... Pumpkin Pie made from Halloween pumpkins? Have I told you that story? I've told all my stories many times and yet, each time I post something, someone in my immediate family says, "I've never heard that story before!"
Well, back in the days of what I call my Molly Mormon, sweet-young-thing period, I was convinced that in order to belong to the flock and earn my Suzy Homemaker Award, it was necessary to know how to do a little bit of everything and make everything from scratch. It was okay to purchase pumpkins for Halloween decorating if I hadn't grown my own but a real crime to just toss them once the harvest celebrations were over. So I baked the pumpkins and made pie with the pulp.
My husband and I and our two kids moved ourselves and our meager belongings from Salt Lake City to Sparks, NV in early fall, 1976. Arrangements had been made for help to move into a house but the house wasn't available on the day we finally drove off the desert and back into civilization so the plan to have help fell through. After days of being cooped up in a tiny room at the Holiday Inn, our stuff in a U-Haul in the Inn's parking lot, Frank and I finally got the go-ahead and began moving our rag-tag belongings into the house, ourselves. Neighbors across the street must have been curious, watching us and came to offer help carrying in such things as bolts of cloth, big commercial-sized canisters of staples like sugar and flour and chocolate chips, quart bottles of home-canned stuff.
When we finished, I asked them to join us for pie in a few days when we got settled a bit. Liz and Dick came. My pumpkin pies looked fabulous. She asked how I made them. When I explained that I had baked pumpkins to use for the filling, she said she'd never heard of doing that, while exchanging looks with her husband, as though to confirm that indeed, they found us odd and hippie-like. Frank did have facial hair and longer locks and to satisfy their curiosity about some of the stuff they'd helped carry in that moving day, I'd told them I sewed my family's clothes, made bread routinely, and canned food for storage. Liz and Dick. Each of them took a big bite of pie. There was silence. I quickly took a bite. The pie had NO SUGAR in it!
Now, when I serve pumpkin pie, and because I've told them this story, my family always asks, "Does the pie have sugar in it?" Could this be why I always cut a sliver (sometimes a little bit more) of pie to taste the minute it comes out of the oven? It could!
I love making pie, even and especially pumpkin pie in fall and winter months. And I confess. I left the sugar out one other time but making sugarless pumpkin pie is not a part of me, on a regular basis.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Monday, October 15, 2012
Who Wants to Know?
Who Wants to Know
- by Berton Braley
When people ask "How are you?"
It's just a salutation,
And common sense should bar you
From lengthy explanation.
It's not the kind of query
Requesting diagnosis
Of each and every dreary
Reaction and neurosis.
It doesn't mean devising
An answer to the question,
In which you're itemizing
What's wrong with your digestion.
If operations scar you,
Don't analyze and spell 'em,
And when folks ask "How are you?"
For heaven's sake don't tell 'em!
-----
These words of wisdom are a reminder to myself... I had friends I hadn't seen in a long time stop by the house, unannounced, recently. I had unusually loose lips (for me) that evening, and my response to their asking how I had been was far too long. Now that I'm not at the office to have that question ask of me many times daily, I'm a bit out of practice with my quick and ready response: "I am better than I would be if I wasn't as good as I am!" Doggone frontal lobe deterioration! I'm losing my grip on long-held inhibitions during face-to-face conversation. Still an introvert...but evidently, that's only a part of who I am.
- by Berton Braley
When people ask "How are you?"
It's just a salutation,
And common sense should bar you
From lengthy explanation.
It's not the kind of query
Requesting diagnosis
Of each and every dreary
Reaction and neurosis.
It doesn't mean devising
An answer to the question,
In which you're itemizing
What's wrong with your digestion.
If operations scar you,
Don't analyze and spell 'em,
And when folks ask "How are you?"
For heaven's sake don't tell 'em!
-----
These words of wisdom are a reminder to myself... I had friends I hadn't seen in a long time stop by the house, unannounced, recently. I had unusually loose lips (for me) that evening, and my response to their asking how I had been was far too long. Now that I'm not at the office to have that question ask of me many times daily, I'm a bit out of practice with my quick and ready response: "I am better than I would be if I wasn't as good as I am!" Doggone frontal lobe deterioration! I'm losing my grip on long-held inhibitions during face-to-face conversation. Still an introvert...but evidently, that's only a part of who I am.
A Message For My Grandkids
The Watcher
- Margaret Widdemer
She always leaned to watch for us,
Anxious if we were late,
In winter at the window,
In summer by the gate.
And though we mocked her tenderly,
Who had such foolish care,
This long way home would seem more safe
Because she waited there.
Her thoughts were all so full of us--
She never could forget--
And so I think that where she is
She must be waiting yet.
Waiting 'till we come home to her,
Anxious if we are late--
Watching from heaven's window,
Leaning from heaven's gate.
