that it would have been made perfect if Geri and her crew and Erik’s Mommy and Daddy would have knocked at the door too.
~*~*~*~*~
We spend our days making memories and then filling our lives with them; tucking them in here and there like precious little bits of colored paper to be taken out and savored at a later time. Many times we’re making memories for someone else. Sometimes that someone else may not need those memories for a very long time.
Ginger and I have noticed that many of the memories that my Mom has now are from her own childhood. She often speaks fondly of “Mother” referring to her own Mother; Ginger’s Grandmother and my Great-Grandmother. She remembers things from her past, pulling them from the deep secret places of her heart. Often they are things that she and her parents did together; precious things. It occurred to me that just as her parents did, and as our parents for us, Erik and I too, are planting memories for Cassandra and Rebecca.
For my Mom, we will remember those things she cannot. Erik said something that touched my heart deeply. “Her memories aren’t gone they’re just locked inside of her.”
I like to think of it that way – memories, a lifetime of them locked away for safekeeping.
Whoever said, “You can’t go home again” didn’t have family there waiting for them.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been home, but longer still since the “real me” has been home, and when I got there, I found that my family was still there and just waiting for me. To each of them, thank you – you mean the world to me.
Erik and I did a weekend trip to southern Ontario a couple of weeks ago to visit my family and especially my Mom (my Grandmother). We stayed at the home of my Aunt, Ginger and my Uncle Larry. They live in the country about 10 miles or so from where I grew up in Simcoe, Ontario. It’s a beautiful farm, situated in Norfolk County, and their home is old and solid and welcoming.
When we arrived, my Aunt came running out with a mile wide smile and more hugs than I can count. Kim, my cousin Kirk’s wife was there with her two boys, Tyler and Logan and the welcome we received was incredible.
Benson (Benny to his friends) met us with tail wagging and a happy smile on his face. Yes, as a matter of fact I do believe that dogs smile.
Jason, Ginger, Tyler, Jill and Shelley
Jack
Shelley, Mom and Teddy
This is Nik..NOT Erik!!!
left of how he “dodged the intruders”.
Ginger had prepared a sweet juicy ham and potatoes and salad and the aroma was the best kind of greeting after ten hours on the road.
Following dinner around the kitchen table (the best place for family to gather); I think we finally came to a stop from traveling. Erik sat, and then decided to lay down for a bit. Ginger and I stayed up and visited and I had this overwhelming feeling that I couldn’t really be there, and suddenly I felt like a kid, a little giddy almost.
My Aunt and Uncle have a Bed and Breakfast in their home, and Erik and I had our choice of rooms. (How many people get to have fun like that??) We chose the pink room. It’s cozy and perfect for sleeping. There is a slanted ceiling over the bed. By the way, that was Erik’s side of the bed, and he didn’t bump his head once. In the morning it seemed as if neither of us had moved all night. At first I thought that was because we had been so tired from the trip. In hindsight, I realize that the forty pound comforter on top of us was the likely reason.
Throughout her lifetime, my Mom has always been a vibrant soul, filled with a zest for living. At 83 years of age, she has slowed considerably and the addition of Alzheimer’s has stolen much of the person that she was. Irregardless, she remains Mom, and our love for her is undaunted, as it should be.
When I received a call from Ginger that we should come home, there was no hesitation on our parts.
Mom lives in a wonderful nursing home facility now, and she is surrounded by caring individuals who take a genuine interest in their charges.
Ginger visits her on a regular basis, and Mom has her good and bad days. Lately, I’m sorry to say there have been more bad days than good. It was for this reason that we made the trip.
Jack (my cousin Jill’s cat) was at first aloof, but soon warmed up to the idea that we were there. I think the fact that we both fed him ham had something to do with that though.
Now Widdie (Ginger’s cat) was the only timid one in the group. Poor boy – I’m certain that he spent more time avoiding us, because he headed to the cellar each time we came round the corner. Ah well, what fine stories he would tell Jack when we
When I walked in her room, she smiled a familiar smile and a flood of memories went through my mind. Gathering spring flowers and walks down the tracks to the ballpark and camping in the fall at Turkey Point were just a few in that instant.
