Picture For The Teacher

 

I have told you before what a wonder my mother was. When I was a child I thought all mothers were as talented.

One year for Christmas at school each of us gave our teacher three little cakes. Mom had been saving 15- ounce vegetable cans. 

We each thoroughly scrubbed three cans inside and out. There was not a trace of what was inside the can nor was there a trace of the label or anything else on the outside. Then we completely greased the inside of each can. We set the cans standing up on a cookie sheet.

Mom made the cake batter. Can you imagine the mess if each of us made our own batter? She poured batter into one can of each group. Three different kinds of batter - white, chocolate, and spice. Into the oven they went.

After they baked and cooled Mom carefully removed the cakes from their cans onto a nice piece pf aluminum foil. We carefully rolled our cakes to look like little silvery logs. We twisted the ends much like a Tootsie Roll is twisted at the ends. A sweet little ribbon bow at each end our gifts for our teachers was wrapped. and ready for the school Christmas party.

We are not Native American. Along with family stories our DNA confirms it. However for much of her early life Mom lived on or near Reservations. Often she would be invited to school to tell about the way the Indians lived. She would answer questions too.

Mom taught herself to draw with help from John Nagy on television. She was so artistic. She learned how to make copies of pictures by making grids. She only did that for portraits. Everything else was freehand.

As you might have guessed she decided to give each of our teachers a charcoal portrait of themself. Mom used the school pictures our teachers gave us earlier in the year. she made a grid of small squares. On the 20x30 paper she drew the same number of squares only proportionately larger.

Naturally they turned out great. Each of our teachers received a portrait for Christmas that year.

 

Wonderful Neighbor

Neighbors are interesting creatures. Some are good, some are bad, and some are merely tolerable. I have had samples of all. Rather than give recognition to bad neighbors I will concentrate on some good ones.

My ex-husband was dying. He had cancer. His neighbor worked the night shift. Every morning when he got home from work he would stop in to check on his friend. He was the truest friend my husband had.

My oldest son was taking care of his father and the neighbor was nice to him too. My son was grateful that he was able to be with his father in his final days.

The neighbor was with my husband when he died. What a good friend.

I now live with my son in his father's house. The neighbor is still a caring neighbor.

My favorite neighbor lived at the end of our street in Tennessee. I was a woman in my middle twenties. I had two small children plus two babies. My husband was a truck driver so he was gone all week.

Our next door neighbor was this woman's daughter. She had a son the same age as my second son. In fact they had the same blonde hair and they were the same size. The woman at the end of the street took care of her grandson while her daughter worked in another town all week and some weekends

The woman had two older children still in school. Every morning when I drove my oldest son to school I also gave then a ride. When we got home my second son and the grandson ran down to the grandmother's house.

Every night for supper she made fresh cornbread. The boys had that for breakfast. They especially liked it when she made cracklin' bread. That is cornbread with pork cracklins' (sold as pork rinds) mixed in.

All the kids usually played at our house. I did not mind the noise. Or the mess. Several times when it was getting late the woman would come up and knock on the door. When my son would answer she would grab him and be halfway home before realizing she had the wrong child.

Often in early afternoon she would come to me and ask if she could take one of the babies for a while. She said she missed having a baby in the house. She took comfort from having a baby present. Even if it was only for a nap.

She was a wonderful and giving person. She gave me a bit of a break when I really needed one. I miss her even today.

I Am So Old That...

 I am so old that I:

remember when they added One Nation Under God to the Pledge of Allegiance

remember when they removed One Nation Under God from the Pledge of Allegiance

remember washing clothes with a wringer washer then hanging them out to dry on the clothesline

remember hula hoops being a new big thing

loved to climb a tree

remember can openers that were not much more than a pointed knife

remember that an electric mixer was a luxury

remember when girls had to wear dresses to school

remember volunteer fire departments

remember having only one television channel that went off the air at midnight

remember Sunday dinner

remember 3cent postage stamps

remember Steve Allen had both the early morning show and the late night show

remember Your Show of Shows

remember needing a bottle opener to open a bottle of pop

remember Your Hit Parade

remember the first show of Captain Kangaroo

remember Howdy Doody

remember pen pals

remember stirring and stirring fudge to make it firm

remember "church keys" that opened bottles and cans

remember going barefoot all summer

and so much more. What do you remember?

Going To Visit Grandma

I was 5 years old. My second brother was 3. We decided one day that we wanted to go visit Grandma on the farm. We asked our mother if we could go.

Of course she said no. But I argued that I knew the way. I suppose she thought it was too far to walk. It eas several miles from the town we lived in.

Finally we asked if we could go to the church to play. It was a block away. We played on the steps and played on the railing of the steps. Flipping over the bar was great fun. Skinning the cat was my favorite trick on the bar.

In reality we had no plans of staying at the church. We went there then turned and walked to Main Street. From there we started to walk to the farm.

Mom was at home with no car. She had my other brother and my baby sister who could not be left alone. Mom was frantic with worry when we did not come home.

She had to wait until Daddy got home from work. She had no choice.

Daddy immediately started to look for us. He had an idea that maybe we were trying to go to see Grandma.

When he found us we were near the edge of town... the same end we lived. I do not know how long we had been gone. It was probably several hours.

As he pulled us into the car he gave each of us a swat on the bottom. Our parents had been that scared both for themselves and for us.

Agree To Disagree

 There is not a person in the whole world whom I agree with completely. I do not hate them for having other opinions. They are entitled to their own thoughts. As long as they are not hurting someone they can believe as they wish.

As much as I loved my parents I did not always agree with them. I love all my children and grandchildren. I do not always agree with them. I still love them.

This is an election year in the United States. We will choose who will be our president for the next four years.

Not everyone in my family agrees with my choice. I do not agree with all. Part of us will vote one way and part the other. We still love each other.

I love a good political discussion. I might learn something or I might impart some facts to someone else. However I will not argue about it. If feelings become heated I stop the conversation. 

I do encourage US citizens to vote. We are hiring employees to run our government. These are important jobs.

Pay It Forward

Have you done it?  When driving at the drive-through at a fast-food restaurant do you pay for the person behind you in line?

I have done it a few times. If I have a little extra money that is.

I ask at the window as I am paying for my order how much the order for the car behind me will cost. It is usually inexpensive so I pay for theirs too.

I feel good when I do it. I always hope they keep it going for a while.

Where is Juan Valdez?

 I do not like coffee. It smells so good but all I can taste is better and oily. 

Coffee drinkers abound in my family. I remember my father's mother always drinking coffee, She poured the coffee from her stove-top percolator into her cup. Then she added a dollop of milk from her can of evaporated milk. Then a generous teaspoonful of sugar from her sugar bowl. After a vigorous stirring she enjoyed it with a cigarette. 

Mom would have a cup of coffee in the morning with Daddy. She would have another in the evening with him. That is all the coffee she drank.

When they were younger they also put milk and sugar in their coffee. Eventually both of them drank it black.

Among the seven of us siblings some were coffee drinkers and some are not. The same goes for our children.

I left Daddy for last. He loved his coffee. He drank it in the morning before he went to work. He drank it all day at work. Then he drank a lot if coffee at home.

Mom got tired of making several pots of coffee every night. One day she got the idea of buying a large 32 cup coffee pot. She made 32 cups of coffee every morning.

I already told you that Mom drank 2 cups of coffee each day. Daddy drank the rest. 30 cups of coffee a day! And that was only at home. I have no idea how much he drank at work.

I have no idea how a person can consume that much liquid a day.