Ask me that question tomorrow and the answer will be different than todays. I don't really have a favorite photo but a lot of favorite photos.
The photo of myself that I like best was taken at college while I was sitting on a windowsill with my legs in the lavatory shaving my legs. Strange pose but the best picture of me as I really was.
My husband had a photo taken when he was about four of him and his brother eating streusel kuchen out in the yard. It is just the cutest thing. It was titled "Older brother teaches younger the proper way to eat streusel kuchen" You eat the top first and soak the rest in milk.
My oldest had a picture taken as she was walking into the church on the way to the altar to marry the love of her life. Her face was glowing with love and anticipation. You can tell that she only saw one person that day.
My twins posed one day by our old VW beetle. My son had on big boots and was holding a soda bottle while his sister stood next to him dressed very properly and leaning towards him. They were about five or six. They had it enlarged and it hangs at their houses.
The favorite from my youngest son was at his wedding. He was beaming and his smile was natural. He was happy and wanted the world to know. In fact, all of the pictures from the wedding were good because he looked unposed and his smiles were genuine.
The youngest was in love with Cabbage Patch dolls and she and Kay make up my favorite photo of her. For her third birthday, Kay came to live with us. Kay went everywhere with us and the pictures of them together are great.
Then there are the grandchildren. I couldn't pick a favorite from the many photos I have of them from their newborn to their graduations.
I have a favorite picture of my parents taken at their fortieth wedding anniversary. Of my parents and siblings, taken at the church by a professional photographer who came to do the parish directory. And of my dogs past and present.
Lots of pictures tied up with memories of happy days.
May 25, 2012
May 24, 2012
Potatoes
I have been thinking about potatoes lately probably spurred by a cooking show. These thoughts about potatoes are not about scalloped, mashed or fried but about planting them on Good Friday which is when the Almanac says is the day to plant potatoes.
The process began by going into the basement and bringing up all of last year's potatoes that had started to sprout. They were then cut in pieces with each piece having at least two eyes(sprouts). They were then left to dry out for a day or so.
Now we go to the garden and lay out the rows with two stakes and a long string. Dad would dig small holes using his hoe and we would follow putting one piece of potato into each hole and covering it with dirt first making sure that the piece had the eyes facing up. We would put in two rows of potatoes or about two hundred feet. We liked potatoes.
Then came the hard part-waiting for them to sprout out of the ground. Once they had sprouted, Dad started to build mounds of dirt around each plant so the baby potato plants would not have a difficult time growing. And, of course the weeding.
Later, when the plants were about two feet tall, we would go out with a can of kerosene and pick the potato bugs off the plants and give them a bath in the kerosene. I didn't mind this job then but now I don't think I would enjoy it as much as I did then.
After the plants had blossomed, Dad would go out with his pitchfork and (what he called) robbed some of the new potatoes. They were so good. Mom would boil them and melt butter on them. Yum.
In the fall, we would go out to dig up all of them using a pitchfork. It was always amazing to see so many potatoes coming up with each thrust of the fork. We did this when we hadn't had rain for several days so the potatoes wouldn't be too dirty. We would brush them off and take them to the basement which was used a root cellar. Mom liked potatoes because she didn't have to can or freeze them like she did with all the other vegetables from Dad's half acre garden.
The process began by going into the basement and bringing up all of last year's potatoes that had started to sprout. They were then cut in pieces with each piece having at least two eyes(sprouts). They were then left to dry out for a day or so.
Now we go to the garden and lay out the rows with two stakes and a long string. Dad would dig small holes using his hoe and we would follow putting one piece of potato into each hole and covering it with dirt first making sure that the piece had the eyes facing up. We would put in two rows of potatoes or about two hundred feet. We liked potatoes.
Then came the hard part-waiting for them to sprout out of the ground. Once they had sprouted, Dad started to build mounds of dirt around each plant so the baby potato plants would not have a difficult time growing. And, of course the weeding.
Later, when the plants were about two feet tall, we would go out with a can of kerosene and pick the potato bugs off the plants and give them a bath in the kerosene. I didn't mind this job then but now I don't think I would enjoy it as much as I did then.
After the plants had blossomed, Dad would go out with his pitchfork and (what he called) robbed some of the new potatoes. They were so good. Mom would boil them and melt butter on them. Yum.