- Margaret Widdemer
She always leaned to watch for us,
Anxious if we were late,
In winter at the window,
In summer by the gate.
And though we mocked her tenderly,
Who had such foolish care,
This long way home would seem more safe
Because she waited there.
Her thoughts were all so full of us--
She never could forget--
And so I think that where she is
She must be waiting yet.
Waiting 'till we come home to her,
Anxious if we are late--
Watching from heaven's window,
Leaning from heaven's gate.
How to Kiss a Girl
According to my mother, this song was a favorite of Grandpa Peg Leg Sam's--her grandfather:
How to Kiss a Girl
O' the girls in all creation loves a lover's loving kiss.
And the girls in every nation love to share this heavenly bliss.
But there is an art in kissing, That's what the girls all say.
For the fun you won't be missing, If you kiss a girl this way.
First you put your loving arms around her,
And you hold her in a fond embrace.
Then she rests her head upon your shoulder,
And you look down into her face.
Hug her just as tight as you can squeeze her,
And while your heart's all in a whirl,
Let your lips to hers be pressed...
And she will do the rest...
Now that's the way to kiss a girl!
January 5, 1964. I began teaching a new Sunday School class for eleven-year-olds in Haven Ward in South Salt Lake. But this is not why I remember this day. My group of friends were making plans for the Gold and Green Ball. We listened to records and ate goodies. Frank asked to drive me home. We'd met, maybe even dated a bit, the first time the previous summer or fall, attending a surprise birthday party for his friend. The friend had a car accident and never arrived at the party. All of the invited guests knew the friend but none of the guests knew each other, so we all hung around for a time, played ping pong--my first time--then left when news came that the friend was okay.
Frank walked me to the front door of my apartment. He and I stood in the front hallway, talking about nothing, really, and then he kissed me! Others had tried but I had been wary. Didn't see that coming! I can't speak for him, but in my own head I heard, "First kiss! Is that all there is to it? Big deal!"
Since early June of '62, I'd been living in Salt Lake City on "The Avenues" with roommates, first on "B" Street and then at the Caithness up on the hill, North of the Catholic Cathedral in the northeast part of the City. Once we completed school, we moved to Commonwealth Avenue, sharing the apartment at my Aunt's house, in a neighborhood of older homes. My cousin, Leone, lived in the house, also. Fitts' Novelty Shop was at one end of the street, a tiny grocery store at the other, a bakery just beyond that and the county hospital behind us on 21st South and State Street. The church was within walking distance; my stake president lived just down the street. His daughter was talking with Leone about a make-over for Carol, who had been "waiting" for one of Mary Jane's brothers--a missionary serving in Austria but due home in June of '63. I thought their conversation was so silly. Just before his homecoming, he got a "Dear Frank" letter. I guess someone closer to home had taken a liking to the "make-over"!
In high school, I dated very little but found fun in the 'Real World', with the likes of Rulon, the dancer and Robbie, the sailor. There was the octopus whose name I can't remember. Being with him was an aerobic experience! He didn't seem to know where his hands and arms belonged. That pairing didn't last. Cousin Leone then made it her mission to match Frank and I up. My roommate really liked Frank. I was more interested in his brother, John. John had his eye on their sister's friend, Judy, so my interest turned to one of the South cousins, Tom. Mike and Mark were very persistent in their attempts to arrange a date with me. No chemistry there! So Mark resorted to trickery. He played an instrument--violin, trumpet, something. I did tons of piano accompanying and had been his accompanist a couple of times for ward functions. He fed me a line, asking me to accompany him at some work-related meeting, in the early evening. "Not more than an hour", he said. Although Frank and I had plans for later that evening, it seemed that I could do both.
When Mark headed out of town, I knew I had been played. As it turned out, this evening had been planned in advance, required tickets, was a full-blown office holiday party featuring a formal sit-down dinner at Log Haven, 20 minutes up Millcreek Canyon, a fancy, dressed-up affair. I was in a casual, turquoise blue wool skirt and sweater with flats. I was so angry and wanted to leave but I was stranded, with no other way to get home, and no way to let anyone know where I was. My misery didn't end in an hour, nor even after the event was over. The night had turned stormy. Getting back down the canyon was treacherous at best. Mark wasn't a skilled driver. It was a scary time. I had been gone for hours. And I had no coat! And wet feet. At my apartment, discussion was in progress among my roommates, my cousin, and Frank about filing a missing person report.
So why am I thinking of events of summer and winters past tonight, after a warm fall day in October? I'm unsure. Great-Grandpa's song has been replaying in my head, though I only remember parts of the tune. I never knew him but I can hear my mother's voice, singing it, then laughing at it's silliness. Only pieces of the melody come through. I think of Mother in the fall. She participated fully, when her health permitted, in the events and activities of this season.
