Harvesting Memories

Old Mother Hubbard

went to the cupboard

to feed her starved children some food.

When she got there, 

the cupboard was bare

and so they all went to work!

They picked the trees clean

The garden they gleaned.

They washed, chopped, peeled, boiled and canned.

The beets were pickled.

The salsa ole,

The apples; sliced, sauced and cold pressed.

Now the cupboard is bursting

And no one is thirsting

but Old Mother Hubbard is dead!. 

(tired that is!)

Beets are messy work... but so rewarding!

Bittersweet.

We've been canning apples for many, many years... Sauce and slices mostly.  A few years ago I decided to do juice as well, for cold winter days with hot apple cider were calling to me.  Two years ago, a neighbour and Caleb reminded me of the BEST use of apples ever.  Cold pressed apple juice... a.k.a. 'brown apple juice' from my memories of going to work with Dad at Triumph at UVIC.  After mentioning the memory with fondness, Dad sent us a kit to build an apple press and said he'd come Fall of 2015 to chop apples with us.  

We built the press and we pressed the best brown apple juice but Dad was only with us in spirit.  We listened to music of the 50's, read a book aloud as we worked and processed our apples.  We dedicate this batch to Dad.

Brown Apple Juice

Growing up, we would sometimes spend the day at work with my dad.  He worked in a research lab on the campus of the University.  I never completely knew what he did, nor ever understood it.  I think I ended up telling everyone he was inventing a nuclear physics bomb or something. 

None of that really mattered. 

What mattered was 



.................. lunch time. 

More specifically a drink.  We probably had a packed lunch from home but Dad would take us to get some brown apple juice.  We always called it that.  "Brown Apple Juice".  And there was just something incredible about it. 

It's been close to three decades since then. 

They say the sense of smell and taste invoke memories better than any other sense.  I have 7 apple trees in my back yard.  I have made close to 1000 quarts of apple sauce and 600 quarts of pie slices and 100 quarts of juice since moving to this home 7 years ago.  We've taken advantage of the bounteous harvests.  This year, Caleb took a bucket of our apples to a gentleman's home in the neighbourhood.  This older gentleman had been telling Caleb about a press that he had made. 

We typically steam our apples in a juicer to extract the juice.  We also drink hot cider for about a month.  Can't get enough.  It's delicious. 

Caleb was gone an hour and a half.  He returned with 7 jars of brown liquid. 

One sip. 

I was transported. 

I was about 10 years old, on the university campus, drinking 'brown apple juice.'

It was even better than I could have imagined and definitely surpassed what I had remembered.  In looking back on the last 7 years I've missed out.  I should have been cold pressing.  Our cider pales... quite literally... in comparison. 

Eternal Jokes

Grandma's visit this time has created many a funny moment. Not necessarily due to Grandma but because of one joke that was only funny if you were here, Grandma tried to teach the kids about 'inside jokes'. They caught on and enjoyed having a little inside joke and Mummy and Daddy were completely baffled about their laughter much of the time. Finally at dinner when they broke out in laughter once again we were told... It's an internal joke. Which of course made all of us laugh... and we created yet another 'inside joke'... and will likely always refer to them as 'internal' forever more. Or so I thought until Sarah nonchalantly responded to something she was laughing about and we were giving her quizzical looks with, "It's one of those "eternal" jokes".

I think 'eternal' jokes is appropriate anyway... I mean they're jokes that only some people get and are forever funny. All it takes is the mere mention of something and we're all snickering. It's like saying "My lips hurt real bad." or "I've fallen and I can't get up." or "That's all I got to say 'bout that." and one just knows and appreciates the humor. Now we can say.. "It may be stinky, but it doesn't make it bad." or "3:00, and no chickens out." or "I threw it in the canal." or "Should I call the police?" or "Maybe she's having a feature." or "That's because of the aliens." and we all smile or snicker!

I can let you in on the background of them... but it may not be as funny.... Sometimes you just have to be there.

• "It may be stinky, but it doesn't make it bad."

