter to friends, then finally to me looking after her (even though she still lived in her own house). The night before she passed away, she called me before she went to bed, and said how much she loved me, then thanked me for looking after her. She ended with telling me she loved me, and I told her I loved her. The next morning we found unconscious, and she never regain consciousness.

If I pass before they do, I hope that the last words my husband and children hear from me are words of love and thankfulness, words that will help them in their grief and bring comfort to their hearts.

Throwback Thursday: Winter Trip to the Zoo

Does anyone but me think it’s interesting that the woman and child are wearing fur coats in front of the bear cage?

There's my caption. What's yours? Feel free to leave your caption in the comments below.

Memory Monday: Iced Coffee and Creamer Coffee

THEY HAD THIS BACK THEN!

I love coffee. (My husband just rolled his eyes.) Well, I love flavored coffee. Ok, I love flavored, iced coffee. The truth of the matter is that I love flavored, iced coffee with fat-free half- and-half (see why my husband rolled his eyes—he says what I drink is NOT coffee.) But, it has coffee in it. I love to get McDonald’s coffee (senior-priced, of course), bring it home, fill up my largest glass with ice, add a goodly splash of the aforementioned FF ½ & ½, add some sugar-free flavored syrup, then fill up the rest of it with coffee (see, I drink coffee). Just for your information, if you combine equal parts chocolate, caramel, and hazelnut syrups, you get snicker bar flavoring—great in iced coffee.

While I was growing up, there were only two choices for coffee—sweet or plain, well I guess there were four if you consider adding milk/cream to those. I was so excited years ago when I discover the packaged creamers in the milk section of the store. That’s when I began to enjoy coffee. And that was before I learned about iced coffee.

This is all being said so I can tell you about something I discovered today. In a cookbook published in 1860 named Practical American Cookery and Domestic Economy, I came across several recipes that I want to share. By the way, my great-granddaddy in in the school picture above. He was born in 1850, so his mother might have made these recipes.

I love cream in my coffee, but what if I’ve run out and can’t go to the store to get more until I’ve had my first cup in the morning. Well, I’ve found the solution with this recipe from 1860:

A SUBSTITUTE FOR CREAM FOR COFFEE.

Beat up a fresh egg, then pour boiling water on it gradually to prevent its curdling. It is difficult to distinguish it from rich cream.

And if I run out of flavored creamer, here’s the solution for that:

COFFEE-TO GIVE THE FLAVOR OF VANILLA.

Take a hand full of oats, very clean, and let them boil for five or six minutes in soft water; throw this away, and fill it up with an equal quantity, and let it boil for half an hour; then pass this decoction through a silk sieve, and use it to make your coffee, which will acquire, by this means, the flavor of vanilla, and is very nice.

Now doesn’t that sound yummy?

And not only that, back then they had iced coffee, too. Only they called it something else:

COFFEE ICE A L^'ITALIENNE.

Infuse a quarter of a pound of coffee in a pint of double cream, boiling hot, for two hours, closely covered; half whip the whites of nine eggs, and having strained the cream from the coffee, mix it with them; add half a pound of powdered sugar, and put it over a gentle fire till it begins to thicken, then ice it.

See, the good old days weren’t so bad.

Throwback Thursday: Halloween?

Here's my caption:

"For Halloween, we went as an old-timey family."

What's your caption? Feel free to leave it in the comments below.

Memory Monday: Veteran's Day

My husband in 1972

THOSE WHO SERVED

As we approach Veterans Day, I wanted to share those in my family who served their country. 

My father with his parents during WWII

My father-in-law during WWII

Another uncle in WWII

My uncle - career military

My great grandfather during the Civil War

My husband's grandfather (on the right) during WWI

Besides the picture above, my husband-through his genealogy research-has discovered the names of more of his family who have served in the military. In the American Revolution, 18 of his direct ancestors served, while another one served in the post-revolution period. During the War of 1812, 3 of his ancestors served, while 8 served during the Civil War. I haven’t researched my family history, so I’m not sure how many of my ancestors served, although I know not as many as his because my mother’s family were Mennonites and didn’t come to America until much later than my husband’s family. Still I’m so proud of all my family, and that includes in-laws-who have served.

