Time wasters, minute chasers....

Found in the box of  buttons read on

I'm caught in time wasters today although I have accomplished several things including another trip to our town  post office, which is becoming a daily trek for me.  I vowed to not send Christmas cards this year, 44 cents  for postage for each seems  exorbitant, especially when I can keep up with most folks by Facebook, this blog, email, and cell phone calls.  I recalled how in the past when we lived in CA I would have stacks of 200  and more cards to mail and that did not bother me, many of those went to elderly relatives across the country, folks who looked forward to those greetings and  with each card I'd enclose a handwritten letter.  I loved their responses about how they appreciated the cards and letters. Aunt Ruth (Jerry's) always complimented me on my letters. How times have changed!  Well most of those folks have passed on and then came one of those bolts from beyond:  I realized that we, I and my friends and cousins have become the "old folks."  I full well knew this, especially as I began to  bury cousins and contemporaries, but this reminder  gave me pause that maybe I could not just give up the annual Christmas card drill.  Besides cards began to arrive and I started to feel like Mrs. Scrooge. It's that Catholic upbringing with the trappings of guilt raising up, a lamentable thing that will turn on me  just when I think it's been conquered! So I  engaged again, not with the annual one size fits all card/letter but instead  wrote a "Merry and Happy" to most folks and even hand addressed the cards this year instead of using my dandy label computerized list. But it has been a tedious daily task which I believe I have now completed, however we will see what tomorrow's mail brings!  Next year I will not try to fool myself into believing I won't send cards, I will just plan to do so recalling my 8ball experience of 2010.

I had to hem another pair  of sweat pants which I bought for MIL yesterday,  a sewing task that  is not too daunting, so I  accomplished that.  And then  the diversion began.  While I am known to  waste hours on the computer roaming from blog to sites yet unknown and on that biggest  minute chaser, Facebook,   I can also get diverted by physical things. 

From old Mrs Irwin, Needle packets

Taunting me from a shelf  inside the sewing room was the  big cardboard box that I'd taken from Aunt Jinx' stash last year and not yet fully rummaged through.  Today was the day as this box holds all sorts of sewing accoutrement's, buttons, snaps, buckles, trims, old needle books, a real treasure trove for a junkie like me.  Some like these needle books were from the Irwins, the photos on the covers are entertaining and  certainly speak of a different time and place. 

I have learned some of these old buttons are valuable.   In Lansing, Iowa, one of our favorite places to drive to down the road to spend a day, there is a Button Shop run by an elderly woman in a wheel chair who knows more about buttons than I could ever dream.  Her store has nothing but buttons and threads.   As I told her about these collections, and all the assorted loose buttons I've inherited and gleaned, she has urged me to bring them and spend a day with her, that she will advise me about them.  I learned from her that they used to manufacture the Le Mode shell buttons from the clamshells  dug  from the banks of  the Mississippi right there in Lansing,  those were so many of the pearlized buttons of days gone by.  She had several old shells showing holes where the round circles had been cut out for the buttons and  shells dumped back along the shore from the factory, I wonder if they ate the clams or dropped them back for animals to consume.  She is a fascinating woman and I look forward to going through these buttons, some from Holland, Germany, West Germany, and England.  That is still on my to do list.   Meantime here are just a very few of the collections, look at the prices,  29 cents!  That certainly dates these buttons. .

The red/orange buttons (left) were made in Holland, 29 cents was the price



The two Bon Ton buttons (left) are made of nickel according to the back of the card
The three Le Chick buttons (right)  were made in Germany

Just the other day I was telling Jerry to not pull the snaps loose on  his shirt while he was fiddling with it because I had no way to fix those; I remember saying "they are not like buttons!"  He will only wear shirts, western style and cut trim, with snaps, but that is an entire other post because those are getting harder to find all the time.  Well, he was Aunt Jinx's  favorite and I think today she was taunting me from beyond because there were no less than 5 different packets of snaps of all types and attachment tools in this box  including some strange looking things that resemble manual old paper hole punchers.  So while I was rummaging Jerry came downstairs and became very interested in the box too.  He mentioned,. "Didn't you say you had no way to fix snaps?  Look at all these!"  I can only laugh that Aunt Jinx showing me up again!



