Tradition

OrnamentsChristmas has always been about family traditions for me.  A time to reminisce about childhood and family members now long gone. To that end the decorations I use on the tree each year have special significance for me – they are the glass balls that were on the tree the year I was born and every year since.  There are other ornaments that my mother gave me to keep the traditions alive when I had my children and Christmas in my own home.  One in particular has graced the trees of my mother, grandmother and I would hazard to guess my great grandmother.  It is a wool felt Santa with a molded paper face.  At this point he actually doesn’t have much shape and I think he’s missing a leg and faded to a strange color but he is the quintessential tie to the past for me.  I imagine him getting a special spot on the tree each year, taken from his tissue lined box. He’s small but has the happiest face, probably happy to be out of that box for the 3 weeks a year he spends in daylight.

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Once these decorations come out it’s time to bake the cookies. Every year the same ones.  What makes them special is that Christmas is the only time I make them.  I pull out my 1952 copy of the Betty Crocker and work my way through the holiday cookie section.  Thumbprints, Russian Teacakes, Molasses Christmas trees, they all have their place.  Even if no one eats them I have to make them because it wouldn’t be the holidays without all that butter, sugar and nuts.

The other tradition, one that I haven’t followed so closely in recent years, is that of a Suet Pudding.  This was something we always had every year.  Yes, I know it sounds disgusting but is really a delightfully rich, dense cake made with molasses, raisins and highly spiced.  It is steamed and served hot with a melting spoonful of hard sauce and a tart frothy lemon sauce.  You take a bite and all at once you have warm and cold, sweet and tart, wonderful.  It’s time consuming to make but I think I will make one this year.  Our friend Russell was commenting about a pudding his grandmother used to make when he was a kid. When he described it I knew it was the same as ours so I think I will make it to share.  The only thing better than celebrating memories of Christmas past is to help bring memories back for other people.

 

Let the Christmas Season Begin

131208 Tree (1)Every year we trek out to the power lines with a group of friends to pick out our Christmas tree.

131208 Tree (2)Russell loves loading everyone onto his hay trailer and towing them out through the field to where the trees are.  I opted out of the ride this year because in years past it has really scared me at moments.  It’s not as if the bales we are sitting on are attached to anything.  It looks like a tame ride in the photographs but once you are on the high tension lines it’s anything but.

131208 Tree (3)Bill cut down the first tree he saw that fit the “small” tree requirement. It was also right on the top of the hill so there wouldn’t be any dragging up the steep, icy road.

131208 Tree (4)Everyone fanned out beyond where we left the tractor and trailer.  It’s some fairly rough terrain and the tractor was turned around and parked quite a ways back.

131208 Tree (5)The kids were quick to pick their trees and trek back to the trailer.  They were all with their babies and the wind had a bit of a bite to it.  It’s nice to see them start the same traditions they have had most of their lives.

131208 Tree (6)Finally the people looking for the perfect tree managed to find and cut just that.  We harvest our trees on this stretch of the power line every year.  The lines are on Russell’s property and if we don’t cut the trees down when they are smaller the power company will cut them down when they get bigger.  The trees grow unfettered all along the road and they are as beautiful as any tree you would buy anywhere.  I think more so because they just grew, no help from anyone.

131208 Tree (7)Everyone makes the walk back while Russell drives the load of trees to the barn. The walk is one of my favorites, this is such a beautiful spot.

131208 Tree (8)This year the difficulty came in figuring out who cut down what tree.  Ours was easy, it was the smallest one. Everyone then goes inside to share a meal and hot chocolate and lots of desserts. I always bring an apple pie warm from the oven and really who needs any other food when you can have warm apple pie?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Memory and Reality

Epi's NovaThere are often times when I have to drive our customer’s cars to and from other shops – body shop, carburetor shop, detailer, etc.  Most of the cars that are coming or going to these places are old.  I just returned from picking up a customers 1973 Nova.  The drive was short and with each and every mile my life flashed before my eyes as well as what I was going to tell her when I crashed into someone pulling out in front of me.  This car has 4 wheel drum brakes with no power assist.