I grew quite fond of kissing after my introduction to it. And I love the little details of the fall season...they are a part of me.
How to Kiss a Girl
O' the girls in all creation loves a lover's loving kiss.
And the girls in every nation love to share this heavenly bliss.
But there is an art in kissing, That's what the girls all say.
For the fun you won't be missing, If you kiss a girl this way.
First you put your loving arms around her,
And you hold her in a fond embrace.
Then she rests her head upon your shoulder,
And you look down into her face.
Hug her just as tight as you can squeeze her,
And while your heart's all in a whirl,
Let your lips to hers be pressed...
And she will do the rest...
Now that's the way to kiss a girl!
January 5, 1964. I began teaching a new Sunday School class for eleven-year-olds in Haven Ward in South Salt Lake. But this is not why I remember this day. My group of friends were making plans for the Gold and Green Ball. We listened to records and ate goodies. Frank asked to drive me home. We'd met, maybe even dated a bit, the first time the previous summer or fall, attending a surprise birthday party for his friend. The friend had a car accident and never arrived at the party. All of the invited guests knew the friend but none of the guests knew each other, so we all hung around for a time, played ping pong--my first time--then left when news came that the friend was okay.
Frank walked me to the front door of my apartment. He and I stood in the front hallway, talking about nothing, really, and then he kissed me! Others had tried but I had been wary. Didn't see that coming! I can't speak for him, but in my own head I heard, "First kiss! Is that all there is to it? Big deal!"
Since early June of '62, I'd been living in Salt Lake City on "The Avenues" with roommates, first on "B" Street and then at the Caithness up on the hill, North of the Catholic Cathedral in the northeast part of the City. Once we completed school, we moved to Commonwealth Avenue, sharing the apartment at my Aunt's house, in a neighborhood of older homes. My cousin, Leone, lived in the house, also. Fitts' Novelty Shop was at one end of the street, a tiny grocery store at the other, a bakery just beyond that and the county hospital behind us on 21st South and State Street. The church was within walking distance; my stake president lived just down the street. His daughter was talking with Leone about a make-over for Carol, who had been "waiting" for one of Mary Jane's brothers--a missionary serving in Austria but due home in June of '63. I thought their conversation was so silly. Just before his homecoming, he got a "Dear Frank" letter. I guess someone closer to home had taken a liking to the "make-over"!
In high school, I dated very little but found fun in the 'Real World', with the likes of Rulon, the dancer and Robbie, the sailor. There was the octopus whose name I can't remember. Being with him was an aerobic experience! He didn't seem to know where his hands and arms belonged. That pairing didn't last. Cousin Leone then made it her mission to match Frank and I up. My roommate really liked Frank. I was more interested in his brother, John. John had his eye on their sister's friend, Judy, so my interest turned to one of the South cousins, Tom. Mike and Mark were very persistent in their attempts to arrange a date with me. No chemistry there! So Mark resorted to trickery. He played an instrument--violin, trumpet, something. I did tons of piano accompanying and had been his accompanist a couple of times for ward functions. He fed me a line, asking me to accompany him at some work-related meeting, in the early evening. "Not more than an hour", he said. Although Frank and I had plans for later that evening, it seemed that I could do both.
When Mark headed out of town, I knew I had been played. As it turned out, this evening had been planned in advance, required tickets, was a full-blown office holiday party featuring a formal sit-down dinner at Log Haven, 20 minutes up Millcreek Canyon, a fancy, dressed-up affair. I was in a casual, turquoise blue wool skirt and sweater with flats. I was so angry and wanted to leave but I was stranded, with no other way to get home, and no way to let anyone know where I was. My misery didn't end in an hour, nor even after the event was over. The night had turned stormy. Getting back down the canyon was treacherous at best. Mark wasn't a skilled driver. It was a scary time. I had been gone for hours. And I had no coat! And wet feet. At my apartment, discussion was in progress among my roommates, my cousin, and Frank about filing a missing person report.
So why am I thinking of events of summer and winters past tonight, after a warm fall day in October? I'm unsure. Great-Grandpa's song has been replaying in my head, though I only remember parts of the tune. I never knew him but I can hear my mother's voice, singing it, then laughing at it's silliness. Only pieces of the melody come through. I think of Mother in the fall. She participated fully, when her health permitted, in the events and activities of this season.
I grew quite fond of kissing after my introduction to it. And I love the little details of the fall season...they are a part of me.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Havertapes and Apple Hill
It's October. Fall has come to the Truckee Meadows, though here in Nevada the blue of mostly-cloudless sky contrasts with bright sunshine and temperatures rise to comfortable levels by mid-day. One could consider it still summertime. There are unmistakable cues, however, that fall is being ushered in. Early morning air is cool, even nippy. Garden vegetables have passed their peak of productivity though there are still tomatoes on the vines in my backyard raised boxes, a few green beans, one little crook neck squash. Bush cucumbers are in bloom as are the marigolds. Those two didn't get the memo about the need to bloom in mid-summer. Not only did the marigolds not come up in the planters and bloom on schedule, though so carefully planted among edibles as a deterrent to pests, a few specimens are now tall and awash with blossoms...in the pathways between the boxes!
