Showing posts with label holiday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holiday. Show all posts

Monday, January 19, 2009

Confederate Memorial Day in Texas


One of life's little ironies is that today in Texas is Confederate Memorial Day .....


Confederate Memorial Day

and MLK day too.

Now anyone who's got a brain and lives in Texas or the deep South KNOWS that the Confederate flag is not a symbol of hate like far too many believe. And this day is not a celebration as much as a rememberance of the soldiers who died fighting for the Confederate States of America during the American Civil War (1861-1865). It is a state holiday in some parts of the United States. That date varies from state to state, but it tickles my funny bone that today is also MLK day.




My own personal family irony is that we had kinfolk on both sides of the Civil War. My Great Grandfather Lucius Herbert Burdick's role in the Union army is detailed below:

Lucius Herbert Burdick served in the Civil War. He enrolled August 25, 1862, at Emporia, Kansas and was mustered into service at Fort Leavenworth, September 12, 1862, as a private, Company E, 11th. Kansas Volunteers. He was promoted to 2nd. Lieutenant at Benton Barracks, Missouri, Company H, 65th U. S. Colored Infantry, January 19, 1864. He transferred to Company B, November 4, 1864, then to Company F, same regiment, August 15, 1865, and became 1st. Lieutenant August 25, 1865, at Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He was mustered out of service January 8, 1867, at Baton Rogue as 1st. Lieutenant, Co. F, 65th. U. S. Colored Infantry.


SIXTY-FIFTH REGIMENT
The Sixty-Fifth Regiment was organized at Benton barracks, Missouri, from December 18, 1863, to January 16, 1864, as the 2nd regiment Missouri volunteers to serve three years. Its designation was changed to 65th regiment U. S. colored troops March 11, 1864. The 67th regiment U. S. colored troops was consolidated with it July 12, 1865. It was mustered out of service January 8, 1867. The Colonel was Alonzo J. Edgerton; Lieutenant Colonel, George Baldey, a. w. m.; Major, Francis Moore; Captains: Alexander D. Bailie, Jesse W. Palmer, John L. Frost, Thomas Montgomery, Judson W. Read, William N. Darnell, Albert F. Hunt, William P. Deming; First Lieutenants: Abnew Doane, Henry S. Wadsworth, William P. Wiley, Felix Sprochule, Oscar H. Violet, Lucius H. Burdick, Lysander S. Butler, Duran F. Kelley, William P. Aben, Charles B. Hutchins, James G. Vincent, Lewis Merriam; Second Lieutenants: none; Surgeon, John Fish; and Assistant Surgeon, David Stevens.

THE EXPERIMENT
The use of colored troops was an experiment to which the Administration had been driven partly by the demands of the abolitionists and partly by sheer desperation, the supply of white manpower having slackened. The implications of this experiment were faced by few people, and there probably would be time enough to worry about them after the war had been won. At the moment the great riddle was whether it was possible to turn colored men into good soldiers.

Most of the ex-slaves were illiterate, used to servile obedience, and living (presumably) in deep awe of Southern white men. They were husky enough, and yet they somehow lacked physical sturdiness and endurance, and they had been held at the bottom of the heap for so long that they seemed to be excessively long-suffering by nature. Somewhere, far back in dim tribal memories, there may have been traditions of war parties and fighting and desperate combat, but these had been overlaid by generation of slavery, and most colored folks saw themselves as pilgrims toiling up the endless slopes of heartbreak hill - - pilgrims whose survival depended on the patient, uncomplaining acceptance of evil rather than on a bold struggle to overthrow evil.

That was the sticking point. The average Northern white man of that era might refuse to associate with the Negro and hold himself to be immeasurably the Negro's superior - - the superiority, of course, grew out of the natural order of things, and need not actually be proved - - but there was a war on and the country needed soldiers, and if Federal corpses were the price of victory, it hardly paid to be finicky about the original color of the corpses' skins. The real trouble lay in the assumption that while it was all right to let the Negro get shot it was foolish to expect him to do any serious fighting first.

