If you would call 30 years ago, not so distant, that was the time that we acquired our first computer. It was a no-name computer put together by someone who knew what they were doing and it gave us access to the World Wide Web. Back then we were tethered to a desktop and a dial up modem. If someone had told me we would have mini computers in our hands, I would have thought they were crazy!
I think about those times now with the need to constantly update myself on what’s going on in the world. Such a “fear of missing out”!
What did I do back when our only link was the desktop and dial-up? I might knit, or read, or watch tv, and back then, I was definitely playing with our son!
I am really glad all this technology wasn’t available to me 30 years ago!
A funny thing happened 35 years ago while trying to birth a bowling ball. It, I mean HE, didn’t want to come out!
The due date had already been adjusted and I was now a week overdue.
I entered the hospital at noon on a Monday, July 16th and was induced. It was all fun and (cribbage) games until the back contractions hit. I nearly broke my husband’s hand from squeezing it.
Finally around 5am, on Tuesday July 17th, after HOURS of no progression, the doctor said it was time for a c-section.
As they prepped me, my husband thought he was going to wait it out in the room. I said, “oh no, you’re coming with me!” And got gowned and followed me in.
I remember so clearly, the room, lying on the table, the sheet blocking my view from my lower half.
As the prepped me, I looked at the clock on the wall and said, “we’ve waited this long, can you take him out at 7:17?” They laughed and said No!
This morning I sit in the spot my father occupied most evenings during the summer as I grew up.
In his webbed chair that glided back and forth, he’d sit with his cup of tea after dinner and watch the neighborhood go by. We might sit near by on the metal couch glider reading a book.
The Porch
Was he surveying what needed to be done around the yard? Mowing the lawn was the main focus as there were no shrubs and the trees and bushes were growing “naturally”. He was not a man who enjoyed taking care of yard work and we three girls did our share of mowing the lawn (we enjoyed the exercise!). Or was he just enjoying the view, our company, and counting his blessings?
I know he would have sat here on a Sunday morning like I am as there would be a flurry of preparation for 9:15 mass. But after Sunday midday dinner, he’d be here listening to his radio with a ballgame on or country music, watching the neighborhood go by.
Which food, when you eat it, instantly transports you to childhood?
I grew up in a traditional household in the 60s and 70s. Sundays involved the 9:15 mass, picking up newspapers (New Haven Register, New York Daily News, Boston paper) with the possibility of a comic at Boylans, and a stop at my aunt’s house before we were home. Once home, we read the papers, and waited for Sunday Dinner which happened anywhere between Noon and 2 p.m. Ok, maybe I’m exaggerating, but some Sundays it felt like it was that late because everyone else was out playing while we were still waiting to eat!
Except for that rare Sunday when we got Kentucky Fried Chicken….
Kentucky Fried Chicken. There was a store across the street from our church that opened at noon. On those Sundays (usually during the summer), my mom would head back out to pick up a box or bucket. They would also get the cole slaw and mashed potatoes and gravy that went with it.
Oh that chicken! So crunchy and greasy. I probably ate it for the skin more for the chicken. You can have those big old chicken breasts at the bottom of the box or bucket! Give me a leg or thigh for that juicy dark meat. As a last resort, I’d eat the breast but I’d need a lot of cranberry sauce to wash it down.
My father would jokingly swear that the cole slaw tasted “just like ice cream” and I’m sure we choked it down. Not like now – I love cole slaw!
Stores still exist, but the one across from our church is long gone and it’s probably a good thing because, like anything else that tastes so delicious, that skin is not good for you!
The last time I had it was in 2022 when we were traveling in California to visit my father in law and we stopped to pick it up and bring it for a dinner with him. It was as good as I remembered it and I’m sure as I did every other time I ate it, I told my husband the stories of my families KFC Sunday dinners.
I know that ear worms are usually associated with songs but I have an ear worm of a poem running through my head:
Summer breezes softly blow Memories of long ago Happy places Smiling faces Loving you
It is from SO long ago, and from a random place that I’m not sure it’s exact so maybe I’ve made some parts my own over the years.