It was just such an Indian summer-like fall when friends, the Havertapes, invited me and my two kids to join them and their three for a trek to Apple Hill, located about an hour outside Sacramento, in Placerville, CA. We piled into Jack and MaryJo's VW bus, kids and adults dressed for a summer's day of fun in T-tops, shorts and sandals.
The scenery along our drive was spectacular, with foliage color changes unfolding as far as our eyes could see. Apple Hill refers to an area comprised of 55 ranchers, a group spawned from the plight of 16 pear farmers who had been hit some 36 years ago by a terrible pear blight. In a fight to survive, they formed an association and together, reasoned that with the rich soil all around and a longer growing season than Washington, they could compete in the market by growing apples. Marketing strategies included inviting the public to tour the area, drive from farm to farm, and be entertained in a variety of ways including good old fashioned fun for kids and adults alike. Everything that could be made to eat from apples was also readily available, as well as recipes and cooking demonstrations. We had a great time playing and eating.
It was late afternoon when we started the trip home. It wasn't a long drive. We'd all be home by dinnertime. The skies clouded over. The temperature cooled. It happened quickly and unexpectedly. By the time we neared Donnor Pass, we found ourselves in the middle of a raging snow storm, a real blizzard. The Pass was closed for a time. The kids were excited by the sight of snow and quickly hopped out to see if it would pack for snow balls and a little action. Three adults quickly herded the five back into the vehicle. Consider that those old VW buses only produced inside heat when the vehicle was moving. Parked there on the top of the Sierras, even with the engine and the heater running, we were all freezing! Everyone was hungry. We sat there atop the mountain into the night. Once the plows had made a pass, Caltrans opened the road but only to those with chains, snow tires, and such. VW buses were never meant to drive through snow in such depths as were quickly accumulating all around us.
Poor Jack. I felt so bad for him that night. He had chains but had great difficulty getting them put on. Again and again, he would leave the driver's seat inside and lay in the snow beside the tires, a light summer shirt, shorts, and sandals his only protection from the wet and the cold, trying to get those blasted chains to work. I mean, really! Frozen fingers! Chains that didn't seem the right size! Darker than dark all around! Then, at last--success! I don't know how he did it, considering the extreme conditions and our unpreparedness for such. Slowly, we were allowed to join those who had chosen not to return to Placerville or go on to Sacramento to wait out the storm, in a brave and slow creep down the mountain into Reno.
Years later, each time I prepared to make my once-a-month drive over Donnor to Oakland for my scheduled time at the organ in the Temple, I always packed the trunk with food and water, blankets, jumper cables, and chains plus enough cash to pay a Caltrans staffer to put the chains on at the top and take them off at the bottom. In my almost-four-year assignment in Oakland, I had to ask for their assistance only once. Lesson learned, and...memories of friends...all a part of who I am.
It was just such an Indian summer-like fall when friends, the Havertapes, invited me and my two kids to join them and their three for a trek to Apple Hill, located about an hour outside Sacramento, in Placerville, CA. We piled into Jack and MaryJo's VW bus, kids and adults dressed for a summer's day of fun in T-tops, shorts and sandals.
The scenery along our drive was spectacular, with foliage color changes unfolding as far as our eyes could see. Apple Hill refers to an area comprised of 55 ranchers, a group spawned from the plight of 16 pear farmers who had been hit some 36 years ago by a terrible pear blight. In a fight to survive, they formed an association and together, reasoned that with the rich soil all around and a longer growing season than Washington, they could compete in the market by growing apples. Marketing strategies included inviting the public to tour the area, drive from farm to farm, and be entertained in a variety of ways including good old fashioned fun for kids and adults alike. Everything that could be made to eat from apples was also readily available, as well as recipes and cooking demonstrations. We had a great time playing and eating.
It was late afternoon when we started the trip home. It wasn't a long drive. We'd all be home by dinnertime. The skies clouded over. The temperature cooled. It happened quickly and unexpectedly. By the time we neared Donnor Pass, we found ourselves in the middle of a raging snow storm, a real blizzard. The Pass was closed for a time. The kids were excited by the sight of snow and quickly hopped out to see if it would pack for snow balls and a little action. Three adults quickly herded the five back into the vehicle. Consider that those old VW buses only produced inside heat when the vehicle was moving. Parked there on the top of the Sierras, even with the engine and the heater running, we were all freezing! Everyone was hungry. We sat there atop the mountain into the night. Once the plows had made a pass, Caltrans opened the road but only to those with chains, snow tires, and such. VW buses were never meant to drive through snow in such depths as were quickly accumulating all around us.
