As a grown up I realize that through the course of life I have learned many valuable lessons. Some of them I learned from my mom and dad. Some of them I learned in school and through experience. Many of them I learned from my aunts. Now I am an aunt and my oldest niece recently started kindergarten. I know that they say everything you need to know you learn in kindergarten. I disagree. I believe that there are some lessons that one cannot learn in a classroom. These are lessons that can only be learned by living. So, here it is. A year's worth of tiny words of wisdom for all the nieces and nephews out there, or really for anyone who will listen. You may not agree with all of them and they may not work for everybody, but each is a rule that I either try to live by or wish I did.
# 49 Get your Grandmother's Recipes.... Trust me
It is officially the holiday season, especially here in NYC. The kids are rehearsing for the Macy's parade, black Friday is upon us, the halls are decked and the entire baking isle is on sale. There are a few dishes that refuse to spend the holidays without. My grandmother's chicken and dressing, sweet potato casserole with marshmallows on top, and chocolate chip bourbon pecan pie. My grandmother was an old southern lady and man could she cook. She made so many wonderful dishes that she never once pulled out a recipe for. These recipes were long since committed to memory. She had watched her mother make them and back for generations.
One day while I was in college, it it me that not a single person besides her actually know how to make any of these dishes. I also realized then, sad as it was, that Grandma was not always going to be there. If no one knew how to make these dishes then all of our holidays would never be the same. So... I took it upon myself to get the recipes...even if it killed me.
Mary Jo Richardson, my grandma, hated anyone in her kitchen besides her. She knew where everything was and didn't like to be disturbed in her kitchen. I warned her that during the week of Thanksgiving, I was going to come over and watch her prepare. I was determined to get these recipes. We began with the chicken and dressing because it was everyone's favorite. She didn't even own a set of measuring cups or spoons, so I brought my own. Every time she went to dump something into the mix I would stick something under her spoon quickly so i could catch it all and measure it. I swear that she even tried to add stuff when my back was turned, but for the most part we got along quite nicely. I let her humph and growl, but we got through it. In the end, I not only had the chicken and dressing recipe, but also chocolate pudding, fudge, chocolate pie, sweet potato casserole, and a few others.
I am the only one in my entire family who has these cherished family dishes. I keep teasing them saying if they want them, they will have to by my book, which hopefully will be published soon. I feel like I can hold out on them as long as I want to because this way they need me. I took the time to follow her around, annoy her and get the recipes and I will cherish them always. These recipes will end up in my family cookbook that I will pass onto my children or grandchildren one day.
Recommended Read: No Rocking Chair for Me, by my dear friend, Faity Tuttle
Monday, November 22, 2010
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Its not what you gather...
As a grown up I realize that through the course of life I have learned many valuable lessons. Some of them were taught to me by my mom and dad. Some of them I learned in school and through experience. Many of them I learned from my aunts. Now I an aunt and my oldest niece recently started kindergarten. I know that they say everything you need to know you learn in kindergarten. I disagree. I believe that there are some things that one cannot learn in a classroom. These are lessons that can only be learned by living. So, here it is. A year's worth of tiny words of wisdom for all the nieces and nephews out there, or really fro anyone who will listen. They may not work for everybody and you may not agree with all of them, but each is a rule that I either try to live by or wish I did.
# 48 Its what you scatter.
I received this story in an email. It is so sweet that I thought it deserved to be my #48. If I knew who the original author is, I would give them credit.
"IT'S WHAT YOU SCATTER......
I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes... I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.
Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.
'Hello Barry, how are you today?'
'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good.'
'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'
'Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time.'
'Good. Anything I can help you with?'
'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas.'
'Would you like to take some home?' Asked Mr. Miller.
'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'
'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'
'All I got's my prize marble here.'
'Is that right? Let me see it' said Miller.
'Here 'tis. She's a dandy.'
'I can see that. Hmm mmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked..
'Not zackley but almost.'
'Tell you what Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble'. Mr. Millertold the boy.
'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.'
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.
With a smile she said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever.
When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.'
I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.
Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.
Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket.
Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and
moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one; each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.
'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about.
They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size......they came to pay their debt.'
'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho ..'
With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three
exquisitely shined red marbles.
The Moral:
We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the
moments that take our breath.
Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles ~ A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself...
An unexpected phone call from an old friend.... Green stoplights on your way to work....
The fastest line at the grocery store....
A good sing-along song on the radio...
Your keys found right where you left them.
IT'S NOT WHAT YOU GATHER, BUT WHAT YOU SCATTER THAT TELLS WHAT KIND OF LIFE YOU HAVE LIVED!
# 48 Its what you scatter.
I received this story in an email. It is so sweet that I thought it deserved to be my #48. If I knew who the original author is, I would give them credit.
"IT'S WHAT YOU SCATTER......
I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes... I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.
Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.
'Hello Barry, how are you today?'
'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good.'
'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'
'Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time.'