A young officer who left his place in a white regiment to become colonel of a colored regiment was frankly told by a staff officer that “we do not want any nigger soldiers in the Army of the Potomac,” and his general took him aside to say: “I am sorry that you are going to serve with Negroes. I think it is a disgrace to the army to make soldiers of them.” The general added that he felt this way because he was sure that colored soldiers just would not fight.

Most men felt the same way. In support of the belief it was pointed out that in many years of American bondage there had never been a really serious slave revolt. Even John Brown himself, carrying fire and sword below the Potomac, had been able to recruit no more than a dazed corporal's guard of colored followers. Surely this proved that even though slaves might not be happy with their lot they had no real combativeness in them?

FLAWS IN THE ARGUMENT
There might be flaws in the argument. It quite overlooked the fact that for many years the fabulous underground railroad had been relieving the explosive deterrent to slave revolt, for it took out of slavery precisely the daring, energetic, intelligent slaves who might have planned and let an uprising if they had been unable to escape. The argument also overlooked the fact that if American slaves rarely made any trouble the people who owned them were always mortally afraid that they would do so some day. The gloomy island of Haiti was not far enough away to let anyone forget that black men there had risen in one of the most bloody, desperate revolts in human history, winning their own freedom and practically annihilating the master race in the process. Oddly enough the general belief that colored men would not fight ran parallel with a conviction that they would fight with primitive viciousness if they ever got a chance.

Yet whatever prejudice might say, the hard fact now was that colored men were being enlisted as soldiers in large numbers and that there were times when it was impossible to avoid using them in combat. (The American Heritage Picture History of The Civil War, pp. 418-419.)

To this move the soldiers made a good deal of objection - - at first. Then they began to change their minds. They did not like Negroes, for race prejudice of a malignity rarely seen today was very prevalent in the North at that time, and they did not want to associate with them on anything remotely like terms of equality, but they came to see that much might be said for Negro regiments. For one thing, a great many enlisted men in the Northern armies could win officers' commissions in these regiments, and a high private who saw a chance to become a lieutenant or a captain was likely to lose a great deal of his antagonism to the notion of Negro soldiers. More importantly than this was the dawning realization that the colored soldiers could stop a Rebel bullet just as well as a white soldier could, and when he did so, some white soldiers who would otherwise have died would go on living. . . And so by the middle of 1863 the North was raising numbers of Negro regiments, and the white soldiers who had been so bitter about the idea adjusted themselves rapidly.

It seemed logical, after a time, to raise guard detachments from among the Negroes themselves, outfitting them with castoff army uniforms. Then it appeared that the immense reserve might be put to more direct use, and at last the government authorized, and even encouraged, the organization of Negro regiments, to be officered by whites but to be regarded as troops of the line, available for combat duty if needed. (Bruce Catton's Civil War, pp. 592-598.)

OFFICERED BY WHITE MEN
All of the colored troops were officered by white men, and these white officers listened, fascinated, to the campfire singing, and when they wrote about it they tried to tell why it moved them so deeply.

From the beginning it was realized that the effectiveness of colored troops would depend largely on the way the regiments were officered, and what would now be called officer-candidate school was set up in Philadelphia. Non-commissioned officers and privates in the Army of the Potomac could apply for admission to this school, and if recommended by their own officers and approved by an examining board they would get thirty days of training and then would be commissioned to command colored soldiers. The rank and file seems to have been of two minds about this arrangement. Some felt that it was a good idea, that the standards were high and the training thorough - - one man said he knew colonels in white regiments who could not get an examining board recommendation for a second lieutenancy - - but others believed that the examinations and instructions “were not practical, but scholastic and theoretical,” and that most of the men who commissioned were not up to their jobs.