I smiled back and kissed her and once more felt her cheek against mine. Her skin is still soft and as I held her in that moment, I tried to capture and memorize how it felt. Is
there anything that feels as good as a hug from your Mom?? I don’t think so either.
Quite taken with Erik, she declared that he was the best looking one there, and I couldn’t help but laugh. At 83, she is still a charmer.
We talked and she listened and although I was indeed familiar to her, she didn’t know me, not really. There comes a time, when we must remember FOR someone. This is that time for my Mom.
In reality, we had two very good days with her, and for that I am so thankful.
When I asked her if she knew who I was, she looked at Ginger, and then again at me. She smiled and said, “I think you’re related to us.” Indeed Mom, I am.
~*~*~*~*~
I hope that you all enjoyed your holiday celebrations as much as we did.
We traveled to Long Island to spend the first night of Passover with Mimi and Robert and their girls, Sophie and Juliet. I’m still learning about the Seder meal and the significance of each thing served.
I was so proud of Cassandra – she ate the horseradish for the first time. It was a most interesting shade of green that she turned. She was much more excited about the Carrot Puff and had two helpings!! (I will include the recipe, thanks going to Mimi.)
The Seder is a beautiful tradition, and I thank my new family for sharing this with me.
Easter Sunday found us hiding eggs for the girls, and making sure that baskets were readied. Rebecca (with a little help from Daddy) managed to find two more eggs than her sister – a point she was very proud of.
We filled their baskets with socks and hats and a book and a horse DVD each. A stuffed bunny and a crystal initial necklace were tied to each basket handle. For Cassandra, a Hershey Chocolate Bar and for Rebecca, a box of DOTS!! (There was no other candy – and neither girl complained!!)
On the bottom of each basket were a handful of pennies, hidden in the grass, just like my Mama did for me.
Erik and I hosted Easter and we were joined by Mimi and Robert and the girls. There is nothing that compares to the love and fellowship of family. I’m certain that sounds old-fashioned, and that’s quite all right with me.
We found a whopping, wicked good ham to which we added cloves and ground ginger, and then cooked in a 2 liter bottle of ginger ale. Added to this were scalloped potatoes, mixed vegetables, Focaccia Bread that we dipped in olive oil (thanks Mimi!!) and three kinds of olives. For dessert we had Cream Cheese Brownies with Rocky Road ice cream. The men opted for coffee, but the ladies chose tea. It felt good to sit and visit knowing that we were making memories of our own that we could enjoy over and over again.
Our home was empty for only a short time for Nik stopped by on his way home from Vermont. We felt a little like a modern day Inn for a weary traveler late at night. I loved it!! He enjoyed some homemade chicken soup with kneidlach (matzo balls). Scooter adores his “Uncle Nik” and purred and meowed and rolled on the floor accordingly.
All such sweet days come to a sure end, but I have to admit
~*~
Carrot Puff
~*~
1 LB CARROTS PEELED AND CUT INTO 1" PIECES
1/2 CUP MARGARINE MELTED
3 EGGS
3/4 CUP SUGAR
3 TBLS FLOUR
1 TSP BAKING POWDER
1 TSP VANILLA
Boil Carrots, covered, until soft – drain.
Combine all ingredients except carrots in blender. Blend adding carrots a little at a time until smooth.
Pour into a greased 8" pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes until set. Let stand 5 minutes before serving.
As I write this, Erik is in India, a half a world away. To me that is an awesome thought. Being extremely human, I like to think of it in terms that he is just on the other side of my computer screen. This, I can deal with. This is getting me through the week.
It’s been said that absence makes the heart grow fonder and while that’s true I find myself thinking about the one I love in a much different light as well. Second relationships are so different; so easy and so comfortable. Perhaps we both came into this knowing what we wanted, and what we expected. Maybe we’re just older and wiser.
