Christmas Seasons

With Christmas but a few days away, I want to send my wishes that your Christmas will be filled with love and peace. Most of us can recall those special Christmases, perhaps those of our childhood, or with our first love, or later, those with a growing family, followed by those with grandchildren.

Over the years, Christmas celebrations tend to evolve as each of us builds our own treasure trove of memories. If you're like me, some of the memories fuse into others. As a child, I remember getting a tangerine in my stocking and so, the smell of a tangerine will always evoke childhood Christmases for me. Over the years, time changes our celebrations. I can't imagine ever putting a tangerine in my children's or my grandchildren's stockings!

I remember meeting my husband, Will. Those were the days when we took lots of pictures. This picture, taken in 1959, was our first Christmas together. We were young, then, and carefree, too. I recall we had to visit both sets of parents that year. And try to eat two turkey dinners, as well.

Since then, we've celebrated fifty-five Christmases together. If I had a chance to relive those years, I would have kept a Christmas journal. Then, I would be able to go back and check out each one. Now, they merge into a lovely pattern much like a quilt made of many hues.


In quick succession, our four daughters came along and with them, late nights of putting toys together, then arranging them under the tree. Ginger, our oldest, was always the "scout." While her sisters quivered with excitement, she would run down the steps, check out the scene, then call up to her sisters, "Santa came!" Then we'd hear another three sets of feet bound down the steps. And our Christmas morning would begin...way too early, but nevertheless, filled with joy.

Way too quickly, they grew up, married and began their own Christmas traditions. Again, Christmases evolved but with glad tidings as life was developing as it was meant to be.

Soon, grandchildren hit the scene. Another golden time, another gilded, ribboned wrapped growth of Christmas change. This, for me, was really special. This picture of me with our grandsons Nathan and John, was taken a Christmas that I'll never forget. Nathan, four months old, was sleeping on a blanket close to the tree while we were all in the kitchen. We heard a thud and ran in. The tree had fallen over and Nathan was under it! Not a sound was uttered by this dear baby boy. We pulled the tree off of him, unsure if he was hurt, but thankfully, not a branch had touched him.

Those years went quickly, way too quickly. And now my beloved and I find we're back to the beginning. Our children and our children's children all live far enough away that Will and I are two once more. We still celebrate with gifts and phone calls, then visits after Christmas day. We're content and feel blessed to be together and well. We rejoice in the day and knowing all of our loved ones are safe and celebrating, too.


May you and your family have a blessed Christmas and fun making memories together!

The Test of Time

Today, April 23, is Shakespeare’s birthday. Many communities will celebrate with World Book Night. World Book Night is an annual celebration dedicated to spreading the love of reading, person to person.  Each year on this date, thousands of people in the U.S. go out into their communities and give away a half a million free paperbacks. In the future, I hope to join this effort as a volunteer. 

Since I couldn't participate this year, I thought I’d commemorate the occasion by asking a few avid readers if they could name the best novel they’d ever read, the one book that stood the test of time. For some who participated in my informal survey, it proved to be an impossible task. They were driven to name more than one book. Others had no problem at all choosing one. Here’s a few of their picks:

Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell: Tinka first read the book as a teenager, then attended the movie with a friend. “We packed a lunch and took it with us because it was such a long movie,” she relates. The book will always represent a special memory of those years, she adds.

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee: Lorraine chose this classic because she “reread this two years ago and was so impressed on so many levels---narrated by a child who sees the world through innocent eyes and Atticus Finch who bravely challenges the social prejudices of the times.”

Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver: Ginger had a hard time narrowing her choices down to one, however, this was the first book she mentioned. She explains, “This book caused me to question so many things I’d ‘assumed’ about the world around us, forcing me to realize I’m pretty ‘democracy centric’ and yet there is a whole world beyond what I’m accustomed to in terms of ideals---that our way is not the only way.

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott: Megan chose this book without wavering because while reading the novel, she felt a sense of belonging, almost as if she was in their world.  “What I love most was how Louisa May Alcott portrayed the character Jo.  Jo was strong, driven, stubborn, and she refused to accept gender stereotypes and conform to society's expectation of women.  Jo pursued her interests and dreams and allowed no one come in between them, even though they were frowned upon. I have always admired Jo, and even used her name when I played ‘make-believe’ as a child.”