One night after a 2 am feeding I wasn't the only one who had woken. Apparently, Grandma, Caleb and Sarah had all woken as well. I went back to bed though. Patrick who had also been awake but hadn't been up asked what was going on. I replied, "Oh, we were just having a 2 am party in the bathroom. You missed it. Go back to sleep." Little did I know that I was the one who missed it!
The rest had returned down stairs but hadn't been able to sleep and chatted for more than an hour. One of the things they discussed was a friend they like to play with whose parents smoke. Sarah expressed that she preferred to play with her friend here rather than there because their house was a little stinky. Throughout their 2 am party the phrase "it may be stinky but it doesn't make it bad." continued to come up and they erupted in laughter. Now weeks after the 2am party they still laugh and use the phrase whenever it seems fitting. Sometimes reversing it to say, It may be bad, but it doesn't make it stinky...

• "3:00 and no chickens out!"

For the last few months we've struggled with our chickens escaping their chicken coop and endangering their lives but running amok in the yard with Opus. We resorted to keeping Opus locked up on the deck... or at least we tried. With many children and adults coming and going off the deck frequently, the gate invariably would be left unlatched and a panic call would come, "Opus is off the deck". Sometimes the call was "There's a chicken out!" and kids would come running and retrieve the chicken to return it to the coop. Some chickens didn't fare as well as others. Two weekends ago after an incident that I'll fill you in on in a moment, the coop was fortified a little better and we no longer see chickens out. However we've become so accustomed to looking out the window to check on chickens that now we call out... "3:00 and no chickens out".

As I said, chickens have been getting out. Chasing chickens was an often more than daily occurrence. It was beginning to try even my patience with the chickens...(although admittedly, I would often call the 'chicken out' alarm... I never actually chased them myself). One quiet Sunday afternoon, a chicken was out. Opus was also off the deck. Daddy was home and was recruited to chase said chicken. Said chicken was actually the rooster! Comically, Daddy unsuccessfully chased the rooster for more than 10 minutes, the kids helped. Miles suddenly came running in and told us that Daddy needs help quick. Apparently in chasing the rooster he had run around the sandbox and mistakenly kicked a metal fence post that was sticking up out of the ground. We found him laying on the grass nursing a very sore and purple toe. Miles had plenty of sympathy since he had a similarly ailing toe from the week before's neighbourhood shoeless soccer mishap.

Certain that he had broken his toe, the rooster chase was called off and Opus locked up. The rooster won... that time. Pat soon had the coop reinforced... Grandma then re-reinforced it a little more and since then... No chickens out!

• "I threw it in the canal."

About a week or so after Pat initially hurt his toe, he came in the house limping terribly and grimacing in pain. I asked what had happened. "I stubbed a brick." I couldn't resist.... I know it wasn't empathetic in the least but I asked... "How is the brick?"
After a short pause, Patrick replied, "I picked it up and threw it in the canal." I was stunned. "You what?" He hadn't really. He just didn't get why I asked about the brick. I explained the grammatical error that caused me to ask about the brick and not his toe... then Grandma came in the room and seeing Patrick with ice on his foot, a second time in less than a week, she asked what had happened. Stifling a laugh, I said.. "Pat stubbed a brick."
Immediately she asked, "How's the brick?" Pat and I replied simultaneously that he had thrown it in the canal. Then we all laughed! Now anything that goes awry gets threatened to be thrown in the canal!

• "Should we call the police?"

A few weeks ago, I received a phone call from the apartment manager from Dad's apt. complex. She was concerned that he hadn't been seen him in a few days and that his car hadn't moved from its' parking spot. I am listed as the emergency contact. She wondered if we had heard from him lately. It had been a few days since we had spoken with him. She said she was going to call the police and have them do a health and welfare check.
Grandma and I were at a local community center sitting on a tile floor with her laptop because the kids had State testing and we were just waiting. We were unsure if this action was necessary but what if it was? We told her to hold off and we'd try calling around and then let her know. We called and no reply at home or work. hmmm... what to do? We weren't at home and didn't have access to the address book that might have other numbers so we called Sparky to help. He successfully called some other work numbers but to no avail. Channa by now was also chatting with us. What should we do? After about 45 minutes we all determined to let the manager go ahead with her health and welfare check. At least we'd be able to rule out that he was sick or at home.
Dad arriving home by taxi from the department of motor vehicles, where he had been renewing his drivers license, was so flummoxed by the commotion that greeted him and being asked by the police if he was all right, that he left his favourite new baseball cap in the taxi! He wasn't at work because he'd taken the day off to go to the DMV. His car hadn't moved because of course he didn't have a current valid license. Dad was touched by the concern, but wished it hadn't cost him a hat.
Sparky called us later during the day to see how it had all worked out. We didn't answer soon enough and he had to call back. When we answered he humorously told us that he almost called the police to check on us!
Now if someone doesn't answer the phone or come right away when we call them from upstairs we tell them, "I was worried, I almost called the police!"

