Great Grandma

As I stated yesterday, I was born after my great-grandmother died.  But, on my visit to my parents, I got to get a glimpse into the person that she was. 

What I already knew about her….  She was a tiny little woman.  (All of the women in my family are usually tiny and little…wonder how I got into the tribe?  I am taller and heavier than most of them.  Except my older brother’s kids, they are all tall and thin.)  She had 11 children.  My grandmother was one of the older ones and used to help out around the house.  She said one of her first memories was standing on a wooden box stirring oatmeal in front of a wood stove. 

Great Grandmother was a force to be reckoned with.  She was a dynamo.  I guess you would have to be to have such a buch of kids.  She ran the house and my great grandfather ran a saw mill.  She was none to happy when my grandmother got married.  I understand that she went to whooping and hollering and throwing things, like my grandmothers clothes, out the door.

Anyway, in her later years, she came to live with my grandmother.  My mom says that she loved all her grandchildren and my mom loved her a lot too.

Back to the story though.  Alton told us about one time when great-grandmother was visiting them in G-town.  He told her that he was going out to play with one of his friends.  Alton said that he had no longer gotten to his friends house and they began to play when she came and lassoed him and brought him home.

What was amusing about the whole story was seeing a little boy being lassoed by a little old lady.  (I picture my very own grandmother trying to do that to one of my brothers.)  Amusing too is the picture of her dragging him down the street.  I am sure Alton was protesting the whole time.

Alton also made this “whisp noise” like a rope flying through the air when he described how he was roped.  Alton said that he would sneak out again as soon as she let him go.  But, she would go and get him again.  I am not sure how long this went on before Aunt Janie got into the fray.

If it had been the grandmother that we lived with, she would have “hog tied” us.  Or maybe it would have been more like calf roping.  Anyway, it is an amusing sight!  Imagine the lasso over her head!  She probably perfected the tactic with some of hew own eleven children!

No wonder I wanted to be a cowgirl!  It must run in the family.

Back At Home

We got back from the big metropolis, G-town, yesterday.  A good time was had by all. 

My parents were not quite up to par so they opted not to go to the “shed” for Thanksgiving.  My step-dad has had some troubles with his back and his head, so we had a quiet time at their house.  When I say “we”, it was my mom my step-dad and me.  Mr. Greenhouse opted to go to the Shed. 

When we got there on Wednesday evening.  My mom met us at the door.  When we walked in the house, it smelled like “home”.  She had made a huge pot of vegetable soup.  We ate it over rice and had corn bread to sop with.  It was wonderful.

I took them some apple pie that I had made.  She gave us some pumkin pie and chewey cakes.  It was absolutely the best!  Mom’s food is always better than anyone elses.  ’Cept grandma’s!

Thursday dawned and Mr. Greenhouse headed out to the Shed.  He had plenty to eat and enjoyed the BBQ very much.  He came back with tales of all the good food.  And, best of all, he brought back a slice of peanutbutter pie!  I love that stuff.  My sister’s sister-in-law makes it every get together and it is so good.  It has nuts and heath bar pieces in it.

Those of us who opted to stay at home had more soup for lunch and planned the dinner for later in the day.  We had ham, sweet potato caserole, mac and cheese, brown rice and string beans.  (gotta have that green vegetable)

My cousin, Alton, came by to visit.  Alton is what my mother calls “slow”.  He is 64 years old and kinda reminds me of Forest Gump.  He wanted to visit with my parents and walked over to see them.  He wanders all over the town and “knows” just what is going on.  And, he is naive enough to not know when he is passing “gossip” among the “friends” that he has.  He has his finger on the pulse of G-town and he can let you know what’s going on if you listen to his drawn out tales.  He is harmless and sweet.  He plays a clown in the hometown parades and some time Santa Clause at various functions around the area.

Alton filled us in on all the news.  He said that he could visit until 12:30 so he would have time to walk home for lunch with his sister and family at 1:00 or so.  He has just found out that he is a diabetic.  He has to check his blood sugar regularly.  He walks around with some peppermints in his pocket just in case he needs to use one to “pick him up”.  He said the doctor told him as long as his sugar was below 126, he was okay.  (I thought I heard somewhere where the sugar should be below 100.  But, then I am not a doctor.)

Alton shared with us that his picture was going to be in the Times, (the local paper) on Friday.  And, sure enough, there it was!  He is holding one of the ornaments on the Angel Tree. 

