Gramma Pickles : The Person

She's got a sparkly sweater, sparkly glasses, and red finger-nail polish (and usually a sparkly beer, too). She's the coolest Gramma I know!

Why do we call her "Gramma Pickles"?

Soon after my son was born, we were trying to figure out how to differentiate MY grandparents (now Great-Grandparents) from my parents who were first-time grandparents. Gramma had given us a huge jar of her famous pickles. We lovingly referred to the pickles as "Gramma Pickles" whenever we pulled them out to accompany our lunches. So the next time we saw her, SHE became Gramma Pickles, and the name stuck.

This is a jar of the current batch of Gramma Pickles (See the Recipe) :

Gramma Pickles : The Recipe

Here's a picture of Gramma Pickles' famous refrigerator pickles.

Gramma Pickles : The Recipe
4 cups thin sliced unpeeled PICKLING cucumbers
3 thin slices onion
1 T canning salt
1 cup white vinegar
2 cups sugar
Dill

Bring vinegar and sugar to a boil. Cool. Pour mixture over cucmbers that have been mixed with onions and salt. Cover. Will keep in refrigerator for several weeks and are always crisp.

On this last visit, she shared the recipe with me. It's a keeper (and so is she!).

 The Gramma Pickles Recipe in her own handwriting.

This is a piece of family history!

Comfort Foods : Gramma Pickles' Grilled Cheese

Gramma Pickles' Grilled Cheese Sandwich consists of :

Mrs. Karl's white bread
Real Butter
Government Surplus Cheese (or Kraft Singles)

Grilled to a golden brown over a gas stove (The flame is important. It's not the same on an electric stove.)

with Gramma Pickles on the side

Grappa's Bear Fat Barometer

When I was a kid, I swear that Grappa had a jar of rendered bear fat in his kitchen window. He said he could predict the weather with it :

* Clear for good weather
* Cloudy for bad weather

If conditions were right for a tornado, a cloudy funnel would form in the center core of the jar.

I haven't been able to verify this any place as yet. He may have been telling us one of his infamous stories ...

I do know that his machine shed was hit by a tornado in the early 1980s. Maybe he dumped the bear fat barometer after that?

Added April 7, 2008 :

I did come across this picture (or Gramma did). She had it on the kitchen table the last time I was there a few weeks ago. So there really was a bear!

My mom is the little girl looking so appalled at this dead bear, and pulling his ear. Gramma looks quite happy, and Grappa looks like the great white hunter (or something). My mom said that bear skin was in the closet of the upstairs bedroom for years and years. She hated that closet. That bear skin scared her to death! It wasn't tanned very well, so they eventually threw it out--the hair kept falling out of it. Makes me think of the episode from Hotel New Hampshire where they stuffed the dog Sorrow after he died, but he was just never the same ...

Funny, I now have a bear quilt hanging on the wall watching me sleep. I don't think my mom has reclaimed that imagery for herself, though.

Tradition & Meaning

Plums for Bohemian Plum Dumplings

I've been looking for some kind of quote that would sum up what tradition means to people, to me. Most of the quotes I've come across have portrayed tradition as something to rebel against, question, and abolish. It's not all bad ...

Joseph Campbell must have something to say on this topic ... but I haven't been able to find it.

I think of tradition as a way to link with the past. Powerful stuff!

The beautiful thing about tradition is that at any moment, we can create a new tradition! or drop an old one.

Many of the posts on Hidden Passages are about foods, memory, tradition and family stories. It all helps to explain where we come from.

Christmas Traditions : Family Stories

My Mom was born on Christmas Day back in the 1950s. That's why she was named Holly. For 10 years, she was an only child. Christmas has always been "big business" for her.

My Dad, on the other hand, was the youngest of 6 kids, born into a poor farm family. He always has a hard time with Christmas. When he was a kid, he and his brother got a new shirt and had to share it between them. He also tells the story of how he saved cereal box tops and sent them in, but his prize never came--until one Christmas morning. Someone intercepted the Halloween balloons he had ordered and given them to him for Christmas. He didn't really appreciate that. He never liked spending much money on Christmas presents either.

Christmas morning, we kids could get up and open our stockings whenever we woke up. But we had to wait for the adults to get up and assemble before we opened presents.

My Dad would stall as long as possible. First, he had to start a fire (so we'd have heat), then he had to have his coffee, then he had to take a rail-roader. One year, he even tried to go out and feed the pigs before we could open presents. We absolutely protested at that idea. He could do the pigs later--Bah-Humbug!