• "Is she having a feature?"

Grandma has some medical issue that she refers to as her 'episodes'. Possibly TIA's or silent migraines, they leave her incoherent and unable to function normally for a few minutes each time. She also has no memory of her actions during the time that they are occurring. She had one of such episodes while visiting last spring and the kids weren't sure what to think of Grandma. Her speech was slurred, she didn't make sense and she couldn't remember who people were. But all was well in a few minutes.
This visit, she sat down to play a game of checkers with Miles. Duncan was watching intently. Grandma was quite confused with the game. "This isn't right. Something isn't working." I was teasing that just because she wasn't winning doesn't mean that something is wrong with the game... but maybe her. She wondered if it was a real checker board and insisted on counting the squares. She was adamant that something wasn't right.
Duncan quietly asked me, "Is she having a feature?" He meant episode but we love feature now. It's when someone is just acting odd and it's not a medical abnormality.
And the checkerboard was set up incorrectly!

"That's because of the aliens."
Duncan is so gullible. He is completely convinced of the alien story for Miles head. We started using the alien story to explain why essentially anything out of the ordinary happened. Why Grandma has episodes or 'features', how it is that Mummy can wiggle her ears but no one else can... anything unusual.... As for Duncan.. if you can't beat em', join em'!!
So perhaps you had to be there to find the humor... but we're enjoying our 'eternal' jokes immensely!

Happy Birthday Dad

I don't remember Dad being much of a sports aficionado. He certainly watched if any of us were on a team. He didn't miss little league or volleyball matches if he was around, but I don't think sports was really a passion of his. He also didn't miss a band concert or a play.

But I think what I can remember in thinking back was how much he enjoyed another type of game. Dad could be talked into sitting for a game of Othello, Uno, Life, Monopoly, Pit, Phase 10, Skip Bo, Checkers, Rack-o.... I could go on! I remember games of Rummoli that lasted until late into the night. I can remember waking in the middle of the night at Hornby. The loft would have become so overheated from the wood stove that it was unbearable to try to sleep any longer and we'd have a great game of Skip-Bo downstairs around the kitchen table. I remember at Channa's house one time teaching Dad how to play Phase 10 and being thoroughly beaten each hand as he would innocently question... so can I do this?... as we all ended up folding round after round while he won!

He didn't let us win... but I don't think he always trounced us either. He was a fair player and expected fair play in return. And he was a stickler for following the rules. I don't think any of us became overly competitive. Except maybe Paige at Monopoly... she even laminated her money!

Over the years I've played games with my kids and enjoyed those memories as well. For many years we had a couple, Kay and Roger from our neighbourhood, that joined us weekly to play games with us. I was always glad for that experience for my children. I think Kay had a similar fair play and stickler for rules philosophy to my Dad. In fact they even came to game day at our house when my Dad was visiting one time and introduced him to some new games that I think became quick new favourites of his! Quiddler and Mexican train! He 'tracked' down a set of Mexican train dominoes when he returned home and we were given a great new train whistle to add to our game.

During Dad's latest visit, Miles convinced him to play more than a few rounds of war. But Grandpa won't be fooled and Miles cheating ways were put to a quick end. My kids even talked Grandpa into a game of Monopoly... a game I often talk them out of due to it's length.

Thanks for playing Dad... Happy Birthday! Hope this year is a winner!

Forties File Friday - Camping

Camping.... Did you like camping growing up, did you have a favourite camping trip or location, do you still camp now as a result of positive memories of camping as a child.... ?

Ahhhhh, camping. Purposely putting yourself into discomfort in the name of recreation and relaxation!
We did... we do.... and it's always more work than it seems and usually as much fun as hoped for!

My camping experiences growing up were varied and memorable! I went to Brownie camp two different summers I believe. There was a cabin that we always went to, a great set up with long tables for eating and crafts and the walls were lined with bunk beds. I made my presence known right away by falling off the top bunk in the night. (not the last time that would occur in my life either!)