The Prince of Tides by Pat Conroy: Fellow writer, Iris, chose this book because she appreciates the author’s passion and his gift of language. “You can pick up the book, turn to any page, and enjoy his descriptions of characters, places and events without even knowing the plot of the story. I’ve read this novel more than once and have always found something new to make the reading worthwhile.”

The Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper: Bill read the book as a young boy and the vivid tale fueled his imagination of that time in history. “I’ll always remember reading this book and how I could see the characters---Chingachgook and Hawkeye. I could visualize living as Hawkeye did in the woods.”

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith: This is my pick. Recently, it was a selection for my readers group. I hesitated at first, not sure if I wanted to read it again because I feared it wouldn’t resonate as it did when I first read it as a teenager. My second reading experience was even richer and I found my life experience enhanced my understanding of the book and the metaphor that the title exemplifies.

Can you name a sole favorite book? A book that stands out from all the others you’ve read? Try it. There’s something about singling out one book from all the others. Not an easy task, for sure, but one that is worth the effort.

And next year, consider finding a way to celebrate World Book Night and the great book giveaway.

Happy Reading!

Flowers of Winter

God gave us memories that we might have roses in December.  ~J.M. Barrie, Courage, 1922

 

Every December, as Christmas approaches and the end of the year draws near, for me, is a time of reflection, a looking back. Generally, this contemplative time begins after the shopping and mailing of packages is completed. But this year, my annual life review threatened to sabotage the necessary tasks that come with the holiday.  Daydreaming replaced concentrated, organized gift selection!

I blame the change on my neighbor, Harry, a consummate gardener whose talents we enjoy all summer from our front deck. The day before Thanksgiving, he brought over brought over an armful of roses from his still flowering garden. We were enjoying a wonderfully warm fall, even eating lunch in the sunny protected corner of our porch. "Hard to believe they're still growing," he said.

"Yes," I answered. "Hard to believe, but wonderful, too." I clipped the stems and placed the bouquet in a green vase on my dining room table. In the next few weeks, I passed by the roses a lot. Each time I did, I thought how comforting it was to see them bloom this time of year.

As the temperature dipped and we moved further into December, Harry's bouquet brought to mind Barrie's wonderful quote and my thoughts turned to how increasingly important the role memory takes as we get older. Not that I'm done making memories—not by a long shot, I hope! After all, I'm only seventy now. I still cling to the autumn years of my life, with their wonderful lingering warmth from my summer season.

I like to think the winter of my life is still far from away, but based on how rapidly my life has gone thus far, I know the approaching winter of my life is much closer than I want to believe. Sometimes, I wonder about what it will be like once my winter fully arrives.

We visit a senior center once a month to do a program entitled, "Remember When." These seniors (older than I am, of course!) are firmly entrenched definitely in the winter of their lives. They prefer sharing their memories, memories evoked by old the movies, events, and songs of their summer years, mostly the forties and fifties, rather than their later years. I learn from them that the days ahead can also be filled with joy and laughter, but most of all, bolstered by the memories that keep us warm.

Here's a few nonscientific things I've come to believe about how memory works as we get older:

• Memory is fluid and dynamic, ever changing. Each memory takes on a different hue, tone, and meaning when we view it from a distance created by time.
• Memory is a way of holding onto the things we love. It tells us who we are in our innermost self, and is tied to things we never want to lose. As a result, it only a natural evolution that we find it holds so much a larger part in our lives as we age.
• Memory is the book we write in the silence of our hearts. And like writers, we can discover the freedom to alter our history and tell it a little more like we wanted it to be. Have you ever noticed how the fish in any fisherman's tale gets larger with each telling?
• Memories, like the proverbial fine wine, improve with age. And as we get older, we gradually may become the only one who is the memory keeper of our family. An awesome, but joyful thing to contemplate!
• Memory is selective. As Austin O'Malley notes, "Memory is a crazy woman that hoards colored rags and throws away food. Nora Ephron speaks of this in her new book, "I Remember Nothing." Have you ever searched your mind for details of some neamingul event in your life and come up blank, yet you can remember an incident that would appear to have no significance whatsoever in the broad schematic of life?
• Memory, like the sea glass we find on the beach, holds fragments that we treasure without reason. Or as Cesare Pavese (The Burning Brand) says so well, "We do not remember days; we remember moments."
• Memory of our childhood remains imprinted in our memory bank for all of our lives. Sometimes, I ask myself why I remember all the details of my elementary school yet scarcely remember the hallways of the college I attended when I was forty years old?
• Memory of bad moments come mostly in the middle of the night. Have you had any of those moments when what you failed to do or did haunt you?