'Good. Anything I can help you with?'
'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas.'
'Would you like to take some home?' Asked Mr. Miller.
'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'
'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'
'All I got's my prize marble here.'
'Is that right? Let me see it' said Miller.
'Here 'tis. She's a dandy.'
'I can see that. Hmm mmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked..
'Not zackley but almost.'
'Tell you what Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble'. Mr. Millertold the boy.
'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.'
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.
With a smile she said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever.
When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.'
I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.
Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.
Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket.
Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and
moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one; each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.
'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about.
They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size......they came to pay their debt.'
'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho ..'
With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three
exquisitely shined red marbles.
The Moral:
We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the
moments that take our breath.
Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles ~ A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself...
An unexpected phone call from an old friend.... Green stoplights on your way to work....
The fastest line at the grocery store....
A good sing-along song on the radio...
Your keys found right where you left them.
IT'S NOT WHAT YOU GATHER, BUT WHAT YOU SCATTER THAT TELLS WHAT KIND OF LIFE YOU HAVE LIVED!
Thursday, November 4, 2010
When you're all choked up...
As a grown up, I realize that through the course of life I have learned many valuable lessons. Some of them were taught to me by my mom and dad. Some of them I learned in school and through experience. Many of them were taught to me by my aunts. Now, I am an aunt and my oldest niece recently started kindergarten. I know that they say everything you need to know you learn in kindergarten. I disagree. I believe there are some things that one cannot learn in a classroom. These are lessons that can only be learned by living. So, here it is. A year's worth of life lessons for all the nieces and nephews out there, or really for anyone who will listen. You may not agree with all of them and they may not work for everybody, but each is a rule that I either try to live by or wish I did.
# 47 Don't be embarrassed if you think you are dying.
This may seem like a silly piece of advice, but it is worth listening to. The other day I was at rehearsal. I had developed a small cold as my body decided it was time to shut down. However, it was not a good time for a system melt down, so I was fighting it to the best of my abilities. I had my juice, water, tissues, and cough drops and I was ready to go. I put in a cough drop so that I wouldn't annoy the rest of the cast as they were reading through a scene that I didn't happen to be in. I popped it in and all was fine until all of a sudden it slipped right down my throat. I tried very gracefully to cough it back up at the same time that I was hoping it would just continue down. All I could think of was that I was about to severely interrupt rehearsal and we only have such a small amount of precious time. I turned frantically to my fellow cast member sitting next to me and motioned wildly. I was trying to not give the universal signal for choking, all the while knowing that I was. Right at the moment when I had decided to give the universal signal, I regained my breath and began to cough again. I slipped into a sort of semi conscious state and I could hear everyone talking around me once they all realized what was going on. "Is she choking?" "Do you need some water?" "She's not choking, she's coughing." "Are you ok?" Finally I got the cough drop out of my throat and into a tissue. Crisis averted.
I may have survived, but I was so embarrassed that I just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I felt like everyone was judging me. Let me just say that it was stupid of me to feel that way. If you ever feel like there is something really wrong, don't hesitate to draw as much attention to yourself as necessary. I shouldn't have been embarrassed that I was choking, I should have been relieved that they all finally noticed.
When you're all choked up, don't be embarrassed. Get help in any way possible.
Recommended buy: The American Medical Association Handbook of First Aid
# 47 Don't be embarrassed if you think you are dying.
This may seem like a silly piece of advice, but it is worth listening to. The other day I was at rehearsal. I had developed a small cold as my body decided it was time to shut down. However, it was not a good time for a system melt down, so I was fighting it to the best of my abilities. I had my juice, water, tissues, and cough drops and I was ready to go. I put in a cough drop so that I wouldn't annoy the rest of the cast as they were reading through a scene that I didn't happen to be in. I popped it in and all was fine until all of a sudden it slipped right down my throat. I tried very gracefully to cough it back up at the same time that I was hoping it would just continue down. All I could think of was that I was about to severely interrupt rehearsal and we only have such a small amount of precious time. I turned frantically to my fellow cast member sitting next to me and motioned wildly. I was trying to not give the universal signal for choking, all the while knowing that I was. Right at the moment when I had decided to give the universal signal, I regained my breath and began to cough again. I slipped into a sort of semi conscious state and I could hear everyone talking around me once they all realized what was going on. "Is she choking?" "Do you need some water?" "She's not choking, she's coughing." "Are you ok?" Finally I got the cough drop out of my throat and into a tissue. Crisis averted.
I may have survived, but I was so embarrassed that I just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I felt like everyone was judging me. Let me just say that it was stupid of me to feel that way. If you ever feel like there is something really wrong, don't hesitate to draw as much attention to yourself as necessary. I shouldn't have been embarrassed that I was choking, I should have been relieved that they all finally noticed.
When you're all choked up, don't be embarrassed. Get help in any way possible.
Recommended buy: The American Medical Association Handbook of First Aid
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)