Certain it was that these strange new regiments needed good leadership. They were reluctant to take orders from non-coms of their own color -- it was common to hear the complaint, “I don't want him to play de white man over me” -- and a company commander had to be careful to treat his sergeants with formal military courtesy, always addressing them by their titles and in general following precise Regular Army routine. The colored enlisted man who had a complaint or a problem was quite likely to try to by-pass his company officers and go direct to his colonel; and one of the colonels meditated on the reason for this: “The Negroes have acquired such a constitutional distrust of white people that it is perhaps as much as they can do to trust more than one person at a time.” He added that in training and disciplining the men it was vital “to make them feel as remote as possible from the plantation,” and that the habit of obedience was worthless unless the officer managed to instill a stout feeling of self-respect along with it. An officer of polished manners could do better with colored troops than with white volunteers, who preferred a certain roughness of manner in their officers.

COLORED MADE EXCELLENT SOLDIERS
In camp, the colored men made excellent soldiers. They picked up the drill quickly, learning it more easily than white recruits did. Some of the ordinary problems of army discipline seemed to be non-existent. Desertion was utterly unknown, and there was very little drunkenness. The men especially enjoyed practice on the target range.

As a general thing the Negro soldiers seemed to hold very little personal animus against their former masters. A white officer discovered, rather to his surprise, that they had neither hatred nor affection for the men who used to own them. They never mentioned their masters except as natural enemies, yet it was the class they hated, not the individuals in the class. They saw slavery, said this man, as “a wrong which no special kindness could right.”

All told, the Federals put more than 150,000 Negroes into uniform. Many of these regiments were used only for garrison duty, and in many other cases the army saw to it that the colored regiments became little more than permanent fatigue details to relieve white soldiers of hard work, but some units saw actual combat service and in a number of instances acquitted themselves well.
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Other links of interest:

U. S. Colored Troops
Facts About U. S. Colored Troops


So all I can say is, whoever you honor today, I hope you go out and make this day a good one!

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Date Nut Cake - My Christmas Tradition

One of the good things about having your own blog is that you can decide what goes into it. I like to use it as sort of a giant notepad sometimes.

This time I'm going to part with a closely guarded secret recipe for my momma's Date Nut Cake. She always made one or more at Christmas time and it's my favorite holiday cake. It brings back only good memories for me.

I learned how to make the cake like my momma used to by trial and error and this is the delicious result:

1 package dates, I like them already chopped
1 cup raisins, you probably don't have to add this if you don't like them, but then don't complain to me if the cake doesn't taste like mine!
1 c brown sugar
1/2 c Crisco (I'm Southern so it's GOT to be Crisco shortening)
2 c flour
2 eggs
1 c pecans (Again don't add them if you don't want to, but it's not going to be like mine!)
1 tsp soda
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon (For some reason you HAVE TO have this ingredient)

I think it's better to use a stand mixer, but if you don't have one, I guess you can beat the livin' poop out of it by hand.

First you put the dates and the raisins in a bowl and sprinkle the tsp of soda over them and then add 2 cups of boiling water. Let this mixture cool before continuing.

Preheat over to 350 degrees
Grease and flour a 13x9 pan or if you want it to be like my momma's, use a large Pyrex oblong

In a small bowl, mix together flour, salt and cinnamon
In a large bowl beat sugar and shortening until well blended, adding eggs one at a time. Start adding flour mixture by large spoonfuls and equal amounts of the date mixture until both are combined and mixed well. Add the nuts and blend in. I like to use coarsely chopped pecans, as one of the comfort part of this recipe is the way pecans taste when they are cooked! I reckon you could use walnuts too, but, again, being Southern it's pecans for me always.

Pour into the pan and bake until done. If you need a hint, it's approximately 45-50 minutes in the metal pan or 40-45 in the Pyrex. It's important that you cook it until it's really, really well done or it's kinda strange in the middle....not bad, just not normal. The one I made before Christmas was not done quite enough even though I'd poked a toothpick in the middle and it came out clean. I should of let it cook a few more minutes. You're the best judge of how long though because you know your own oven and such.

If you want to get fancy you could cool that puppy down and put some powdered sugar on it or do something with whipped cream, etc. Me, I like to cut it into nice size pieces and store it in an air tight container. After a day or so you'll most likely want to keep it in the refrigerator just in case as it's not loaded with preservatives like store bought stuff!