Bob Hope always finished his performances with a song called, "Thanks for the memories." Yet, memories are the flowers of our winter and it would be a very cold time without them. And like the roses of winter, they keep us warm. They're what we're made of and what we're left with.

Strawberry Moments Forever

"… the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls· bearing resiliently, on tiny and almost impalpable drops of their essence, the immense edifice of memory" -Marcel Proust,  "The Remembrance of Things Past"

Do you have a smell that reminds you of special memories? Perhaps the redolent smell of your childhood Sunday dinners? Or popcorn at Saturday matinees? Does a particular aroma take you back where you can see the scene as vividly as if you were right there now?

Proust's words speak volumes to me because throughout my life, the distinctive perfume of fresh strawberries has prevailed as my memory prompter. Perhaps it can even serve as a metaphor for much of my life. This love affair began in my childhood and I write about this in one of my past blog entries, "A World Without Childhood?"

Since that early experience, strawberries have continued as the framework of my most treasured moments.

Consider our honeymoon, for example. The year was 1962 and segregation was still an issue. Neither Will nor I had ever seen signs "for whites only" before, and the sight of so many appalled us. A truck loaded with cartons of berries pulled in behind us on a Chesapeake Bay ferry boat. Two black men got out of the truck and stood in the hot May sunshine. They couldn't go inside where it was cool since the boat wasn't large enough to have an extra space for what then was referred to as "for coloreds only." I spoke to them and said, "It must be nice to drive a truck with such a lovely cargo." They smiled back and tipped their hats.

When we returned to our car, one of the men handed us two quarts of berries. We thanked them profusely and thought about them as we continued on our way. That night, in a modest motel, I poured the lush, red fruit into the tiny sink to wash them and we ate our fill in bed before turning out the light. So, forever they will represent passion and love, along with a little sadness, too, at how badly people can treat other people by considering them as less worthy.

The following years went quickly for us—perhaps because our four daughters were born within the first five years of our marriage. When our youngest was four, we began taking them to a nearby farm to pick strawberries every June. My mother-in-law, Lib, would often join us and then come home to help clean and hull the berries.

After I washed the scarlet stains off the kids' faces and fingers and tucked them into bed, I'd come back to the kitchen to make pie crusts, usually twelve in all. As I kneaded and rolled, I could hear Will and his mother on our jalousie porch, a soft, gentle sound while I reveled in my solitude and the tactile feel of the dough.

Years later, in California, I picked huge, almost meatball size fruit on a California hill with my second daughter, Cindy, and three granddaughters. And as Yogi Berra says, it was "déjà vu all over again." That evening, however, I was the person hulling the berries while Cindy scrubbed away the ruby hue of the fruit that just couldn't wait another day to be eaten.

Now our family is grown and scattered from the East to the West Coast, but this succulent fruit continues to bring additional memories. Last week, we escorted our youngest daughter down a sandy beach on her wedding day in Santa Cruz, California. A joyous week for all of us with, you guessed it, more strawberries. As I hulled them, I inhaled deeply, drinking in one more strawberry moment while I listened to the chatter of gathered family. And as I did so, I thought how blessed I am to have this thread through my life and look forward to seeing what else this succulent fruit will bring in the future.

So, tell me, do you also have a special scent that takes you back in time? If so, drink it in and find yourself right there in that special place, that special moment. If not, consider creating memory markers by using your sense of smell during future happy moments—perhaps the smell of perfume you put on or notice on a loved one some New Year's Eve, or the sweet distinctive fragrance of the ocean after a storm.

A Season of its Own

"Oh how we love pumpkin season. You did know this gourd-ish squash has its own season, right? Winter, Spring, Summer, Pumpkin.... We anxiously anticipate it every year." ~Trader Joe's Fearless Flyer, October 2010

If you still have a pumpkin left from Halloween and Thanksgiving, you may be ready about now to pitch it in the trash and start your Christmas decorating. Stop! That decorative pumpkin is loaded with great flavor and lots of vitamins. You can cook it and serve it in a variety of ways – a side dish (it is a squash!), or use it to make soup, pancakes, muffins, bread, or pies.

Here’s the easiest way to cook a pumpkin:

1. Cut the pumpkin crosswise in half. Use a big knife. This is the  toughest part of the whole process.

2. Scoop out the seeds.

3, Place on a cookie sheet with edges, the pumpkin face down. Add a small amount of water to the tray, to help create steam.