Dad used to jokingly threaten that Santa would give us nothing but a stick (we burned wood, not coal) if we weren't good. I actually put a stick in his stocking one year--but I felt so bad about hiding all the stuff Santa had brought him, that I put it all back WITH the stick.

I was telling Oliver this story the other day, and he's already heard it enough times to finish the story. Time to write it down!

Holiday Traditions : Cross Country Skiing Christmas Day

The one thing my family likes to do every year on Christmas Day is cross-country skiing. There's nothing like a cross-country ski run to get the blood moving again after a heavy holiday meal.

I grew up on a farm in the rolling hills and woods of Northern Wisconsin. My brother and I learned to cross country ski when we were 5 and 6 years old. We've been doing it most of our lives. I remember one year, we went to ski out in the flat fields by Gramma Matucheski's house. Seth fell down, and was too stubborn to get back up. Dad and I skied around the field and came back to him. I guess Seth just wanted/needed a break. He got back up then ...

My Dad's land was just down the road--now it's in their back yard. How nice! Dad takes care of the trails so skiing and hiking is very nice there.

In recent years, we haven't always had snow at Christmas, so some years, we just hike. These days, my mom doesn't care to go out--She prefers her sewing room. Dad is too busy with his own stuff, or he went out earlier and couldn't wait for the rest of us ... So my own little family of 3 goes out to ski. Yes--Oliver is doing very well on his little skis. This year when he falls down, he gets right back up. He just chugs along like a train ... At one point, I fell, and Oliver said. "Ok, Mumma. I'm not going to wait for you ..."

When we go now, we like to ski in the nearby woods flowage groomed with excellent cross-country ski trails for novice to expert. Down by the river is a small cabin where we build a fire and have a little picnic. We sit on the porch and watch the chickadees flit around the bird feeder with a view of the bridge in the background.

I can't think of anyplace else I'd rather be in December. Even better if it's snowing!

Even a stump looks elegant in the snow!

Christmas Ornaments and their Meanings

We finally got the Christmas tree up a week before Christmas. We were a little behind schedule this year. I was determined to keep it simple--I only put up ornaments that did NOT require extensive packaging. Just the free-form, free-wheeling ornaments floating around the box.

As I trimmed the tree, I was struck by the MEANING that flooded back for a few of them ...

The Fan : On the first day of school in the mid-1950s, Little Holly made a paper-folded fan. She gave it to another girl in class named Sally. Holly said, "I'll give you this fan if you be my friend." That was the start of a lifelong friendship. Sally's mother (Gramma B.) made a similar ornament and shared the story many years later. The story has entered our family lore.

Seahorse Symbolism : Back in my single days, I had a seahorse ornament that I kept up and out all year long. The seahorse held significant symbolism for me : The male seahorse keeps the seahorse babies in a pouch (like a kangaroo). The male seahorse is the nurturer and caregiver of the seahorse family. That's what I was looking for in a mate. And I found it in CL!

Holiday Traditions : Fanny & Alexander

Fanny & Alexander is the other film we like to watch over the Christmas Holidays.
Here's a movie trailer on YouTube that can give you an idea of the MAGIC of this film.



Here's my all-time favorite scene of Christmas Eve at the Ekdahls :


"Christmas Eve was always a production at our house. The towering tree in the central hall, covered with shiny red ornaments, draped in silvery tinsel, lighted with real candles. The staff, in their long black uniforms with starched white aprons and caps, setting out piles of generously wrapped gifts underneath the tree. There were tall white candles on the dining table, where after dinner (which always began at 4:30 pm) we sang and toasted everyone's health. Mother wore red brocade and Father, like all the men in the family, wore white tie. Eventually we all held hands and danced through the house, singing until we fell exhusted, into our chairs and listened to an uncle read the Nativity story from the second chapter of Luke. In lovely, lilting Swedish. Oh, no, wait. That was Fanny & Alexander."
--Anita Gates, "Holiday Films : Celluloid Visions are What Dance in My Head, New York times, November 5, 2000.

It's neat to see this wonderful film has had a similar effect on other people! For us, it just isn't Christmas without seeing this wonderful film with the family dancing through the apartment singing, "Uyauyaly" (whatever that means!)

Fanny and Alexander came out in 1982 and depicts a wonderful Christmas in turn-of-the-century Sweden. It is filled with so much light, laughter, and RED, a few tears, family (great and exasperating). Wonderful characters, as you would expect in any Ingmar Bergman film!

