IN A NEW POST CREATED FOR THIS CHALLENGE, SHARE ONE OR TWO OR MORE PHOTOS OF YOUR CHRISTMAS AND/OR HOLIDAY MEMORIES.
~~~
Christmas memories fill up my photo albums. All the best ones involve my family…when our children lived at home and we celebrated together.
Choosing just a few was indeed difficult…
One of my favorite memories was the year my son was a fast moving – very curious – toddler. At the tender age of 13 months, he was able to dash from one end of the living room to the other, quicker than we could catch him.
The Christmas tree presented a special challenge that year…as he was fascinated by those shiny things hanging from the branches. As well as the colored lightbulbs strung on green wire. Which he could unscrew, shouting HOT! HOT!
Barricades were in order…until we removed them on Christmas morning.
1988
Which presented the perfect opportunity for ornament inspection and removal…while daddy and big sister were opening their stockings and getting their pictures taken.
1988
However, nine years later….he was the expert at hanging the ornaments up ON the tree.
…I look forward to seeing the nostalgic moments that are most special to you. Past holidays, times with family and friends, travel moments, or just something that reminds you fondly of days gone by – it’s your call. Give us a small peek into the things you’re nostalgic about.
Get out the red and green sprinkles!
And the tiny chocolate chips!
Cookie sheets!
Cookie cutters!
Start the music!
It’s Time!
When I was raising my children – and by the time each was around 2 years old – we made Christmas cookies together as a family. Simple cream cheese sugar cookies.
We used the same aluminum cookie cutters I used when I was a child.
Our tradition? I made the dough the day before so it was easier to roll out.
My daughter – and then my son – learned how to use a rolling pin and press a tree or bell shape into the flattened dough.
Let the decorating begin!
Creativity was serious business.
The teenage years sparked unique decorating ideas such as the occasional anatomically correct gingerbread man. Ahem. All in good fun though…
Every year we were accompanied by the Sesame Street Christmas Sing-Along album pumping through the speakers (yes, we had speakers in the kitchen!)…and the clicking of the Canon camera.
My husband, I and the “kids” continued this annual family tradition for over 25 years…always accompanied by Big Bird, Cookie Monster (of course!) and the rest of the gang.
Cookies in the making. Oven warming. Four voices singing – the muppets’ lines memorized to perfection…
It’s that time of the year When we all want to hear A Christmas sing-along…
Or
Count, count, count — counting the days, Count, count, count — counting the day… I’m counting the days, ’til Christmas day is due…
(just a sample taste of this fabulous album – released in 1984 – just in time for our family).
A few weeks ago, our new friends who live down the hall invited us to share Thanksgiving dinner with them and their extended family. We were honored. Also grateful, as we were not going to be able to spend it with our adult children and their families.
It’s an unusual kind of apple pie...I warned my friend. The apples aren’t peeled. There’s no top crust… I also have to make it gluten free.
She was fine with whatever I wanted to make.
It is also huge…filling a lasagna pan.
At Thanksgiving, there is no such thing as moderation. Ever. Especially when it comes to pie. The turkey? The stuffing? And all the rest?
Just the path to pie.
In Thanksgivings past there were always at least 3 kinds of pie at my table…to go along with family shenanigans and card games (as shared in my 2018 Thanksgiving story). I miss all of it.
The most popular? “Hearty Apple Pie” – each slice 2 inches high by many inches wide.
Well, it has been a few years since I made this pie. After downsizing and moving and spending Thanksgivings by ourselves, there was no need to make one until now.
I still had the old family recipe.
As I assembled the ingredients yesterday, I thought…what could go wrong?
First step: substitute gluten free flour blend for the real thing. Press into the pan.
Dough pressed into pan
Doesn’t quite look the same, but should be fine in the end. It’s PIE after all.
Next step: Core the apples. Can’t mess that one up.
Cored apples
Next step: Slice apples in the food processor.
Um…the food processor doesn’t work. I tried a different outlet. Nope. My husband and I tried several variations of blades and positioning of the “pusher assembly” and the cover. Still nothing.
Find the directions!
A fuzzy memory rose to the top of my aging brain. This was the new(ish) food processor we had gotten about 10 years ago. It had replaced the nice simple one from 1978. Back when there were no complicated safety features. When it was your own fault if you stuck your finger in when the blade was running. Back when you popped the blade in, snapped on the cover (the only safety feature) – added the apples through the hole in the top…and voila! sliced or chopped results.
Much simpler.
Not anymore. The current small appliance companies are in the business of saving us from ourselves. Which, in many cases, is necessary. As it turned out, there were 3 different steps and clickings into place that I had to perform before even one apple could be sliced.
I was annoyed for 2 reasons. First that I had forgotten what to do and second, that it had become necessary to make devices so complicated that I had to remember this sequence in the first place. (probably a third reason as well – that I was turning into the old fart I never wanted to be…complaining about newfangled stuff…).
Anyway, after much huffing and puffing and locating the directions…success.
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
Next step: Mix with lots of yummy spices. No holding back here.
Apples mixed with spices!
Next step: Transfer to the waiting piecrust.
