Not All Memories Come together At the Same Time
You've read before where I mention the little old Red House on our farm about a half mile south of our house. It was kinda the dividing line between our farm land and the pasture. The roads of our county were maintained by the County Commissioner's Office. So a maintenance grader came by now and again, usually after a rain, which wasn't very often at all. The driver of the grader usually was someone from our area. We probably knew him on a first name basis. The road going south by our house got to the Red House and turned to the right, that would be going west. The road did continue on south for another half mile to the crossing on Red River. That road was between our pasture on the east and Teddy Joe's field on the west. But the county never graded it. It was a set of sand tracks with wild grass between the tracks and on either side all the way to the river bank.
I told you all this because I wanted to tell you about a plumb thicket. But first you should know that our rectangular farm, half mile wide (east to west) and mile long (north to south) was divided more or less cross ways (east to west) almost in the middle. North half tillable farm land, south half sandy pasture land. But the two halves really were more like two "L" shaped parcels. The longer part of the south pasture half extended above the Red House almost a quarter mile. Likewise the north half had a little longer and wider part that extended south into what might have been pasture. That area is where the fruit trees of the orchard were planted and where the government project for wind control in the 1930's planted the shelter belt of trees, east to west between the farm land and the pasture land.
There was a barbed wire fence following the shelter belt eastward to keep the cattle of the pasture from roaming over into the farm part. Here's the short story of the long print: About half way along that fence just to the south of the shelter belt, across the fence in the pasture, near the highest sand hill of the whole farm, was a thicket of wild plumb trees. Every year Mother kept track of the ripening of those somewhat sour red plumbs. When they were ready, she took us with buckets and pales to gather the plumbs. The trees were about as high as my head and above the heads of the girls. Mother of course could see all around. We picked all we could gather, then headed back home.
The second part probably took place the next day, what with evening chores coming up. When she was ready, the wash tubs came out and the plumbs got washed up all pretty and clean. Then into a pot on the stove to cook them down. They needed to be run through a sieve. The juice, peals and pits were all separated so she made jelly and jam. That was some scrumptious dinning.
Mother almost always made biscuits for breakfast. They weren't the kind you buy in the grocery that come in a tube of cardboard and you whack it on the corner of the counter, then pull them out and arrange on a cookie sheet. All the ladies of our growing up times made the kinds of biscuits that Mother made. Those were worth coming home for. First you broke open two or three while they were hot and filled them with home made butter right from your own cow cream. Then you set one or two on the side of your plate. Next you opened it up and slathered it with good ole home made gravy. You might need two of those biscuits. After you finished the biscuits and gravy and all that came with it, then you pulled the jar of jam or jelly over and filled up those other butter soaked biscuits with that jam or jelly or both.
When you'd finished a breakfast started with oatmeal, brown sugar and fresh cream, followed by the above, including bacon, sausage or ham that you'd cured at butchering time and a couple of fresh eggs from your own flock of healthy chicken hens. You knew you were ready to go to school all day, or a days worth of work on the farm.
If we'd been working at Papa's blacksmith shop ever since we finished our morning chores, we might have taken lunch with Granny and Papa, then back to the shop most of the afternoon. She knew how much ingredients it took to make a biscuit, and she generally made only three: one for herself and two for him. But somehow she seemed to know when boys would be around in the afternoon. About three o'clock, here came Granny with a few "turtles" as she called them. They were a little over sized biscuits. She had pocked her thumb or finger in the length of the biscuit. In the hole, she had poured it full of black strap molasses or blue ribbon syrup. By the time she carried them to where you were working, that sweet goodness had soaked out into those biscuits. After you ate one or two, you were almost fit to fly home to do the evening chores.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Monday, August 12, 2013
SUNDAY: LYDIA AND GABRIEL'S TWELFTH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY
What a Beautiful Day among the Vineyards in the Region of Asti
Gabriel drove us there in the last week of 2007. Joanna and I had flown to Europe, arriving in Frankfort, Germany on Christmas Day, then on to Torino where Lydia's family picked us up, my seventieth birthday. The next day or so we drove through those gorgeous hills and valleys. The destination was the Abby of Saint Mary of Vezzolano. There was no snow, but it was so cold. We walked from the parking area and toured the Abby. It is such a picturesque setting. It was a very long walk and I was so cold.
There was a warm looking bar a couple hundred yards or so up the road. We eventually walked there and had lunch. Yesterday when we parked by the bar and walked down the long sidewalk and road, it was still the same distance, but not nearly so far ... I am so much improved from those five years ago. I do give God praise, with some doctors and medical science.
Normally we would have driven down into Torino at the English Speaking Church of Torino for the Sunday service. But yesterday was their vacation day, so we went the other direction. Lydia had prepared a wonderful picnic lunch. Gaia and Carys had asked me to help them make an apple cake for their parents anniversary lunch - dinner / picnic. On Saturday the Girls started harping on the need for me to help them make this cake for their parents anniversary. They were determined!!! I had never made an apple cake before, but neither had they. So Carys, 5 years and Gaia, 7 year and I stepped in where "angles might fear to treed." Gabriel found the recipe on line. The cake is called:
Fall Sweet Treat: Apple Cake
Ingredients:
2 Eggs
2 Cups of Sugar
1 Cup of Canola Oil
2 Teaspoons of Vanilla
2 Teaspoons of Cinnamon
1 Teaspoon of Baking Soda
1/2 Teaspoon Salt
3 Cups Flour
3 Cups Chopped Apples
[ There were a few hitches, but we worked through them. We added some olive oil to
complete the cup of Canola Oil. We skipped the Vanilla, we were without. The Italian
Baking Soda is different than in the States, we doubled the amount. We used 2 Cups
Rice Flour, but didn't have enough Farro Flour for the third cup, so Gabriel brought out
enough Wheat Flour to finish the ingredients.]
Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 350' This must be USA stove heat. Gabriel helped set the oven by
European standards.