I know that my heart is incomplete without him. That may sound trite, but it couldn’t be more complex if I tried. Alone, I watched the sun set last night, and I felt so lonely, so solitary. It’s funny really, because we don’t always watch the sun set together. I suppose the comfort is in the knowing that the other is there. It’s taken me a lifetime to find that, so when Erik is half-way round the world, it’s no wonder that I feel a little melancholy.
April 29, 2004
We survived our week apart, and it feels good to settle back into the everyday. The morning commute to the station and the evening commute home again; the kiss goodbye and the kiss hello. I suppose we need a little shaking up once in a while to appreciate “the routine”. Are kisses ever routine?? Oh, I think not.
May 7, 2004
Everywhere you look now in the Hudson Valley, there is a lush green. On the ground tiny shoots of new grass still growing “wild” not having seen the mower yet. The maple leaves appear to grow right before our eyes when the day is warm and the skeleton fingers that were bare branches yesterday disappear from our sight today. Flowering bushes laden with blooms, wear a petticoat of delicate leaves; a compliment if you will to the eye-catching flowers.
The crown of spring is surely the gentle Lilac though. I look out my window and I can see our lilac bush heavy with lavender clusters. My dear friend Barbara from Minnesota sent me a note recently.
In it she said, “The lilacs are in bloom now and, of course, you know who I think of when I think of lilacs. We have 2 kinds of lilacs...one a French variety and the old standard courtyard variety that grows at Stillmeadow.”
I think Gladys Taber must yet walk the paths at her beloved Stillmeadow, Barbara. I see her in my mind’s eye as she
gathers a bouquet to take inside. Holly and the cockers romp and play at her feet, and Jill walks in the garden checking on the onion sets. The quiet garden beckons for sweet tea and something good from the kitchen.
We’ve had rain for the past two days, and whenever we step out the back door, the scent is intoxicating. If you’d been passing our home yesterday just before dinner, you’d have caught a glimpse of me and the Sweet Potatoes drinking in the lilacs. “Oooooh, they smell good.” Rebecca said. She’s right, they do.
When I was little, and the lilacs were in season, we used to go down by “the old farmhouse” to pick the lilacs that still grew wild there. My Mom had grown up in Dogsnest near Port Dover, ON, and although the farm had been sold a few years before (so many of them having been bought up by developers) the houses stood empty; the land unused. This is a sad fate for an old farm I think.
It was always an adventure to get the lilacs. Rubber boots were a must, and you were wise to tuck the pant legs inside of those boots!! The brush was always thick, and I could never see where I was headed. Mom used to tell me stories as she and I would trudge through. Her Daddy, my Great Granddaddy was a formidable man, and my Papa used to say that all of Mom’s stubborn came from him. This used to make me laugh. I remember asking him once if Grandma Law was as patient as he was. This made him laugh. I suppose she must have been.
My Great Grandparents were farmers; hardworking people who loved the land and loved each other. I was too young to know them, but through my Mom (my Grandmother) and my Mama and my Aunt I’ve learned about them. My Great Grandmother (Grandma Law) was a sweet dear soul with a kind round face. Papa always said that nobody cooked better and had less to do it with. She did crochet work, and Mom used to tell my Mama and my Aunt and me that any talent we got, we got from her.
My Great Grandfather (Grandpa Law) worked hard and Papa told me that he ran a tight ship when it came to the farm and the farm workers.
My Mom and I would gather lilacs and sometimes she would bring a picnic lunch for us to share. It’s something that she undoubtedly did with her own Mother years before. She enjoyed these times. They were a tangible link to both of our pasts. As the lilacs sat in container of water she and I would walk around the house, and in her eyes yesterday was once more. “Over here…” she would say, and “Down by there…” She introduced me to Grandma and Grandpa Law in so many ways. We would walk and I would listen as my Mom became my age and walked beside me as a child. Sweet times to be sure.
The houses are both gone now. Fire claimed them both when I was still a child. The police said probable arson, but no one was ever found responsible.
It’s always amazed me how little time it takes for the land to go wild again. When I was little it hadn’t been but twenty years since the farm was neat and maintained. Time rolls on. Yesterdays become yesteryears. I wonder now if the lilacs are still there, and I think that next time home I would like to show Erik where my roots are in Dogsnest.