I don't how we got involved in 'family camps' but we did.... these were not positive places.... One year I was a champion of stilt walking.... until I fell and banged my head... concussion at camp .... such good wholesome recreation!

Then the year to always be remembered, when I awoke to the LARGE spider kissing my lips! My lips were soo swollen... 'kind hearted people' referred to it as a snout! I couldn't put a spoon in my mouth to eat and I can remember having to go ask if I could have a straw to suck up my oatmeal with .... why no one offered to get it for me I don't know... instead of making me go up and try to speak with enormous lips... Never been much of a spider fan....

No idea if it is the same camp as any of the above mentioned but one camp had a small success... Camp Imodene.... why it had a name and the others didn't??? ... but for a campout we sure came away with some cute ceramics?!???

I know that as a family we camped with the Richards family... at least once.... I'm sure it was as exciting as could be expected with a family of ten and a family of nine!

Camping took on another type of adventure when we left one of dad's work parties I believe one time and Mum and the younger kids all went on an unplanned adventure... camping along the way and ending up at Hornby.... Hornby would for many many years be the camping, long weekend, holiday, any spare time destination for many years to come. We bought the 'gowaydumbee' cottage with the loft that would later be disastrous for Eden, but would be filled with memories and a few odd jobs......
When we first arrived at Hornby... there was always the chill in the cabin that had to be dealt with. Some how by bed time it was just right and we would snuggle into our loft beds with Dad reading books from the couch below. Then when the heat became so unbearable at oh... 3 am... there were great Skip Bo games at the old 60's diner table down where it was a little more bearable... It was a great time... we learned a lot about Mum through Hornby... Who knew she was such an outdoors woman... a pyro at heart and a fan of two seater dutch door style outhouses?
I've never been a huge fan of the beach... not liking sand much... but I do have fond memories of playing on the beach both at Hornby and at Willow's beach. The giant clam, sand dollars, rowing in the blow up boats, playing in the tidal pools..
... but this is about camping not playing at the beach and I do have another camping 'experience'.

As a young woman.. having attended girl's camp every year I passed all the required stages to become an advanced Adventurer qualifying me for the campout of a lifetime.... "the west coast trail"... This is a rugged and famous trail that many an experienced hiker looks forward to completeing and adding to their repertoire of great hiking trails....
Unfortunately... I am unable to truthfully add it to my list... other than to say... I started the west coast trail on a sunny day in August... My backpack held the maximum weight that was allotted to me... We set off in good spirits.... we had trained for this and we were ready... just not ready for what was coming our way! The first day we encountered all the things we had been told to expect... rickety bridges, rope ladders, small streams, narrow pathways, waterfalls, other hikers, but by that night we also encountered... the life flight helicopter on the beach where we were camping for the night... to take one of our leaders to the hospital for chest pains... he had a small stroke...
On we went... the next day... as it started to rain.... and rain... and rain... It rained the rest of the trip with patches of cloudy sky here and there.... But on we hiked over hill and dale... through brush and muddy trail... pulling ourselves across ravines in little wooden? boxes high above on a wire.... (who created the trail?)

As we camped each night... the goal was to try to get dry and rest. We were 15 and 16 year old girls... we were exhausted and aching. On the third night as I was sitting as close as I dared to the fire to warm myself and rotate my hiking boots next to the fire so they would dry out for wearing the next day... I failed to notice when one tipped over into the fire. It was luckily brought to my attention before the boot was completely destroyed... but there was definitely a hole burned through the side of the boot and part of the sole had become a melted mess. but it was dry now!

The next morning found us with a torrential downpour. We were camped along the shore and had quite a bit of beach walking that day... Somehow one of the tents had sprung a leak in the night and so 4 of the girls had wet gear... wet sleeping bags and essentially wet everything to now lug with them. Our spirits weren't quite so high anymore. There had been some twisted ankles along the way and cuts and scrapes which would have been inevitable. The rain had slowed us down quite a bit and now with some girls completely chilled we were struggling with getting out on schedule and intact. Then another leader fell... I don't recall what she broke but I'm fairly sure she broke a bone. It was arranged that one of the remaining leaders and an older girl would hike out to the nearest exit and send some help back.