In the fall, we would go out to dig up all of them using a pitchfork. It was always amazing to see so many potatoes coming up with each thrust of the fork. We did this when we hadn't had rain for several days so the potatoes wouldn't be too dirty. We would brush them off and take them to the basement which was used a root cellar. Mom liked potatoes because she didn't have to can or freeze them like she did with all the other vegetables from Dad's half acre garden.
May 13, 2012
What is the funniest thing you ever saw or heard of?
I have lived a long time amongst comedians so I have seen and heard innumerable funny comments and actions some intentional and, the funnier ones, the unintentional. The mouths of babes are some of the funniest because of the innocence of the speaker.
My oldest grandson was being tickles by his uncle until he wet his pants. His comment"You are a not so nice guy!" Out of the mouth of a three year old, it was hilarious. Or my daughter, who at the age of two spoke very clearly, was watching a very heavy woman in front of us in the checkout line with her cart overflowing with product and my daughter says in a loud clear voice, "I know why she is so fat. She eats all of that herself." This wasn't so funny for me but I am sure the other people who heard it laughed.
I wish I remembered more of what my children and grandchildren said that made me laugh.
My younger brothers were a source of amusement to me when I was young. The older one was always trying to trick the younger one. For about a week, the older one would tell stories at the supper table about the Borgena monster that was terrorizing people who went out of the house after dark. At the end of the week, the older brother went out and hid behind the garbage can at the far and dark end of our lot. The younger brother's job was to take out the trash after supper when it was dark. This night he had an exceptionally large bowl of mostly wet garbage. He slowly made his way across the grass until he got the the far corner and the garbage can. Just as he was lifting the bowl to empty it into the can, the older brother jumped up yelling BORGENA BORGENA. Thus frightening his younger brother so much that he threw the garbage in the air hitting the faux monster. The younger came running back followed by his brother who was disheveled and smelling of what had been thrown on him. We laughed that the trick had backfired.
My favorite story was told to me by my niece who witnessed the event. My brother-in-law was very tall and drove a very small car so it was very funny just to see him get out of the car. They lived in the city and there were toll roads that they had to travel. One day after my brother-in-law had thrown the toll into the machine, my niece noticed that his head was bending funny so she looked and found that he had rolled his head up in the window. This was an old car and did not have electric windows. This may not be funny to anyone but me but to me everytime I think of it I smile or chuckle.
My oldest daughter was an avid reader as a child and read all of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books by the time she was nine. One of the parts that interested her was the sod houses. I had been digging up the sod around the trees in the lawn and has accumulated quite a large amount. The children were out playing while I was inside working. When I came out to check on them, they were excited that they had built a sod house. The only one who was not excited wad the youngest who the older ones had convinced to go inside. He was in there yelling that it was hot and there were bugs and the oldest one was yelling back that it wasn't because in the books Laura Ingalls Wilder said that the sod houses were cool and cozy and she knew because she had lived in one.
These are some of the funniest things that have happened to me or to people I know.
My oldest grandson was being tickles by his uncle until he wet his pants. His comment"You are a not so nice guy!" Out of the mouth of a three year old, it was hilarious. Or my daughter, who at the age of two spoke very clearly, was watching a very heavy woman in front of us in the checkout line with her cart overflowing with product and my daughter says in a loud clear voice, "I know why she is so fat. She eats all of that herself." This wasn't so funny for me but I am sure the other people who heard it laughed.
I wish I remembered more of what my children and grandchildren said that made me laugh.
My younger brothers were a source of amusement to me when I was young. The older one was always trying to trick the younger one. For about a week, the older one would tell stories at the supper table about the Borgena monster that was terrorizing people who went out of the house after dark. At the end of the week, the older brother went out and hid behind the garbage can at the far and dark end of our lot. The younger brother's job was to take out the trash after supper when it was dark. This night he had an exceptionally large bowl of mostly wet garbage. He slowly made his way across the grass until he got the the far corner and the garbage can. Just as he was lifting the bowl to empty it into the can, the older brother jumped up yelling BORGENA BORGENA. Thus frightening his younger brother so much that he threw the garbage in the air hitting the faux monster. The younger came running back followed by his brother who was disheveled and smelling of what had been thrown on him. We laughed that the trick had backfired.