2. Beat eggs in mixing bowl. Gaia and Carys each broke an egg into their small bowls and
whipped them up to perfection.
3. Add sugar, oil and vanilla.
4. In a separate bowl combine cinnamon, baking soda, salt and flour.
5. Slowly add the flour mixture into the wet ingredients until dough has formed. (We each stirred
by turn.)
6. Add chopped apples to dough (if you don't have a kitchen-aid mixer with a dough hook, then
it is best to mix in apples by hand as dough becomes very thick.) ( I can attest that's true.) (The
Girls took turns turning the apple peeler. I cut the apples into quarters and sliced the quarters into
thin slices, then the Girls each took a quarter and sliced then cross ways into other thin pieces.)
7. Pour into a lightly greased bundt cake pan and cook for 45 - 60 minutes. (We needed a bit
more than 65 minutes. And we used a large round glass baking dish.)
Recipe from the kitchen of Selma Horan
For our picnic lunch we shared a trapezoidal shaped park on a rather steep incline with folks at other tables. Saturday night the Girls had glazed the cake with white, yellow and blue icing. Carys put yellow in the middle for the Sun. Gaia drizzled blue around the sun for the sky. My contribution was white around the edges for the clouds. And the glaze was something of a flop, since I had never paid attention when Lilly was glazing her fabulous cinnamon rolls those years ago. So the glaze was rather granny.
After the meal of Cake and Watermelon, Lydia had a wonderful Bible Story on a blanket near the table. With puppets she told the account of Jesus in the home of Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha. Luke's Gospel tells the story: Luke 10:39-42 ... " Mary ... was listening to the Lord's word, seated at His feet. 40 But Martha was distracted with all her preparation; and she came up to Him, and said, 'Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to do all the serving alone? Then tell her to help me.' 41 But the Lord answered and said to her, 'Martha, Martha, you are worried and bothered about so many things 42 but only a few things are necessary, really only one, for Mary has chosen the good part, which shall not be taken away from her.'"
Having relaxed, eaten, enjoyed good fellowship, we loaded our lightened picnic basket and climbed back into the car for the short drive down the hills to the bar overlooking the Abby. There among the summer throng we found a table and had a toast with coffee on the porch. We admired the sight and beauty of bees working and the smell of lavender along the rail fence.
In a leisurely stroll we observed the ancient varieties of apple in the orchard behind the Abby, ambling downhill toward the front entrance. It is claimed that the Emperor Charlemagne ordered a Church built on the site in the year 773 a.d. Part of the old foundation dates from 1095. The current building was begun in the late 1200's a.d. and completed sometime in the 1300's a.d.
I don't know about all people, but the beauty I see each day gives me plenty of reason to praise and honor God, as Lord of All.
Gabriel drove us there in the last week of 2007. Joanna and I had flown to Europe, arriving in Frankfort, Germany on Christmas Day, then on to Torino where Lydia's family picked us up, my seventieth birthday. The next day or so we drove through those gorgeous hills and valleys. The destination was the Abby of Saint Mary of Vezzolano. There was no snow, but it was so cold. We walked from the parking area and toured the Abby. It is such a picturesque setting. It was a very long walk and I was so cold.
There was a warm looking bar a couple hundred yards or so up the road. We eventually walked there and had lunch. Yesterday when we parked by the bar and walked down the long sidewalk and road, it was still the same distance, but not nearly so far ... I am so much improved from those five years ago. I do give God praise, with some doctors and medical science.
Normally we would have driven down into Torino at the English Speaking Church of Torino for the Sunday service. But yesterday was their vacation day, so we went the other direction. Lydia had prepared a wonderful picnic lunch. Gaia and Carys had asked me to help them make an apple cake for their parents anniversary lunch - dinner / picnic. On Saturday the Girls started harping on the need for me to help them make this cake for their parents anniversary. They were determined!!! I had never made an apple cake before, but neither had they. So Carys, 5 years and Gaia, 7 year and I stepped in where "angles might fear to treed." Gabriel found the recipe on line. The cake is called:
Fall Sweet Treat: Apple Cake
Ingredients:
2 Eggs
2 Cups of Sugar
1 Cup of Canola Oil
2 Teaspoons of Vanilla
2 Teaspoons of Cinnamon
1 Teaspoon of Baking Soda
1/2 Teaspoon Salt
3 Cups Flour
3 Cups Chopped Apples
[ There were a few hitches, but we worked through them. We added some olive oil to
complete the cup of Canola Oil. We skipped the Vanilla, we were without. The Italian
Baking Soda is different than in the States, we doubled the amount. We used 2 Cups
Rice Flour, but didn't have enough Farro Flour for the third cup, so Gabriel brought out
enough Wheat Flour to finish the ingredients.]
Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 350' This must be USA stove heat. Gabriel helped set the oven by
European standards.
2. Beat eggs in mixing bowl. Gaia and Carys each broke an egg into their small bowls and
whipped them up to perfection.
3. Add sugar, oil and vanilla.
4. In a separate bowl combine cinnamon, baking soda, salt and flour.
5. Slowly add the flour mixture into the wet ingredients until dough has formed. (We each stirred
by turn.)
6. Add chopped apples to dough (if you don't have a kitchen-aid mixer with a dough hook, then
it is best to mix in apples by hand as dough becomes very thick.) ( I can attest that's true.) (The
Girls took turns turning the apple peeler. I cut the apples into quarters and sliced the quarters into
thin slices, then the Girls each took a quarter and sliced then cross ways into other thin pieces.)
7. Pour into a lightly greased bundt cake pan and cook for 45 - 60 minutes. (We needed a bit
more than 65 minutes. And we used a large round glass baking dish.)
Recipe from the kitchen of Selma Horan
For our picnic lunch we shared a trapezoidal shaped park on a rather steep incline with folks at other tables. Saturday night the Girls had glazed the cake with white, yellow and blue icing. Carys put yellow in the middle for the Sun. Gaia drizzled blue around the sun for the sky. My contribution was white around the edges for the clouds. And the glaze was something of a flop, since I had never paid attention when Lilly was glazing her fabulous cinnamon rolls those years ago. So the glaze was rather granny.