And Isaac's apartment is a place of MAGIC, literally. There's so much STUFF there : puppets and books and antiques, and a crazy brother ...

Little Holly on Christmas Day

This is a picture of my mom on Christmas day back in the 1950s when she was still an only child. Christmas has always been "big business" for her because she was born on Christmas Day. She always makes it a nice holiday for everyone, even now.


Even though it's a black and white picture, you can really see the sparkling tinsel on the tree in the corner.

One year, Great Gramma Josephine was left in charge of Little Holly on Christmas Eve while Gramma Pickles and Eddie did the barn chores. When they got back to the house, they discovered that Great Gramma had "watched" Holly open ALL the presents. Great Gramma was having a GREAT time watching Holly ... There were all the presents, opened on the floor with no idea what gift was for whom. Grappa could have "crowned" Gramma.

I Remember Gramma Matucheski : Homemade Egg Nog

Gramma Matucheski used to babysit me and my brother out on the farm when we were small. We were the last of that generation's grandchildren (before the great grandchildren started coming).

Gramma used to make us home-made egg nog as a regular treat. Creamy and rich, we loved it!

A few years ago, I found the cups above that also reminded me of the coffee mugs that hung on hooks beneath the kitchen cupboards. Each of her 6 children had a mug with their name on it with this sort of classic glaze ...

Here's the recipe :

Gramma's Egg Nog

2 eggs
2 cups milk (not cream)
vanilla
sugar

Combine all ingredients and mix well. Enjoy!

Gramma had an old style hand-cranked egg beater that did the job magnificently.

I've taken to straining out the stringy parts of the raw egg before we drink it. We also like to add a splash of rum these days.

Gramma Matucheski died in February 2007. This is how I remember her.

Warning : Drinking/eating raw eggs may be hazardous to your health. Consider pasturizing the nog before you partake. That just means heating it to a certain temp to kill any microbes, but not enough to cook the egg. (My mom is Director of Public Health in her county, so she's tracked enough salmonella cases back to raw eggs. She'd have a heart attack if she knew I still drank this! Just once in a while ... ;-)

A Cookie to Keep Him Quiet ...

Up until this fall, Grappa Eddie has lived on the same land his whole life. His parents were immigrants from Bohemia who met again in Chicago, decided to get married and head to Northern Wisconsin to start a life together. They bought some land outside of Polar and laid little Grappa down under a tree with a cookie to keep him occupied while Josephine and Albert set about the awesome task of building a house ...

A Warm Pair of Boots on a Cold Winter's Day

Winters were cold in Northern Wisconsin. The farm kids had to walk to school in their un-insulated leather boots over snow-covered fields. They stamped their feet in the snow to get rid of the pins and needles of the cold poking at their feet. Grappa didn't like that so much. One day, one of his cohorts, Otto Pavek said, "Eddo--Here, try these felt liners for your feet. If you don't want 'em, I'll take 'em back." So Grappa gave 'em a try. He was amazed that these gray liners kept his feet toasty and warm all day long!

Letter from Grappa

This is a letter Grappa sent to Gramma Pickles from the nursing home earlier this month. It made me laugh to see that he is settling in so comfortably at the nursing home where "Everything is free!"

Here's the transcription (in case you can't read the above):

"Oct. ??? Don't know the town.

Dear Violet My Love
It is hard to write as there is nothing to lay the tablet on. Wish I was home. How is everything there? I hope good. You could come up here for a while. Everything is free. Food all you want. To eat, or whatever you do. You don't pay for anything. There is a lot of people you know. And best thing they do is keep you happy. Everybody gets a wheel cart so you can get around. Excuse my writing. The wheel cart goes pretty fast or slow as you want. I hope you can drop me a few lines.
Your love, Ed."

Great News! Grappa seems to be adjusting to life in the nursing home. That's good! The don't let him sleep during the day (He was sleeping most of the time at home, out of boredom, I suspect.). They keep him busy with entertainment, activities, and company. He knows many of the other residents there, too. They keep a handle on his diabetes--Gramma really didn't understand what needed to be done to manage it. And he's been on anti-depressants for the transition. When my family goes to visit him now, several times they haven't been able to find him there--he's off and doing somewhere there.

All this means Gramma can go back to being his wife, not his caregiver. That's great! Maybe absence does make the heart grow finder.