We made a camp mid day and tried to dry out. We spent the afternoon drying out gear and waiting. By early evening the rain stopped but the winds picked up. But so did our luck.... sort of... The coast guard had been sent to our rescue! I've been told of the cute coast guard trainees that were on board that night, and of the chef's amazing dishes that he served to the girls that came aboard.... but as one of the first aboard the zodiac that took us out over the choppy waters to the rescue ship and then having to climb aboard with the sea spray whipping up at us. I'm queasy at the best of times on a still boat... this didn't improve.... We were shown to some berths where we could change into dry outfits and and lay down if we liked.... oh how I liked! I slept through the next 6 hours of adventure that I've been told was quite a feisty night at sea with all those sailors.... but I just wanted my head and stomach to stay where they belonged until we docked in the marina and found our parents who had been wakened to pick up their rescued daughters a little early from their hiking experience.

All these experiences did not stop me from taking my own children camping....
I've done the mormon trail with Caleb at 2 in a handcart, gone on ward campouts in SLC , camped in oregon, wyoming and arizona and had adventures in my own backyard.... but it's already too long a post for one Friday, so I'll save all that drama for another time.

So far responses are in from John, Dad, Eden, Paige and Mum and can be found by clicking here!

Forties File Friday - Saturday is a special day

Saturday was indeed a special day at our home growing up.

It was the day we did everything!! From normal Saturday chores on a four story victorian style house to big projects like gardens that covered 1/4 acre of the property! If one was lucky we could be called upon to move a 'rock garden'!!

But Saturdays were 'special' for another reason! EVERY Saturday morning we had pancakes. Dad cooked on Saturdays. I'm not sure how this all began, whether it was to give Mum a day off or because he enjoyed cooking and didn't feel he had the time during the week but we could count on pancakes with homemade maple syrup every Saturday morning.

I have no idea what we ate or if we ate lunch on a Saturday but I guarantee that whether it was before or after your Saturday night bath we had a piping hot bowl of Dad's beans and fresh hot cornbread! I wonder if we weren't liked to well the next morning at church each week?... (maybe this wasn't too well thought out)

Now Dad used to work as a chef or chef's assistant when he was younger and I'm sure he learned to make more than just pancakes and a pot of beans with cornbread but we rarely if ever varied from our Saturday fare!.... But if we did..... Mmmmmmmmmm.. Dad made doughnuts!! (by the way I'd really like that recipe) I didn't grow up with a great deal of knowledge about doughnuts except that Dad would make them and we had glazed or not glazed, holes galore, cake or light and fluffy! Even a few that were braided!

Dad also made Sopapillas, until later I assumed this was a name he had made up himself! We didn't argue they were tasty and who cared what he was calling them.



Then there were ........ Varenyki ........... I think Channa is about the only one who has come close to mastering the skill involved in creating this amazing meal! But we all have trouble not overeating them! Especially smothered in butter and sour cream....

I suppose with all these wonders I should mention that I didn't care for radishes even though he planted tonnes of them every year, I'm still not an eggplant fan... again.. too many planted, and I didn't understand why we had to have icky greek salad every time we went to Hornby for our vacation..... until later in life and I wonder why I didn't snarf it down when I was younger... I guess it was an acquired taste and I did acquire that one!!

But by far one of the best things we sometimes made on a Saturday would have been Root Beer Floats in our beer mugs from the homemade root beer that Dad also made. We'd have our long float spoons and our personally made glass blown straws (that Dad also made). (I'd love a set of those again.... hint, hint..)

As I'm working on menus for the month I'm drawn to this idea of creating a day of traditional foods.... and I'm sure memories....

The 2008 blogging awards!.

And the Winner is...

Valerie for most comments on my blog! 60 (that's almost as many blogs on her blogsite! I'm truly flattered)

Jim for best comment overall! click here to read...

Janet for being most inspirational! click here

Alyssa for most adorable niece to pitter patter through my home! click here

Channa for dealing with only half a face the longest and pretending to be interested in all my blogging.... I know it's just so you can be favoured a little more than Amber!

Mum for persevering and holding on to all those treasured memories! Forties File Fridays will continue in 2009... I'll ignore all protests and groaning!

John for meeting the most famous person this year Prince Charles!