I started enjoying poems when I was in my early teens. In our local newspaper was a weekly section of reader submitted poems. Being a love obsessed teen, the poems of that type were right up my alley! I was also in the early stages of typing so I would sit on the floor of my room with my aunt’s portable typewriter and type out the poems I liked. It was a great way to practice, progressing from “hunt and peck” to “not hunting but still pecking” to straight up “no look typing”.
I kept them all in a small book of sayings (about love, of course) that I hung onto for years, moving it with me in my “box of treasures” where ever we lived. Unfortunately, in the course of “simplifying”, the box with this book and some other items got thrown out with the rest. I feel a little heartbroken about it and feel like it’s going to magically appear one day!
Are your ear worms mostly music or do you have a favorite poem that pops into your head too?
Tonight on Spring Baking Championship on HGTV, one of the challenges was for the bakers to elevate one of their favorite childhood desserts. That got me thinking about MY favorite childhood desserts.
My uncle on my mother’s side was a baker. I don’t know if he learned his trade in the army or by osmosis from my grandmother. He owned his own bakery for a few years and, after closing it, worked first at the local prep school, until finally settling in as the baker at Masonic Home and Hospital, a rehabilitation hospital and nursing home for people who were members of the Masonic Temple Association.
This man made the most INCREDIBLE baked goods. It’s amazing that he could make hundreds of desserts for the people at Masonic using these huge tubs for the dough and ovens to bake in and each one tasted as delicious as if it was one of only a dozen.
My favorites were his chocolate eclairs. They were all one piece filled with cream and delicious chocolate on top.
Chocolate Eclair (from the internet)
His cream puffs! Oh my word! Filled with delightful air pockets stuffed with cream.
Cream Puffs (internet photo)
He also made something called a Hermit Cookie. I found it quickly online. They were square bar cookies with ginger and molasses and raisins. One version I found is called New England Hermit Cookie Bar with the story that they date back to the Pilgrims and they were good for travel because they were dense and stayed moist for up to two weeks! Maybe his mother, my grandmother, brought the recipe with her when she immigrated from the Galician area of Poland in the early 1900s!
From thelemonbowl.com recipe
I do remember my uncle’s Hermit cookies being overall dark like the inside of this one.
In addition to his job and making desserts for family events, he made the wedding cakes for my mother, and for my cousin.
We did not have homemade desserts in our house. They were store bought cookies and pastries. My mother worked full time and she wasn’t really a baker, with the exception of the four layer chocolate cake with whipped cream filling and chocolate frosting we requested for our family birthday parties! She never said no! There would always be cake left over and we would eat that until there wasn’t a crumb left anywhere.
“I expect my mother’s fear of decimal currency was related to her dislike of math, which is a common fear often dating back to a cruel teacher.” – Cherry in Here One Moment by Liane Moriarty.
Oh, that hit me right in the memories!
I don’t think Sister Holly Jean my third grade teacher at Holy Trinity School was intentionally being mean. There were two math groups and two reading groups, and when you’ve already spent 2 years with the same kids, you know which is which.
I bounced back and forth between those two math groups throughout 3rd grade. Long division was my nemesis! Carrying the what because it’s not equal where? My mother brought home waste letter paper from work and filled them with division problems for me to solve.
I survived third grade math but I was never the same afterwards. Math just continued to beat me down year after year. Algebra, Geometry, even review math in 12th grade was a struggle.
Ironically, I really enjoyed Accounting in high school and college and handle the (Quick)books for our company.
Last Tuesday, our dog Wally passed away. I wrote about it on my family stories site.
Now when I come downstairs in the morning, there are no pee pads to check (and no floor surveillance!) and no breakfast to make.
Some days he’d be waiting for me and other days, he slept for a few more hours but my routine was always the same.
I continue to say “Good Morning” and “Good Night” in the direction of his bed(s) and when I come into the house I still peek around the door to see if he’s there.
I know someday that will stop, but for now, I keep his spirit alive.
Which animal would you compare yourself to and why?
In sixth grade art class, the assignment was to draw an animal that represented us.
I chose a Chameleon. Whew, that’s deep for a 12 year old right?
I felt like I changed and adapted to the people around me. I didn’t consider it in a bad way, like I wasn’t being myself. It was more that I could be comfortable around different types of people.
Later on, I read a chameleon changes colors as camouflage to hide from predators. That resonated with me too because I do like to blend in the background and be support rather than a star.
Thoughts From The Passenger Seat 