My favorite story was told to me by my niece who witnessed the event. My brother-in-law was very tall and drove a very small car so it was very funny just to see him get out of the car. They lived in the city and there were toll roads that they had to travel. One day after my brother-in-law had thrown the toll into the machine, my niece noticed that his head was bending funny so she looked and found that he had rolled his head up in the window. This was an old car and did not have electric windows. This may not be funny to anyone but me but to me everytime I think of it I smile or chuckle.
My oldest daughter was an avid reader as a child and read all of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books by the time she was nine. One of the parts that interested her was the sod houses. I had been digging up the sod around the trees in the lawn and has accumulated quite a large amount. The children were out playing while I was inside working. When I came out to check on them, they were excited that they had built a sod house. The only one who was not excited wad the youngest who the older ones had convinced to go inside. He was in there yelling that it was hot and there were bugs and the oldest one was yelling back that it wasn't because in the books Laura Ingalls Wilder said that the sod houses were cool and cozy and she knew because she had lived in one.
These are some of the funniest things that have happened to me or to people I know.
May 3, 2012
Do you like to be hugged?
Short answer is yes. When I was growing up, people didn't hug very much. It just wasn't done. We shook hands or just mumbled a quiet hello or good-bye. My parents hugged each other but not us so much. Mom would give us hugs if we were injured or emotional but not so much otherwise. Dad never hugged us when we were little. When we were adults, we hugged him and he reluctantly hugged back. He wasn't a hugger. Mom was always ready to get or give a hug.
Since I have children and now grandchildren, I have discovered the joy of getting hugged by children with sticky faces and fingers. I do enjoy hugs without sticky too. Now some of the grandchildren are getting so tall it is harder to give hugs. They have to bend over and are careful not to damage me. When they were younger, they gave spontaneous hugs. The run at you as fast as they could and grab your legs kind of hug. Those are the greatest.
Now I visit residence communities and I get and receive hugs from the residents. In the case of hugging, you receive more than you give.
Go out and give somebody a hug or if there is noone around give yourself a hug.
Since I have children and now grandchildren, I have discovered the joy of getting hugged by children with sticky faces and fingers. I do enjoy hugs without sticky too. Now some of the grandchildren are getting so tall it is harder to give hugs. They have to bend over and are careful not to damage me. When they were younger, they gave spontaneous hugs. The run at you as fast as they could and grab your legs kind of hug. Those are the greatest.
Now I visit residence communities and I get and receive hugs from the residents. In the case of hugging, you receive more than you give.
Go out and give somebody a hug or if there is noone around give yourself a hug.
May 2, 2012
April 27, 2012
What is the scariest thing that happened to you?
It would definitely be when an ambulance came to take my mother away.
I don't remember how old I was but I must have been younger than eight and my sister would have been ten or younger and our brother was two years younger than me. Mom was sick in the morning and she was laying on the sofa in the dining room. She never did that unless she was really sick. Then a lot of people came with the ambulance and took mom away without telling us anything. After she left, we looked at the sofa and it was covered with blood. We started crying because we were so afraid that our mother was dying. There was so much blood and she wasn't very big and even as young as we were we knew that losing blood was very serious.
We were taken over to the neighbors to stay until dad came back. We asked the neighbor what was wrong with our mother and she wouldn't tell us. Later, when dad came home, we went back home too. He was looking very sad and we were then convinced that our mother was dying. We asked him what was wrong and he said we wouldn't understand. That didn't allay our fears.
Mom was gone several days and during that time our aunt came to stay with us. She was always bright and happy so we calmed down and life was semi-normal. When Mom came home, she was very pale and tired. Dad told us to let her rest. So we did. We were so happy to have her back. After a week or so, she was back to normal or so we thought because we didn't know what caused this until years later when we were "old" enough to understand.
She had had a miscarriage and lost so much blood she has to be transfused. She also told us later that the people at the hospital accused her of causing the miscarriage something she would never even think of doing. So besides the trauma of losing her baby, she was accused of infanticide. I don't know how she got over that but she was a loving woman and a wise one and knew she couldn't do anything about it but forgive and forget.
That was the scariest moment of my life.
I don't remember how old I was but I must have been younger than eight and my sister would have been ten or younger and our brother was two years younger than me. Mom was sick in the morning and she was laying on the sofa in the dining room. She never did that unless she was really sick. Then a lot of people came with the ambulance and took mom away without telling us anything. After she left, we looked at the sofa and it was covered with blood. We started crying because we were so afraid that our mother was dying. There was so much blood and she wasn't very big and even as young as we were we knew that losing blood was very serious.