Jill for staying the busiest and still choosing to find time to read my blog!

i cant speak for everyone, but here is my response.. the questions are great and fun, nothing wrong with them.. when i read them, i instantly have visions and memories that come to mind... but unfortuneatly i am usually in a hurry, dont have time to respond right then and there, and it is just so hard to get back to it, and take the time that a good question and vivid memories command.. it has a very busy time for me, and i cant even blame xmas..it isnt even a factor for me yet,, but i work mon-fri, i am single parenting dayton thru his hockey and school, trying to spell myself between town and the island, attend daytons game on the weekends, see doug at some point, my singing career, rehearsals, poster making, advertising, press release deadlines etc. the list goes on and on.. and to take the time to get back to the question at hand is often difficult at best... but rest assured that your requests are not the only things in my life that are suffering from back burner syndrome... i have not done a lick of anything for xmas, none of the usual, like baking, xmas partys, shopping, decorating.. none of it!! i cant remember the last time, i called someone , or sent an email, just to chat and catch up, i have not acknowledged a birthday for longer than i can remember,, including yours, the most recent.. and not because i forgot... that whole week of your birthday i thot of you, but did i take the time to call or write? no,, i have lists ofunfinished projects as long as my arm, and another arms length of projects i dream of an d have not yet begun,,
so it is the same with the 40's questions..
i'm afraid it is also similar to how i treat housework, and the attention i should be giving to my husband.... i'll get to it when i get to it... regrettably, auntie favorite...

Paige for being the most dedicated reader! (sometimes multiple times a day)

Sparky.... hmmmm I guess you can have the most focused individual... since you likely won't even read this blog for a month or better!

Eden for teaching Sadie to enjoy my blog from a young age and for multi-tasking so well in order to even read it!

Dad for checking my blog at work... he's got his priorities straight!

Patrick... for putting up with my newest addiction... and going out of town so you don't realize how much I really do blog! shh (he doesn't really read it much... )

Caleb, Sarah, Miles and Duncan for always giving me fodder for me to blog!

Forties File Friday: My mother always said...

Next Weeks Question will be,
"Let it Snow, Let it Snow... " What are memories you have of having snow growing up?

Once again in the order in which they were received, the answer to the question,
"My mother always said..."
What stands out as phrases or sayings that make you think of Mum?

NOVA

• Don't put it down, put it away!
• Do the thing you fear to do and fear will disappear.
• Nothing on the floor anymore! (in a sing songy voice)
• That which you persist in doing becomes easier, not because the nature of the thing decreases but your power to do it increases.
• If your solution creates a problem for another then it is not a solution
• I'm so mad I could spit nickels!
• I'm hiding in a box
• (Grandma's) A whistling woman and a crowing hen are sure to come to a no good end.

CHANNA

• Less is More. (or was it Less is better?)
• Don't put it down, put it away.
• Do the thing you fear to do and fear will disappear.
• What 3 places have you looked?
• Look with your hands.
• A gum chewing girl and a cud chewing cow, there's a difference I'll allow, it's the intelligent look on the face of the cow.

PAIGE

Lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine!

The notes posted all over the house.... I guess they aren't really memories since they still are... even in our new homes!! In the fridge, on the toilet, on the door, on the wall, washing machine, inside the cupboards, on the t.v.... I guess you could say Mum is still saying things....

DAD

My mother Roberta Mae would always respond when I would ask one of life’s imponderable questions. “ That is a wait and see!” That just about covered everything so I would just have to keep waiting to find out what I wanted to know.

JIM

This is one thing mother said in my teens perhaps even later teens...

"Even if I am Wrong I am right...I am your mother..."

As you know, mothers can get flustered when addressing teens and it would often come out,

"Even If I am Right I'm wrong... I'm your mother"

If either version was said you new it was in desperation.

JILL

There were two things that mum would say, (fairly often as I recall) and would use interchangeably, usually resulting in a child to stand still, staring off, head tilted with a dumbfounded look on their face... because it was unclear whether it was a compliment or an insult. In fact it was cleverly disguised as both at once, (which I figured out later in life) and I quote

"You re not as dumb as you look "

and

" You're smarter than you look"

This is when you did something conceived as being clever, or correct anyways.....

and of course the infamous.... " Layovers for medlers"

which was usually said in good humour ( as rosette would say)

usually in conjunction with a surprise, treat or present..

I recently pondered this age-old favorite saying of mums, ... to be specific..when I was stuck in an airport for a long while...

"Layovers for medlers" hmmm.. i thought to myself, I thought..that if I were a nosey, rude person that didn't mind their own business, and I was required to spend a lot of time in airports waiting for connecting flights.... that I could actually be experiencing a " Layovers for medlers".