After the meal of Cake and Watermelon, Lydia had a wonderful Bible Story on a blanket near the table. With puppets she told the account of Jesus in the home of Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha. Luke's Gospel tells the story: Luke 10:39-42 ... " Mary ... was listening to the Lord's word, seated at His feet. 40 But Martha was distracted with all her preparation; and she came up to Him, and said, 'Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to do all the serving alone? Then tell her to help me.' 41 But the Lord answered and said to her, 'Martha, Martha, you are worried and bothered about so many things 42 but only a few things are necessary, really only one, for Mary has chosen the good part, which shall not be taken away from her.'"
Having relaxed, eaten, enjoyed good fellowship, we loaded our lightened picnic basket and climbed back into the car for the short drive down the hills to the bar overlooking the Abby. There among the summer throng we found a table and had a toast with coffee on the porch. We admired the sight and beauty of bees working and the smell of lavender along the rail fence.
In a leisurely stroll we observed the ancient varieties of apple in the orchard behind the Abby, ambling downhill toward the front entrance. It is claimed that the Emperor Charlemagne ordered a Church built on the site in the year 773 a.d. Part of the old foundation dates from 1095. The current building was begun in the late 1200's a.d. and completed sometime in the 1300's a.d.
I don't know about all people, but the beauty I see each day gives me plenty of reason to praise and honor God, as Lord of All.
MADAM, THE MAYOR INVITES US TO SUPPER
Above the Village, Inside the Walls, A-Top the Hill
Gabriel with the girls, Gaia and Carys, received their Italian citizenship some months ago. Wednesday, August 7, 2013 Lydia's paperwork had finally made the trip from Rome to Torino. She and they are all four bonified citizens of Italy. His for Argentina and Italy, her the USA and Italy. After the swearing in ceremony, we had the little cakes and coffee I wrote about. Before we left City Hall, the Mayor invited the Girls, with the adults, to come Thursday evening to their house for a swim in their indoor pool.
We drove the somewhat circular streets up the hill behind Lydia's apartment. Up the incline beside the high wall, ...finally Gabriel called, "Which house?" We were on the correct street and the Mayor had come out to wave us in to the proper gate. First we met her husband, Umberto, a paint manufacturer. The buildings of their house are very old. They bought them ten years ago. The rundown condition required five years of repairs. Now it is in a beautiful state and they have lived there these last five years.
After a tour of the property, we went to the bath house, indoor and underground, with a ceiling of bricks. There was, of course, a bath room for changing, a shower room for getting wet, the pool for swimming and finally the hot, jacuzzi tub relaxation. I wondered if this might be something like one would have experienced in the "baths" of ancient Rome?
We had exited the house through the family dining and living area. It seemed to be something we might call a breezeway. But there were no screens, only glass doors and windows. We entered a beautifully landscaped back yard. There were wide borders filled with a variety of scrubs and flowering plants around the plots of lawn. Straight out the dining doors one looked across the lawn to a pond of Koi fish with fascinating decor. Behind the pond rose a crescent brick wall with stairs on either side, leading to a trysting place of lawn and shade above the lower yard.
Back on the main lawn level, to either side of the pond, but a distance away so a sidewalk could cross to the stairs, were two olive trees. They were imported from Spain four years ago. The one on the right is 700 years old. The one on the left is 1,000 years old. They appear in very good condition. After settling into their new environment, this year they are producing a few olives. They are expected to come to full production in the next few years.
Out the dining door we took the path to the right beside the 700 year old olive tree. As the sidewalk left the yard, the bath house was on our left and a brick wall on the right overlooking another 20 by 30 foot courtyard, facing the street with it's iron gate closed and locked. The small, three story house to the right is the oldest existing building. It was built in 400 a.d.
After the swim, we returned to the dining room for supper. The Mayor served what I think would be six courses: first was a plate of prosciutto as well as another pork sausage, second was a plate of pealed and sliced tomato with balls of mozzarella cheese, third was an offering of chopped raw beef, not bad, I have to say with plenty of salt and black pepper, forth came a platter of rolled and sliced pork, fifth was the dessert, peach pie, good and different than we've known, then finally a round of small coffees.
The surroundings were beautiful, the conversation was very good, the food so delicious, the older couple so hospitable and interestingly knowledgeable of their world. To top it off, a great thunder storm came and poured rain. The rain came through the joints of the windows where the glass meets wood. It came through the joints where wood meets wood. Where it should have been putted, the rain came in. It was very strange to sit at the table, then stand by the window watching water pouring through places that should have been tight against leaking. The Mayor brought table cloths, bedding and other absorbent fabrics to gather up water running across her ceramic tile floors.
There are three Churches on the hill next to the house and other houses. The Churches are two side by side and one across the street. One was built in the 1300's and belongs to the Villa Family, the first rulers of the village. The next was erected in 1640 through the early 1700's. The newest was built in the 1800's. As I have mentioned before, their bells keep ringing out the time of the day or night, the Ave Maria at three, five and seven, when the faithful die and when the new are born.
Through the entire evening, it was not the thunder and lightening or the pouring rain, it was not the interruption of changing bells, it was the introduction of new foods from old cuisines, the sound of very old dialects spoken as music to uncomprehending ears, the joy of laughter between old men and children, the joy of spoken words having meaning in two or three languages all at the same meal. That was a night to remember.
Gabriel with the girls, Gaia and Carys, received their Italian citizenship some months ago. Wednesday, August 7, 2013 Lydia's paperwork had finally made the trip from Rome to Torino. She and they are all four bonified citizens of Italy. His for Argentina and Italy, her the USA and Italy. After the swearing in ceremony, we had the little cakes and coffee I wrote about. Before we left City Hall, the Mayor invited the Girls, with the adults, to come Thursday evening to their house for a swim in their indoor pool.