Throwback Thursday: Ranchers

"2,304, 2,305, 2,30…uh, uh, oh, shucks, I lost count.

I’ll have to start again 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6."

There's my caption. What's yours? Feel free to leave your caption in the comments below.

Memory Monday: Our Interest in Family History

OUR INTEREST IN FAMILY HISTORY

Although my interest in genealogy didn’t begin until a few years ago when I found my grandfather’s birth certificate (discovering the names of his parents) among my mother’s papers after her death, my love of “family things” has always been a part of me. My grandmother gave me a little ring of hers when I was just a small child, and I still have it in my jewelry box. I have my father’s wooden chess set, a pocket watch that was my grandfather’s, a few of the little pitchers that were my grandmother-in-law’s from WWII, and so many more things.

One of the things that show our love for “family things” is shown in the picture above. This was taken the day we brought our first child home from the hospital. She wore a dress my mother had saved from I was a baby. Her socks came from her daddy, and her shoes were from her granddaddy. The pink blanket was made by my mother. The car seat was lined with a white blanket that my mother-in-law had won at a store opening, twenty years before. When she won it, she said she was going to save it for her grandchild. My grandmother passed away more than a year before our daughter (her first grandchild) was born. After her funeral, I took the blanket so I could fulfill that plan for her. Even though my mother-in-law never got to see her grandchild, a special part of her will always live with my daughter. They both carry the same middle name.

Oh, and another part of my daughter’s coming home outfit ties the present to the past. The little cap our daughter is wearing in the picture was tatted by my husband’s grandmother for her newborn son (my father-in-law) in 1920. Both of my children wore it home from the hospital, and it is in the safety deposit box waiting for future generations.

Throwback Thursday: Fenced Perspective

"And this is how I make spider-webs for my haunted house."

There's my caption. What's yours? Feel free to leave your caption in the comments below.

Memory Monday: A Valuable Lesson

Vera and Me

A MOST VALUABLE LESSON LEARNED

My husband’s paternal grandmother, Vera, was a small, feisty woman. After she was widowed, she lived for a number of years before her health caused her to move in with her twin sister, Era—but she was known to the family as Aunt Pete (still not sure why). But for most of the years I knew her, Vera lived in her own home by herself.

I would like to share my strongest memory of this woman and the lesson I learned that helps me today:

I met my husband’s grandmother at our wedding, but like many brides, there was so much going on that I didn’t make great connections with family members I had never met and who came from out-of-town (we lived in New Mexico and Vera lived in central Texas). So the first time I truly visited with her was when we went to her house. The first morning we were there and while my husband was getting dressed, I went into her kitchen as Grandmother (my husband’s name for her) was fixing breakfast. After greeting each other, she turned back to the stove. I noticed that the dress she was wearing hadn’t been zipped up the back up all the way.

I figured that she couldn’t reach back that far, so I said that I would help her with her zipper and reached out to do it. She turned around, looked at me, and said, “No, I’ll do it some way. One day, I’ll not be able to do things for myself. When that happens, it’ll be easier to accept help knowing that when I could do things for myself, I did them.”

She smiled. I smiled. A few minutes later, my husband walked into the kitchen, spied the dress not totally zipped up, and reached out to help. I jerked his arm back and shook my head. We went into the living room, and I explained what she had told me.

Now, forty plus years later, I understand much better what Grandmother meant. I’m older. I have Rheumatoid Arthritis, but I can still do things for myself. The day may come when I can’t do things for myself, but at that time, I’ll know that I did all I could while I could. And that already feels good.

Throwback Thursday: A Pile of Girls

Here's my caption:
"We played Ring-Around-the-Roses and we all fell down."

Got a good caption for this picture? Feel free to leave it in the comments below.