"Be Good and have fun"

This one was actually Grandmas saying, and I don't know if mum ever said it, perhaps because they are kind of both ' givens', in that you hope and expect the child to be good, and you hope and expect them to try and have fun.

I have used this one on my kids, however, usually more elaborately detailed, being somewhat more specific than grandma's loose instructions. I would try and define my versions of " good" and " fun " ...in 5000 words or less.... as I was dropping them off somewhere, still talking a blue streak.. long after the car door has been shut, and I am fumbling for the electric window button, so at least my final words of infinite wisdom can be heard by anyone within earshot, ....and usually long after my child is out of sight....

'Ding Dong' - pretty self explanatory... mums version of swearing

What 3 places have you looked? again...pretty self explanatory

"Sit you doon"

now this one was not from growing up, it was more recent, like the past 10 yrs... perhaps, the longing for Scotland burned in her blood... she began to come up with these little scottish habits? not to be confused with her mush habit .

FHB aka Family Hold Back ... This one was the family code, discreetly slipped into dinnertime conversation, when we had missionaries, and lonely shut in seniors, (orphaned by their own families) . This was to inform us that the chef had miscalculated the number of guests and that there would not be enough food for all.... that is.. if we were to dish up the usual gathright sized mountains of mashed potatoes, and jim-size portions of creamed corn and roast beef and lakes of gravy, that we would inevitably like to dispense on to our plates. it was for those of us that were to young, to immature , too hungry ( or all of the above) to forsee the potential disasterous situation of the hostess... to run out of food !!!

For example... " Jim, can you please pass the peas and the FHB?"

"Dont put it down put it away!" ya.. ya..

"Do it well or not at all !" now this was contradictory, as i don't ever recall having the option of not doing the task...

Its better to be silent, and thought a fool, than to speak up and remove all doubt

This was actually Prez. Abe Lincolns saying i believe..

But I heard it from mum first, I dont know if she was referring to dad.. who was the silent type...

I am sure there are more, but I am out of time for reminicsing down childhood lane....

MUM

Hmmmmm, how do I approach this topic.. since its the repeat of my sayings or mini pontifications, maybe I wasn't even invited to participate!

I think my fun will be to hear the sayings that have been remembered ....and to see who remembers what...

There were probably sayings in the earlier days that may have been dropped and newer ones for the later kids that cropped up. . we'll soon see on the new blog version of an old attempt at a family newsletter and the revival of the forties file..

I remember sayings from 'my own' mother... that I don't think I used with you all, but that have come to me often over the years when I have needed them..

I'll send them in the blog comments.... in the mean time I'll wait to see what quotes have been immortalized...

EDEN

• happy day
• nothing on the floor anymore
  
• don't put it down put it away
  
• a layover for a meddler
• it's not that they're thoughtless its just they don't think
  
• in my day...
  
• my generation...
  
• I could spit nickles
  
• old head on young shoulders
  
• no whistling
  
• that which we persist in doing becomes easier not because the nature of the thing changes but our ability to do it increases
  
• continue to do what you've always done you'll continue to get what you've always got
  
• it's between you and the lord
  
• no gum till you're 8

Forties File Friday: Illnesses and injuries - Dad

DAD

It would seem that I was very accident-prone and that hasn’t changed very much.

When I was about three and one half I fell in the bathroom and laid my right hand on the top of a gas fired space heater. I must have been very off balance as I ended up with second and third degree burns over the whole area of my hand. My little paw was bandaged up with unguenteen ointment for some time and eventually the fingers had to be bandaged separately to keep them from healing together.

Shortly after starting kindergarten I had taken the trash out and when I came in I reached up to latch the screen door so that the bugs couldn’t come in. Unfortunately, my left hand was in the way and the door pinched the end of my little finger off almost down to the last joint. Nail and all! With time the fingertip grew back but to this day the little finger on my left hand is shorter than the one on the right hand.

We had a Chevy station wagon of 1930 something vintage, which later became known as a woody do to the wooden body. On the way home from grocery shopping one evening another car hit us nearly head on. There weren’t any seatbelts in those days and I was thrown head first through the front window. I ended up on the hood. Again I was taken to the emergency room and they removed a piece of glass from my forehead and stitched me up. I have a small scar at the hairline over my left eye from that accident. Due to my hairline retreating up my head the scar would better be located on my forehead.