Ready to Bake
(fyi: covered apples with brown sugar, almonds and dots of butter which look like cheese…but aren’t)
After baking: Extra Large Apple Pie ready to share.
Ready to Eat!
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
(where there’s no such thing as moderation)
Inspired by V.J.’s Weekly Challenge #74: Moderation
Nancy Merrill’s Photo a Week Challenge: Traditions
IN A NEW POST CREATED FOR THIS CHALLENGE, SHARE ONE OR TWO OR MORE PHOTOS SHOWING A TRADITION YOU HAVE.
~~~
Did you check the bathtub? Look in the closet! Behind the couch!
Under the table!
When my two children were growing up (and even when they were grown up and home for a visit), Easter morning meant hunting for Easter baskets.
During the Easter Bunny era, it involved more and more intricate hiding places as they got older. The thrill of the hunt was paramount.
The E.B. had to get extra creative (hence the bathtub)…or else the search was over in ten seconds.
After all, the E.B. filled four baskets with carefully selected jelly beans, chocolate bunnies, candy eggs and small stuffed bunnies. As the years went by…basketball cards, little books, stickers, trinkets & puzzles were added…
…so let’s make it a challenge! (thought the E.B.)
The E.B. was usually successful…and a sweet family tradition was born.
1988
1988
1989
1993
The sister and brother team eventually figured out where to look…every time.
…The weekly trivia question at the local dry cleaners. Written on a large chalkboard near the cash register. If answered correctly, you earned a 15% discount on your incoming order.
An interesting question, but…trivia?
I don’t think so.
Memorial Day is celebrated in the United States today: May 27th, 2019.
The last Monday of May is designated as a federal holiday…to honor and remember the men and women who have died while serving in the military. Sacrificing their lives for our country’s freedom.
Flags are lowered to half-mast. Parades are held in cities and towns. Services and solemn moments of silence are observed.
The original date for Memorial Day was May 30th. The tradition began after the Civil War, when graves of fallen soldiers were decorated with flowers and wreathes.
It’s original title? Decoration Day.
~~~
Memorial Day earned one small front page article – below the fold – in today’s local newspaper. My iPhone Apple newsfeed?…I had to scroll almost to the bottom to spot one tiny link to a NYTimes article about Memorial Day. I found no mention of today’s holiday in my New York Times “Today’s Headlines” daily email.
However, apparently today is the best day for sale prices on large appliances and mattresses. “Red, white and blue” sales are everywhere….as enthusiastically reported on television’s “Good Morning America.”
Easter Sunday was for dressing up…when I was young: “fancy” pastel colored dress, white socks and black patent leather shoes.
And a hat. An Easter Bonnet type of hat. The kind your mother wrapped in tissue and stored carefully in a cardboard “hat box.” Whisked away from your sticky little hands and tucked on a shelf, safe until the next holiday. They were often made of straw… decorated with artificial flowers. Secured on your head with a ribbon or scratchy elastic band.
I was never a dress-up kind of girl. My hat was much simpler than my sister’s…and was usually perched askew on my head. I actually kind of liked it. Simple. Primary colors.
Along with the hat came a “Spring Coat.” Also only worn for Easter and going to church. Maybe Mother’s Day. Not real comfortable for playing outside; which was my preference. But easier to wear than the dreaded itchy wool “Winter Coat.”
One Easter – when I was 5 and my sister was 3 – we needed to pose for a photo on the new backyard swing. Complete with our traditional Easter outfits. I’m in the red coat. She’s in the yellow one.
Apparently it took a few minutes to get seated…
This Easter tradition continued for a few years with my daughter, who at 5, was also in the spirit…with a hat passed down from one of her aunts.
My daughter – age 5
Happy Memories.
~~~
This morning at church, I noticed children in their Easter finery…including one white straw hat.
Thanksgiving = Turkey
Christmas = Roast Beef
New Year’s Day = Bologna Pie….say what?
When I was a kid, my parents often hosted an Open House on New Year’s Day. Neighbors and friends streamed in and out all day long. Eating, drinking, laughing, talking, smoking.
Lots of drinking. Eggnog (2 pitchers: labeled “with” and “without”). Punch with fancy shaped ice floating in the center.
Conversations morphing into a dull roar.
Alongside music from my dad’s hi-fi.
My younger sister and I helped prepare the party food the day before…
…and that’s where the bologna pie comes in.
It was (and still is?) slices of bologna with cream cheese spread between each slice.
The higher the stack, the better. Cut into pie shaped wedges – hence the pie label. And there it was.
We always sampled the greasy concoction as we made the pies…and I hate to admit we really liked it.
How times change.
Loaves of miniature rye bread were transformed into chicken or tuna salad mini sandwiches. Sometimes toasted french bread topped with canned crab & cheese dip was on the menu.
Always delicious.
One memorable January 1st Open House was worth an entire diary entry:
January 1, 1967
I have no photographs of these Open Houses.
Which is probably just as well.
I hear it almost everywhere I go – ever since the stores have been decked out for the holidays. The music from “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” I do remember the television show – in 1965 – and was entranced by it then. The soundtrack now iconic.
It is also a mood changer.