Poor Jack. I felt so bad for him that night. He had chains but had great difficulty getting them put on. Again and again, he would leave the driver's seat inside and lay in the snow beside the tires, a light summer shirt, shorts, and sandals his only protection from the wet and the cold, trying to get those blasted chains to work. I mean, really! Frozen fingers! Chains that didn't seem the right size! Darker than dark all around! Then, at last--success! I don't know how he did it, considering the extreme conditions and our unpreparedness for such. Slowly, we were allowed to join those who had chosen not to return to Placerville or go on to Sacramento to wait out the storm, in a brave and slow creep down the mountain into Reno.
Years later, each time I prepared to make my once-a-month drive over Donnor to Oakland for my scheduled time at the organ in the Temple, I always packed the trunk with food and water, blankets, jumper cables, and chains plus enough cash to pay a Caltrans staffer to put the chains on at the top and take them off at the bottom. In my almost-four-year assignment in Oakland, I had to ask for their assistance only once. Lesson learned, and...memories of friends...all a part of who I am.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Mother's Favorites
My mother, Myrtle, was a student of elocution, she said, and felt compelled to pass on to her children what she had learned from her mother, Edna. Here's a sample:
"Ma and The Auto" - Author Unknown
Before we take an auto ride, Pa says to Ma, "My dear,
Now just remember I don't need suggestions from the rear.
If you will just sit still back there, and hold in check your fright,
I'll take you where you want to go and get you back alright.
Remember that my hearings good, and also, I'm not blind,
And I can drive this car, without suggestions from behind."
Ma promises, that she'll be good, then off we gaily start,
But soon she notices up ahead, a peddler with his cart.
"You'd better toot your horn," says she, "To let him know you're near."
"Turn out!" she cries, and Pa replies, "Just shriek at him, my dear."
An' then he adds, "Some day, some guy will make a lot of dough,
A puttin' horns on town car seats for wimmen folks to blow."
Then farther on, Ma cries, "He signaled fer a turn!"
An' Pa says, "Oh did he?" in tones hot enough to burn.
"Oh there's a boy on roller skates," cries Ma, "Now do go slow."
"I'm sure he doesn't see us," an' Pa says, "I duno.
I don't think I need glasses but really it may be,
That I am blind an' cannot see what's right in front of me!"
If Pa should speed the car a bit, someone to hurry past,
Ma whispers, "Do be careful, you're driving much too fast."
An' all the time she's pointing out the dangers of the street,
An' keeps him posted on the road where trolly cars he'll meet.
Last night, when we got home, Pa sighed an said, "My dear,
I'm sure we all enjoyed the drive you gave us from the rear."
-----
"Foolish Questions" - Author unknown
You hear foolish questions and no doubt you wonder why,
The person who will ask them will expect a sane reply.
Did you ever bring a girl a box of candy after tea?
Did you notice how she grabs it, then she'll ask, "Is this for me?"
Foolish question. You should answer when you can,
"No! The candy is for your mother or for John, the hired man.
I just wanted you to see it, now I'll take it all away."
That's the kind of foolish question you'll hear most every day.
Or if you've been away from town for several days or weeks,
What is it that your friends will ask, the first time that they speak?
They rush along to meet you and hug you,
Saying, "Oh, are you back?"
Foolish question. And to answer in that line,
You should say, "No, I'm still traveling on the Rhine.
I'm still in Europe and I won't be back 'till May!"
Now that's the kind of question you'll hear most every day.
And then most every morning there is someone 'round the place,
Who sees you take your shaving cup and lather up your face,
And as you give your razor a preliminary wave,
Someone will always ask you, "Are you going to shave?"
Foolish question. And your answer is, I hope,
"No, I'm really not prepared for shaving, I just like the taste of soap.
I just use the shaving brush and paint myself this way."
That's the kind of foolish question you will hear most every day.
And then of course, you've met someone who will stop you on your way,
And ask where you are going and will listen while you say,
You are going to the funeral of your neighbor, Brother Ned,
Then as soon as you have said it, they will ask, "Why, is he dead?"
Foolish questions. And you might as well reply,
"No, he just thought he'd have his funeral first, then after awhile he'd die.
Brother Ned was so original, he wanted it that way."
Foolish questions, that you hear most every day.
Or if you should have a caller some afternoon at five,
And as you should set conversing, and the doctor should arrive,
Would your visitor be silent? Do you think that she'd be still?
Or when she saw the doctor coming would she ask, "Is someone ill?"
Foolish questions. And you should answer with a little shrug,
"No one is ill. We simply call the doctor in to beat the parlor rug!