Memory Monday: How Dinners Change

My great-grandfather, his second wife, and their family

HOW DINNERS HAVE CHANGED THROUGH THE GENERATIONS

The following is from the book Everyday Cookery, Table Talk, and Hints for Laundry by Juliet Corson, published 1884—about five years before my great-grandmother married my great-grandfather (added note: Even though he had a wife and children at home, he fought in the Civil War—1861-1865, his first wife died in 1888. His second wife—my great-grandmother—was born in 1862, and they married in 1889.)

THE DINNER SERVICE.

A dinner service consists of a covered soup-tureen and ladle and deep plates for soup, platters and plates for fish and meats, deep covered dishes for vegetables, a gravy-tureen, salad bowl, cheese tray, sauce-boat, and a pudding dish, with small plates for dessert; the salad and cheese are usually served with, or directly after the roast. These sets of dishes can be bought in New York from five dollars up, according to style and quality. Unless a person is rich enough to at once replace broken dishes belonging to decorated sets, plain white dishes are most desirable; they are in perfect taste, and with a snowy cloth, and clean glassware, they set a table nicely.

AMERICAN DINNER SERVICE.

A third form of service, preferred personally, as combining all the advantages of the two already given, and still preserving the genial element of individual hospitality, has been considered the most delightful way of serving a dinner, by many guests.

The table is laid as for the dinner, it la Russe, with the relishes, small sweets, and confectionery; the oysters at each place; the first course of soup and fish are placed before the host and hostess, and served by them, the waiters taking up each plate as it is served, and placing it before the guest; at the same time, with the fish, passing the potatoes. In the succeeding courses the same method is fol lowed, until the dessert is reached, the cloth being cleared from crumbs, and all the glasses except those for water, champagne, and madeira, sherry, or port; only one of these wines is taken with dessert. Coffee is served in the drawing-room directly after dinner; and tea in an hour to the guests who remain.

FIRST COURSE

Oysters on the Shells.

Consommi. Salmon, with Shrimp sauce.

Parisienne Potatoes. Relishes.

SECOND COURSE.

Salmi of Duck, with Olives. Lobster Salad.

French Beans. Asparagus with Cream.
Oyster Patties.

Roman Punch.

THIRD COURSE.

Roast Chicken, with Potato Croquettes.

Game Birds with Salad.

Green Peas. Cheese Straws.

FOURTH COURSE

Charlotte of Strawberries. Orange Croquante.

Panaehie Jelly with Fruit.

Confectionery. Candied Fruit.

Coffee.

How things are done today, at least in my house.

I guess the nearest thing to the dinners discussed in the section above are our Thanksgiving Dinners when the family all gathers, occasionally along with friends, but our dinners are so different from what is written about in 1884.

First of all, instead of white dishes, I always use my Corelle Callaway dishes (I like the green ivy, and if one of them breaks—which they almost never do—I just buy a replacement on E-bay). Next, I don’t use table cloths, so I don’t have to worry about that one. And I have never had waiters serve in my house, unless that’s what I’m considered when I jump up and get something that isn’t on the table. Now onto the menu: We only have one course—everyone grabs their filled salad bowl and sits at the table where everything else, besides dessert, has already been set out. Thanksgiving Dinner is always the same: smoked ribs, brisket (my son does a wonderful job smoking the meat), stuffed mushrooms, potatoes au gratin, corn, jalapeno poppers (low-fat and baked, of course), and a salad bar (after all, not everyone likes the same thing in his or her salad, and I hate to see them pick out the things they don’t like). As far as dessert goes, no one wants to even look at that until the Dallas game half-time, and we usually have Marie Callendar’s Dutch Apple Pie and vanilla ice cream.

What kind of dinners do you host? Please share thoughts and memories.

Throwback Thursday: Hiding

"I'm playing hide and seek. Think anyone will find me?"

That's my caption, what's yours? Feel free to leave your caption in the comments below.

Memory Monday: My Daughter's Blog Part Two

My family in 1997

Well the years have passed, and my daughter has a family of her own now. And as I wrote in my last post, she likes lots of different kinds of food from what her father and I eat. Recently she made a trip to Washington state to visit relatives. While there, she sampled a different type of food from what we usually have around here.
I hope you enjoy her culinary trip. Here is the link to that trip. You Ate What...? Washington State

Throwback Thursday: End of Summer

Here's my caption:
"Drat, summer’s coming to an end."
What's your caption? Feel free to leave it in the comments below.