One More Recipe for Fall : Wisconsin Cranberry Walnut Pie

This is called a pie, but it's more like a coffee cake ... I left out the pie shell here, planning to serve it more like crisp (without the crisp layer).

The picture above is before baking, and before the sweet, buttery batter is spooged across the top (see 1/3 pie to the left). I had to take a picture because I thought the cranberries were so pretty!

Wisconsin Cranberry Walnut Pie

1 9-inch unbaked pie crust, homemade or purchased
2 cups whole fresh cranberries washed, drained
1 cup whole walnut halves
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup butter, melted and cooled
1/2 cup flour
1/8 tsp salt
1/4 tsp soda

Place cranberries and walnuts in unbaked pie shell. Sprinkle evenly with brown sugar.
In a small mixing bowl, mix egg, butter, flour, salt, sugar, soda. Mixture will be thick. Spread evenly over cranberry layer with spatula.
Bake in pre-heated 325-degree oven for 60-65 minutes. (You may increase oven temperature to 350 degrees the last 5 minutes if you like a golden-brown surface.)
Makes 8-10 servings. Serve warm or cold.

The cranberries are from Wisconsin. :-)

Wild Rice Cranberry Salad

Here's the recipe for my very favorite Thanksgiving dish. I've been making it every year for several years now. There's always a lot left. Few other people seem to know just how tasty it is, so I'm happy to have the left-overs! We're getting ready for the annual Saturday-After Thanksgiving Feast at our house, so we haven't really celebrated yet ... My husband cooks. I just do appetizers and side dishes.

I got the recipe from Ann B. in Madison about 10 years ago. I have modified it only slightly.

Wild Rice - Cranberry Salad

1 cup wild rice
2-3/4 cups water
1 pat of butter
1 cup dried cranberries
1/4 cup fresh mint, chopped (1 T dried)
4 green onions (scallions), chopped
1/2 c olive oil
1 cup pecan halves, chopped
Rind of 1 orange, grated
3/4 c. orange juice
black pepper, freshly ground

Combine water, butter and wild rice. Simmer about 40 minutes until the rice starts to open out. While the rice cooks, combine mint, cranberries, orange rind, juice and scallions. Let stand. When rice is done, drain in collander. Add olive oil to rice. Combine all ingredients except pecans. Let stand for at least 2 hours for flavors to blend. Just before serving, add the pecans.

This is one dish that gets better with age!

In Northern Wisconsin, the Native Americans grow and harvest the wild rice I buy. I'm a little concerned because I had heard that the crop this year was not very good due to lack of water on some of the lakes this year ... Global warming in our own back yard.

A Few of Our Favorite Things : Babbette's Feast

Around the holidays, we like to watch a few movies that tipefy the season for us. For Thanksgiving, it's a film about food : Babbette's Feast. BF is based on a story written by Isak Dineson (the Out-of-Africa lady), this film tells the story of a French woman who fled Paris during the French Revolution. She seeks refuge in Jutland, Denmark, a stoney and barren outcrop on the sea. 2 sisters, minister's daughters took her in. After several years of being their servant and living simply, Babbette learned she won the lottery in France : 10,000 Francs, a small fortune. She decided she wanted to treat the sisters and their church friends to an elegant French dinner, somethingnthe humble and simple Jutlanders had never experienced. During the preparations, they were sure Babbette was preparing for a "witch's sabbath."

Babbette had to make a trip to Paris to purchase everything--not just the food and the wine, but also crystal glasses, silverware, and table linens. She spent the whole entire sum on this elegant dinner. The sisters were flabberghasted! It was Babbette's joy. In PAris, she had been a celebrated chef, an artist--sheesh! Just thinking of that brings tears to my eyes!

An essay on Babbete's Feast. Another article on Babbette's Feast.

Thanksgiving

Here's is Oliver's Thanksgiving Turkey, made at school with markers and a coffee filter. I love the effect so much, I'm trying to figure out how to apply it to cloth as a dyer's technique! It makes a nice sun-catcher, and everyone should have a little kid-art on their house!

Thanksgiving IS my favorite holiday because it's about food and family and being together. It's not about presents, but presance. It's not really about religion, either.

A celebration of ABUNDANCE, not only of food, but of the other riches of life.