I've got one cooking in the oven even as I type and I'm so looking forward to enjoying it one more time before my Christmas kitchen is officially closed for the season!

Saturday, December 15, 2007

Another Year, Another Tear

I've been doing real good (that's "East Texas" for 'very well') with this whole grief thing. I mean, come on, it's ELEVEN YEARS. You can't be blue all the time and most of the time I'm fine. But this time of the year it creeps up on me and bites me in the butt when I least expect it.

I've been purposely keeping busy so's not to give myself the opportunity to get sad, but tonight I was watching a made for Christmas Hallmark tear-jerker and damn if it didn't jerk me around until my tear damn busted wide open. I got to crying and didn't stop for too long a time.

It's important to let go from time to time. You can't deny either the love that was lost or the grief that never dies...it just lies beneath the surface like molten lava waiting for that tiny crack in the emotional layer so it can spew forth and cover all it sees.

I'll be fine. I'll pick myself and dust myself off and get back in the fast lane for another year. The whole act of writing it down here helps me cope. I've got quite a list now for my copeability. I'm not sure that's a real word, but it ought to be if it isn't because it describes the process to a T.

Remembering my sweetie. Missing him still. Wishing if he had to go why it couldn't of been in June or September...why did it have to be December 17?

A Single Dove
November 22, 2006
Remembering December 1996
Do You Believe In Angels?

Monday, January 01, 2007

Happy New Year 2007 To All


I'd make some resolutions, but experience has shown that they don't accomplish much except to give me yet another list to keep up with.

I think I'll make some wishes instead:

1. I wish the war was over and all our heroes were home safely
2. I wish Dr. Wongsa would accept me for the way I am NOW
3. I wish I'd never found out that chocolate was on the planet
4. I wish my kids would stop smoking and tell the tax man to stuff it sideways
5. I wish I was in Maui watching the surf, feeling the warm breezes on my face
6. I wish all who read this the best New Year possible.

Thank you very much for visiting my blog.

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Or whatever you call your holiday during December..... don't want anyone to get bent out of shape over it.

It'll always be Christmas for me because Christ is the reason for the season. Instead of the traditional holiday songs they really ought to sing "Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus" because that would make more sense. I don't think that song would make me cry either not like hearing "I'll Be Home For Christmas"! That's the ultimate depression inducing song IMHO. When one gets old and has lost family and friends along the way it just GETS to you to hear it. People that can't get home are equally up the creek so to speak. But that's just the way the old fruitcake crumbles and I'm not going to wallow in it.

My kids are all coming over in a bit and we're doing a simple meal and gift exchanging and that will free them up so that tomorrow they can spend Christmas day in their own way. God love my daughter that has to work tomorrow! She's a hospice nurse and a Monday is just a Monday in that profession. I'm just happy that Christmas Eve fell on a Sunday so she could enjoy it with us .... same goes for her husband .... he works ALL the time and when he's not AT WORK he's on his cell phone because of work.

Everyone drive and drink safely and NOT both at the same time, please. You can always have another drink after you arrive safely, but if you get yourself killed the bar is closed in the hereafter! Don't let that last drink be your last drink!

Sunday, December 10, 2006

Christmas Memories 3 – Presents!

I love getting presents. You can’t insult me with too many of them either. The best presents I ever got were from my husband of 33 years. He loved to give me jewelry and electronics. He almost never gave me clothes because the time or two he did I had to take them back and he hated that. He’d give me nightgowns, robes and houseshoes instead. One year he gave me a complete Cannon A-1 camera and all the bells and whistle attachments. I was stunned and thrilled. He said if anything happened to him and I had to work that maybe I could become a photographer.

He called me his ‘teddy bear’ and gave me hundreds of bears and bear related items over the years. All my friends and kids gave me bears too. I have display cabinets full of bears. Since his death I started collecting police memorabilia and my favorites of those are bears that are also cops! I need to add on a room just for my collections! It all goes hand in glove with my excessive-compulsive character quirks.

