This is my dad's brother, Uncle Dexie. He served as a Master Sergeant in WWII in the Panama Canal.
We miss you Dexie !
This is my dad's brother, Uncle Jim Bob. He served in the Korean War and spent a lot of time in Germany. He is also pictured here with my beautiful Aunt Paula. We lost him many years ago. Aunt Paula lives in the great state of Texas.
One of my favorite memories of Jim was when he drove the get-away car on my wedding so that my new husband's friends wouldn't kidnap him and take him to Johns Valley in Pushmataha County. When we told him of the plans that they were going to kidnap Gary right after the reception, Jim said, and I quote him verbatim, "The hell they will."
The gentleman on the left is my father-in-law, better knows as Grandpa. He was a Master Sergeant in World War II with Company D, 111th, Medical Battalion, 36th Infantry Division. He was part of four beachhead landings in North Africa, Sicily, France, and Italy. We lost him many years ago.
There are so many wonderful memories of Grandpa. If I had to describe him, the best way I know how is this, "He had a broad face and a little round belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly." When Grandpa laughed, he laughed all over ! And, he laughed a lot.
The gentleman on the right is Grandpa's son, the father of my two beautiful daughters. He served in the Oklahoma Army Reserve for many years. My most vivid memories of those days are of Killeen, Texas, Ft. Polk, Louisiana, and ironing those blankety-blank green fatigues every Friday night before he reported to the reserve unit in Antlers for a weekend of drills.
My brother-in-law, Albert Brown, in the two photos above. The first one when he was 18 years old and the the second was taken at the Tastee Freez in Antlers, Oklahoma where he became legendary.
He was a Private First Class in the Army and Honorably Discharged in 1951. He served with The 338th Military Intelligence Service Company.
He is better known as "Uncle Albie." No one could have loved my girls any more than he did.
And this young man is our son-in-law. He has been deployed to Iraq FOUR times and then was stationed at Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany.
He was there with our daughter and three children for three years.
Thank you to these special people in my life AND their families.
Thank you to ALL the veterans who served AND their families.
Thank you to ALL those who are still serving AND their families.
We all need to be thankful for them EVERY day.
Veterans Day is an official United States holiday honoring armed service veterans. It is a federal holiday that is observed on November 11th. It coincides with other holidays such as Armistice Day or Remembrance Day which are celebrated in other parts of the world and also mark the anniversary of the signing of the Armistice that ended World War I. Major hostilities of World War I were formally ended at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918 with the German signing of the Armistice.
Veterans Day is not to be confused with Memorial Day. Veterans Day celebrates the service of all U.S. military veterans, while Memorial Day is a day of remembering the men and women who died while serving.
Part Two . . . There are so many photos, it takes two posts !
This one was first published a few years ago.
Just reminiscing a little about some of the 'events' along the way with Brooke . . .
She climbed up everything including the shelves of the refrigerator. She climbed into everything including the dishwasher. She climbed out of everything including her baby bed. We finally just let the side down so she wouldn't fall so far to the floor in her daily escapes. She ate lots of things . . . I pulled a large black bug out of her mouth one day. It was still alive. She ate the weather stripping off the door. She drank Selsun Blue which resulted in a trip to the ER for Syrup of Ipecac. Consequently, she blew bubbles out her mouth and nose. She painted herself with Fudgesicles.
Nevertheless, she was and still is a delight . . . she was a delightful little girl . . . she is a delightful young lady.
Do you remember where you were FORTY years ago today ?
I certainly do !
Before we commence with the 2,547 photos of my youngest that have been posted below, here are a couple of previous birthday posts:
If you are planning to peruse the links above and hang out here to scroll through the pictures that follow, may I suggest taking the time to grab a cup of coffee or tea or hot chocolate or whatever floats your boat. You will be here for awhile.
These photos are in no particular order. For any of you with OCD, and feel the need to put them in order, knock yourself out.