What am I thankful for? All the usual things :
* A wonderful partner--I can't imagine a better match for me :-)
* A loving and supportive family (Ma and Pa, Gramma)
* A bright kid
* A decent job that supports my quilting hobby
* A warm fire to sit by on a cold winter's night/day
* A wonderful dog with a story of her own (though we may never know her true past, she has a good life now)
* An ice rink with uniform and regular ice most of the year (I know this one is not environmentally friendly, but then neither is heart surgery, which would probably eventually be the alternative if I did not skate)
* A place to call home

As Glen Phillips sings with Toad the Wet Sprocket, "I will not take these things for granted."

A Few of our Favorite Things : Holiday Folk Fair, International

These Czech pastries shine like jewels!

For me, The Holiday Folk Fair in Milwaukee, WI, is what being an American is all about. The coming-together of so many different cultures, traditions, foods, languages, dances, music ... It IS The Global Village.

It never fails, when I'm in The ALL Nations Theater watching a group of dance performances, the tears start to well up in my eyes--amid all those bright colors, happy music, and bright smiles. It gets to me--every culture has a way (many ways) to celebrate. None of them are right or wrong, and we gather to celebrate the diversity of it ALL.

In one performance, you can see a dance from Serbia, and the next might be from Croatia. Here they are dancing on the same stage--peacefully represented. It breaks my heart to see know what has happened in the Old Country for some of these cultures. At least here (Milwaukee, WI), there is no war.

They also have a Naturalization Ceremony to recognize today's immigrants who are becoming citizens. This is an incredibly MOVING ceremony.

So when Congress fights over immigration laws, I would remind them : We were ALL (or our ancestors were) immigrants here at some point in history. It just depends on how far back in time you go. Even the Native Americans came from somewhere else if you go far enough back in time ... I truly believe the next civil rights movement in the US will be about Immigrant Rights.

I first went to this magical event in high school about 25 years ago. The language clubs always organized a trip (It was a 5-hour bus ride one-way from Antigo) to Milwaukee for this event.

It's always a weekend filled with color, dancing, folk costumes, merchandise and cuisine from all over the world. I love it! Where else but Finland can you get the wonderful hand knit mittens, or gorgeous hand-made wooden boxes from Poland?

People-watching at the Folk Fair :

Lithuanian (or Latvian?) folk dance costume. I believe the fabric is woven linen. They also wear a lovely crown-like headpiece (not pictured).

Pomoranean Dancers heading back to the stage for another performance. These have always been some of my favorite costumes! I love the red!

The other great thing about the Folk Fair is that you don't need to be some rail-thin person to dance. Normal people dance these dances and wear the costumes. The Folk ARE regular people!

Holiday Folk Fair : Favorite Foods

Here's a photo of the Kolaces at the Czech stand. These tasty pastries shine like jewels! Grappa Eddie remembers these from his Bohemian upbringing. I even made him a batch a few years ago ... Maybe it's time to do that again?

The Folk Fair is always the weekend BEFORE Thanksgiving. We re-discovered it in 2000 when I was pregnant with Oliver. With all that music and dancing, the little fish gave the first flutter that I could feel (at 5 months).

When we go now, we make a beeline to the Czech food stand. We love the pastries!

The Rakviky, or "Little Coffins" are an almond cookie filled with a lemon icing. They are DELICIOUS! It's a good thing we can only get these once a year--That makes them special too. One year, I asked for the recipe for these Rackvivky, but I was told it's a secret family recipe that could not be shared. Then she invited me to come down to help make them the next year ... Maybe I don't want to know how much butter is involved, but I haven't done it yet. We live just a little too far from Milwaukee for such a baking trip.

Uly, or Little Beehives, is another favorite. It has a Nilla wafer base, with a chocolate-covered nut and cream topping. There's also some hint of alcohol (brandy?).

[Photo - Glugg]
Another favorite item of past years is Swedish Glugg, or mulled wine. They always made it with grape juice since so many kids attended the Fair. One year, I happened to sit next to the head of the Swedish presence there. I lamented to her that I couldn't get the Glugg anymore. She was wonderful enough to send me the recipe! Here it is (You'll be able to find lots of recipes for the wine version on the web, but probably not this version.):
***********************************
Swedish Glugg (non-alcoholic) from The Holiday Folk Fair International

2 c. apple juice
1 c. grape juice
2 T. sugar
2 sticks cinnamon
8-10 cloves
Peel of 1 or 2 oranges, peeled in a spiral

Combine ingredients and bring almost to a boil. Place raisins and slivered almonds in each cup and serve.
************************************
We had a nice talk that year. She said the Swedes no longer did a food stand at the Folk Fair anymore. It's too much work, and too exhausting to man the booth (thousands of people attend). In those years, she said they had not been very good about encouraging the young people to take over the tradition. She regretted that ... I was pleased to see that the organizers seem to have made a special effort to get younger generations involved. There was one dance performance stage that scheduled only youth groups. Hurray!