Here it is the Match flap, I thought

Besides that little quote above on cardboard, another most interesting item in the box was, I thought a match flap, or match book, you know like matches used to come in when there were complementary matches all over free for the taking.  Do they still give away matches for advertising anywhere?  This one was from Aunt Hannah's Bread, a brand I do not recall but one that must have been in Pennsylvania.  Sorry that it must be Aunt Hannah herself upside down but when I scanned this that's what happened with it opened.  It is a silver color and quite dulled, but you can read in the middle that it says "Matchless Mender."  I was curious why a match book would be in with sewing miscellany and buttons.  However  when I opened it  there were  no matches inside it, but a mini mending kit.  I do remember seeing and having such things which often came from banks or department stores as favors.  This one from Aunt Hannah's went a step further with something resembling matches inside along with the threads and needle, something to mend hose, nylons!  What a throw back to the day when women had concerns over things like "runs."  This was too funny and made me have to  share my time wasters right here on the blog.  And that of course meant more time spent, though I do not consider this a waste no not at all...Here following is the inside of the match book.  Have you ever seen anything like this?  I remember putting clear nail polish on a run in panty hose to prevent a further mess,  but this is  a much more refined/intricate approach...

Read the instructions

Well so there you have my time waster, minutes of memory chaser for today....

Christmas Baking and Decor

Hazelnut cinnamon biscotti await  2nd baking

It is a busy time of the year and I completed two days of charity baking.  I bake cookies for the library and the church "cookie walks."  Before moving here I never  had heard of a cookie walk, but it is a sale where customers are given trays and or boxes to fill, selecting the cookies they want from massive arrays on tables.  Customers walk around the tables,  ponder, select and then have their selections weighed and pay for them, the cookies sell for $6 per pound.  This way customers get an array of their own choosing and because of walking around the display tables, this is known as a "cookie walk".  

My contributions this year are almond sandies, and three kinds of biscotti.  I am gaining a reputation for making  the best and unusual biscott's, something many here in this small town  had not heard of nor baked, and something most adults adore. I prefer making cookies for adults, having no small children around.  My flavors this year are hazelnut cinnamon, hazelnut vanilla, peppermint candy cane drizzled with chocolate; the hazelnut is winning because we buy mixed nuts for snacks and Jerry always picks the hazelnuts (filberts) aside, leaving a big collection of these when the container of mixed nuts is gone. I have started to chop them and bake with them as there are too many for me to eat and or put into my martini or gimlet, another practice I'd never heard of until we moved here.  When I  would order a gimlet (which I prefer light on the gimlet and heavier on the vodka)  because few bartenders around here can make my favorite Cosmo, I recall the first time the bartender asked me " with or without nuts?"  I thought he was kidding, he was not.  It seems filberts are placed into gimlets much like I used to use olives or slices of lime.  I never heard of that before.  Oh the things I have learned since moving to MN!

The first photo above is the vanilla hazelnut biscotti logs cut and ready for the 2nd baking. I discovered a wonderfully easy recipe for biscotti and have adapted it to many different flavors always with success. What I once would never have considered baking has become a breeze for me. The time to bake these cookies twice in order to give them the hardness needed for dunking into coffee or tea is discouraging to many would be bakers. But having mastered it, I feel like a wizard.

  You might want this recipe and I share it but I warn you I never follow a recipe exactly.  I credit  my grandmother Rose  for my creativity, she never measured either.  So I adapt and modify and if I get an idea for a different flavor I add it. I usually always use twice the amount of vanilla in any recipe.  Here is my basic Biscotti Recipe which I modify with nuts, chocolate chips, peppermint candies crushed and you name it I try it.  You should be able to click on this photo of the recipe and enlarge it.  It is one that will go into my "Cookbook of Favorites by Family, Friends and Myself ."




Just inside and ahead in the Christmas closet
You cannot see to the left nor full floor to ceiling

 This year I have limited my interior decorating because although I have a massive collection of everything Christmas, and I love to  have my accumulations on display, I detest taking them all down after holiday and packing them away.  I am fortunate to have an immense walk in closet downstairs devoted strictly to ornamentals. I have shelves floor to ceiling and can store the items in big plastic bins which allow me to see what is inside.  You name it and I likely have it,  everything from train sets, fat friars caroling on a goat drawn cart, to Dickens village buildings, Christmas in the City displays, stuffed animals,  different adornments for kitchen and throughout the home, different Santa's, elves, my  hundreds of angels, different nativity sets and a massive collection of Fontannini figurines, and on and on.  Since there is no one to "leave this collection to" when the market rebounds I will begin to sell it off, a lesson I learned from an elderly woman in CA whose family did not appreciate her treasures.  She was selling it off and enjoying spending the proceeds, and the buyers were pleased to acquire.  