We were taken over to the neighbors to stay until dad came back. We asked the neighbor what was wrong with our mother and she wouldn't tell us. Later, when dad came home, we went back home too. He was looking very sad and we were then convinced that our mother was dying. We asked him what was wrong and he said we wouldn't understand. That didn't allay our fears.
Mom was gone several days and during that time our aunt came to stay with us. She was always bright and happy so we calmed down and life was semi-normal. When Mom came home, she was very pale and tired. Dad told us to let her rest. So we did. We were so happy to have her back. After a week or so, she was back to normal or so we thought because we didn't know what caused this until years later when we were "old" enough to understand.
She had had a miscarriage and lost so much blood she has to be transfused. She also told us later that the people at the hospital accused her of causing the miscarriage something she would never even think of doing. So besides the trauma of losing her baby, she was accused of infanticide. I don't know how she got over that but she was a loving woman and a wise one and knew she couldn't do anything about it but forgive and forget.
That was the scariest moment of my life.
April 20, 2012
What religion are you? Were you raised in that religion?
I am Roman Catholic now and was raised Roman Catholic.
My entrance into the church began at Baptism when the priest refused to baptize me with the name my parents gave me because it wasn't a saint's name. So to the Church I am Catherine although no one else knows me by that name. My sister was also baptized by a different name too because her name didn't correspond to a known saint. She is known to the Church as Mary. My brothers where given saints names except the youngest but by then the rules had relaxed and he was baptized by the same name as the one on his birth certificate.
The Church has changed a great since I was a child. The biggest change is that the mass is now celebrated in English here and the native language of peoples living in other countries. Finally, I can understand what is going on all the time. When I was a child, I didn't understand any of it. The Church wasn't child friendly. As I grew, I learned more and more but still didn't understand Latin. We went to religion classes on Sunday. We were taught by nuns who would travel from the next bigger town where they worked in the hospital. They wore their habits then and kept their hands hidden in their sleeves so all we saw was their faces. We hear so many stories about how mean nuns were but I didn't find that to be so. I thought they were very kind and gentle maybe because they worked in the hospital with the sick or maybe they liked to work with children who were healthy.
We lived less than a block from the church and were told very often that our grandfather and great uncle designed and built the church. We thought of it as ours and we loved the sidewalks that were in the front and the side. They were very smooth and the one of the side had a downhill slope that was great for speeding down on our rollerskates. It had a good grade and a sharp corner at the bottom. After skating on that section of sidewalk, we were ready for the Roller Derby. We would take that corner at high speed and go back to the front of the church to do it again.
There was also a small grove of very strange trees behind the rectory(Priest's house). They were green and gnarled and only about six feet high. They were strong enough for us to climb and sit in the branches. Behind these trees, were grape vines. We would ask the priest if we could pick them. He answered in the affirmative. We hurried home to get our wagon and picked all the ripe ones and brought them home. They were concord grapes which are different from the grapes we buy now at the supermarket. They had seeds and only the skin tasted good. We had purple tongues for days.
My brothers and cousins served on the altar so they were there on days other than Sunday for practice or cleaning. One day my brother and cousin decided to go into the confessional and pretend one was the priest and the other one took the part of the penitent. My cousin was the penitent and was loudly proclaiming all manner of sin. My brother was sitting in the middle section where the priest normally sat. He had left the door open and happened to look out into the church and saw the priest walking toward them and tried to hush his cousin but he was on a roll and kept confessing until the priest walked up to him and opened the door. They were given a sermon about respecting the sacraments and let go home. I don't know for a fact but I think the priest had a hard time not laughing.
Another day, my sister and I were singing in the choir. The church had a choir loft in the rear of the church and when we looked out we could see all of the pews and the altar while the people in the pews couldn't see all of the altar because of the altar rail and the communion cloth which hung to the floor and blocked their viewing the whole altar. At one point in the mass, I saw the priest motion to my brother who was kneeling on the right side of the altar. My brother wasn't understanding at first and then he suddenly nodded his head and dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to the other side of the altar and popped up. I have often wondered what the congregation thought because they couldn't see him crawl. All they saw was him kneeling on the right side of the altar suddenly disappear and reappear on the left side of the altar.