We drove the somewhat circular streets up the hill behind Lydia's apartment. Up the incline beside the high wall, ...finally Gabriel called, "Which house?" We were on the correct street and the Mayor had come out to wave us in to the proper gate. First we met her husband, Umberto, a paint manufacturer. The buildings of their house are very old. They bought them ten years ago. The rundown condition required five years of repairs. Now it is in a beautiful state and they have lived there these last five years.
After a tour of the property, we went to the bath house, indoor and underground, with a ceiling of bricks. There was, of course, a bath room for changing, a shower room for getting wet, the pool for swimming and finally the hot, jacuzzi tub relaxation. I wondered if this might be something like one would have experienced in the "baths" of ancient Rome?
We had exited the house through the family dining and living area. It seemed to be something we might call a breezeway. But there were no screens, only glass doors and windows. We entered a beautifully landscaped back yard. There were wide borders filled with a variety of scrubs and flowering plants around the plots of lawn. Straight out the dining doors one looked across the lawn to a pond of Koi fish with fascinating decor. Behind the pond rose a crescent brick wall with stairs on either side, leading to a trysting place of lawn and shade above the lower yard.
Back on the main lawn level, to either side of the pond, but a distance away so a sidewalk could cross to the stairs, were two olive trees. They were imported from Spain four years ago. The one on the right is 700 years old. The one on the left is 1,000 years old. They appear in very good condition. After settling into their new environment, this year they are producing a few olives. They are expected to come to full production in the next few years.
Out the dining door we took the path to the right beside the 700 year old olive tree. As the sidewalk left the yard, the bath house was on our left and a brick wall on the right overlooking another 20 by 30 foot courtyard, facing the street with it's iron gate closed and locked. The small, three story house to the right is the oldest existing building. It was built in 400 a.d.
After the swim, we returned to the dining room for supper. The Mayor served what I think would be six courses: first was a plate of prosciutto as well as another pork sausage, second was a plate of pealed and sliced tomato with balls of mozzarella cheese, third was an offering of chopped raw beef, not bad, I have to say with plenty of salt and black pepper, forth came a platter of rolled and sliced pork, fifth was the dessert, peach pie, good and different than we've known, then finally a round of small coffees.
The surroundings were beautiful, the conversation was very good, the food so delicious, the older couple so hospitable and interestingly knowledgeable of their world. To top it off, a great thunder storm came and poured rain. The rain came through the joints of the windows where the glass meets wood. It came through the joints where wood meets wood. Where it should have been putted, the rain came in. It was very strange to sit at the table, then stand by the window watching water pouring through places that should have been tight against leaking. The Mayor brought table cloths, bedding and other absorbent fabrics to gather up water running across her ceramic tile floors.
There are three Churches on the hill next to the house and other houses. The Churches are two side by side and one across the street. One was built in the 1300's and belongs to the Villa Family, the first rulers of the village. The next was erected in 1640 through the early 1700's. The newest was built in the 1800's. As I have mentioned before, their bells keep ringing out the time of the day or night, the Ave Maria at three, five and seven, when the faithful die and when the new are born.
Through the entire evening, it was not the thunder and lightening or the pouring rain, it was not the interruption of changing bells, it was the introduction of new foods from old cuisines, the sound of very old dialects spoken as music to uncomprehending ears, the joy of laughter between old men and children, the joy of spoken words having meaning in two or three languages all at the same meal. That was a night to remember.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
NOW WE ARE ITALIAN: WELL, NOT ALL
It's Strange How the Bureaucracy Works
In the summer of 1996, Lydia came to Austria to "perfect her voice", as they say. Two weeks before she left the States, she received a contract to sing in an opera in Germany, following the weeks in Salzburg. After the Opera, in October she auditioned with Maestro Battaglia for voice lessons in Italy. Those began early in November. She came home for Christmas. Early in 1997 she was back to lessons in Torino.
After two years, Gabriel came to study with Maestro Battaglia, also. In August 2001, they were married in our little country Church at North Grove, in northern Illinois. It was a beautiful setting and a beautiful day. The building was full to the back wall with overflow chairs. Gabriel's parents, his brother, Willie, and their Aunt Chloe had come from Argentina. I gave the service in English, my brother Paul, missionary to Honduras, gave the service in Spanish.
After the groom kissed his bride, the wedding party went around the aisles of the Church to the tune of "When the Saints Go Marching In." The reception line formed on the front porch of the Church where the guest greeted the wedding party and continued on to the sit-down meal in the beautiful white tent provided by the Congregation, in the Church yard.
The young couple soon returned to Italy where Lydia had an apartment in the Center of Torino. After a couple years they began hunting a more roomy abode. The one they settled on was in the village, eighteen or twenty miles out of the city. Theirs is the end apartment next to the alley-sized one way street, in an old brick building put up in the 1500's. It might be three hundred feet long, three stories high and probably holds 8 to 12 apparments. It has something of a curve in it's length as it snugs against a low hill at the back. An ally / street behind is supported by a 20 or 25 foot retaining wall. There are two or three of those retainer walls with houses and streets ascending to the top of the hill where 3 or 4 very old Churches, built during the 1300's, stand side by side, ringing their loud bells every hour and every half hour day and night, month after month, year after year.
The Village was incorporated in the year 999 a.d. People had already been living on these hill for a long, long time before 999 a.d. I was here once in 2010, when the owner of the clothing store told me he was on the village board and the year before, 2009, they had a great celebration of the 1,000th Birthday of their village.
Because there are limitations in living in only one country of Europe, because most of Lydia's work in in Germany, because it might be better to move to the country where one works and many other "becauses", and because both Argentina and the USA will allow dual citizenship with Italy, it just seemed reasonable for them to seek that avenue. After eighteen months of waiting for paper work to be processed, finally they were notified the time was drawing nearer. Then word came that Rome was sending the proper papers to Torino. After trips of eighteen or so miles each way, the papers were ready to be sent to the City Hall, so the swearing in could take place,
The great day came. The family joyfully ascended the stairs to the court of Madame, the Mayor. Oops! The papers had been separated from those of her family. Not to worry. Swear in Gaby and the Girls and wait for Rome to send Lydia's. After the ceremony, to the surprise of the Mayor and her staff, Lydia brought out her offering of beautiful and flavorful cupcakes. Afterward the party retired to the coffee bar across the street.