Sitting elf (1940's)  with shopping
elf, 1990's.

 For the first time in  how long, this year I declined assemblage of  our massive  7 1/2 foot fiber optic tree  for which Jerry was grateful as that is his chore to unbox and assemble.  I just  did not want to face  the taking down and packing away of ornaments.  It is a sight to behold, but I felt we could pass this year.

1967 Fontannini Nativity Musical; very rare
Fontannin no longer makes musicals to my knowledge.
 Tinsel is my addition this year

The nativity set always comes out first and this year I have two, the oldest Fontannini we bought our first Christmas in 1967 and the newest Royal Doulton.  I also put three ceramic magi in the bedroom, made by that same elderly woman who was selling off her collections in CA. The Magi  stay out until mid January as was a tradition with my Polish culture--Epiphany, which seems to come earlier in the church calendar.  Of course back when I grew up we always had real trees, put up Christmas Eve and displayed until New Years.  Traditions have shifted now to decorating right after Thanksgiving and removal the day after Christmas.   One year in CA I left our tree up until the weekend after New Years and friends did not know what to think.     

1940's Elf discoverd at  Uncle Carl's
 in PA; likely belonged to Aunt Marge

Last year I displayed the angels for the first time in several years and this year I decided to display some of the elves.  I noticed that elves are making a comeback in the commercial world.  I have some which I consider vintage, from the 40's and now replicas are on the market, likely made in China. I am taking pride that this year in our home there is nothing on display made in China; my collection is too old for that!  For example, there is a book  "Elf on the Shelf", being sold today with an elf who does who knows what.  Well I have the original 1940's red dressed little guy who was taken  out of his box this year and displayed upstairs alongside one who took up residence maybe  5years ago, handmade here by a local lady.  The red dressed impish guy sitting in this photo  has a celluloid face and  was  made in this country, way back when we used to manufacture and sell to ourselves. Then "made in Japan" began to overtake US manufacturing.  I have a tale to tell which I will do on the next post about the mischief the elves have gotten into, though as with  myself, it really was not all their fault!  That post is next to come!

Snow storm of the year, of the decade, of???

Yesterday was a day to stay in and wait out the weather.  After a day and night with howling winds as I have never before heard, here was this morning's greeting.  I guess it is sure gonna be a white Christmas. 

Jerry has been busy out there for hours.  I am thankful he does not want nor appreciate my help, so I stay inside, cook the bacon and take pictures.

What do you think?   Baby it's cold outside and I can use my cross country skis in this!  I need new binders and boots for them. That  well might be the only way to stay atop....this first photo is out our front living room window and the way it looked this morning first thing....snow drifts which covered the drive that had been cleared the day before...so this  is what it is like after a Minnesota Blizzard.  I have not experienced snow like this since the last year I lived in Meadville PA at Allegheny College where the drifts were still  high over my head that May!  Wish I had a photo of that time back in 1963 to share but no such luck, only in my memory.

You know it is not even winter officially yet until December 21; who has their wires crossed the weatherman or the calendar makers?


Snow dunes out the front window



Early this morning it was so cold it was blue, no photo shop touch up on this

Jerry tackling the drive near front, in one day this much more, this was cleared yesterday

Slowly  working down the front drive

 

This is the house where the motor home lives  Look at thedepth
of the snow on the roof!



This is how dug out look toward front, white snow walls

Hydrangea tree along the side is done for the year now

This is how dug out looks in the back

Dusk and it is nearly black and white again without any photo touch up

As the sun goes down the birds disappear from the feeders

I did walk around for about 15 minutes this late afternoon, early evening.  Figured I'd get some outside shots but not for too long, it is maybe  10 degrees out, smells clean and clear but the wind is starting and that really brings on the chill.  I have sufficient pictures now of Minnesota winter and am ready at any time to  head south.  If we can get out!  

 

Uncle Carl's Germany 1945 Sepia Saturday Week 52 (Click here to go to the Sepia site)



1944 on the way to Germany

This Sepia I share some select photos from Uncle Carl's time in Germany  with the US Army, 809th Tank Destroyers,  all dated 1944-45 World War II.  He had mailed all these photos home so they are all stamped on the back "passed by Army Examiner" along with his handwritten notes. I am surprised that some were released  although I suspect that the mail took so long  to arrive stateside  that by the time the photos made it to their destinations it would have been old news shown at the movies.  So unlike today's instant in our face 24/7 from the battle zones.  I have labeled each photo in Uncle Carl's words. 