Sometimes, he'll tune the grand piano if we want the thing to play."
Now that's the kind of foolish questions you'll hear most every day.
Supposing that an elevator boy forgot to close the doors,
And you'd fall down the shaft past 27 floors,
And as you reached the bottom and were lying there invert,
The first one that would reach you would exclaim, "Are you hurt?"
Foolish questions. And your dying words are, "No!
I was in an awful hurry and the elevator runs too bloomin' slow!
Now that's the kind of foolish questions,
We hear most every day.
-----
I can hear my mother's voice, as I type a couple of her favorites. She also loved one called, "Peach Pies" and another one--"Pockets". I, like some of my siblings, memorized and acted out each of these on stage, as children, at some church or community occasion, or at family reunions. My mother's original writings, the songs she sang, and pieces such as these are a part of who I am.
"Ma and The Auto" - Author Unknown
Before we take an auto ride, Pa says to Ma, "My dear,
Now just remember I don't need suggestions from the rear.
If you will just sit still back there, and hold in check your fright,
I'll take you where you want to go and get you back alright.
Remember that my hearings good, and also, I'm not blind,
And I can drive this car, without suggestions from behind."
Ma promises, that she'll be good, then off we gaily start,
But soon she notices up ahead, a peddler with his cart.
"You'd better toot your horn," says she, "To let him know you're near."
"Turn out!" she cries, and Pa replies, "Just shriek at him, my dear."
An' then he adds, "Some day, some guy will make a lot of dough,
A puttin' horns on town car seats for wimmen folks to blow."
Then farther on, Ma cries, "He signaled fer a turn!"
An' Pa says, "Oh did he?" in tones hot enough to burn.
"Oh there's a boy on roller skates," cries Ma, "Now do go slow."
"I'm sure he doesn't see us," an' Pa says, "I duno.
I don't think I need glasses but really it may be,
That I am blind an' cannot see what's right in front of me!"
If Pa should speed the car a bit, someone to hurry past,
Ma whispers, "Do be careful, you're driving much too fast."
An' all the time she's pointing out the dangers of the street,
An' keeps him posted on the road where trolly cars he'll meet.
Last night, when we got home, Pa sighed an said, "My dear,
I'm sure we all enjoyed the drive you gave us from the rear."
-----
"Foolish Questions" - Author unknown
You hear foolish questions and no doubt you wonder why,
The person who will ask them will expect a sane reply.
Did you ever bring a girl a box of candy after tea?
Did you notice how she grabs it, then she'll ask, "Is this for me?"
Foolish question. You should answer when you can,
"No! The candy is for your mother or for John, the hired man.
I just wanted you to see it, now I'll take it all away."
That's the kind of foolish question you'll hear most every day.
Or if you've been away from town for several days or weeks,
What is it that your friends will ask, the first time that they speak?
They rush along to meet you and hug you,
Saying, "Oh, are you back?"
Foolish question. And to answer in that line,
You should say, "No, I'm still traveling on the Rhine.
I'm still in Europe and I won't be back 'till May!"
Now that's the kind of question you'll hear most every day.
And then most every morning there is someone 'round the place,
Who sees you take your shaving cup and lather up your face,
And as you give your razor a preliminary wave,
Someone will always ask you, "Are you going to shave?"
Foolish question. And your answer is, I hope,
"No, I'm really not prepared for shaving, I just like the taste of soap.
I just use the shaving brush and paint myself this way."
That's the kind of foolish question you will hear most every day.
And then of course, you've met someone who will stop you on your way,
And ask where you are going and will listen while you say,
You are going to the funeral of your neighbor, Brother Ned,
Then as soon as you have said it, they will ask, "Why, is he dead?"
Foolish questions. And you might as well reply,
"No, he just thought he'd have his funeral first, then after awhile he'd die.
Brother Ned was so original, he wanted it that way."
Foolish questions, that you hear most every day.
Or if you should have a caller some afternoon at five,
And as you should set conversing, and the doctor should arrive,
Would your visitor be silent? Do you think that she'd be still?
Or when she saw the doctor coming would she ask, "Is someone ill?"
Foolish questions. And you should answer with a little shrug,
"No one is ill. We simply call the doctor in to beat the parlor rug!
Sometimes, he'll tune the grand piano if we want the thing to play."
Now that's the kind of foolish questions you'll hear most every day.
Supposing that an elevator boy forgot to close the doors,
And you'd fall down the shaft past 27 floors,
And as you reached the bottom and were lying there invert,
The first one that would reach you would exclaim, "Are you hurt?"
Foolish questions. And your dying words are, "No!
I was in an awful hurry and the elevator runs too bloomin' slow!
Now that's the kind of foolish questions,
We hear most every day.