Alton gave me a glimpse into his early life and into my great-grandmother’s life.  I plan to add those stories to this blog.  My mom also reminded me of family stories I could add.  I acquired a lot of fodder for the blog.  Some of them involve six guns and a lasso!  More to come!

Uncle Al and the pie crusts

I was sitting in my rocking chair reading and this tale came to me.  It immediately brought a smile to my face.  I really don’t know what made me think of it.  Maybe because a character in the book I am currently reading was described as being nice when it benefited him.  Let me say that has nothing to do with the character of my Uncle Al.  Although he could pull off a trick and be totally serious so as to cover it up.

Anyway, my granmother, Carrie, used to tell this story.  She did not tell stories often.  This one she told several times when we were children.  I don’t really know if it was to teach us how to behave though I think it probably was.  Children can be mischevious if given the chance.  (Refer to the story of my brother untying shoes in church.)

The story goes as this…. At one time, it was a custom to invite the minister to come “to the house” and eat.  Usually the ministers we had at our church were single.  So, all the families would have him over for the dinner/supper meal. 

My Uncle Albert was the oldest of Carries children.  As I remember him, he was a short and fine boned.  I guess you would call him wirery.  He took after the Smith side of the family.  He was in the Navy for a career.  He was a communications officer using the air waves and a typewriter.  He was already stationed in California way before I was born.  So, we here, did not get to see him often.

Anyway, since Uncle Al was the “only” child, at least for a little while, he got to sit at the dinner table with the grownups when the “Preacher” came over.  Come to think of it, his nick name was “Preacher” but I don’t know why. 

Well Uncle Al was sitting beside the minister.  My grandmother had probably labored long and hard over a meal for the minister.  It would have probably been fried chicken with a buch of fresh vegetables and some wonderful biscuits.  Since they lived out in the country on a farm, there would been a lot of preparation for the chicken (beheading, cleaning, etc…. before it could even be floured and fried…but was it fresh!) and shelling beans or peas.  Or maybe even snapping them.  The highlight of the evening meal would have been some type of dessert.  This time, it happened to be pie.

My Uncle Al had a slice of pie along with everyone else.  He did not like the crusts, only the inside.  But, what to do with the crusts?  Well, if you are inventive and think hard, you can certainly figure out what he did with them to dispose of them off of his plate.  Understand there was no dog under the table to which one could secretly pass the crusts.

Did you guess?  He kept sticking pieces of the crust under the minister’s plate.  My grandmother saw his doing this however, she was in no position at the table or otherwise to stop him without a spectacle taking place.  So, she was trying her best to frown at him and shake her head to keep him from embarassing her by doing what he was doing.

What runs though my mind are all of these “scenes” from TV show and movies that happen around the dinner table.  Pick your favorite one and transpose a stern looking mother and father a nice minister and a mischevious little boy.  I can see my tiny little grandmother trying to get Uncle Al to “behave”.  It brings a smile to my face.

Let me say that the antics don’t stop with Uncle Al or with my brother.  Nope, they have made it to the next generation.  Maybe I should write about Lori and her escapades…..We will see.

Thanksgiving

I learned today that Thanksgiving as we know it really was suggested by a woman who worked in the publishing industry during the 1800’s to the early 1900’s.  The first real Thanksgiving probably did happen.  But, the meal produced was greatly different from the “traditional” ones that we see today.

There was probably wild fowl, of which I am sure there was a turkey.  There was venison because deer were prolific.  There was probably fish and other seafood.  And, lots and lots of root vegetables.  So, yes there were yams and turnips and potatoes. 

However, the layout that we see today is not very closely related to the original meal of thanksgiving.  And, I think there were a lot of meals of thanksgiving rather than just one day that happens to be the fourth Thursday in November.

That being said, I have a smile come to my face when I remember Thanksgivings from my childhood.  From mid to late November all the way through to the new year, the house definitely smelled like Christmas.  Food was being prepared on almost a daily basis.  There were cakes, pies, and cookies.  Things that could be made early and saved to eat throughout the holiday season.

My mom would get up early on Thanksgiving day and start cooking way before breakfast.  The turkey, usually a huge thing, though I have to admit I was a child so anything could have been huge to me, was washed, slathered with either melted butter or Crisco Oil for crispy skin, and seasoned liberally with salt and pepper.  Then, an apple, peeled of course and an onion would be shoved into the cavity to keep it moist on the inside and it was put into the oven.  We were never one of those families that “stuffed” the bird with stuffing.  Why?  I don’t really know since stuffing is what we always called it.  Isn’t it dressing if it’s not stuffed?

