Garrison Keillor: I Understand Completely

"Rhubarb is the secret to the good life."

I read every word of his essay, and understood it to the core of my being. I feel exactly that way when I am researching and writing about St. Vincent. I love St. Vincent and all the people from it and all the people around it that made up our communities, our lives, our sorrow, our joys.

When my mother was nearing the end of her 97 years, what was most vivid to her was her youth. She said, “There is so much I’d still like to know, and there’s nobody left to ask.” So she ventured into the shadows to commune with her dead, which was a comfort to her. Nobody was alive who knew her in girlhood, so memory became reality. Some call it dementia, I call it imagination. At 71 I sometimes forget last week, but I clearly remember the big house on Dupont Avenue North where Corinne lived one summer when we were 19, and I blew smoke on her African violets to kill aphids. She and I had this idea to form a commune of writers all working away in their rooms, doors open, and when we wrote something good, we could walk into someone’s room and tell them about it. A sort of long-term sleepover. It was a perfect idea, and we didn’t bother with details such as Who and Where and How much, and because it never became a reality, it never came crashing down. It still exists in my mind. If I reach 97, I may finally go live there.

- From Keillor Geography

St. Vincent is my Lake Wobegon...

One Winter's Night: Grandma & Me Alone

I don't have a clue once I get past the second move

I loved being with my Grandma Fitzpatrick so much when I was growing up. I missed her when in later years she spent half the year with Aunt Pat and Uncle John in Bemidji.

I loved it when she came to live with us.

One of my deepest memories of her is the evening we spent alone in the living room, the room she helped build in 1906, and here we were in 1972...and we talked about games she and other children used to play when she was young..."Fox and Geese" was one...and then we got some yarn out, and she taught me "Cat's Cradle", which I thought I knew, but I only knew a tiny part of it in actual fact.

I learned for one thing that it was a game that should be played with a partner, which enabled much more complex and fun string art to be created. I learned that it was challenging, fun, and that if you start laughing it can really mess up your concentration.

A Winter's Game: Fox & Geese

Grandma eventually gave up with me because I "lost my way", and I began laughing again, and then we both ended up laughing.

We thought we would do it again and I would get further. But it never happened. She forgot because there were so many things she had to cope with due to her infirmities, and I forgot because I was young and unconsciously assumed I would have time.

But time isn't kind, and when I remembered, it was far, far too late.

Creamed Corn

After cutting the kernels off the cob, she'd take the backside of the knife, scrape the cob
hard all the way around to get every bit of of the 'corn milk', thus enhancing the flavor...

My Mom made the best creamed corn. She always made sure to scrape the cob after cutting off the corn to get all the tasty 'corn milk'.  She used milk, butter, a bit of sugar plus flour, salt, and pepper to add to the corn after cooking it in a bit of water for a few minutes, to thicken and enhance the flavor. 

I loved her creamed corn - especially with a Sunday roast chicken meal...

Spring Cleaning

When I was growing up, it was common practice for my mother and grandmother to do what was called spring cleaning.  Windows were opened up, curtains and quilts were washed and hung out, rugs were aired and beaten, walls and floors scrubbed.  And kitchen cupboards were emptied, and thoroughly cleaned out and washed down.

As a young wife 35 years ago, even I used to do this domestic ritual.  I liked how it connected me to my mother and grandmother, and how it made me feel like a successful homemaker.  Everything felt so wonderful, so fresh, renewed!

Over the years, I became a very busy single working mother, and spring cleaning was forgotten and abandoned.  Not because I stopped believing in it, but because there was never enough time.  Deep cleaning gave way to spot cleaning on-the-fly.  It seemed to suffice.

In recent weeks, Bill and I have noticed increasing sightings of a small, dark, and thin beetle on our counter tops.  Along with this tiny beetle we have seen nearly as many small 'worms'.  We cleaned the area and thought no more about it.  Until it kept happening.  Over and over.

As often is the case, we were in denial.  It became obvious that this was not isolated but ongoing, that no amount of wishful thinking was going to make them vanish.

We did some research.  We learned they were a type of grain beetle, of which there are many kinds.  The solution sounded suspiciously like...spring cleaning.  I had lucked out over the years;  sadly, time and statistics (and maybe domestic karma) has caught up with me.

So this week, I shall be slowly but surely unloading the corner cabinets top and bottom, doing an inventory on my supplies, throwing out anything that is old, open, and/or infested, and thoroughly cleaning the cabinets.