We LOVE the international flavors in the World Cafe (We can't get most of this in Oshkosh, so when we go, it is special!) Here's what we ate this year :

Spanikopita from Greece is a delicious spinach and feta pie in a wonderful flaky crust

Koshari from Egypt / Egyptian Rice - a delicious warm salad of noodles, chickpeas, lentils, spices, rice (and more)

Hearty Lentil Soup from Slovakia

Hummert Salad from Denmark - Lobster Salad

Chicken Kebab and Hummus from Lebanon (above)

With so many choices, it's hard to decide what to eat! For all that, we managed NOT to over-eat this year.

Last Flower of 2007

As of November 18, with temperatures in the 30s this morning, I have one last flower on my climbing Eden rose bush. Lovely!

The Many Faces of Oliver

Normal Face

If looks could kill ...

Funny Face.
Oliver was born with the odd talent of being able to close off his nose with is upper lip. My father can also make this face--hilarious with a mustache. I remember being wheeled off to have surgery once, and I asked my dad to make this face. I was laughing on the way to surgery then.

As his mother, all these faces make me laugh! This falls into the category of things I don't want to forget.

Chuckle for the Day : Stars

Upon planning a trip to a local planetarium, MM asked "What happens if it's cloudy?"

"It's not an observatory, Goofball!" CL replied.

The Giving Tree

A few years ago, my parents built a new house and left the old handyman's special where I grew up. This fall, a family moved into the old farmhouse. While I'm happy to see the placed lived in, it's a little hard to see some of the changes :
The old house had 2 white paper birch trees next to it. (The kind of trees surrounding Baba Yaga's house in the Russian forest. These trees thrive in the cold white winters. The bark is white so as to reflect sunlight in the winters--Other trees with dark trunks split and crack in winter, but the paper birch have adapted.)

We always saw these trees as an asset. My dad even built a deck that let the birch trees grow through it. Their leafy canopy provided natural shade and habitat for the birds as I was growing up. (We never had air conditioning ...)

So you can understand why I was horrified to drive by the old house and see the remains of those majestic birch trees --white bark skeletons--stacked up for firewood, like the Romanoffs after they had been executed.

I know--I know--I know. It's not my house anymore. They need to do what they think best for the place and property. Those trees have gotten bigger and older over the years. I'm sure the new owners didn't want the trees, or their colossal branches to fall on the house.

Don't Know What You've Got Until It's Gone ...

[Photo old farm house]

The house where I grew up was a drafty old farm house, more than 100 years old. On cold winter mornings, I got dressed next to the old cook stove in the kitchen : It was the warmest spot in the house. I never took a picture of that old stove--and I never thought I'd miss it ... It looked something like this, though not exactly ... It did have the water reservoir on the right, and the storage shelves above ... It sat on a brick platform that my parents scavenged from an old schoolhouse that had been torn down, or burned down. They recycled the brick long before it was fashionable to do so. They even got enough brick to build a fireplace in that old farmhouse ...

Thoughts on Mortality

If you knew when you were going to die, would you live your life differently?

Is knowing when you'll die a gift or a curse?

If you had the opportunity to plan your funeral, would you do it or not?

Would you want the chance to say goodbye to your loved ones, to help them prepare for your departure (as after an illness)?

OR would you rather die suddenly and unexpectedly as in a car accident (like Princess Diana) or from a burst aortic aneurysm?

Would you want to die as a young person, or after a long life?

Would you want a prolonged illness like Alzheimer's, where you're here, but you seem to be somewhere else?

Or would you choose a prolonged illness like cancer where you are sentient?

After pondering these questions, I've decided I want the best of both worlds--I want to be able to plan my life and funeral. I want to live deliberately, and I want my loved ones to know how much they mean to me.

As for an occupation--yes, librarianship is a worthy occupation. But if I knew my days were numbered, I would prefer to spend my time creating (probably quilting). People will remember me for what I left behind : those creative endeavors of a life well-lived.

Part of the idea for starting this blog came from pondering these kinds of questions. This is sort omy online scrapbook of things I don't want to forget, things I want my family to remember ...