Weeks have passed and now, yesterday we all went down town to the Passport office to collect Carys, Gaia and Gabriel's Passports. Today we attended Lydia as she went to the Village Hall and was sworn-in as a citizen of Italy by Madame, the Mayor. Gabriel phoned across the street and ordered coffees, Lydia had bought beautiful little cookies.
Lydia and the Mayor stood at the head of the court room, we all stood watching and listening, while Madame the Mayor very rapidly read the 2 or 3 or 4 very long pages, just to announce that the Family now truly have an Italian branch.
It has been an exciting and beautiful day. Mom would have been proud.
In the summer of 1996, Lydia came to Austria to "perfect her voice", as they say. Two weeks before she left the States, she received a contract to sing in an opera in Germany, following the weeks in Salzburg. After the Opera, in October she auditioned with Maestro Battaglia for voice lessons in Italy. Those began early in November. She came home for Christmas. Early in 1997 she was back to lessons in Torino.
After two years, Gabriel came to study with Maestro Battaglia, also. In August 2001, they were married in our little country Church at North Grove, in northern Illinois. It was a beautiful setting and a beautiful day. The building was full to the back wall with overflow chairs. Gabriel's parents, his brother, Willie, and their Aunt Chloe had come from Argentina. I gave the service in English, my brother Paul, missionary to Honduras, gave the service in Spanish.
After the groom kissed his bride, the wedding party went around the aisles of the Church to the tune of "When the Saints Go Marching In." The reception line formed on the front porch of the Church where the guest greeted the wedding party and continued on to the sit-down meal in the beautiful white tent provided by the Congregation, in the Church yard.
The young couple soon returned to Italy where Lydia had an apartment in the Center of Torino. After a couple years they began hunting a more roomy abode. The one they settled on was in the village, eighteen or twenty miles out of the city. Theirs is the end apartment next to the alley-sized one way street, in an old brick building put up in the 1500's. It might be three hundred feet long, three stories high and probably holds 8 to 12 apparments. It has something of a curve in it's length as it snugs against a low hill at the back. An ally / street behind is supported by a 20 or 25 foot retaining wall. There are two or three of those retainer walls with houses and streets ascending to the top of the hill where 3 or 4 very old Churches, built during the 1300's, stand side by side, ringing their loud bells every hour and every half hour day and night, month after month, year after year.
The Village was incorporated in the year 999 a.d. People had already been living on these hill for a long, long time before 999 a.d. I was here once in 2010, when the owner of the clothing store told me he was on the village board and the year before, 2009, they had a great celebration of the 1,000th Birthday of their village.
Because there are limitations in living in only one country of Europe, because most of Lydia's work in in Germany, because it might be better to move to the country where one works and many other "becauses", and because both Argentina and the USA will allow dual citizenship with Italy, it just seemed reasonable for them to seek that avenue. After eighteen months of waiting for paper work to be processed, finally they were notified the time was drawing nearer. Then word came that Rome was sending the proper papers to Torino. After trips of eighteen or so miles each way, the papers were ready to be sent to the City Hall, so the swearing in could take place,
The great day came. The family joyfully ascended the stairs to the court of Madame, the Mayor. Oops! The papers had been separated from those of her family. Not to worry. Swear in Gaby and the Girls and wait for Rome to send Lydia's. After the ceremony, to the surprise of the Mayor and her staff, Lydia brought out her offering of beautiful and flavorful cupcakes. Afterward the party retired to the coffee bar across the street.
Weeks have passed and now, yesterday we all went down town to the Passport office to collect Carys, Gaia and Gabriel's Passports. Today we attended Lydia as she went to the Village Hall and was sworn-in as a citizen of Italy by Madame, the Mayor. Gabriel phoned across the street and ordered coffees, Lydia had bought beautiful little cookies.
Lydia and the Mayor stood at the head of the court room, we all stood watching and listening, while Madame the Mayor very rapidly read the 2 or 3 or 4 very long pages, just to announce that the Family now truly have an Italian branch.
It has been an exciting and beautiful day. Mom would have been proud.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
TEDDY JOE SHEEHAN: TEENAGE FARMER
You Might not Know What's in a Man 'Till You See It Working Out
He was the young farmer who moved onto the farm down the road from us and up the hill to the west. The farm was on the left. I actually didn't know either Teddy Joe or Verna Mae very well. He grew up with his mother in Olustee, OK. He and Verna Mae were married when he was eighteen. Mr. Jones was her dad. He helped them to get the farm. The Jones' lived in Eldorado. Verna Mae was Phyllis Walker's younger sister. Phyllis was, and still is, married to Senior Walker, Mother's cousin.
Teddy Joe might have worked on a farm some time in his young life while living in Olustee. I really don't know about that. The part I do know about, has to do with the farm and the farmer. It must have been 320 acres or less. That means it was a mile long and more or less a half mile wide. The east end of his fence line started at the red house on our place where our road crossed the two bridges over Squaw Creek. The road and his fence went along together to the bluff, up the twisty road and on across past Tatar Mountain to the west. After a few rods it crossed the north - south road from the river bluffs up past Granny and Papa's.
I only remember that he grew cotton. There were a couple of small fields to the east below the bluff. There was pasture on the side and top of the bluff, along the top of the river bluff beside Red River and on the west end of the property where the natural bridge crosses the gully going into the river. The farm land was along the road, from Tatar Mountain on the west to the milk barn and house on the east.
Teddy Joe's father-in-law bought him ten good Holstein milk cows. They give lots of milk and he had never milked or at the least, very little. He was out there milking by hand at sunrise every morning. He finished milking about noon. He had a few hours off and then Then it was time to start over again. In the mean time he was tilling land and putting in a crop.