The house would fill with the savory flavor of roasting meat.  Then, rice got started, dressing/stuffing was begun, vegetables were put on the stove.  Best of all sweet potatoes were prepared for the meal.  These lovely tubors would have been baked days before and at the ready to be peeled and mashed with butter and eggs and sugar, similar to sweet mashed potatoes, and put in a caserole dish.  My favorite was always the ones without raisons.  I like the nuts….I also was not such a big fan of the melted marshmellows on top.  My mom got to where she made a crunchy pecan topping.  We had tons of peacans because we had trees.

Ususally we are at our house.  Some times though, we ate at my other grandmother’s house.  That was usually when Uncle Paul and Aunt Lee and others were coming.  That was a wonderful huge meal.  Everyone brought something.   Food was everywhere.  Sweets galore!  On those times, my mom would sometimes bake the turkey at my grandmother’s house so she would not have to “carry” the whole meal over in the car.

Those meals were absolutely wonderful!  I can say that I have celebrated Thanksgiving with “northern” families and Thanksgiving with “southern” families and I much prefer the Southern Thanksgiving better.  Now that I think about the “real” Thanksgiving, I think we celebrate it “closer” to than others.

Now, we have all grown up.  We all live in different places.  My mom and dad have moved into “town”.  Most Thanksgivings for a while have been pared down.  Still plenty of food.  Still plenty of cooking.  But, on a smaller scale.

My sister, however, has married into a wonderful family.  They have embraced not only her but my mom and dad and yes, me, Mr. Greenhouse and our son.  They have absolutely, hands down, the best Thanksgiving ever.  They start celebrating on Wednesday, when family and friends start arriving to the bunk house and don’t stop till way after the actual day.  There is food galore.  There are games.  There is singing. 

The best?  There are all ages of people from those who are “seniors” to those who are celebrating their “firsts”.  Everyone is welcome.  No one is pouty because they were forced to come.  It is a true time of celebration and thanksgiving for another year here on this earth.  And each and everyone bring some thing to share on that communal table. 

The big star, a huge hog that is roasted all night on an open spit.  That spit is what heats the bunk house.  There are all types of fowl.  There is venison, usually crispily fried in little bites for everyone to share.  All types of vegetable and salads make a debut.  There are deviled eggs and deserts “gone to bed”.  If you look closely, you will find your absolute favorite some where on the table.  No one goes away hungry.

The meal starts with a welcome.  Then there is a prayer and we sing “Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow”.  The “seniors” and venerated are allowed to go first.  However there is no worry, there is plenty for everyone.  Mr. Greenhouse now understands what bar-b-que really is.  He also understands the idea of family and friends celebrating.  It is a very odd concept for some people to put there arms around.  I grew up with this so it is not odd to me at all.  The concept of “just us” is odd to me.  I have always been surrounded by family and friends for holidays.  Family is very important.  And, family is not always dictated by blood.

Good place to stop my rambilings.   Happy Thanksgiving!

Ranger Dog

Ranger Dog can add a new skill to his resume.  He now knows how to hunt and catch.  Believe me that is different from sniffing and tracking!

A couple of days ago, my husband came into the house and informed me that Ranger Dog had the lower quarters of something in his mouth.  I rushed out to find that Ranger Dog did indeed have the hind part of a rabbit in his mouth.  He was prancing around and chomping down and all proud of himself.  And, no way was he going to let anyone have his prize.

I was loath to believe that my little puppy (little yeah!  he weighs in at about 80lbs and stands up to my knees) would actually kill a bunny rabbit.  I am still amazed that he actually caught a rabbit.

I have seen Ranger Dog sneak up on the cats.  I have actually seen him nose down sniffing away at some particular spoor.  But, I have not actually seen him pounce and attack his prey.  I guess he is fine honing that skill also.

I have not found the other have of the rabbit.  So, I guess he ate that too. 

I thought maybe he took it from the cats.  Because I have seen cats bring down rabbits. But, no….he did it himself.

My husband also saw Ranger Dog catch something out by the wood pile too.  Mr Greenhouse said that Ranger Dog sniffed about, got down in a crouch and lept.  He came up with something that squealed.   Ranger went “chomp” and that was that.