Another brother didn't like to go to church. He was only a toddler but could talk quite clearly. Again we were up in the choir loft. This little brother was being very loud and disruptive during mass and our Dad picked him up and was carrying him out and our little brother said so all could hear,"I'm glad you don't like this place either."
I was married in the same church that I attended as a child. I went to a lot of funerals in that church. I went to a lot of baptisms in that church. I still think it is the most beautiful church.
I wrote about the funny things that happened because God gave us a sense of humor and we should not waste one of God's gifts. There were many deeply spiritual moments but they are not times I wish to share.
My entrance into the church began at Baptism when the priest refused to baptize me with the name my parents gave me because it wasn't a saint's name. So to the Church I am Catherine although no one else knows me by that name. My sister was also baptized by a different name too because her name didn't correspond to a known saint. She is known to the Church as Mary. My brothers where given saints names except the youngest but by then the rules had relaxed and he was baptized by the same name as the one on his birth certificate.
The Church has changed a great since I was a child. The biggest change is that the mass is now celebrated in English here and the native language of peoples living in other countries. Finally, I can understand what is going on all the time. When I was a child, I didn't understand any of it. The Church wasn't child friendly. As I grew, I learned more and more but still didn't understand Latin. We went to religion classes on Sunday. We were taught by nuns who would travel from the next bigger town where they worked in the hospital. They wore their habits then and kept their hands hidden in their sleeves so all we saw was their faces. We hear so many stories about how mean nuns were but I didn't find that to be so. I thought they were very kind and gentle maybe because they worked in the hospital with the sick or maybe they liked to work with children who were healthy.
We lived less than a block from the church and were told very often that our grandfather and great uncle designed and built the church. We thought of it as ours and we loved the sidewalks that were in the front and the side. They were very smooth and the one of the side had a downhill slope that was great for speeding down on our rollerskates. It had a good grade and a sharp corner at the bottom. After skating on that section of sidewalk, we were ready for the Roller Derby. We would take that corner at high speed and go back to the front of the church to do it again.
There was also a small grove of very strange trees behind the rectory(Priest's house). They were green and gnarled and only about six feet high. They were strong enough for us to climb and sit in the branches. Behind these trees, were grape vines. We would ask the priest if we could pick them. He answered in the affirmative. We hurried home to get our wagon and picked all the ripe ones and brought them home. They were concord grapes which are different from the grapes we buy now at the supermarket. They had seeds and only the skin tasted good. We had purple tongues for days.
My brothers and cousins served on the altar so they were there on days other than Sunday for practice or cleaning. One day my brother and cousin decided to go into the confessional and pretend one was the priest and the other one took the part of the penitent. My cousin was the penitent and was loudly proclaiming all manner of sin. My brother was sitting in the middle section where the priest normally sat. He had left the door open and happened to look out into the church and saw the priest walking toward them and tried to hush his cousin but he was on a roll and kept confessing until the priest walked up to him and opened the door. They were given a sermon about respecting the sacraments and let go home. I don't know for a fact but I think the priest had a hard time not laughing.
Another day, my sister and I were singing in the choir. The church had a choir loft in the rear of the church and when we looked out we could see all of the pews and the altar while the people in the pews couldn't see all of the altar because of the altar rail and the communion cloth which hung to the floor and blocked their viewing the whole altar. At one point in the mass, I saw the priest motion to my brother who was kneeling on the right side of the altar. My brother wasn't understanding at first and then he suddenly nodded his head and dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to the other side of the altar and popped up. I have often wondered what the congregation thought because they couldn't see him crawl. All they saw was him kneeling on the right side of the altar suddenly disappear and reappear on the left side of the altar.
Another brother didn't like to go to church. He was only a toddler but could talk quite clearly. Again we were up in the choir loft. This little brother was being very loud and disruptive during mass and our Dad picked him up and was carrying him out and our little brother said so all could hear,"I'm glad you don't like this place either."
I was married in the same church that I attended as a child. I went to a lot of funerals in that church. I went to a lot of baptisms in that church. I still think it is the most beautiful church.
I wrote about the funny things that happened because God gave us a sense of humor and we should not waste one of God's gifts. There were many deeply spiritual moments but they are not times I wish to share.
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