Some photos were just noted as "Germany" some Gottingen, some Gottengham and  others Guttenghamn.  Likely Uncle Carl wasn't certain or careful of the spelling if he even knew it.   I Googled and found Gottingen Germany today, a very old city in what was the Saxony region and home of a noted University.  According to Wikipedia, (not to be confused with the notorious Wikileaks)  "The origins of Göttingen lay in a village called Gutingi. This village was first mentioned in a document in 953. The city was founded between 1150 and 1200 to the northwest of this village and adopted its name. In medieval times the city was a member of the Hanseatic League and hence a wealthy town.  The University of Göttingen (German: Georg-August-Universität Göttingen), known informally as Georgia Augusta, is a university in the city of Göttingen, Germany.   Founded in 1734 by King George II of Great Britain and the Elector of Hanover, it opened for classes in 1737." 

1944  Yanks to Germany



That first  photo, by  his writing makes me think the 809th TD Battalion had not yet arrived in Germany.  It does not state where they were but I am thinking surely they did not have to walk/march all the way to Germany.  This is the Battalion and a lively group they are.  Somehow my Uncle had his camera on the ready.   This next photo of  two unidentified soldiers merely had Yanks, as the label below.  I think the man on the left may be in other photos and I will have to see if his name is revealed.  I am wondering if these were Americans or Brits, simply because he used the term "Yanks." 

What little  my Uncle would tell me of his War experiences, he was very fond of the Brits who served with and  among them.  While he  never wanted to return to Europe, instead spent his travel hunting and fishing and being with his Army buddies at reunions, his wife Aunt Marge traveled with her sisters, but only to Spain, Italy and  Portugal.  He said he had seen enough to last him a lifetime.





Germany  train held



This photo does not identify where in Germany, but since all the rest are in "Gottingen" I suspect this might  be there as well.  The photo of the train and several below were all taken May 12, 1945 according to his notes.  Evidently they were occupying the buildings and the town.   

German Ammunition plant blown up by our Air Force. Along side of where we stay



This is the building where I stay now you can see where the bombs hit



 The above photo had no name on the back, my limited knowledge of German tells me this was off limits.  I think this man may be in other photos and may be identified later.



Airplane engines that were left behind by the Germans

 

Corporal  Sims, our mailman, Cpl. Lowe, our medic, and Sgt. Slick

Carl in the rubble pipes to salvage

When I look at this photo of my Uncle in the "rubble" I think, that being Teofil's son, he would scrounge and save every bit of whatever might be useful at whenever for whoever would need it.  I suppose it was a relief to be merely picking and gathering instead of leading the seek and destroy mission.    





German plane destroyed by the Yanks



 This last photo with only a few of the men from the 809th at their reunion in  Greensboro North Carolina in 1973.  Uncle Carl was president of the Reunion Committee for several years and arranged many of these events.  ; he is seated in the center holding the tank destroyer's battalion logo.  He never missed a reunion until the years caught up with him and as with others traveling was not on the agenda.  He may be one of the oldest survivors now at 92.  He was proud but quiet about those years, a patriot as were all those  men. I remember him saying  "It was a suicide mission.  Well it was OK for those of us who survived...."

As usual click on the title to this post to go to the Sepia Saturday international host site.  From there you can browse what others have shared this week. 

 

Loving Cup Magpie Tales 42 (Click Here for Magpie host site)

Sophie shoved with the wind at her back, opening the tavern door, lured  by the promise of warmth from a coffee heavily  laced with brandy and Kahlua, banter with colleagues  and refuge from the bitter icy wind that froze noses and eyelashes on the short two block walk from the office.  It had been a gruesome day that could not end soon enough, evidenced by the slight pounding at her right  temple, the hours consumed yet again reviewing ceaseless digitized pages of legal  briefs, convincing her secretary to reschedule court dates, coaching the tireless associate attorneys, and the worst experience of the day, interviewing her newest aspiring divorcee client.    Ahh, to be off to Bermuda, sitting in the sun on the sand, instead of here in Pittsburgh in the ice.

Once inside the buzz echoed from regulars, occasionals and all  happy hour congregants, lively talk against the background of the Stones, the  unmistakable rattle of Jagger's voice from the CD player controlled by the bartender, Billie, the 20 something college boy bartender who had recently discovered the Stones and punished them all to continuous doses of his "vintage musical " discoveries.   Sophie recognized the lyrics, to "The Loving Cup"  ....."I'm the man on the mountain, come on up. I'm the plowman in the valley with a face full of mud. Yes, I'm fumbling and I know my car don't start. Yes, I'm stumbling and I know I play a bad guitar. Give me little drink from your loving cup.  Just one drink and I'll fall down drunk."