But I digress, the topic was supposed to be about CHRISTMAS presents. When I was young I got lots of dolls. Every year I got a doll and haven’t kept a one of them. I had dolls that cried ‘momma’ and wet themselves. They ate food and almost walked around. They were my confidants and friends. I had tea parties with them and spanked them when they misbehaved. To my Mom’s credit she would also give me some of the stuff I asked for…..like a microscope! I remembered sitting for what seems like hours trying to prick my finger so I could look at my own blood. NOW it’s nothing to prick my fingers for blood glucose testing, but I also have a handy, dandy pricker tool to use instead of the bare needle back then.

What I always wanted was a BB gun and an Erector Set. My brothers got those and I never did. I asked and asked, but that wasn’t gender appropriate…..they didn’t use those words (NO ONE USED THOSE WORDS BACK THEN!) but the message was loud and clear just the same. You are only a girl, you can’t have manly toys. So one day I married my prince and HE gave me guns! By then I didn’t need an Erector Set as I was into the baby making process and that’s all the construction I had the time or the energy for! I also inherited his Red Ryder BB gun and it’s an awesomely accurate piece of metal. To this day I’d rather hang out in a computer store or an office supply store or a gun store than any of the gender specific frou-frou shops!

The one thing I remember the most about my husband was how much he loved to give gifts. He’d get so excited he’d want me to open his gifts the minute he had them wrapped. The kids would be jumping up and down wanting to open all theirs early and he would be jumping up and down wanting me to open all his first. We’d allow the girls to open one present early and usually one more on Christmas Eve, but I wanted to wait and make Christmas Day special. We’d let the kids tear into theirs first and then it was our turn. I’d give him a present and he’s day ‘open that one’ and I’d say ‘open yours first’. The kids spent every Christmas watching us opening presents. Mine took forever to open because there were (are!) always so many. I’m surprised the kids don’t hate me to this day!

I love to give presents too, but I hate to shop. I don’t ‘do’ the mall. I prefer online shopping or just giving them green. I make fudge and sometimes chocolate chip cookies and those that I love the most get those to sweeten their gifts. I’m trying to cut back on the goodie making this year, but the whining has already commenced so I broke down and bought the ‘makin’s’ for a select few to appease their sweet tooths.

It’s taken me most of my life to realize that the joy in giving gifts is in the giving. What someone does with that present once it becomes theirs is their business. My husband never wanted anyone to part with anything he gave and I can appreciate that sentiment, but if you give a gift freely then it should be without any strings attached. You shouldn’t get all weirded out if someone doesn’t quite treasure your treasure the way you do. Your job was in the picking out and giving, now it’s their job to decide if they want the gift or can use it or if they want to return it or put it up on EBay or sell it at the next garage sale. It should not be a slap in the face or rejection of you as a person. It’s a difficult concept to embrace through, I’ll give you that.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Christmas Memories 2

I remember going to midnight Mass and just loving the Baby Jesus in His manger and all the pomp and pageantry surrounding His birth. I loved smelling the incense too. I never understood much of the Latin, but when I fell away they up and changed everything and the last time I went to Mass I felt as alien as the last time I went to a non-Catholic service. I missed the old ways that I’d grown up with. So now my church is with me, it goes where I go, and that way God knows how to find both of us.

I remember my Daddy’s mom always got whiskey for Christmas from at least 2 of her 4 sons. I remember thinking that odd because I never saw her drink anything stronger than iced tea. I overheard her saying though that she drank 3 fingers worth every evening before bedtime. She lived to be 83 so I guess she was doing something good for her heart. There’s a LOT of heart disease in her side of the family.