I don’t know why I am surprised.  Buster, my childhood friend, was a bulldog.  He ate anything that was smaller than he was.  Literally, he would eat just about anything he could catch. 

My dad used to take Buster hunting with him.  Buster was good a treeing squirrels.  The only problem was that after Daddy shot the squirrel, it was a race to see who got to it first.  If Buster did, well, no amount of pulling would get it out the dog’s mouth.  So, Daddy had to kill twice as much to bring some home for us to eat.

The only issue with this is that now Ranger has a “taste” for blood.  That means any new animals introduced to our house, other than cats, which he knows are not food, have to be watched until he gets used to them.

Grandmothers

We all have them.  Whether we know them or not.  Or whether they live close or not.  They are as different as night and day.  I can attest to that with my very own two grandmothers.

We lived with my grandmother named Mamie.  I came home from the hospital directly to her house.  She was there from the beginning of my memories.  She loved all of us kids (there were 4 of us).  And, if she could have had a houseful herself she would have.

Mamie came to Sampit to be the school teacher.  She met and fell in love with my grandfather, Myrick.  They got married and lived with my great grandparents, Myrick’ parent.

Carrie, my other grandmother, was born in the community.  When she married my grandfather, Dempsey, he took her to his house to live with her mother-in-law.  When he announced that he was married, my great grandmother wanted to know “who” he had chosen.

Back then families lived together.  parents and grandparents were not put out when they got older.  Now, in a lot of places that is a different story.  Due to circumstances beyond my control, all my grandparents were not in their own home when they went to meet the good Lord.  That makes me sad.

Anyway, back to grandmothers.  Mamie took part in raising us.  She was a Renaissance Woman.  When I was a kid, I thought she could do about anything.  She taught us so much.  She always had time for the kids.  She was always busy.  I very seldom saw her sit still for very long.  I also very seldom saw her on the inside of the house.  If it was a sunny day, she was outside doing something.

I watched this tiny woman and learned so much.  She was there when I learned how to read and when I learned how to write.  She taught me how to climb trees and ride a bike.  Most importantly, she taught me how to use my imagination.  She said I could do anything I set my mind to do. 

This dynamo did not have an easy life.  She had two of her infants die.  She had a husband who turned out to be an alcoholic.  She had to run a 140 acre farm by herself on occasion.  She grew a garden and fed us kids.  She sold vegetables and eggs in town to make ends meet. 

Mamie loved animals.  (That is where I get my love for animals.)  They depended on her for sustanance and care.  They were not objects to be abused.  If you took care of them, they took care of you.  Once she bottle fed a piglet that was a runt.  It thought it was a dog and would run after cars squealing just like a barking dog.  I also saw her take orphaned kittens and raise them. 

Carrie…. Well she was different from Mamie.  I never saw her outside of the house.  But, I know that she did go out.  She had a flower garden that she took care of. 

Where Mamie would do anything for us kids, Carrie was more reserved.  I am sure that she loved us.  But, she very seldom would show us any affection. Boy could she cook!  There were always treats at her house.  Tea cakes, pound cake, etc…  It was all good.  Where Mamie cooked, Carrie could run rings around her.

Carrie had seven children.  She had plenty of kids around all the time.  She once said that she and my grandfather very seldom slept in a bed by themselve once they had children.  Before she had children, she had a boatload of brothers and sisters she had to take care of.  So, children were not her favorite people.

I don’t remember Carrie ever spanking us.  Mamie did on occasion.  I respected both of them regardless.  And, I guess I was more afraid of Carrie than I was of Mamie.

Carrie was also a tiny woman.  Neither of my grandmothers were even 5ft tall.  But in their way, they were both forces to deal with.  Both women ran households.  Both probably got lives that they did not expect.   Carrie made demands.  Mamie asked.  They both got things done.

Comfort Food

Let me start off this entry by saying that it is amazing to me that a body can make so much mucus!  I know that is a gross thing to say.  However, it does fascinate me.  I know it’s the body’s defense agains germs and that is a good thing.  But, really! 

Now to the subject of comfort foods.  That also amazes me.  It is amazing that so many people have so many different types of comfort foods.  And, the subject came up because Dr. B. so kindly told me not to forget the chicken soup while I was feeling under the weather.  (Wonder where that phrase go started?)