Find a little girl to share your lilacs with. Tell her about your Mama as you pick them together. You will cultivate a lifetime of sweet memories for the both of you.
Just as Gladys Taber still walks at Stillmeadow, I like to think that Grandma Law still walks at the farm at Dogsnest. I like to think of both of them gathering bouquets of fragrant lilac.
This Sunday is Mother’s Day and I’d like to pay tribute to all the wonderful women in my life.
My Mama – It’s been so long since you’ve been gone Mama. I miss you today as much as I did the day you left. I still smell your perfume and I still see your eyes in my dreams. I’m older than you were when I last saw you, but I can’t think of being anything other than your little girl. I love you Mama.
My Mom – I’m a memory that’s buried in your heart now Mom. Thank you for raising me as your own, and loving me with everything in you. I will remember for both of us.
My Aunt, Ginger – You are and always will be like a sister and a best friend. You’ve always been there for me, and I couldn’t love you more for that. Thank you Min.
Helen – It’s been so very long, and you’re missed everyday. You didn’t have any little ones, but you used to tell me that you thought of My Mama (Sandy) and Ginger and me as your three little girls. You’d have been such a good Mom. You always were to me.
Mom Me (Erik’s Mommy) – You have become a Mother to me. Not “like” a Mother, but a Mother. I cherish your love, value your wisdom and enjoy you so much.
Barbara – You have filled a special place in my heart. It is a place that belongs only to you. We seem to share so much you and me. Thank you for calling me “Daughter” and for allowing me the honor of calling you “Mom”.
To each of you, I love you and I thank G-d for blessing my life with you.
I’ve often wondered why the days have to fly by like the dandelion fluff in the air. Have you ever wanted to halt time and just hold it in your hand?? I think that’s how I’ve felt lately – as if the days are turning into weeks faster than they should. Maybe it’s just a shade of “blue”. I have, however come to the conclusion that I’m not the first to have ever felt that way.
The school year has come to a close for the sweet potatoes, and it’s hard to fathom that next year Rebecca will be in first grade. Time marches on and there isn’t a thing we can do about it.
The end of the school year, like any other mile marker in the year tends to
June 26, 2004
stir my own memories out of slumber. From grade one to grade six (as we say in Canada) I attended South Public School at the corner of South Drive and John Street in Simcoe, Ontario. Built in 1917 to serve a growing community it was originally known as South Ward School. A building true to its time, it is square and solid and stately, like so many institutions of its time.
I will always remember the huge windows in the classrooms. It seems (at least in my memory) that one entire wall in each classroom was windows. They would stick and creak in the hot weather, but they were wonderful for watching the leaves swirl past in the fall and for that first and all-important snowflake in the winter. It was the spring though, ah, the spring that they would be opened letting in a delicious breeze that would smell of mowed grass and lilacs. Those windows held our creations too. In September we would cut out leaves to fill the panes. October would bring pumpkins and black cats and so on.
From where I lived – on just the other side of the railway tracks, and just “up” from Landon’s Nursery and Greenhouse it was a leisurely seven minute walk to and from the school. No bus needed. Every morning, I would stop at the house of my friend, Shelley Burk and we would watch just one more cartoon before crossing Norfolk Street and then racing up the hill to the school.
At Christmastime, that little school seemed a magic place to be. Making paper chains and snowflakes we decorated our rooms with enough leftover to take home. Each morning before class in December we would gather in the hall and stairway of the first floor to sing Christmas Carols. All classes were included in this from Kindergarten through Sixth Grade. We weren’t performing for anyone. The enjoyment was in the being there together.
My Mama attended South Public School. So did my Aunt. Two of my brothers went there. It is part of the fabric of my family. I’m not unique in that claim. South Public School has seen generations of Simcoe children over the years. So, when I learned recently that it is to be demolished later this summer, my heart felt more than a little bruised.