-----
I can hear my mother's voice, as I type a couple of her favorites. She also loved one called, "Peach Pies" and another one--"Pockets". I, like some of my siblings, memorized and acted out each of these on stage, as children, at some church or community occasion, or at family reunions. My mother's original writings, the songs she sang, and pieces such as these are a part of who I am.
Monday, September 24, 2012
More Bits and Pieces
In the absence of new writing, ...
September 16, 2010, Sparks, NV - CSouth
Ode to a cucumber,
Short, stout, and spiney.
Delish to my taste buds,
No fat to my hiney.
Vine tomatoes were sparce,
Yum! Flavor a plenty.
Right here in the valley,
So good in my belly.
Carrots! Fun to pull out,
Wow! A prize every time.
Sized right for three bites,
Ummm-just in their prime.
String beans, beans, and more beans,
Enough for my dinner.
Short swim in hot water,
I vote them a winner!
Some green peas to snack on,
Really! In September?
If picked this late, ever,
I cannot remember.
*****
1964, SLC Utah- CSouth
We surely want to welcome you,
Lean right back and relax.
Poise and charm and beauty, all three,
Quite an array of talent you'll see.
The Mia Maids are on parade,
Showing the latest fashions,
With ruffles and ribbon, you're sure to agree,
Each is a portrait of sweet femininity.
*****
1965, Commonwealth Ave., SLC Utah- CSouth
Grocery Shower Gift Tag for An About-to-Be-Wed Couple
When old Mother Hubbard went to her cupboard, And found that it was bare,
She wasn't as lucky as you two are, For look what you'll find there.
Sacks full of goodies, housewares and food, There may be surprises, too,
Each one will provide loads of fun, 'Cause everything is new!
Even newly married folks, Need a pot of stew,
So take this sack of fixin's, And see what you can do.
You'll need a pan for mixin', Something nice and sturdy,
A cake pan ought to be just right, 'Twill be tasty, I'm 'a-suredy'.
Don your apron and your cap, Take your measuring spoons in hand,
Measure out some Quaker Oats, Now you're ready-just follow the plan.
You'll need a cup of eagerness, To get you started right,
A teaspoon of adventure, And a smile to keep your spirit bright.
Pour in fruit nectars, Now some whole wheat flour,
A cup of inspiration, Let it set one hour.
A tablespoon of Tropical Punch, To give it a festive touch,
Oh, might as well add the whole can, It can't hurt anything much.
Make sure your husband's there, To taste this delicious brew,
Better have the bicarbonate on hand, Good cooks always do!
Still not right?-then add a few more oats, And put that 'blend-it' spoon to work,
Your husband should help with this, Don't let him his duty shirk.
Stir and mix and mix and taste, Fold in some apple drink,
Perseverance-add two cups, That should put you in the pink.
Bake for three or four hours, Just to be sure, you understand,
And let your husband do those dishes, With that new dish mop how better could it be planned?
Did you say our recipe was a flop? Must have been all in the cookin',
Well, eat those cracker jacks for now, And call Harmon's for a bookin'.
*****
January 1967, Yale Avenue, SLC Utah- CSouth
'Twas the day after New Year's,
And it seems all too soon to stop the festivities, the crowds and the tunes.
The boxes are piled,
From the ceiling to floor,,such an array of decorations, there's no room for more.
The fairyland tree,
That stood all aglow, now stands on our street in garbage can row.
Gay figures,
Snowflakes and twinkling lights, they're packed away tightly 'till St. Nick's next flight.
Pine boughs, pine combs, ribbon, the like,
The choirs stopped singing, they all went on strike.
The chocolates, thank goodness
Are now almost finished, a new diet we're trying, two waist's to diminish.
The house looks quite bare,
Even sad, I might add, to lose all it's glamour, the fun times that were had.
We had such a great time, our first Christmas as two,
So 'till next year comes calling, A Happy New Year to you!
*****
1989, Sparks, NV-CSouth
A friend 'stole' my car while I was at work, put two new tires on it, replaced a hub cap, changed the oil, washed and vacuumed it before returning it.
Did you know Santa Claus came early?
He was very generous this year,
With new car parts and a sparkle wash,
My ole' jitney's much easier to steer.
Now, how'd sweet ole' Santa know,
All 'bout cars--he drives a sleigh,
When he wants to improve its performance,
He just gives Rudolph more hay.
I guess dear Santa's always watching,
And alert to all of my needs.
'Cause many times the entire year over,
He visits me, doing his good deeds.
I've been lacking in excitement this season,
But thanks to Santa, in my heart it's been found.
Through good folk keeping alive his legend,
Creating Christmas spirit all year 'round.
*****
Our Family Quilt - Author unknown
Our family is a patchwork quilt
A lifetime being sewn
Each piece is an original
With beauty of its own.