[Shillings--I wrote this months ago. But EG's passing made me want to set it down here now ... I am thinking of you!]

What Treasures Does a 6yo Keep in His Desk?

His favorite things, of course! [Posted with his permission. The little ham loves to be on my blog!]

King Gidorrah
Pokemon game
Star Wars book
Jar of Dice
Little Duckie puzzle
Blue Brontosaurus (company for KG)
Lego Catalog

This comes under the things I don't want to forget. It may be something only a mother can appreciate--I know these won't be the contents of his desk when he's a teenager, or an adult.

Grappa Eddie

A few weeks ago, my Grappa reluctantly moved into a nursing home. From the time his parents set him under a tree with a cookie to keep him quiet in 1912, or so, while they set about building their house, he lived on that homestead his entire life--until now. He is 97 years old. He doesn't know any other home ... In recent years, age-related dementia has set in and his body is wearing out. I don't know any other 97-year-old who takes no regular medications. He's a tough old bird!

It's been a hard transition for him. When we visited him last week, he asked my mom, "How far from home do you think we are?" It's about 15 miles, but my brother has him believing it would be 5 days walk. "Well, maybe someone could give me a ride--just to look around."
Later he said, "I'll probably die here, huh?"
"Probably," my mom said. There were tears in his eyes.

He knows he's not home, but he doesn't know enough to know that he can't take care of himself anymore--and neither can Gramma Pickles.

Ma likes to say Gramma is "97 pounds soaking wet." She really doesn't have the strength anymore to tug and pull and struggle with Grappa to do basic caregiving tasks anymore (He's about 200 pounds.) This was something she never bargained on when they married so many years ago ... He was an older man, she was the young beauty.

I think if we bring some of Grappa's stuff to his room in the nursing home, it will give him something familiar to look at - a picture of the barn (that would be his backyard), the Willow Tree, the pine trees he planted many years ago for a windbreak ...

Since Oliver lost his first tooth a week ago, I asked Grappa about the jar of teeth he kept by the kitchen table. He seldom ever went to a dentist. He has one tooth left in his mouth these days. The rest of his teeth found their way to that jar ... That day, he said the teeth don't last forever. After a while they break down and turn to powder, too. Nothing left ... He has outlived all of his friends from the old days. And he wonders why he's still here.

A few years ago, I made a quilt for him. I expected to see that on his bed at the nursing home, looking cheery and fresh. But no--Gramma didn't want it subjected to the harsh laundry detergents at the nursing home. Fair enough. She wanted to give the quilt back to me, but I don't think he's through with it yet.

I'll try to post some of Grappa's old stories here soon. He was a great storyteller (here, we say "bull-shitter") and adventurer in his day. It's a wonder he made it to this age in one piece!

The Way to a Woman's Heart : Part 2

You may be wondering why I have links for New Scandinavian Cooking on this blog's sidebar ... I first discovered it a few years ago on PBS when a younger Andreas Viestad was cooking a traditional Norwegian Christmas Dinner. He was in a tiny, tiny kitchen. It just seemed so low-budget, yet artful (and certainly tasteful) that I had to keep watching. They have a portable kitchen that they set up anywhere--on a beach, on a mountintop, in the artic circle ... I love the travelogue nature of the show! It really makes me want to take a trip to see Scandanavia!

The most recent season has been hosted by a Danish Chef named Claus Meyer. He's just a normal-looking guy--nothing special to look at. But when he makes a meal and presents it to the tv camera, I always feel like he really made that dinner just for me. His episodes are informative, sensual, and romantic. It's the only cooking show that makes me blush! His episodes really are appealing ... It must be the way they film it : Just look at some of these stills from Claus Meyer's season. You never really see a sweetie present, so I get to feel like I'm the one!

My Dear Husband's theory is that Claus is the guy who can provide the protein (with a little "goose fat"), so he's the one who gets the girl.

At our house, my husband does most of the cooking : He provides the protein, and he got me ;-). He bought the cow, as Sandy used to say.

NSC is more than just a cooking show ... Claus Meyer cooks with his wedding ring in full view--and it's an attractive part of the show. This cook's fidelity to his own sweetie makes it all the more appealing ... (and I hope he is good to her!)

Ahhh--Dreaming's cheap! And Claus Meyer can cook for me anytime.

Don't get me wrong, I like Andreas, too, but he's more like a buddy--like someone who lived in the coop with me over the years.