My favorite grandparent was Josh. He was my Mom’s father and he wouldn’t allow us to call him “Grandfather” or anything else like that. He’d give me the change out of his pocket when he came home and say “Call me ‘Josh’” …… I loved getting his change and I’d of called him Mickey Mouse if that’s what it took to get rich! He always had a Fox Terrier dog that he named “Shorty”. Over the years there must have been a half dozen “Shorties”. The one I remember the most was a vicious little beast when he wanted to be. I was leaning over the bed talking to him (he was ON the bed) one evening and without warning he leaped up and bit me on the face. It stung and made me tear up, but didn’t do any lasting damage. I was hurt emotionally though because I thought the dog liked me. It was years later that I figured out he probably didn’t like me talking into his face and the air currents that produced. Or he could have just been a moody vicious little beast!

None of us ever knew our Daddy’s daddy because he died when my Daddy was just a boy. I always thought that was so sad because everyone should have a daddy. How does a boy learn to be a man without a man’s examples to follow? My Daddy didn’t play any sports that I can recall. He never threw a baseball to me, but he loved baseball better than any other sport. He kept statistics on the games. His mind must have been like a computer long before there were computers. When the Astrodome was built in Houston the slogan was “Make Your Home In The Dome” ….. Daddy took that to heart and did his best to live there until the day he died.

Back in Longview we had real Christmas trees because there just weren’t any artificial ones. I remember one year when we were startled awake to a loud crash and upon investigation discovered the tree had committed suicide. I was horrified and terribly worried that Christmas would be called on account of this unnatural disaster. As it turned out all it needed was up righting and adjusting and the broken ornaments replaced and Christmas was back on. Santa didn’t even know about it as far as I could tell.

Once we moved to Houston in 1960 Daddy went out and bought our first artificial tree. I’m not sure if the first one was the aluminum one or not, but that shiny silver tree was the one I remember above all others. This is what I found that explains the tree to perfection:

The mid-1960's saw another change. A new world was on the horizon, and modernist ideas were everywhere. Silver aluminium trees were imported from America. The 'Silver Pine' tree, patented in the 1950's, was designed to have a revolving light source under it, with coloured gelatine 'windows, which allowed the light to shine in different shades as it revolved under the tree. No decorations were needed for this tree.


I loved it when the tree turned blue, but all the colors were fun to watch. It was better than TV! I’d sit on the couch or lie on the floor and watch the colors changing for hours on end.

Once I got married we went back to real trees until my kid’s allergies made that difficult. The first Christmas in our ‘new’ rent home I sent my husband off with a friend to buy and bring home a tree. We’d discussed the need for a smaller tree as we didn’t have many decorations and the room wasn’t all that large. I felt confident that John would follow the plan since his friend’s vehicle was a Volkswagen bug and he was to bring the tree home atop the bug’s roof. When they rounded the corner after the quest for the perfect tree you almost couldn’t see the car for the tree! He ended up having to chop off more of the trunk just to make it fit our 8’ ceiling! He was so proud of that HUGE tree! It was a nice tree too. Our baby and soon all of us were coughing and sneezing and wheezing, but it was quite the largest Christmas tree we ever had. After that year I went with him to pick out the tree!

Here’s picture of Josh and a Shorty that got a hearing aid in 1969.

Christmas Memories 1

Attila The Mom at Cheaper Than Therapy wrote: “If anybody has a funny, touching, inspirational, silly, etc family story to share---write it up on your blog….”

Alas, the mood I’m in all the family Christmas stories I can think of are small slices of trauma from my earliest memories. Every year we drove from Longview up in East Texas to Houston so my parents could spend Christmas with their moms. We’d have to get up at the butt crack of dawn because Daddy wanted to get on the road early. Mom would drag around and make us late by Daddy’s schedule and that would set the tone for the entire journey. They’d snap at one another the whole trip. And they’d ask one another if the other had turned off the gas space heater and locked the doors. I remember one time when we turned around and went back just to be sure all was secured. I remember another time when they were fighting and Mom grabbed the keys out of the ignition, rolled down her window and let them fly! Daddy was really mad, but he never laid a glove on her. SHE would hit him, but he’d never strike her back. His way was more passive aggressive, but I didn’t know that at the time.