Memory Monday: My Daughter's Blog Part One

My husband, me, and my daughter in 1982

For the last few weeks, I have written about people who came before me—their mementos, their recipes, their remedies. For the next two weeks I would like to look a different direction—someone who is coming after me—my daughter.

One of the areas that many women have in common with other women is food—its preparation, its origin, etc. For me, I cook mostly regular old “American” food—hamburgers, roast, baked/broiled chicken, with a little bit (OK, maybe a lot) of Tex-Mex thrown in. My daughter on the other hand is much more adventurous. She eats some things that I would never think about trying, and she like them.

Here is a link to her blog post from a recent trip to Houston. I hope you enjoy sharing her adventure. 

You Ate What? Houston: Mostly Asian Inspired Road Trip Food

She also took a trip to Washington state. Next week, I’ll link that post.

Throwback Thursday: Sunday Train

Here's my caption:

Just a regular Saturday afternoon—sitting around and waiting for the train to pass by.

What's yours? Feel free to leave it in the comments below.

Memory Monday: Libraries

My great-grandfather's school picture

One of my best memories of grade school in Texas was the small libraries we had in each room. These mini-libraries consisted of only one or two shelves, but what fun I had reading the books. Each year during the 3^rd, 4^th, and 5^th grades, I’d check out The Boxcar Children, along with a whole bunch of biographies (I still remember the one about Dolly Madison).

My great-grandfather was born in 1852. I’m not sure where he went to school, but I’m pretty sure it was a one-room school. Also, I don’t know if they had any library books the children could check out and read. But I found an interesting tidbit about libraries in public schools shortly before he was born.

PUBLIC LIBRARIES.-The number of public libraries in the United States, in 1849, as reported to the regents of the Smithsonian Institute, was 182; of which 43 contained over 10,000 volumes each, nine over 20,000, and only two over 50,000. The number of volumes in all these libraries is 1,294,000. Only France has a larger number of public libraries, 241; but in the number of volumes, we are sur­passed by Germany, which has 5,500,000; France, 5,000,000; Great Britain, 2,500,000; and even Russia, 1,500,000. The library of Congress is rated at 45,000 volumes, and is one of the most select and THE -----FAMILY CHRISTIAN ALMANAC, 1850

I hope my great-grandfather had the opportunity to read books that took him away to far and adventuresome places.

Throwback Thursday: Child Sucking Their Thumb

Here's my caption:
Tasty thumb?

What's yours? Feel free to leave it in the comments below.

Memory Monday: Homemaker's Advice

My Daddy

HOMEMAKER’S ADVICE FROM MY GRANDMOTHER’S DAY

            I love to look at old books from the 19^th and early 20^th century, and recently came across a book from 1913 titled Things My Mother Used to Make. This book came out a little while after my grandparents married in 1910.

            Following is some of the things my grandmother might have done while she was married. Unfortunately, she passed away in 1926 when my dad was only nine years old, so I never got to know her.

Homemade Shortening

Do not throw away small pieces of fat from pork, lamb or steak. Put them on the stove, in a skillet or agate dish and cook them till there is nothing left, but scraps. Then pare a potato, wash clean, cut into thin slices and cook in the fat for a half hour to clarify it. Strain through a cloth. This will be good to fry doughnuts in and for all purposes, where shortening is needed, except for pie crust.

Pieces of fat, not fit for shortening can be saved in some old utensil and made into kitchen soap.  pg. 88.

To Try out Lard

If you want good sweet lard, buy from your butcher, leaf lard. Skin carefully, cut into small pieces and put it into a kettle or sauce pan. Pour in a half-cupful of water, to prevent burning, and cook slowly, until there is nothing left but scraps. Remove the scraps with a skimmer, salt it a little, and strain through a clean cloth, into tin pails. Be sure not to scorch it. p. 90.