The amazing thing: we never saw a weed in his fence rows. I've picked cotton in his fields and never came to a weed. We didn't have weed killers in those years. We all wondered and said, "How did he do it." Early and late must have been his secret.
A few times when I got home from school and Mother with the girls wasn't there, maybe Daddy was somewhere in the field or working around the neighborhood, I'd walk to Teddy Joe and Verna Mae's house. When the folks got home they'd call to see, if I was there. Daddy always scolded me for "running away" when he came to pick me up. I knew to start the chores. Then once when I went over there after school, Daddy was plowing in the field, I knew he was there, but went on anyway. When he came to the house and was ready to start chores, he called Teddy Joe and told him to have me walk home. Teddy offered to bring me. Daddy said NO. The sun was down and dusk was setting in pretty heavy. I never "ran away" again.
Those years must have been in the mid 1940's. By 1950 we had torn down Grandpa's old house and were building the new one. By the time the new house was about half finished Teddy Joe's house was setting empty. We had moved into the west side of the dairy barn when the old house was coming down. But now Teddy Joe and Verna Mae had moved away, so we rented their house and lived there a few months until ours was ready to occupy.
I'm not sure when or where they moved. I did hear that he wanted to become a Meteorologist, and did. He came to Granny's funeral about 1988 and I met him at the cemetery. It was so good to see him again. He died later. I don't know any more of the story.
I just know a young farmer made an impact on a young school boys life and I am so very grateful!
He was the young farmer who moved onto the farm down the road from us and up the hill to the west. The farm was on the left. I actually didn't know either Teddy Joe or Verna Mae very well. He grew up with his mother in Olustee, OK. He and Verna Mae were married when he was eighteen. Mr. Jones was her dad. He helped them to get the farm. The Jones' lived in Eldorado. Verna Mae was Phyllis Walker's younger sister. Phyllis was, and still is, married to Senior Walker, Mother's cousin.
Teddy Joe might have worked on a farm some time in his young life while living in Olustee. I really don't know about that. The part I do know about, has to do with the farm and the farmer. It must have been 320 acres or less. That means it was a mile long and more or less a half mile wide. The east end of his fence line started at the red house on our place where our road crossed the two bridges over Squaw Creek. The road and his fence went along together to the bluff, up the twisty road and on across past Tatar Mountain to the west. After a few rods it crossed the north - south road from the river bluffs up past Granny and Papa's.
I only remember that he grew cotton. There were a couple of small fields to the east below the bluff. There was pasture on the side and top of the bluff, along the top of the river bluff beside Red River and on the west end of the property where the natural bridge crosses the gully going into the river. The farm land was along the road, from Tatar Mountain on the west to the milk barn and house on the east.
Teddy Joe's father-in-law bought him ten good Holstein milk cows. They give lots of milk and he had never milked or at the least, very little. He was out there milking by hand at sunrise every morning. He finished milking about noon. He had a few hours off and then Then it was time to start over again. In the mean time he was tilling land and putting in a crop.
The amazing thing: we never saw a weed in his fence rows. I've picked cotton in his fields and never came to a weed. We didn't have weed killers in those years. We all wondered and said, "How did he do it." Early and late must have been his secret.
A few times when I got home from school and Mother with the girls wasn't there, maybe Daddy was somewhere in the field or working around the neighborhood, I'd walk to Teddy Joe and Verna Mae's house. When the folks got home they'd call to see, if I was there. Daddy always scolded me for "running away" when he came to pick me up. I knew to start the chores. Then once when I went over there after school, Daddy was plowing in the field, I knew he was there, but went on anyway. When he came to the house and was ready to start chores, he called Teddy Joe and told him to have me walk home. Teddy offered to bring me. Daddy said NO. The sun was down and dusk was setting in pretty heavy. I never "ran away" again.
Those years must have been in the mid 1940's. By 1950 we had torn down Grandpa's old house and were building the new one. By the time the new house was about half finished Teddy Joe's house was setting empty. We had moved into the west side of the dairy barn when the old house was coming down. But now Teddy Joe and Verna Mae had moved away, so we rented their house and lived there a few months until ours was ready to occupy.
I'm not sure when or where they moved. I did hear that he wanted to become a Meteorologist, and did. He came to Granny's funeral about 1988 and I met him at the cemetery. It was so good to see him again. He died later. I don't know any more of the story.
I just know a young farmer made an impact on a young school boys life and I am so very grateful!
Monday, August 5, 2013
AUGUST 5: NOT QUIT COTTON PICKIN' TIME
This Is Linda's Birthday and I and We All Wish Her the Very Best
When Daddy took us, Donnie, Pallie and Me to see our new baby sister with Mother at Dr. Crow's clinic in Olustee, the first thing I noticed were how cute her ears were. I don't remember noticing other baby ears before that time. And I generally still don't pay much attention to them now. Anyway we were glad to add Linda Kay to our growing crowd of farm hands.
When Linda got old enough to crawl, she didn't. She sat up on her bottom and pushed herself across the floor with her right hand. When she finally reached fifteen month of age, she evidently decided to look at things from a higher perspective. One night Mother and I thought she should learn to walk. Donnie and Pallie were there as the cheering section. Mother held Linda up and I was very close in front of her coaching her along. She came to me, then wanted to turn around and go back. So we played that game together for quit a while. I stepped back a step each time. We all began to laugh. And Linda began to laugh. We all started laughing and laughing. That was the night Daddy came home from one of his sheep shearing runs. (I'm not sure how to justify this part, because Daddy's shearing trips were in the spring and this puts him coming sometime in the fall. Maybe some of the family can help clear it up.)
Cotton picking generally started about mid September. School let out for four to six weeks for kids to work in the fields. And goodness, NO, we didn't have homework. So school almost always began during the first week of August.