OK, so the first one is in order.
During my pregnancy, I experienced heartburn from Day One to about Day One-Hundred-Thirty. (She was over due about three weeks !) An old Indian lady explained to me. "Baby be born with lots of hair. " She was right !
She was precious . . .yes she was !
In the mornings, when her dad and I were getting ready for work, we enlisted the help of her big sister, complete with pink sponge rollers.
This photograph conjures up memories of "The Princess and the Pea Eraser."
We also enlisted the help of big sister to put her to sleep at night.
The Summer of '81 ~ Red Hill Road
Granddad loved his girls . . .
. . . as evidenced by the smile on his face.
Grandpa loved them, too.
Christmas at Grandma and Grandpa's with the cousins.
Christmas at Grandmama Wheeler's.
Grandma and Grandpa Winters
Explaining to Santa that she is three.
Some photos need no caption.
A cute little Halloween punkin'
Nana and Melissa
She loved her . . .
dress that came from . . .
Austria. (Yes, that's Tyler.)
Birthday celebration with Melissa and Landra
Fun at Leenie and Dexie's with Leslie, Sue, and Christi
All Smiles !
Grandmother and Granddad
Haskell, Oklahoma
If you notice an onery look on her face in any of the photos, that because she was is.
Easter at Grandmama's
Another Easter at Grandmama's
A common place to sit
Another Easter at Grandmama's
Blurry but Cute
Still blurry . . . but the plant behind me provides a nice flying nun look.
The usual "corner" for photo ops
Probably another Easter photo
512 NW "B" Street . . .
. . . a favorite place to be.
The red cannas
She adored her big sister . . . still does.
Wayne, Leigh Anne, Michael, James . . . and Brookie
Posing for Grandmother
Waiting for the parade . . . Grandma has Brooke in the background . . . Aunt Joy is there, too. Ashley, Sean, Sis, and Grandmother . . .
Leah joins them.
Some of these just don't need explanations . . .
Leenie and Dexie
Please note: Big sis is putting decorations ON the tree . . . Little MIss Pris is removing them.
Another Easter photo
Mam-maw and Pap-paw Smith
I wish we knew where that green wooden frog high chair is . . . see it in the background ?
Yes, she had a black eye for her first Christmas. It could have happened when she climbed the shelves of the refrigerator, fell off the door of the dishwasher . . . (Sean is in the background.)
With Dad and Cousin Lissa (Dad looks like he was attacked by Paul Bunyan while caught in a wind tunnel.)
A bountiful harvest . . . she planted watermelon seeds in the front yard. They grew, covering the entire front yard. . . ALL summer. It was quite the talk of the neighborhood. We couldn't mow because of all the watermelon vines. It looked like a scene out of Jumanji.
Possibly another Easter outfit OR dressing up with Nana
Record low temperature of minus two . . . she wanted to go outside and play . . . so she dressed herself and was headed out the door when this photo was snapped.
One of her favorite places to be.
Her big sis couldn't have been prouder . . . neither could Mommy, Grandmother Smith, or Grandmama Wheeler.
Grandmother and Granddad usually stopped by before church every Sunday.
All of the above photos were taken before the birthday girl, sometimes known as SwampSpawn, went to school. Below, is one photo when she was a few years older . . .with big sis.
The following photos were taken at Christmas 2010 . . .
The photo below was taken along Pathfinder Parkway in Bartlesville several years ago.
What is a daughter ?
A daughter is a day brightener and a heart warmer. She is a bundle of firsts that excite and delight, giggles that come from deep inside and are always contagious. She is everything wonderful and precious and a mother's love for her knows no bounds. A daughter is a treasure and the cause of sleeplessness. She is a gift of love. She is a little girl who grows up to be a friend, a partner, a mother's closest ally, an extension of herself. A daughter is a miracle that never ceases to be miraculous . . .full of beauty and forever beautiful . . . loving and caring and truly amazing. A daughter is one of the most beautiful gifts this World has to give. She may outgrow your lap, but she will never outgrow your heart.