How to Keep Eggs

In the summer, when eggs are cheap, buy a sufficient number of freshly laid ones to last through the winter.

Take one part of liquid glass, and nine parts of cold water which has been boiled, and mix thoroughly.

Put the eggs into a stone crock, and pour over them this mixture, having it come an inch above the eggs. The eggs will keep six months, if they are perfectly fresh when packed and will have no taste, as when put into lime water. p. 90.

To Remove Disagreeable Odors from the House

Sprinkle fresh ground coffee, on a shovel of hot coals, or burn sugar on the shovel. This is an old-fashioned disinfectant, still good. p. 91

To Lengthen the Life of a Broom

Your broom will last much longer and be made tough and pliable, by dipping for a minute or two, in a pail of boiling suds, once a week. A carpet will wear longer if swept with a broom treated in this way. Leave your broom bottom side up, or hang it. p. 91

When I read things like this about how women in the early 20^th century did things, it helps me to see the grandmother I never knew and draws me a little closer to her when I read how she might have done things.

Most of the books I have used in this blog can be found at Google Books Advanced Search. If you are interested in seeing more from these books, go there and spend wonderful hours seeing how those who came before us lived.

Throwback Thursday: Girls Up High

Here's my caption:
"Oh, you big strong boys, can you help us down, please?"

What's yours? Feel free to leave it in the comments below.

Memory Monday: Our Family's Past and Future

The locket my father-in-law gave to my mother-in-law after WWII

OUR FAMILY’S PAST AND OUR FUTURE

Our videotapes hold a wealth of family history—stories of happy and sad times, memories of those long gone, keys to why certain people turned out the way they have.  They are links tying our past to our future.

                        My daughter and my husband both love family history.  Recently they got together and, using the computer sites that list genealogical information, they traced different branches of my husband’s family back to Scotland in the 1200’s.  Of course, some of my great-uncles-in-law had already written a book on the family from the present back to the time that the first Creager came to the New World. (The family, at that time, spelled their name Krieger—which means “warrior” in German).

My aunts on my mother’s side have also traced back their family history.  They have documentation showing that their grandparents “came over on the boat” when they were only 2 and 3 years old.  (The Koehns and the Beckers were part of the great Mennonite migration that had moved from Prussia to Russia under Catherine the Great, and later migrated back across Europe to Ellis Island and on to Kansas.)  My mother told me when she was a little girl, “My mother would not let us use any of the “Dutch” words; we could only speak in English.”

            Family reunions are another way to learn about and exchange little bits of family history.  When my mother was living, every 2-3 years, we hosted a family reunion for my mother’s side of the family.  Aunts, uncles, cousins, (second, third, fourth cousins) came.  They came from all over the United States, and there was even an uncle who was working as a hospital administrator in the Middle East. Everywhere, family was sharing with family.  Stories were exchanged, old memories shared with the younger generation, old traditions were followed, new traditions started.  I had an aunt who makes a point of bringing up family history when her small great nieces (and great-great nieces) were around; she said that was how she learned of her roots.

The family records will not end with this generation either.  In my daughter’s wedding bouquet, we wove the chain of the heart locket that her granddaddy gave to her grandmother when he came home after World War II (it still contains the pictures that my mother-in-law put in years ago of her husband and son).  Waiting future generations in our safety deposit box, we have the tatted baby cap that both my children wore home from the hospital when they were born.  The little lace hat was made by their great-grandmother for her grandfather when he was a baby (he was born in 1920).  It was made from sewing thread and had yellowed with age now, but still a thing of beauty to those who love to link the past to the future.

Like I said before, our house has become the collection place for family “things”.  We have my husband’s great-grandparents’ marriage certificate, his parents’ love letters from WWII, my great great-grandmother’s crock jar, my grandmother’s wooden rocking chair (I plan to rock my grandchildren in it), the little pitcher collection my grandmother-in-law collected during WWII, and so many other family treasures.  They are glimpse of times gone by; of where we came from, and sometimes of where we are going. And we treasure them all.