Mother and Aunt Bonnie were top cotton pickers. Even after Mother was having her family, I remember her picking cotton as she dragged her sack down the row with Donnie and Pallie, one year and two years old, riding on her sack.
The women of our family have always been hard workers, in the house or in the field. Where help was needed, they were there. On several occasions Mother put on her overalls and helped with grinding feed bundles for the cattle. She milked cows by hand before we got the electric milkers and even then she was in the barn or not far away. The girls milked cows, too.
By the time Linda was old enough, she had the joy of pulling cotton beside the rest of us. Soon she was pulling faster than Donnie, Pallie or I. If she was pulling in the row next to you, she'd be pulling off your row and getting ahead as well. That gave her a real advantage back at the wagon when we weighed up on the scale. And it was also a real big disadvantage for the rest of us at the end of the day when Daddy figured up our weight production. OUCH!!! Big time!!!
We all worked to make the farm go. I don't remember Daddy ever having just one job. There were always the multitude of chores and jobs on the farm and then he almost always had custom work for neighbor farmers or carpentry jobs somewhere.
Today in my Bible reading, one of my chapters was Psalm 5. I thought it might be fitting to share on this special day. There are twelve verses in the Psalm. I focused on the first three. The title of the Psalm is: Prayer for Protection from the Wicked. It is written For the choir director for flute accompaniment. A PSALM OF DAVID.
v. 1 -- Listen: "Give ear to my words,..."
v. 2 -- Pay Attention: "Heed the sound of my cry..."
v. 3 -- The Lord Will Be There in the Morning: "In the morning, O LORD, Thou wilt hear my voice..."
NOTICE: It's a matter of confident calling on my / our part.
It's a matter of clearly expressing our heart's cry with our own words.
It's a matter, not of wondering, hoping, assuming, or wishing, but of confident faith that today, this very morning the Living Lord God Almighty has listened and paid attention to my very deep and earnest heart cry. The hard part may be our waiting for the fulfillment of His will.
v. 11 -- Sing with joy and gladness because He is our refuge and shelter.
Because you love His name, He will exalt you.
v.12 -- A righteous man or woman or youth or child will be blessed by God and will be
surrounded by His favor as with a shield.
When Daddy took us, Donnie, Pallie and Me to see our new baby sister with Mother at Dr. Crow's clinic in Olustee, the first thing I noticed were how cute her ears were. I don't remember noticing other baby ears before that time. And I generally still don't pay much attention to them now. Anyway we were glad to add Linda Kay to our growing crowd of farm hands.
When Linda got old enough to crawl, she didn't. She sat up on her bottom and pushed herself across the floor with her right hand. When she finally reached fifteen month of age, she evidently decided to look at things from a higher perspective. One night Mother and I thought she should learn to walk. Donnie and Pallie were there as the cheering section. Mother held Linda up and I was very close in front of her coaching her along. She came to me, then wanted to turn around and go back. So we played that game together for quit a while. I stepped back a step each time. We all began to laugh. And Linda began to laugh. We all started laughing and laughing. That was the night Daddy came home from one of his sheep shearing runs. (I'm not sure how to justify this part, because Daddy's shearing trips were in the spring and this puts him coming sometime in the fall. Maybe some of the family can help clear it up.)
Cotton picking generally started about mid September. School let out for four to six weeks for kids to work in the fields. And goodness, NO, we didn't have homework. So school almost always began during the first week of August.
Mother and Aunt Bonnie were top cotton pickers. Even after Mother was having her family, I remember her picking cotton as she dragged her sack down the row with Donnie and Pallie, one year and two years old, riding on her sack.
The women of our family have always been hard workers, in the house or in the field. Where help was needed, they were there. On several occasions Mother put on her overalls and helped with grinding feed bundles for the cattle. She milked cows by hand before we got the electric milkers and even then she was in the barn or not far away. The girls milked cows, too.
By the time Linda was old enough, she had the joy of pulling cotton beside the rest of us. Soon she was pulling faster than Donnie, Pallie or I. If she was pulling in the row next to you, she'd be pulling off your row and getting ahead as well. That gave her a real advantage back at the wagon when we weighed up on the scale. And it was also a real big disadvantage for the rest of us at the end of the day when Daddy figured up our weight production. OUCH!!! Big time!!!
We all worked to make the farm go. I don't remember Daddy ever having just one job. There were always the multitude of chores and jobs on the farm and then he almost always had custom work for neighbor farmers or carpentry jobs somewhere.
Today in my Bible reading, one of my chapters was Psalm 5. I thought it might be fitting to share on this special day. There are twelve verses in the Psalm. I focused on the first three. The title of the Psalm is: Prayer for Protection from the Wicked. It is written For the choir director for flute accompaniment. A PSALM OF DAVID.
v. 1 -- Listen: "Give ear to my words,..."
v. 2 -- Pay Attention: "Heed the sound of my cry..."
v. 3 -- The Lord Will Be There in the Morning: "In the morning, O LORD, Thou wilt hear my voice..."
NOTICE: It's a matter of confident calling on my / our part.
It's a matter of clearly expressing our heart's cry with our own words.
It's a matter, not of wondering, hoping, assuming, or wishing, but of confident faith that today, this very morning the Living Lord God Almighty has listened and paid attention to my very deep and earnest heart cry. The hard part may be our waiting for the fulfillment of His will.
v. 11 -- Sing with joy and gladness because He is our refuge and shelter.
Because you love His name, He will exalt you.
v.12 -- A righteous man or woman or youth or child will be blessed by God and will be
surrounded by His favor as with a shield.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
THE LAKE AT ANNECY, FRANCE
It Has to Be the Most Beautiful Lake I Have Ever Seen
I arrived in Germany and then on the same day on Italy on July 19, 2013. It was a good flight. Lydia, Gabriel, Gaia and Carys were all waiting for me at the gate. What a beautiful sight! We were here, at their home in Andezanno for some days: getting me over the "jet lag," shopping, Church at the English Speaking Church of Torino on Sunday, primping and pampering Butter Cup, getting her properly designated with the State to travel the roads of Europe, then packing her up, hitching her on and heading out for a wonderful campground near the old and beautiful City of Annecy.
