We were dining at my sister-in-law's home a week ago and we sat down to a simple soup meal, with side accoutrements and crusty bread. The minute I saw the pickles in a Fostoria relish dish I was borne away to my childhood!
Although Mother didn’t
have Fostoria, my aunts did and always had pickles like that in those dishes on
Sunday or holiday tables. The dish evoked a bustle of women – head coverings, capes,
aprons, wisps of hair framing their steamy faces as they worked to get the
turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, lima beans, peas, noodles, filling, gravy boats
on the table at the exactly right temperatures (how in the world did they do
that from tiny, inefficient kitchens), and gracing those groaning tables was
always a beautiful, quiet dish of pickles – just waiting to complement all that
delicious food! I have such wonderful memories of those boisterous, generous
family times and they all came channeling through to that simple pickle dish.
Also the dish conjured up rows of canned pickles on dark shelves in the basement – a bare
bulb illuminating all the colorful fruits of Mother’s summer labors and those
little bumpy pickles to me were as enticing as the bread and butter variety
although I loved them too.
Those recollected times were ones of planting the seed, harvesting, and preserving the bounty - all by the skill and deftness of our own hands. These were courtesy of Trader Joe's!
Nevertheless, the taste was spot on. And the memories rested as sweetly on my heart as the pickles on my tongue.
When I was nine years old, my adventurous father gathered up his wife and four of his children and traveled west to Yellowstone National Park. My sister, with an ear attuned to the future kept a diary, not only of our activities, but finances. There have been small changes since the early fifties! Dinner for a family of six, $5.00. Just savor that for a moment - $5.00 today buys a specialty cup of coffee at Starbucks for one person! I know it happened 50 plus years ago, but what a leapfrog to the present!
Yet, proportionately it cost a lot of money in those days as well. But just think of that investment in experience. I still remember vividly scenes of the national wonders, the ever-changing landscapes, the lakes, mountains, forests and farmlands. And yes, of course there was the inevitable boredom of long prairie stretches, the irritation of too close, hot bodies in an un-air-conditioned car and in long un-peopled stretches being relegated to getting our J's for the Alphabet Game from Henry J cars that passed! But we sang childhood songs, played word games, snacked, fought for the TripTik, drank water from a large thermos, read comic books(how did I not get carsick in those days) squabbled and dreamed away the miles. The sheer fun of discovery and comradery that largely reigned within that wood-paneled station wagon as we conquered state after state will never be forgotten.
How can you put a price on memories?
I listened to a most interesting feature on restorative justice on NPR the other morning. I had been acquainted with the concept for years, but largely in conjunction with some church-oriented program. But to have it being promoted as a purely pragmatic approach other than love thy neighbor gave me new hope. It makes so much sense to have victim and perpertrator eye-to-eye. One of the assailants said one of the hardest thing he ever did in his life was to come face to face with his victim. I just let that thought percolate through my heart all day long.What percentage of conflict would be completely changed if people sat down with one another? To see the pain, tears, worry lines inches away instead of being clanged away into prison, sealing apart forever the deed and doer, might it not change the course of entire civilizations?
And on a much smaller one-to-one scale, if Twitter or Facebook combatants had to face each other, how different would the thrust of language be?
Mint tea.
I don't mean bagged mint tea, I mean steeped mint leaves. Since retirement I finally take the time to thoroughly wash and dry fresh herbs immediately when I get home from the market. What a difference it makes! I bought this batch the week before we went to Christmas mountain so it has lasted 2 1/2 weeks! It has tumbled with other greens and vegetables in salads, garnished fruit platters, accented Middle-Eastern dishes and dips, and best of all, provided cup after cup of steaming, fragment refreshment on dark days. Like today. We are supposed to get a bit of hyped snow but so far its just dark skies that I'm toasting.
Mint to me is delicious in all forms - sweet or savory. But I remember longing for a cup of mint tea in Newfoundland and the family looked at me sideways and wondered if I was sick, as that was the only thing they used mint for.
Vive la difference! But, oh, what they have missed in life!
I remember when I was still working in the library I used to see people coming in at Christmas time and leisurely ambling through the stacks, choosing books, sitting in the reading areas with magazines or their latest checkouts, completely at ease, not rushing around like the self within me who was racing in circles, counting the minutes when I would be off work so I could rush to some task. I also used to fantasize that when I was retired all that would change! Fantasy indeed.
True I have tons of time now to do everything, but that still doesn't cancel out the logjam of late December activities - the little gifts of acknowledgment, the cards to be thoughtfully written and sent, the bit of baking, the concerts, the luncheon dates. And if you have one big entertaining occasion coming - like we do in going to the mountains, there is still a lots of food buying and the hustle and bustle of packing. When the first Christmas comes that we have nothing big planned and we can just kick back from the first day in December all the way to January 1, will I be bored????
I'd like to give it a shot!
My sister sent me a picture of a braided rug and asked me if I wanted it as none of her children seemed interested in it. It is a rug that my mother braided and sewed together. And while I am in a continuous mode of getting rid of things, gradually, this one I can't pass over!
Rugs are underfoot rather than filling up shelf or closet space, and every time I look down I will see my mother and the creation of that rug. In my mind's eye, I see Mother sitting in the front room of our childhood house in Hinkletown, at night - because seriously, when did Mother ever sit down much during the day in the midst of keeping a household of seven clean and fed?! These scenes float from the era of radio, because we would gather in that room around the radio to listen to our favorite shows - The Great Gildersleeve, Fibber McGee and Molly, Jack Benny, Ozzie and Harriet, Beulah, etc. I can still see her laughing as she listened, hooking the scraps of fabric together into a braid- even in that moment of relaxation being productive.
Do I want the rug? Indeed, because it not only covers a spot in my room but it encompasses sweet moments of childhood, weaving the strands of love to bridge the years.
One rare occasion in this rainy/icy/snowy/miserable pre-Christmas season we seem to be having, my husband and I found ourselves together at a mall - that place of all places we both avoid like the plague. We did our purchasing quickly and then indulged in the essence of the mall aroma - a Cinnabon! It was the second taste of my life and because I grew up on much better sticky or cinnamon rolls, this roll wasn't euphoric, but it certainly was sweet and caloric! As we were sharing one, my husband looked at a nearby table and whispered to me "Check out that guy - he's eating an apple!" And sure enough, there he was, munching determinedly on a crisp green apple! As funny as that was, my husband's comment topped it. In sotto voce he murmured, "He's witnessing!"
In my childhood days we were taught to "witness" by living exemplary lives - as largely pertains to the Gospel, but I simply loved the impertinence of this forthright man crunching his apple in the midst of a host of slackers indulging in a heap of sugar and cinnamon! That's surely how the world will right itself!!