 "Billie, a coffee kahluokie, hot no whipped..." she called across the din. 

"Sure thing, Sophie!"

Amidst the waves and nods of colleagues she made her way down the bar towards Jake, Jeannie and Larry where an empty bar stool awaited her.  Billie bustled along and in no timethe warmth from the steaming drink welcomed her.  "Sophie, want this on a tab tonite?  Recognize this one?" Billie bantered.

"Loving Cup, Billie, just what I did not need to hear. How about something melodic?" 

 Jeannie, as always distracted the conversation to what was on her mind, their upcoming benefit for the Boys and Girls Club. Jeannie had agreed to chair the annual event and it was certain to be a success.  "Hey, Mrs. Godfrey donated a silver trophy today; says it has been in her husband's family through the ages.and she is tired of it and none of their family want it.  I figure we can raffle it, or maybe display it, award it to the team that raises the most money this time and keep it as a revolving trophy for fund raising.....whatcha' think..?"

"Jeannie, that is the most  preposterous idea you have had yet, a fund raising contest.  You have always been the most  competitive but does everything have to be a race to the finish, a winner, a loser?"

"Nahh,,  really, Look at it, I am taking it home to polish up, then  we can decide, look at it.   I think it's silver."

"Wow, what's that?"  Billie questioned while reaching for another CD to appease Sophie who seemed grumpier than normal today. "Some kind of trophy?"

"See even Billie thinks it's a trophy!  Don't you think we could start something new?  The competition to raise funds would benefit the kids, after all."

Larry, usually the quiet one,  determined to set all things into proper perspective, began to explain that it was indeed a Loving cup and lectured about the Gaelic history of loving cups, wedding ceremonies where both the bride and groom drank wine from the same cup, vowing their readiness to share the triumphs and bitters of life ahead.

"Wow, that sounds vintage!  I don't know how that goes with the Stones song,"  Billie grinned while refilling Larry's glass.  Larry drank only beer summer, winter and Sophie shivered watching him.

"Billie, indeed vintage, that's the business of loving cups."  Larry concluded his lecture and went back to downing his beer. 

"Billie, Loving Cups were also toasting cups in the 1800's, or so" Jake offered attempting to dilute the lecture with his  humor.  "The toastmaster would raise the cup filled with ale or whiskey, to be shared among the fellows  and say something like this,  ...Here's  to the men who eat and drink,
          Here's to the men who sit and think,
          The tippler and the teetotaler rare.
           For some are good who answer 'nay' 
          And some are good who drink all day,
          And all are good sometime, somewhere.."

"Jake, that is great, know anymore?" Jeannie chirped.

"Stop do not give him the audience, " Sophie cautioned.

"Well then whatcha' think, here another idea sponsor a toast that has to be submitted with the money raised, the winner gets to keep and display the Loving Cup till next year...." Jeannie tagged back, enthusiasm brimming over. 

"Jeannie, that is why you are the perpetual committee gal.  You're on,  use that Loving Cup as a revolving trophy.  Shine it up.  I can  hear the irony now, in the press release,  "Sophie Brunner, well known local spinster and divorce attorney wins Loving Cup trophy by raising funds for Boys and Girls Club !  Sophie grinned.  "Another challenge courtesy of Jeannie.  Why did I think I'd get some quiet in here?"

**The toast is "To the Boys" written by Joe Cone and included in the book, "The Loving Cup:Original Toasts by Original Folks"  by Wilbur Dick Nesbit, Published in 1909  Click here to see other toasts in this 64 page book.
  http://books.google.com/books?id=sZ0aAAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover&dq=loving+cup&source

This has been a Magpie Tale Post, my take on  the prompt from Willow.  Click on the title to this tale to go to the Magpie host site and link to read words by so many others on this same prompt.  You are certain to  be surprised and astounded by some. 