The brightest patches may be new
And get the most attention
But the pieces that are loved and worn
Help give our quilt dimension.
Thread of humor, faith, and love
Will keep our quilt together
To last in love throughout the years
And wrap us close forever.
September 16, 2010, Sparks, NV - CSouth
Ode to a cucumber,
Short, stout, and spiney.
Delish to my taste buds,
No fat to my hiney.
Vine tomatoes were sparce,
Yum! Flavor a plenty.
Right here in the valley,
So good in my belly.
Carrots! Fun to pull out,
Wow! A prize every time.
Sized right for three bites,
Ummm-just in their prime.
String beans, beans, and more beans,
Enough for my dinner.
Short swim in hot water,
I vote them a winner!
Some green peas to snack on,
Really! In September?
If picked this late, ever,
I cannot remember.
*****
1964, SLC Utah- CSouth
We surely want to welcome you,
Lean right back and relax.
Poise and charm and beauty, all three,
Quite an array of talent you'll see.
The Mia Maids are on parade,
Showing the latest fashions,
With ruffles and ribbon, you're sure to agree,
Each is a portrait of sweet femininity.
*****
1965, Commonwealth Ave., SLC Utah- CSouth
Grocery Shower Gift Tag for An About-to-Be-Wed Couple
When old Mother Hubbard went to her cupboard, And found that it was bare,
She wasn't as lucky as you two are, For look what you'll find there.
Sacks full of goodies, housewares and food, There may be surprises, too,
Each one will provide loads of fun, 'Cause everything is new!
Even newly married folks, Need a pot of stew,
So take this sack of fixin's, And see what you can do.
You'll need a pan for mixin', Something nice and sturdy,
A cake pan ought to be just right, 'Twill be tasty, I'm 'a-suredy'.
Don your apron and your cap, Take your measuring spoons in hand,
Measure out some Quaker Oats, Now you're ready-just follow the plan.
You'll need a cup of eagerness, To get you started right,
A teaspoon of adventure, And a smile to keep your spirit bright.
Pour in fruit nectars, Now some whole wheat flour,
A cup of inspiration, Let it set one hour.
A tablespoon of Tropical Punch, To give it a festive touch,
Oh, might as well add the whole can, It can't hurt anything much.
Make sure your husband's there, To taste this delicious brew,
Better have the bicarbonate on hand, Good cooks always do!
Still not right?-then add a few more oats, And put that 'blend-it' spoon to work,
Your husband should help with this, Don't let him his duty shirk.
Stir and mix and mix and taste, Fold in some apple drink,
Perseverance-add two cups, That should put you in the pink.
Bake for three or four hours, Just to be sure, you understand,
And let your husband do those dishes, With that new dish mop how better could it be planned?
Did you say our recipe was a flop? Must have been all in the cookin',
Well, eat those cracker jacks for now, And call Harmon's for a bookin'.
*****
January 1967, Yale Avenue, SLC Utah- CSouth
'Twas the day after New Year's,
And it seems all too soon to stop the festivities, the crowds and the tunes.
The boxes are piled,
From the ceiling to floor,,such an array of decorations, there's no room for more.
The fairyland tree,
That stood all aglow, now stands on our street in garbage can row.
Gay figures,
Snowflakes and twinkling lights, they're packed away tightly 'till St. Nick's next flight.
Pine boughs, pine combs, ribbon, the like,
The choirs stopped singing, they all went on strike.
The chocolates, thank goodness
Are now almost finished, a new diet we're trying, two waist's to diminish.
The house looks quite bare,
Even sad, I might add, to lose all it's glamour, the fun times that were had.
We had such a great time, our first Christmas as two,
So 'till next year comes calling, A Happy New Year to you!
*****
1989, Sparks, NV-CSouth
A friend 'stole' my car while I was at work, put two new tires on it, replaced a hub cap, changed the oil, washed and vacuumed it before returning it.
Did you know Santa Claus came early?
He was very generous this year,
With new car parts and a sparkle wash,
My ole' jitney's much easier to steer.
Now, how'd sweet ole' Santa know,
All 'bout cars--he drives a sleigh,
When he wants to improve its performance,
He just gives Rudolph more hay.
I guess dear Santa's always watching,
And alert to all of my needs.
'Cause many times the entire year over,
He visits me, doing his good deeds.
I've been lacking in excitement this season,
But thanks to Santa, in my heart it's been found.
Through good folk keeping alive his legend,
Creating Christmas spirit all year 'round.
*****
Our Family Quilt - Author unknown
Our family is a patchwork quilt
A lifetime being sewn
Each piece is an original
With beauty of its own.
The brightest patches may be new
And get the most attention
But the pieces that are loved and worn
Help give our quilt dimension.
Thread of humor, faith, and love
Will keep our quilt together
To last in love throughout the years
And wrap us close forever.
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