Miss Schuyler is perhaps the teacher that had the greatest impact on me while I was there. She was the quintessential teacher. Her care for her young charges went beyond the school year, and she seemed to follow our progress long after we’d left her classroom. She had an incredible collection of slides depicting wild birds in different settings. She had taken them all herself. She would bring in those slides a few at a time and we would have part of an afternoon devoted to bird identification. She would put a little seed on the outside ledge of the window and we would delight at the simple pleasure of naming the birds that came by to eat. Miss Schulyer had a way of inspiring us to learn the sweet life lessons.
After school was out for vacation, and the summer halfway through a parcel from Miss Schuyler arrived in the post for me. She had sent each of us in her class a hardcover book to read for the summer. I have that book to this day. I’ve never forgotten the kindness of this great lady, and the love of words that she instilled within me. Thank you Miss Schuyler.
It should be noted here that she taught me the most important peanut butter lesson that I’ve ever learned too. If you want to eat a peanut butter sam’ich and not have any of it stick to the roof of your mouth sprinkle a little sugar on it!! This has been invaluable advice. Thanks again Miss Schuyler!!
The school was just a stone’s throw from the Fairgrounds, and in the fall much of the playground became a parking lot for the Fair. It was a torturous time for us children to listen to the sounds of the rides and the grandstand while we sat in rows waiting for the clock to strike half past three!! Adding insult to injury, the “senior” boys (those in grade six) were allowed to work the parking lot. Oh, how we envied these young businessmen. I still remember their smug looks. Harrumph.
First days in stiff new outfits, and last days running from the schoolyard with final report cards (and a Canadian flag) in hand and the long summer ahead, the memories are too many to recount here.
I’ve had to say good-bye to my Mama and my brother Randy, and a few years ago I lost my dear friend Shelley Burk. Good-byes are never easy.
I’m glad that when Erik and I made a trip to Simcoe in the spring we drove past South Public School. I didn’t realize at the time that it was my “good-bye” and I’m glad I didn’t know.
Mary Hatch and George Bailey in “It’s a Wonderful Life, just in case you were wondering, and no, I really haven’t lost track of what month it is.
I spent part of my afternoon today gathering some flowers from the front. I thought they were hydrangeas that first spring but alas, no. They are similar so they always remind me of that scene with Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed. Ah, Jimmy Stewart. An American treasure and pretty darned
good looking to boot!! Now tell me if you can why Mrs. Hatch was disappointed when Mary fell for George Bailey?? Honestly, if a Mother isn’t pleased with the likes of Jimmy Stewart as a son-in-law, there’s just no pleasing that woman at all. I digress.
I picked a lovely bunch of the white flowers, and just as I went to take them into the house, the biggest earwig I’ve ever seen came wriggling out!! I’m not usually too bad with bugs but earwigs are wretched looking things and I managed to let out a horrid noise and then shook the day lights out of the flowers. The remaining earwigs held on for dear life. The bouquet looked lovely on the
back deck, and never made it into the house. I itched and scratched and felt generally “lousy” for the remainder of the day.
Of course I played out another scene in my mind with Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed. (My mind was racing by now.) This one had Mary screaming bloody murder as an earwig landed on her shoulder. Poor George Bailey who would never be convincing as the bad man was led away by police for harassing poor Miss Hatch in the hydrangeas. And all of this caused by a single earwig. I’m glad the original movie didn’t end like this. “Ma Bailey” visiting George in jail just doesn’t say “Merry Christmas” or “Goodwill” to anyone. Sigh.
The summer break is almost over for the girls, and they’re both looking forward to heading off to school. Rebecca is convinced that she wants “lots of homework” and Cassandra just rolls her eyes each time she hears this. It makes me smile.
Cassandra is already planning play days with her friends, and she is convinced from “hearsay” that her new teacher is very strict. We’ve told her not to worry herself too much over this.
The girls each passed milestones over the summer. Cassandra finished all six of the Lemony Snicket books. She was especially eager that Nanny should know this. Rebecca has learned how to tell time. She now wears a watch. She wears it all the time and it’s possible that none of us will ever have to where a watch again. Rebecca is most willing to give us the time whenever we ask her and even if when we don’t. We went on a family outing this week. It was a three hour drive. Almost every ten minutes Rebecca would announce the time, and then ask how much longer it would be until we arrived at our destination. It was the modern digital version of “Are we there yet??” She assures her Daddy that the watch is waterproof as she comes out of the bath. So far, we’re still ticking.