Chicken soup is indeed on of my comfort foods.  I can tall when I am not feeling well because my body starts craving chicken noodle soup.  And, yes, Dr. B, I made a huge pot of chicken vegetable soup two days before I started feeling ill.  This time it wasn’t chicken noodle but it sure was good.  It had navy beans, black beans, kidney beans, celery, tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, corn, chicken and chicken stock.  It sure was good with a hunk of corn bread.  I just stood over the pot and threw stuff in it.  I love cooking like that.

But, back to comfort foods.  I guess they come for good memories we have surrounding the food.  It is the same with smells.  When you taste or smell something that is your favorite, you just seem to get a silli grin on your face and your eyes light up with delight.  Or, if you are feel ill, a huge sigh will come right after the first taste.

A few of my comfort foods are Cream of Wheat, peanut butter, mac and cheese and of course chicken soup.

I think that some people have comfort clothes too.  You know what I mean.  Those clothes that we tend to put on when we want to be nice and comfy.  Wonder if they have a hidden meaning too?

Never…

I have a rule to share with everyone.  Never write a blog entry when you are taking cold medicine.  To some that may seem like DUH!  But, to me, I thought I could do it.  But, with a stuffy head, ear ache and chills plus taking the medicine that caused me to drink water like there is no tomorrow, I could not concentrate.

Today, I feel a little better.  Still hae sore throat, ear ache, face ache and chills.  The weather is changing and getting cooler.  That does not help the headache.

I very seldom get really, really sick.  I will be down to a day or two. I will feel achy.  But, then after a day or two I will start feeling better. 

I don’t do “sick” well.  I always feel like I should be doing something or fixing something.  I get bored of just sitting or laying around.  And, then I don’t feel like doing anything.

Time like these, I need TLC.  But, then I get like my mom said my dad would get.  I act like a bear.  I go and hibernate.  when I feel better, I come out.

Time to get some hot tea….

Another Rainy Day

We have more rain today.  Ranger is being his usual toddler self.  He is asking for my attention.  The latest game is seeing how many times he can get me to open the door to the outside.

It brings to memory times when we were kids and how we amused ourselves on rainy days.  There was only three TV channels when I was a kid.  On rainy days there was not a lot to watch.  If it was during the week, all that was on was soap operas.  On the weekends, after cartoons and Six Gun Theater, there was not much else to watch.

Mom and my grandmother could not turn us outside because of the rain.  So, we had to learn how to amuse ourselves.  There was only so much time I wanted to spend playing dolls.  And, we were not very big board game players.  Part of that being the difference in the ages with the kids.  Two brothers were close in age and 5 and 6 years older than my sister and I respectively.  So we were not in the same stages of development at any time.

A lot of the time was spent by me reading.  I have always been a reader.  There were many days when I escaped into the land of “willing suspension of disbelief”.  I still read today.

I credit that love for reading to my grandmother.  She was always telling us stories.  When I finally learned how to read, I was so excited.  I was able to travel to any land and any situation by simply opening a book and diving in. My favorites then and now were mysteries.

Just recently, I got a library card.  That opened up a whole building of books to me.  In turn, I can go any- where and experience anything.

Ears….

Since the last entry about Ranger Dog being like a child when it comes to rainy days, I have experienced yet another way that my pup-dog is like a child.  For a few days, I had been noticing Ranger pulling at his left ear.  He was also repeatedly shaking his head making his ears flap.  Then on Sunday night, I noticed his was moaning and groaning and uncomfortable. 

How is this acting like a child?  Well, when you have a little one, some times you have to notice what they are doing rather than what they are saying.  And, Ranger Dog’s actions said that his ears were giving him trouble.

When I shared with Mr. Greenhouse Ranger needed to go to the vet, he asked me why.  He stated he had not noted any issues with Ranger’s ears nor had he seen the dog digging in his ear or shaking his head.  I stated that I was going to take the pup-dog to the vet regardless.  So, he came along.

Of course, when we got to the vet, Ranger acted like it was his home away from home.  He loves those guys there because they put his leg back together when he got hurt back in the summer.  He likes Dr. Chreech and all the attendants.  He bounced around like a puppet on a string. 

It took two people to subdue him so that they could look in his ears.  They looked a little “red” so the vet did give us a mild solution to put in them.  Dr. Chreech did understand me though when I explained why I had brought Ranger Dog in.  He said a lot of people are good at reading their animals.

Ranger Dog should be fine.  I am not having fun chasing him to put the drops in his ears! 

Hey Ranger Dog even got a treat just like a child would after an exam.