Grandma and Mom knew what they were doing...

Dresser Scarves

When I was growing up, this was called a dresser scarf. No good home was without them. This one is quite lovely - it is made from linen that has been crocheted over, then edged with. The embroidery is quite striking - a crewel using ribbons. I admire the maker, whoever she is.

I used to do a fair bit of embroidery myself, when a young girl and young woman. It was the one handiwork I truly enjoyed. I never wanted to learn to knit, did learn basic crochet but never was interested enough to develop it. But I can do a mean satin stitch.

My favorite linens to embroider were dish towel sets consisting of seven flour sack dish towels, one for each day of the week.  The old ways were nothing if not generous with the linens, which meant more laundry!  Other favorites of mine to enhance with thread and needle were dresser scarves, hankies, and pillowcases.  My Grandma Fitzpatrick taught me a lot about the different stitches, how they were done, how to properly separate your floss, tricks to threading needles, and how to tie off your thread.  The best needlework, it was said, looked as good from the back, as it did from the front.  Due to my never wanting to waste an inch of floss, I never did get that down; looking at the back of my needlework was like looking at a drunken spider's web!  But my fronts were splendid, if I do say so myself.

I still to this day, have dresser scarves, pillow cases, and towel sets that I have never used.  They were done by my grandmother, and I treasure them and the work of her hands so much, I do not want to use them and have them worn out.  They are to me, a heritage I wish to preserve.

Lessons from Grandma: Making Do

[Image Source:  Handy Farm Tools & How to Make Them]

My Grandma taught those around her the best way anyone can teach another - by how she lived her life. That's not to say she didn't express opinions. I'm just saying she usually was too busy to sit around talking about ideas, and was more about getting things done!

I used to love hanging out with her when I was a little girl, especially in the summers. Most of the time it was her and me and nobody else, which is how I liked it. Grandma would sometimes put me to work gathering acorns from the yard in the fall of the year. I'm still not sure to this day if that was necessary, or just a clever trick on her part to keep me out of her hair. Either way, I was diligent in my job and had filled a large vinegar jar full of acorns by the time I was done. As I cleaned her yard, I'd get close to her little garden out back, and her shed, which I thought were very intriguing, full of old garden and carpenter hand tools, some of them from the last century, belonging to her father.

One summer, Grandma decided she needed a wheelbarrow. Always having lived a thrifty lifestyle by necessity, by then she was living as a widow on a very limited, fixed income. Her solution? Plunder the plunder pile¹, scavenge a wheel, and slap together a homemade wheelbarrow! I was so excited by her project, she even let me help, and I ended up with my own smaller version. I used that thing for a lot of projects around her house and later up at the old homestead where I grew up (and she and Grandpa had built as their original home, as newlyweds...)

¹ - Plunder Pile: A pile of items saved for possible use or re-use at a later time, usually consisting of lumber, fence posts, old windows and doors and other such items. Usually stored outdoors in a pile against or behind a building, sometimes in the form of a tee-pee. Very handy resource to have when making lots of inexpensive, homemade projects.

Clotheshorse

The Clotheshorse, aka drying rack. I grew up using one, and have had one one off and all my life. I now am using it exclusively for all my winter drying and to supplement my clothesline drying in the summer when necessary. It saves a considerable amount of money on our monthly electric bill, and provides much needed (and appreciated) humidity in the home...

"Make a wish..."

From our recent chicken 
dinner roast - Bill won!

A tradition my family practiced, not only at Thanksgiving, but whenever we had a chicken throughout the year, was drying the wishbone, then later pulling it for a wish.

Finding Your History

Mom's Plum Pudding

My Mom did a spectacular plum pudding* (which is somewhat similar to fruitcake...but not really...!) She was carrying on a tradition that her mother, my Grandma Fitzpatrick, had done before her.

She always shopped for the best suet fresh from the butcher's, candied fruits, and whole nuts to grind, over in Emerson. She canned some every year, and it was like wine, getting better the older you let it sit. At Thanksgiving or Christmas, we'd pop open a jar, steam the pudding until it was warm and plump, and then pour one of the two homemade sauces she made - lemon and caramel/butterscotch over the top of each serving - it was amazing. Sometimes, she even hid a coin in one of the servings to make it more fun!

* AKA Christmas Pudding; while my mother's pudding was heavenly, not all puddings are created equal...