Around the half way point we’d stop and get breakfast. Invariably I’d pick pancakes and sausage with lots of butter and syrup then I’d end up getting sick from the motion of the car. The only way I could avoid motion sickness was to sleep. I can remember when my oldest brother would ride with us I’d be in the back seat with my Mom because *he* always got the front seat. One good memory was that I’d put my head on Mom’s lap and she’d stroke my forehead and play with my hair and I liked that a lot.

When we were probably an hour of so out they’d start fighting about whose mom’s house to stop at first. My Mom and I and sometimes my brother Bill would stay with my Mom’s mom and Daddy and my oldest brother would stay with Daddy’s mom. That never varied. I was convinced my Daddy’s mom didn’t like me. I was fat and she was always comparing me to my skinny neurotic cousin who’s parent would beg her to eat something…..she got chocolate milk especially prepared by her doting parents. I got regular milk. Half way through the meal my Grandmother would make it a point to tell that cousin she ought to eat like me. I don’t know if it was real or merely perceived by me but I swear I could hear “oink, oink, oink” instead of what she was actually saying. My cousin would give me a look as if to say “I don’t want to be FAT like you! Besides I get all this attention from being picky and YOU get ridiculed and humiliated by our own flesh and blood”…. I couldn’t wait until I could go to my Mom’s mom’s house and enjoy my food!

At my Mom’s mom’s house there was always LOTS of good food like cakes and pies and fried meats with mounds of potatoes and gravy. I could eat as much as I wanted however midway through those meals my Granny, who had Type II diabetes only then they called it “sugar diabetes”, would start in on how I was going to get IT like her and have to stick myself every day with NEEDLES. Then she’d offer me some more pie. That never varied either. It was either offers of calorie laden carbs or the needles in my future. She herself would eat pie in the kitchen as if that didn’t count so long as she wasn’t sitting at the table like the rest of us.

Food was comfort and love. Food never judged me. Food only made me sick when there was conflict in my atmosphere or motion that I couldn’t sleep away. My Dad was overweight and he loved to eat. I learned to like what he liked except for buttermilk and minced meat pie. His mom made the best potatoes I’ve ever had. They started out being mashed and then she’d put them in a loaf pan and probably added cheese and bacon pieces and cooked them into a loaf with a slight crusty, buttery top. I’ve never had anything like them since. I’m sure there was some sort of secret ingredient that only she knew about. I miss those potato loaves to this day.

I don’t remember where Santa Claus would find me. I know I got presents at both grandmother’s houses, but I can’t recall if my Santa stuff was hauled with us or if I got it when we went back home. I do remember messing with a present or two under the tree at Daddy’s mom’s and making the tiny hole bigger and bigger. I was very sneaky that way! My oldest brother who was a Nazi spy for my grandmother told on me when he discovered my deeds. I got fussed at, but mostly I didn’t like being exposed as a ‘criminal’. I’m sure my perfect cousin would have NEVER done such a vile thing to her presents.

Wow, this was not what ATM had in mind I’m sure, but Lord it was so cathartic I think I’ll write another one soon. Stayed tuned.



Here we are in my Grandmother's "dining room". From L to R is my Mom, my Daddy, a sullen 15 year old me and my Daddy's mom. I don't know where the food is....this looks like it might of been breakfast. The empty plate in the fore ground belongs to the Nazi spy, the official photographer and family historian. He still is. (A photographer not a Nazi .... funny how when I grew up HE did too!)

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

One Of My Cooler Christmas Gifts


Thanks, Matt! I just love my HCSO afghan!

Saturday, December 31, 2005

Two Thousand Six In The Sticks

I'm sitting here waiting for the New Year to begin and thinking of celebrations past. My husband and me used to split a bottle of pink bubbly every New Year's Eve. Now that would put me under the table....so I have a glass of my favorite wine (Llano Blush) at my fingertips and the laptop in my lap. I spent the day doing my laundry! My goal was to have all my laundry done before the end of the year. A modest goal, laughable even, but since I'm pretty sure I won't be instrumental in bringing about world peace or the cure for the common cold, I'll just stick to my little rut and do my chores.

Happy New Year!!