Bake at 350 degrees until done. Approximately 30 minute to an hour, depending on the size of the pumpkins.

Test with a fork. When it pierces the skin easily, it’s ready.

After it cools enough to handle, the skin will peel off easily, leaving a lovely golden vegetable ready to be mashed or pureed. The color of fresh pumpkin is so different than that of canned pumpkin! What exactly do they add to canned version? If you have the space, you can package any extra pumpkin in plastic containers and freeze. It keeps well for months. I usually measure what I need for various recipes.

Here’s a few recipes for your fresh pumpkin

Pureed Pumpkin side dish:

Add cinnamon and brown sugar to taste. Maple syrup is also good. You can add some butter and salt if you like as well. Heat in the microwave. Enjoy with pork, salmon, or chicken.

Easy Low Fat Pumpkin Soup: 4 servings (1 1/2 cups each)

1/4 cup chopped onion

2 cups pureed pumpkin

1/4 tsp ginger

1 cup evaporated milk

1 cup skim milk
2 cups hot water
1 tsp maple syrup (can substitute with pancake syrup)

Directions: Microwave onions and 1/4 cup water in until onions are tender in a large microwavable bowl. Add the rest of the ingredients and microwave on high for 6 to 7 minutes or until heated through, stirring every two minutes. NOTE: You can also prepare this soup on the stove

Autumn Pumpkin Bread or Rolls (bread maker recipe)

1/2 cup diced carrots, cooked and pureed (you can use baby carrots to save time)

1/2 cup pureed pumpkin

1/2 cup unsweetened applesauce

*1/4 cup water

1 1/2 Tbsp butter or margarine

2 Tbsp honey

1 1/2 tsp salt

1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1 1/2 cups bread flour
1/4 tsp allspice
2 tsp active dry yeast

Place all ingredients in bread pan according to your bread machine directions. Select medium crust setting and the whole wheat cycle or the dough cycle for 12 dinner rolls.

For the rolls, when the dough cycle is completed, shape the rolls and place in 9 inch round pans or on a cookie tray. Cover and let rise in a warm place for 20-30 minutes. Hint: preheat your oven to warm or 200 degrees, then TURN OFF before you put the rolls in to rise.

Enjoy this special fruit with a season of its own. Bon appetit!

A Celebration of Life

It's a celebration, it's a celebration
Celebrate good times, come on!
Celebrate good times, come on!

There's a party goin' on right here
A celebration that'll last throughout the year
Shall bring you good times, and good laughter too
We're gonna celebrate your party with you
Come on now
Celebration - we're gonna celebrate and have a good time



Celebration -We're gonna celebrate and have a good time, celebration - we're gonna celebrate and have a good time
It's time to come together
It's up to you, what's your pleasure
Everyone around the world Come on!!

It's a celebration! It's a celebration!
Celebrate good times, come on!
Celebrate good times, come on!

(Julia is the one in the center, with "76" on her shirt)

On Tuesday evening, January 5th, I perched close to the TV to watch the halftime show at the Orange Bowl. Why? Not because I'm a football fan, but because my granddaughter, Julia, was dancing with about 900 others in a circle around Kool and the Gang. Despite the numbers on the field, I had hopes of being able to single her out.

A silly thought, I know, but we grandmothers often are beyond hopeful in our thinking. Especially when it comes to our dear grands. Maybe because it's one of the least complicated relationships in the universe. They are. We love. So simple.

As I sat there, watching the joyous movement, I realized how apropos the song was for the moment. "Celebration" is one of those songs woven into the fabric of my life, so much so that I was sure I had danced to it in the '60's. Apparently not. When I headed to Google, I found this iconic song came out in the '80's, although Kool and the Gang had been around since the late '60's.
Still, what could be more natural in the evolution of life than to see Julia dancing to the song that I'd been dancing to with wild abandonment for close to thirty years? Knowing the child of my child was dancing to "Celebration" with Kool and the Gang live exemplified the continuity of life and perhaps, little hint of immortality for me.

I had hoped she was savoring the moment even more than I was watching it. When I received the picture above, I could see her pleasure in moving to the beat and that was only the rehearsal. Later, my daughter told me the swirl of dancers around the stage was supposed to signify a record spinning. It went far beyond an inanimate object such as that. It was so much more alive and electric.

To Julia, and to all who may read this post, my wishes for your continued "Celebration" of life.

lyrics can be found at http://www.songlyrics.com/.