Unholy Communion Sepia Saturday Week 51 (Click here to Sepia site)

I hesitate to share this last photo  a ludicrous reflection from my childhood archives, but why not, I feel accepted  among friends here on Sepia. I was raised Catholic by my grandmother; Mom acquiesced  to her mother in this matter because after she married her second husband who was not Catholic, and who was  not really anything, different for those times and seldom went to church, she still knew religious upbringing was important.  Coming from a long line of Polish Catholics, my Grandma Rose would ensure that my soul was protected and secured by my Catholic raising.  Grandma wanted me to go attend  Catholic school too, believing it would be good for me, but that was one discussion over which Mom prevailed, so I happily went to the neigborhood schools. Things went well for me there,

There are Catholic events along the life of every girl and  boy and the first, after baptism of course, is Holy Communion.  This was immersion into the faith,  and back in 1953, the date of this event in my life, it commenced by attending Catechism classes.  That did not suffice because the week before Communion we all  had to attend Catholic School anyway with all the "regular"  Catholic students, those of us, the renegades  from the public school hoods.  Oh what torture this became; we kids from the hoods  were mandated to arrive at the school  promptly before 7:30AM, thirty minutes before the rest of the class  so that we could do our assigned church chore which was some sort of penance for  not attending Catholic school; this was followed by daily attendance at mass.   

And oh, those nuns!  My grandmother was enamored of the "Blessed Sisters" which is what she called them but to me they were some sort of cross between a penguin and dungeon keepers.  The rules were ever so many that  were not  to my liking; I was not a bad child, just headstrong, a good student but fairly spoiled and used to doing things my way.  The Litany of rules included not to be talking in class, sitting just so, no fidgeting,  and worst of all for myself, no making faces. It is a lifelong trait that I can roll my eyes and show a full gamut of  expression with my face and lips.  Sometime I must write about my episodes with the nuns, the only time my Grandma was ever cross with me was when those Nuns would call her and report my daily activities, I really could not understand  why someone  whom Grandma thought so holy could be such tattletales.  But daily it seemed that there was something I did against their rules.  It was a week marked by suffering in my opinion never having had such immersion into the Catholic ways.

I was excited about getting a white dress for Communion, which meant a trip to our town's fancy store.  For this event, my other Grandmother, whom I hardly ever saw, (my father's mother, there was worse than bad blood between her and Mom,) announced that she wanted to buy my dress.  Well, she had not yet been shopping with me  but she was soon to learn about my opinions.  Both grandmothers, Mom and myself arrived at the store and the minute I saw the dress I knew it was "the one" it had some lace  rows with rhinestones along the skirt and I loved my sparkles even  back then.  Trouble was it did not fit and Mom promptly began to get others for me, but of course they were too plain.  I had seen the diamonds and they had to be mine! Mom was not so sure and tried to explain that maybe I didn't need that for Holy Communion, something plainer would do.   No way no how!  I protested such as only I could demonstrate, to the consternation of  the  saleslady, and I even went so far as to pronounce that after having to put up with those Nuns all week I deserved this!  Only this dress or nothing!  But my Grandmothers had already  put their heads together and both being excellent seamstresses knew that they could make this dress fit with a few adjustments here and there.  I was now appeased and pleased and Grandma Ball  paid for the dress and then off we went to get white patent leather shoes to match. 

Well here I am before we left my Grandma's house for the church; she had seen that I dressed at the last minute so that I not soil a thing.  I was fond of following Granpap out to the dirt, out to the garden, playing with the dogs, and whatever else appealed to me.  Besides I was hungry, back in those times in 1953 in the strict Polish Roman Catholic church one fasted before Communion, so I had an empty stomach besides my routine fidgets.  I was not that happy about anything except my dress; I  could not wait to wear it.  I really did not like those white knee socks but that was part of the prescribed attire, although I would have preferred red socks and made that known too.  Don't ask me why, just maybe I knew white socks would reveal the  dirt and maybe I feared keeping clean for too long; I really was gong to be very happy when this ceremony was all over and we had our big Sunday dinner with Grandma, who had baked for me alone a small lemon meringue pie, my request.

Somehow we made it to the church, St Mary's, the Polish Catholic church in town.  And off I went to join my  fellow Communicants or whatever we were called for the occasion.  Everyone came out for this event,  cousins, aunts, uncles, neighbors, it was a big deal back then.  Or maybe they too were just looking forward to the great gathering afterward and the wonderful food.  Best of all for me there would be presents; kind of like a birthday in May instead of waiting till November.   And I was celebrating that I would be back in school with my friends that Monday, the next day and done with the Nuns.  At least for a time.