Butter Cup is the name of Lydia and Gabriel's 1976 small camper. She's been well cared for through the years by previous owners. Her new owners are the best yet. We put my tent inside, loaded up everybody's gear and headed through the mountains. The Alp Mountains turn south, more or less, at the west end of Switzerland and head for the sea between Italy and France. Praise the Lord for money and engineers who were willing and had the insight to push the many tunnels through the bottom of the thousands of feet high mountains.
All in about four or five hours Gabriel had driven the car pulling Butter Cup to the wonderful campground. Our parking, camp site was nearest the shower house as possible. There were already dozens of campers and more arrived ever day. The month of August is vacation month in Europe. Some years ago an old couple, maybe not so old then, turned their farm into this campground. It's really a beautiful location. It sets in the middle of a valley, about midway between mountains. They range between 1600 and 2000 feet in height. The valley might be a mile wide and a couple miles wide.
Around the area of the camp site, beyond the borders of the farm, are a couple or three small French housing settlements. Those are all so beautiful in their very old architecture.
About every other day of the week we drove into Annecy. I'll guess the lake to be thirty miles long and a half-mile or less wide. The water seems more blue than the sky. It is said to be the cleanest lake in France, and very easy to see the bottom in most places out from shore.
Because it is vacation time, there are all kinds of festive atmosphere. Tonight they were having their annual fireworks displays. It must have been a sight to behold. We needed to come away and be back in Torino tonight, so we missed it. As we walked beside the lake, we could see the electric lines and lights, etc., all floating in the planned shore side. There were huge grandstands and lake side chairs set, 20 in a row, 5 rows deep and there must have been three or four blocks of those chairs. We heard that the price for the chairs ran from 10 € to 50 € each.
Thursday we drove to the town of Thones, pronounced "Tone." They were having daytime play grounds in the streets. A couple blocks had been closed: the most strange bicycles were circling round being ridden by young and old, wooden games from ancient times were attempted by all ages, and there was the four seat Ferris Wheel. The only metal part was the axle through the middle. Two people helped with the loading of the seats, which were very much like our porch swings. Two men stood on a platform, one on each side, to assist in turning the wheel. There was no motor. Children and or adults all rode together. To stabilize balance, they added a bag of sand for weight, if necessary. Once the new seats of riders were safely seated and balanced, the wheel turned pretty much by perpetual motion, with only a nudge now and again.
Yesterday afternoon following a shopping trip to town, we visited the Menthon Castle. It's owners have maintained it for centuries. This is renowned for St. Bernard, who was born there in 1008 and became famous for the hospitals he started throughout the Alps and the St. Bernard dogs he developed to help with the rescue of injured and lost travelers.
I arrived in Germany and then on the same day on Italy on July 19, 2013. It was a good flight. Lydia, Gabriel, Gaia and Carys were all waiting for me at the gate. What a beautiful sight! We were here, at their home in Andezanno for some days: getting me over the "jet lag," shopping, Church at the English Speaking Church of Torino on Sunday, primping and pampering Butter Cup, getting her properly designated with the State to travel the roads of Europe, then packing her up, hitching her on and heading out for a wonderful campground near the old and beautiful City of Annecy.
Butter Cup is the name of Lydia and Gabriel's 1976 small camper. She's been well cared for through the years by previous owners. Her new owners are the best yet. We put my tent inside, loaded up everybody's gear and headed through the mountains. The Alp Mountains turn south, more or less, at the west end of Switzerland and head for the sea between Italy and France. Praise the Lord for money and engineers who were willing and had the insight to push the many tunnels through the bottom of the thousands of feet high mountains.
All in about four or five hours Gabriel had driven the car pulling Butter Cup to the wonderful campground. Our parking, camp site was nearest the shower house as possible. There were already dozens of campers and more arrived ever day. The month of August is vacation month in Europe. Some years ago an old couple, maybe not so old then, turned their farm into this campground. It's really a beautiful location. It sets in the middle of a valley, about midway between mountains. They range between 1600 and 2000 feet in height. The valley might be a mile wide and a couple miles wide.
Around the area of the camp site, beyond the borders of the farm, are a couple or three small French housing settlements. Those are all so beautiful in their very old architecture.
About every other day of the week we drove into Annecy. I'll guess the lake to be thirty miles long and a half-mile or less wide. The water seems more blue than the sky. It is said to be the cleanest lake in France, and very easy to see the bottom in most places out from shore.
Because it is vacation time, there are all kinds of festive atmosphere. Tonight they were having their annual fireworks displays. It must have been a sight to behold. We needed to come away and be back in Torino tonight, so we missed it. As we walked beside the lake, we could see the electric lines and lights, etc., all floating in the planned shore side. There were huge grandstands and lake side chairs set, 20 in a row, 5 rows deep and there must have been three or four blocks of those chairs. We heard that the price for the chairs ran from 10 € to 50 € each.
Thursday we drove to the town of Thones, pronounced "Tone." They were having daytime play grounds in the streets. A couple blocks had been closed: the most strange bicycles were circling round being ridden by young and old, wooden games from ancient times were attempted by all ages, and there was the four seat Ferris Wheel. The only metal part was the axle through the middle. Two people helped with the loading of the seats, which were very much like our porch swings. Two men stood on a platform, one on each side, to assist in turning the wheel. There was no motor. Children and or adults all rode together. To stabilize balance, they added a bag of sand for weight, if necessary. Once the new seats of riders were safely seated and balanced, the wheel turned pretty much by perpetual motion, with only a nudge now and again.
Yesterday afternoon following a shopping trip to town, we visited the Menthon Castle. It's owners have maintained it for centuries. This is renowned for St. Bernard, who was born there in 1008 and became famous for the hospitals he started throughout the Alps and the St. Bernard dogs he developed to help with the rescue of injured and lost travelers.
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