It’s cold and raining out this morning and who knows when the car was last started.  I put in the key and turned it over.  It didn’t stay running and I realized that I had to use a manual choke.  In doing so it started immediately.

The first thing I noticed was the narrow, large steering wheel, the second was the seat belt.  I didn’t notice the seat belt so much as couldn’t find it and had to drive the entire way with the buzzer and light flashing  on the dash. When you step on the gas this car wants to go (it has a 5.7L V8) but this is not a fine handling car and, once again, the brakes were a little scary.

In 1973 I knew a few people who had these cars.  They were considered a pretty good, economical car at the time.   I get into these cars of the past now and I wonder how any of us survived.  The thought of thousands of cars on the road with a lot of power and bad brakes gives me pause.  Bill often talks about his childhood trips to the Cape where parents and seven children piled into a nine passenger wagon with drum brakes and bias ply tires and drove at 70 mph down the new highway towing a boat.  Wow.  That’s all that we knew.  Makes me wonder what kind of engineers they had in the 70’s though.

I think we all look at many things of our childhoods with nostalgia – with the idea that the older things were better.  I have a waffle iron from the 40’s that is without a doubt the best waffle iron I have ever used but I’m not really risking my life when I use it (well, maybe I’m risking some sort of electrical injury or burning down my house).  Cars are different.  We take them out on the road and trust that everyone is driving the best they can, undistracted, courteous.

I know when I got into that car all I could think was that its owner should not be driving it and wondered how she has survived driving it this long (she bought it new). You see, she is in her mid to late 80’s.  She owns 3 cars, this one and two 1967 Volvo 122s.  She can barely see over the steering wheel in any of them. The Volvos are standard shift cars.  Whenever I have to drive one of them I feel like one of the Weasleys taking a joy ride in a Ford Anglia in “The Chamber of Secrets”.  I feel that way every. single. time. I drive those cars – magical and scary, out of control.

Our Volvo/Nova owner has never driven a car newer than one built in 1973.  She doesn’t know there are cars that are easier to drive.  If I pick her up in my car in the heat of summer I can only put down the window because she can’t abide  a/c.  I have to put them down for her because there isn’t a crank on the door.

For her there is nothing nostalgic about the cars that she drives, they are what they are.  When I get into them it gives me a reality check on how far the technology has come and the comforts we enjoy in the cars that have been built in the past 20 years.  There’s a world of difference.  It also helps me to place what I come from and how far I’ve travelled.  It is truly amazing.

 

On Blogging

White CleomeIt was just a little over a year ago that I spent a day with Jenna Woginrich, Jon Katz and Jim Kunstler at Jenna’s house on a snowy day listening and talking about the way of words.  Their creative process, their commitment to producing material that is fired out into the ether for anyone to read.  The baring of souls in some respect.  I made a commitment that day that I would write something on this blog every weekday for a year.  For the most part I did it.

This has been an interesting endeavor.  I have a few followers (more than I ever expected), many of who comment here.  I have cyber friends that are like-minded.  One of the most interesting things for me is the number of people who tell me in person that they enjoy reading my blog.  That makes me laugh a little bit but it also adds another little dimension to what this started out to be.

This has been a difficult year on a personal level.  I have tried to keep everything here positive even when things weren’t that way in real life.  If I keep the story going it will become a reality – and in some ways it has.  It forces me to look at the little things that make up each day and pay particular notice to the gifts that are right in front of me.  I like to point them out here so the blog has made me much more aware of the good things happening around me even if they are very small.  I’m always looking.

It has helped me consider photography in a way that I had not for many years.  Images were the way I made a living for a long time and it seemed exhausting to me to take the camera out to capture a sunrise or the birds in the garden.  I made the commitment to post a photo a day with the blog and it helped me to see again.  Not only do I listen for the little gifts I look for them as well.

So my year commitment is over but it will continue without the urgency of a New Year’s resolution.  I have found that looking for the gifts and sharing them here has become a minor addiction and one should never overlook the good things no matter how small.

 

To the man who hit my car last night

Makes you feel a little better about humanity.