To every one's consternation, somehow, I managed to get loose before our grand  processional entrance  into the church.  And as evidenced in this "professional" photo, those white knee socks told the tale.  Of course being clever, I smudged them, thinking the dirt would rub away  but it didn't.  I can still see some of the Nuns scowling at me and "tsking.."  To top it all off, I managed to make a face such that it further reflected my issues of the week; here I was trying to be as proper as I could be, hiding my chin and cheek  dimples, not laughing too hard and somehow I came out looking like a baby hippo.  But here you have it, my First Holy Communion photo.....I think both my Grandmas nearly cried when they  first saw this.  But at least the snapshot at Grandma's house  was before dirt! There I am trying to look my sternest, trying not to make a face, but I was so repressed that I created a double chin....However the sparkles of the diamonds in the dress are there and I still have this prayer book somewhere in a drawer today.  I survived First Communion!

Click on the title to this post to get to the Sepia Saturday site, host blog where you can visit others in this international community.  

Happy Thanksgiving and Reverie

It's here the fall harvest feast time of  the year, when night comes too early and left overs make round two of eating as much fun as round one.  This year it will be easier, the numbers of  us who gather decline, sure it's less complicated but it's solemn too.  Just us, Jerry's mother and possibly a friend.   Taking his mother out to eat is not in the game plan. Life is now so different from the times and  the feasts I prepared all those years past  in Newcastle, CA where everyone gathered at our home and I cooked and entertained and complained about how much work it was.

 Back then we were just about ready to harvest the mandarins from our orchard; we both had day jobs but we had wonderful friends who would come up to the farm to help and of course they were part of our  harvest family.  Back then I was always at work (and not just a job  but a career that demanded much) and often I would be out of town right before the holiday on business.  One year in particular I got so weary that I declared I would not cook that year.  As I recall I had an overnight flight to DC for a meeting and then back  to Ca and I was not in a mood to shop and cook as well.  Jerry suggested we eat out and so we did.  I thought all along that surely someone else would step up and do the meal, sister in law who lived not too far away, someone?  Anyone?  No one did.  So Jerry, Steve and I dined at a very nice restaurant in Lincoln at the  something  or other Bridges golf course.  It was exquisite as I recall, we had a gorgeous table in the corner, by the windows and could look out over the  greens.  The only thing was there were no left overs and that weekend I ended up cooking a turkey anyway, it  just  hadn't seemed right. 

It's even different here from when we first moved and there were cousins around who journeyed to eat with us and spent the weekend or even those who just came over for dinner. Life has changed. They are no longer with us. We are the survivors.

Which brings me to  this year, here in MN just us, it really does not seem right but  given the option to eat out,  I always choose to cook. There is that option to purchase the ready  made meal from any number of grocery stores too and bring it home, but  somehow the ghost of Aunt Jinx haunts me and I cannot imagine doing that either.  Two friends in CA are  doing  so  and it will be interesting to see how that  works for them.  I can't imagine any prepared meal being as good as what I can cook, especially my delicious stuffing.   This is the curse of being a good cook and then some, I am very particular about food.

I bought a small turkey, only 13  pounds which will be more than adequate for  3 or 4 of us; there was the time when I would have a  20 pound bird and  ham besides, or a turkey and lamb roast.. Sometimes I could not even pick up the roaster pan with the humongous stuffed turkey.  Then one year, Jerry bought the turkey deep fryer and I was sure it would come to no good, so I cooked a ham as well, but the deep fried  turkey was delicious  and no one wanted ham.

I do not intend to whine and lament; I know we have much to be  thankful for, our health and  relative prosperity, all the good things and blessings that we should not take for granted.  Still I will and do miss the preparation, the hub bub. I'm humming  that song, "those were the days my friend, we thought they'd never end...." Now that I have the time to do all that work and a perfect home with lots of room, it is no more. I love setting the table with the fine china and all the adornments.  I will do that despite our limited attendance.

I suppose I should give it up and agree to eat out, easier, but there is something about having the meal at home at leisure and those wonderful smells that fill the kitchen and waft elsewhere.  Jerry has suggested we begin to  consider being away somewhere in the motor home over the holiday, but that just does not sound right to me either.  But perhaps, I will accept that as something whose time has come another year.  

I often thought  it would be a good thing to work at a community dinner and help serve, such as they held at the Auburn Fairgrounds in CA or here in La Crosse.  But then I think all the crowds and work and standing would be too much and so I do  not go past a mere spurt of that thought.

I browsed through some photos looking for  ones of all the gatherings but could not find them; surely there must be at least one or two around, but then again, perhaps we were so busy we didn't photograph the events, predigital camera days.  We were so busy, we didn't think to record the grand feast for  posterity.  I guess we thought those days and times would always be with us, but so like all those we love who have left this planet, those times are done. I can only smile now thinking about them.