Last December I arrived on a late flight at Logan Airport. My plane had been delayed. I was tired. Achy from the cramped seat. Walking into the gate waiting area, I heard the Linus and Lucy theme on the musical loop. Vince Guaraldi’s piano playing couldn’t help but make me smile. And relax. What a perfect choice for a busy airport full of travelers from all over the world…shouldering all kinds of burdens. Also tired. Achy. Anxious to get safely…somewhere.
I also hear this song in the grocery store. The local card store. In the mall.
I never get tired of it.
No matter what time of year it is.
Santa Claus appeared at many different venues when I was a child in the ’50’s and ’60’s. Sitting on some type of chair or throne-like chair – and dressed in his signature red suit and hat, he would wait for children. To sit on his lap. Briefly. For a quick question and answer, smile for the camera..and done! Then a parent would wait in line for the polaroid result of this annual pilgrimage.
I couldn’t wait to meet up with him…(or one of his elves subbing in – the explanation for why there was also a Santa on the street…and in the local Bamberger’s or Sterns department store at a “Breakfast with Santa” event on Saturday mornings)…in order to pass on my requests for presents.
I visited the pre-mall Santas – often appearing at local church fairs…or church “bazaars” as we used to call them. These were simple affairs…handmade mittens, cookies, potholders and such made by the church ladies. In the corner sat Santa – waiting for the local kids to sit on his lap and whisper their wishes for Christmas morning. Santa looked eerily similar to men I would see at church on Sunday talking to my parents, but I never questioned why.
I do not remember what I asked for the year this black & white photo was taken…but Santa looks like he had heard most everything by the time it was our turn.
Me, Santa and my sister circa 1957
Almost thirty years later, my daughter sat on Santa’s lap at our local mall. And whispered her hopes for gifts on the 25th. Again there was the wait in line for the polaroid result.
My daughter and Santa 1984
~~~
Pictures with Santa in 2018?
Still at a mall. There is a long wait circling around extending past the stores. Babies, toddlers and elementary school age kids. Some dressed up. Some kids panic at the sight of this large man in the red suit. Other don’t…sitting quietly, not quite understanding all the activity. But still, whispering…something…to Santa. Look towards the camera. Hopefully, smile.
There is no longer a wait for the polaroid print. Now it is air-dropped to your smart phone. For a fee of course.
“Pictures with Santa” has changed in many ways in the past 50 plus years. As one might expect. All things do.
Santa sits on a fancier throne. I don’t see him at the church fairs.
Photos are digital and float through the air.
But the excitement in a toddler’s eyes… I saw Santa, Mama! I sat on his lap! The smiles. The jumping up and down…
THAT has not changed at all.
A day – if you’re fortunate – set aside for family.
For gratitude. For sharing a meal.
Usually a massive meal – in our house it was based around turkey, gravy, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, some kind of vegetable. Rolls or banana bread. Every year the “fixins” changed somewhat.
The most important part: many pies. The dinner was basically a stop on the way to pumpkin…apple…cherry pies.
And my personal favorite…playing cards while eating dessert: aka pie.
Dinner was also all about the conversation and stories we shared. So much time and opportunity for prolonged discussion when you are passing endless bowls of food around. Pouring wine. Pouring water. Carving more turkey. I just never knew what subjects would come up; but many became classics.
Such as…
In 1990, my husband and I hosted our first Thanksgiving.
I had never cooked a whole turkey before. An overwhelming task. I had heard horror stories about overcooked turkeys and dried out white meat. That would never happen to me…I’ll cover it!That should do it.
My parents and my in-laws were coming – to join me, my husband and our 2 kids.
I dusted off the big blue covered roaster pan my mother had passed down to me. Coated the fresh turkey with spices and some oil. Tied the legs together.
I put the cover on. It went into the oven. I set the timer. And let it cook. And cook. Many hours later – when, according to the recipe it would be done, I removed it from the oven. Look it’s ready! With great fanfare, I lifted the lid…Oh No!
It looked like a turkey snow angel! All the turkey meat had slid off the bones. We had turkey stew! There was nothing to carve. Legs askew. Wings fallen off. My mother was horrified. I laughed. And laughed.
It still tasted great…and…the white meat was NOT dry!
♥ ♣ ♠ ♦
The following year:
Twelve family members gathered at the dining room table to enjoy our Thanksgiving feast – including my parents, my husband’s parents, my grandmother, my sister and her family.
Upon noticing someone struggling to remove the meat from a turkey leg, my father-in-law shared a memory…a story that has become part of family lore.
He began describing his job at the First National grocery store in the 1930’s. When he helped get the turkeys ready to be sold for Thanksgiving. The turkey carcasses were brought to the store and his job was to pull the tendons out of the legs. Apparently, this made the turkey legs easier to eat. He went into graphic detail. Right in front of everyone. Who put their forks down and stared at him…as he explained this was probably not done anymore. Those pesky tendons still attached.
GROSS! we protested.
Shocked faces…especially those with turkey legs eaten or half eaten on their plates. There may have been some gagging. My big city brother-in-law’s face turned white. He got up and left the room…
one letter UP ~ diary 2.0 