When I was nine I was working on a chemistry experiment trying to extract chlorophyll from leaves. I was making a cold finger by bending glass tubing into the desired shape using an alcohol lamp and a blowpipe to heat the glass. I had just filled the burner and apparently had spilled some alcohol on a tissue. The tissue caught fire and when my grandmother came in from outside she shouted that I was on fire. When I jumped up, I knocked the bottle of alcohol off the table and it broke covering me in burning alcohol. I ran to the bathroom and jumped in the tube with the water on full blast to try and put out the fire using wet towels to smoother the flames. When I stood up and took my jeans down the flames whooshed out the bottom of the legs where they had been burning on the inside. Brother Dave brought the hose in from the yard and put out the fire in the living room. As we did not have a car at the time Grammie got a neighbor to take me to the emergency room at the hospital. I had second and third degree burns over 85% of my body so they just wrapped me up in gauze soaked in Vaseline to keep me from loosing fluids and gave Grammie a prescription for pain medication and sent me home with the prognosis that I would not live. Nobody could survive burns over that much area of the body. Grammie just kept giving me liquids to keep me hydrated and kept me as comfortable as she could. Once I had survived a whole week they had me brought in and changed my wrapping. The stench of burnt flesh made me nauseous and the bandages were stuck in the scabs over the third degree burn areas and pealing them off was very painful. Along with the lots of liquid Grammie gave me every kind of handwork to keep me occupied. I learned to do embroidery and knitting and crochet. My teacher at school would send work home for me so that I wouldn’t get behind in my class. It was months before my skin grew back and I still have one scar on my upper left leg on the inside where the burn was the deepest.

When I was 14 I was living with Mom and step dad Cliff Winters in Ohio at Wright Patterson Air Force Base. I had a paper route and delivered nearly 300 Dayton Daily News papers a day. Dave and I decided to go to a movie and as Dave’s bicycle had a flat he was going to pump me on my bicycle. I was setting on the carrier rack over the rear wheel. When we started up a little incline. Dave stood up to get more power but he swerved and my left foot got pulled into the spokes of the rear wheel. Using the bicycle as a crutch I managed to walk on the toes of my left foot back to the house several blocks away. It was dark and I could not see the damage but my foot was wet and warm and sticky. When I got home and they rolled my sock down the skin covering the heel of my foot was all down under the heel and the tendons and bone were visible. I was rushed to the base hospital and spent the night being sewed back together. The doctor was not real sure that I would be able to walk on that foot again. He said I would always need a crutch as the akeeles tendon was nearly severed and they don’t heal very often. I knew that I had managed to walk home on it so I was determined that I would walk on it again. While it was healing the PE teacherat school accused me of faking an injury to avoid having to do PE so he had me set down and unwrap my heal to show him the injury. I believe that he went and heaved up his lunch from the smell and the gore. I had to go to the doctor to have it rewrapped. They soaked it in hydrogen peroxide and the green foam around the injury caused me to pass out.

I managed to make it through high school with nothing more serious than sprained wrists from trying to learn how to ice skate. Mom was dying with bone cancer so we were transferred back to Cliff’s home of record, which was Arizona. He sold our home in Madison, Wisconsin and bought a new one in Mesa, Arizona. On the bases of my having won a National Merit Scholarship to the University of Wisconsin, Dad borrowed my school savings to finance the move. After we arrived in Mesa Mom only lived a few weeks and then I with Grammie’s help had to look after my younger siblings. Cliff bought me a 1939 Chrysler instead of paying me back for the funds that he had borrowed. Then Cliff remarried and asked me to leave home as his new wife didn’t feel that she was old enough to have an almost grown son at home.. I was on my own paying rent and shifting for myself before I was 19. One weekend I was invited by another family to go bullhead fishing up on the Verde river. On the way home a drunk driver ran into my car and I got a crack in my skull. Because of the possibility of concussion my Class “B” drivers license was suspended and I lost my job driving a delivery truck for a drug store. I knew that I was coming up on Military Draft age so I enlisted in the Army rather than starve. They didn’t ask if I was cracked so I got in. Sure enough because I had driven truck as a civilian I was immediately assigned to drive a tractor trailer truck hauling troops to the gun range.

What would happen next to me? Well that was a wait and see!!!!