I have made great progress sorting and culling old photos but I am not yet done; when I can find  the subject matter I look for right when I am looking for it, like Thanksgiving I will know I am organized.     I try to remember Thanksgiving times from my childhood but  those days are just not coming into focus.  I know that we had gatherings and these were usually at another relative's home because Mom did not  like to cook for others.  My grandma did though and those feasts when everyone gathered around are clear to me.  Sometimes we ate at home by ourselves, when Mom was feeling reclusive or my step father was working an odd shift at the  steel mill  and those few times I recall as not fun.  I always liked being with my grandparents, cousins and the crowds.  I guess I have that Norman Rockwell photo in my head and always thought that is the way it should be.  It is not and now though I well know it, I long for the "days ago."    I wish a  very happy turkey time to all my bloggy  readers.  If you have created new traditions I would like to hear about them and your experiences.  For me, old habits die hard....

In closing here is a poem by Edgar Guest, lamentations on Thanksgivings ago.....

Sepia Saturday Week 50 The Tady Twins (Click here

I can still hear the excitement in the voices when they talked about the Tady Twins, the Tady Boys as I was a  youngster.  They were twin boys born to my mom's (and aunt  and Uncle's) cousin, Helen Janosky, who married Jack Tady.  Last week you met again, Stella Janosky, who was Helen's sister.  So far I have not found a  single photo of Helen in all the  old photos of relatives, but she may be one of those whom I cannot identify.  It must have been fun for my Mom, also a Helen, to have a  close cousin with the same name.

But back to the twins, I wonder now,  knowing what I do about our  ancestry, why  these twins were such a wonder.  There is  plenty of history of twins in the Ostrowski (Ostroski, Ostrowsky, etc.) lineage.  But nevertheless, the Tady Twins were revered, by their grandparents  Mary and Tommy and the rest of the clan.   And unlike those from years past, both boys survived and thrived.  No wonder that  Mom shuddered thinking of what could have been when I would lament in my teen years, "I wish I were twins!"  My cry was because I could not be in two  places at one time and there was always something more where I wanted to be than where I was at the moment. Mom shuddered because she knew it could have happened, she could have had twin me's!

 Here they are, darling little guys, a Sepia  photo retrieved from PA, Mom's writing at the bottom.Look at the arms linked and one more serious than the other.

I know they were a couple years older than me and their names were Fred and Frank; one is still alive today I have learned, but I don't know where. Fred is dead, and I do not know which was whom.  But what a couple of cuties!  Their parents first child, their older brother, Tom has also passed on and his wife has not wanted me to post anything about them or him relaying this message through a new found cousin,  not even communicating to me directly  but since I do not know her and these  are  from my family and my memories, I am sharing.

The way I know they are older than me besides my research that shows they were born in 1942  is look at this next photo.  Yours truly is the youngest, wailing  perhaps and  subdued by Mom in  1945, among  several of my boy cousins. Check out those short pants and  shoes and socks.  The Tady twins are  to the right of  myself, one either very concerned  or asking Mom to do something with the noise.  Again I do not know which is Fred and which is Frank. The boys to the left  are the Mroz cousins from Wisconsin who were visiting all of us in PA.  Rollie is the  youngest, the farthest to the left also looking at me with great concern and his brother Jerry is  bearing up; he is older and likely wishing he did not have to be among the beasties~ I gave copies of this photo to both the Mroz cousins a few years back; Rollie who passed away last year got a big kick out of it and reminded me that I had tormented them all my life.   I keep this photo framed  and on my family display shelf; it is one of my favorites.  You heard some of my escapades when I arrived in WI with my grandma to visit the Mroz's my Great Aunt Francie, grandma's sister on a March Sepia post  http://patonlinenewtime.blogspot.com/2010/03/sepia-saturday-great-aunt-francie.html

  I only have one more Tady photo and I am sure that  Jack, their father and Helen's husband has passed on, but I found this one from 1956 taken at my Grand Aunt Mary's during a family gathering...there were so many people there that the lawn chairs had to be brought inside the house to seat everyone.  Darn, wish I had a  Helen Janosky Tady photo here also  (I learned through research that  she passed away in this last year in a care facility in PA.  I leave this Sepia Post with Jack Tady, father of the boys!  Notice the look on his face, wonder who he was watching, maybe it was one of us kids!

As always, click on the title or here to get to the Sepia Saturday post site where you can browse through and visit others in the international community.   We celebrate  our 50th week this week!  What a journey!
http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2010/11/sepia-saturday-week-50.html