We’ve had fun over the past few months getting clothes and setting them aside for the girls to start the new school year with. The girls and I got them out a couple of days ago, and matched up outfits to see what each was missing. Amazingly, there are very few things yet to get. Somehow Rebecca ended up with a whopping seventeen pairs of socks!! She was delighted. She loves socks and apparently I love picking them out!! Perhaps a list is in order for me next time.
Erik has enjoyed his time in the woodshop this summer. It’s a wonderful break for him from his long hours in the city. If you’ve been following the pictures you’ll know that’s he’s almost at the “finishing” stage for the bed and the two nightstands. I am so proud of the work that he’s done and I love going out there to see the progress of rough wood to finished furniture. Erik’s attention to detail is amazing and when completed we will have nothing short of heirloom pieces in our home.
Looking back over the past couple of months, I feel that my tangible accomplishments have been few. I have to sigh at that thought. It’s then that I must sit back and realize that taking care of the day to day is a great accomplishment. If pleasure can be found in little things, then pride too must be taken in little things.
In the spring Erik planted tomatoes and we’re seeing the fruit now. He’s been picking juicy red tomatoes and “toting” them indoors. I’ve been washing, coring, peeling and measuring them and then storing them in the freezer. When I have enough, I will make some homemade Tomato Soup. It’s a wonderful recipe that my Aunt, Ginger gave me. We think it’s better than any that you can buy. This will be one of my visible accomplishments!! The thought is a pleasing one.
The trees are showing signs of fall. Oh, not full color to be sure, but fall nonetheless is on its way. Little patches of orange here and there tell me that cooler days are ahead. The drive along the Taconic will soon burst into a thousand different hues. I for one am so excited about autumn this year. My friend Jan and I have been talking and writing back and forth and comparing “fall notes”.
In her last letter Jan wrote this and I wanted to share it with all of you:
“…I am so looking forward to seeing you and enjoying some autumn glory! You inspired me to buy "Macintosh" (mmm) and "Autumn Leaves" from Yankee Candle, just the little samplers, but that takes me back to my hometown, mid-October, looking out over the bike path strewn with maple leaves, well, you know how it is, wondering what to "be" for Halloween, still breaking in your new shoes and grooving on the plastic smell off a lunch box or pencil case. I broke the silvery liner of my thermos the first week of school every single year. (It was a rough, hilly bus ride)”
Jan’s just a stone’s throw away in Connecticut. We’re not exactly the backyard neighbors of days gone by but the modern conveniences allow us to stay in touch just the same. We’re hoping that our families can get together for a fall adventure of some sort this year. We’re “eyeing” sometime in October for our outing. Ah, I can smell the air now – thick with the heady spice of fall and the leaves yellow and orange and red. Fall days are lovely. Fall days shared are even better.
It’s incredible to me how G-d brings people into our lives just when we need them the most. I feel this way about Jan. She is one of G-d’s treasures, and I’m so thankful for her friendship.
By the way Jan, I had that same thermos in Grade One. Someone knocked it off of the shelf in the girls’ cloak room. When I sat down for lunch, I heard the familiar chinkle, chinkle, chinkle in with my milk. I remember telling my Mom that “I really didn’t do it!!” The look on her face was anything but that of belief. For the rest of the school year I had to stand in line at the fridge with my dime in hand, like everyone else who broke their thermos that first week of school.
It’s funny really. I hadn’t thought about that thermos for a long time. Thanks for the reminder Jan!!
Love from Butternut Grove,
Shelley
The Simple Pleasures
*~*~*
George Bailey and Mary Hatch
Hydrangeas and almost Hydrangeas
Lemony Snicket!!
A six year old and a new watch
(Are we there yet??)
Family Outings
The sounds from the Woodshop
The finishing stages of the bed and the end tables!!