The Matt Walsh Blog's avatarThe Matt Walsh Blog

I don’t know you. All I know is what I learned from our altercation last night. And, based only on that, I’m betting you probably think you can get away with doing what you did without anyone calling attention to it.

But I’ve got this little blog here, and I can use it to seek justice.

And justice, in this case, means saying thank you.

You didn’t rescue me from a burning building. You didn’t pull me out of the way of a speeding train. You didn’t save my life or anything, but you did something right and honest. You did something decent. I give enough space — too much space — on this site to people who do things that are wrong, dishonest and indecent; the least I can do is dedicate a few paragraphs to the other end of the spectrum.

Let me give you some background: my…

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If Everyone Understood

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Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.

And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.

When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.

Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.

Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.

Listen to carrion — put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.

Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.

As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn’t go.

Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.
– Wendell Berry

Little Things

Little Things

 

Every year for the 18 or so years of my daughter’s lives I photographed them around this time of year for the annual Christmas card.  It was a personal challenge to send out the best photograph I could of them to all of our family and friends.

AJ & Cait with pumpkins

In the beginning I owned a photography studio in Enfield and was photographing many, many children – most of them were under 10 years old.  There was a decided difference in photographing my own and someone else’s.  The easy part is that these girls were conditioned to be photographed.  I knew the words and ways to make them smile a natural smile and I had nothing but time to spend doing it.  The difficulty came in the fact that they knew what buttons to push.

29878_1280170049944_5279775_nI would meticulously plan the dresses and where the photograph would be taken.  I would dress them and drag them to the desired location and wait for the light to be just so or set up the studio before they arrived.  Each session over the years had its problems (as every session always does). It also brought me great memories of the “behind the scenes” kinds of things that went on.  They would manipulate me and I would manipulate them as parents and children will always do.

Cait & Amanda in treeWhat seemed to every recipient of the yearly photograph to be of well behaved, well dressed little girls really was the product of hours of coercion, bribery, threats.  It was also, in the early years, the power of bathroom words.  Telling them to say something that they knew was considered a bad word took their minds off of the fighting between the two of them.

It’s this time of year that I look back fondly on those sessions – some great, some not so much.  They are the fabric of our collective past and what makes up a little part of who we are now and our relationship to each other.  I’m sure their perspective is totally different – everyone’s truth and story is but we are all on the journey together.

As the holiday season is upon us take the time to look at the little things that make up your traditions.  Take out those old dusty family photos (God knows mine are) and reminisce about what was important to you then with the loved ones you have now.  It can give you a fresh perspective on the journey you’re taking and bring home it’s the little things that really make up who you are.

 

 

Remains of the Day

131201 TurkeyThe Thanksgiving holiday ends when the soup is done.  That’s the way I look at it anyway.  Saturday afternoon, after guests had had their fill of all things turkey I removed the meat from the bones and made stock in a very large pot.  I strained the broth and put the pan in the shed to cool overnight. The temperature hadn’t been above 25 degrees so it’s as good as any refrigerator.

Sunday morning I skimmed the fat and heated the stock.  This is where we come to the rest of the ingredients.  Everything that was leftover from Thanksgiving went into the pot.  Mashed potatoes, squash, rutabaga, gravy, it all went in.  Using this as the base for your turkey soup gives it the most wonderful flavor and thickens it to the perfect consistency.  Last but not least comes the leftover bird – and this was one wonderful bird from Diemand Turkey Farm in Wendell, MA.  I didn’t add any starch because I wanted to keep my options open since it was such a huge amount.

The soup was simmered for about an hour and then the canner came out.  I had to can two rounds because the canner will only do 14 pints at a time.  All in all I canned 24 pints.  I do pints because many times it’s just one person (or two) opening a jar.  If there are more people open more jars.  It’s so satisfying to see the fruits of your labor sitting on the counter cooling.  Then dream about the soup’s possibilities – turkey barley, turkey rice and I’m thinking dumplings would be a great winter meal.

The biggest treat is tasting this when Thanksgiving Day is a distant memory because this is really Thanksgiving Dinner in a jar – yum!