What is a daughter ?
She is the happy memories of the past, the joyful moments of the present, and the hope and promise of the future.
Am I a proud Mommy ?
You betcha, I am !
She is a contributing member of society with a business of her own, a devoted wife, a loving-caring Mother of two . . . and in her free time, she went back to school and completed a Master's Degree.
Am I a proud Mother ?
You betcha, I am !
There are, of course, many many stories that come to mind, so while my mind can still remember them, here are just a few:
Our friend and doctor, Herbert Rowland called Brookie his little grubber.
One reason is because she was responsible for eating all the weather stripping off our doors. The good doc said, "A little roughage never hurt anyone. "
Then there was the time when I could tell she had something in her mouth, so like any good mother, I reached in with my fore finger and pulled out a black bug. A LIVE black bug ! We discussed possibly discontinuing our contract with Orkin since we had an in-house bug eater.
Then there was the time her grubber-instincts sent us to the emergency room. She got-a-hold-of a bottle of Selsun Blue. How much she drank, no one knows. This was during the era of Syrup of Ipecac. Lawerence Welk would have welcomed having her sit behind the orchestra because she blew bubbles out her mouth and nose for an extended period of time.
Then there was the time I was unloading laundry from the dryer, and I accidentally tried to knock my funny bone off my arm. If you've ever done this, you know how very painful this can be. I dropped the S-bomb and as I turned to sit on the floor to regain consciousness, there stood my two-year-old. She had no problem repeating that word . . .over and over and over again. A few hours later, my parents arrived. The doorbell rang and as I opened the door, Brookie greeted them with, "Mommy said shit-shit-shit."
Then there was the time she wanted in her sister's bedroom. It was a rule at our house that a closed door must be knocked upon. She loved more than anything to be in her sister's room. I heard this little knock-knock-knock on LA's door and her sister asked, "Who is it ?" Brookie replied, "It's yu-aah Muth-ah."
Then there was the time it was a typical morning with everyone trying to get ready, eat breakfast, find back packs. . . you know the drill ! As I picked up a towel in the bathroom, noticing a glob of black something or other drop out of it, I heard a scream from the kitchen, "M-o-o-o-o-m-m-m-m-m-m !" The kind of scream that makes a Mother's hair stand straight up on the back of her neck. Brookie had instructed her older sister to, "Feel right here." Right here was where her bangs used to to be. She had taken some very sharp shears, laid them flat on her head, and whacked-whacked-whacked-off her bangs. This was prompted by a conversation she had heard between LA and me that she didn't want bangs anymore and planned to "grow them out." Brookie, wanting to be just like her sister, speeded up the process, and did away with her bangs in three whacks with the scissors. The glob of black that fell out of the towel was her bangs.
Then there was the time we were making brownies. Brookie was about four. The teacher in me was always ready for that teachable moment, so we proceeded with step-by-step instructions. She was instructed to "grease the bottom of the pan." She took a handful. . . a h-a-n-d-f-u-l. . . I said a H-A-N-D-F-U-L of Crisco and greased the BOTTOM of the pan. Not the "inside" bottom of the pan. The "outside" bottom of the pan.
I won't mention that she was a biter. No, I won't do that.
There are so many photos, so many stories, so many memories . . . this post is in two parts.
Reposted from about thirteen years ago.
A Happy Birthday Post to My Youngest Daughter !
The following is in no particular order...just typing away...
Once Upon a Time... "Dear Santa, I want a baby sister."
compassionate and caring - speaking your mind with diplomacy - strong yet vulnerable - a little impish - a lot sweetish - smiles and tears, giggles and guffaws - not too shy - growing up so fast - paving your own way - a quirky little look that melts hearts - sometimes having to follow in a big sister's footsteps - always making your own footsteps along the way - understanding and questioning - sensitive almost to a fault - considerate and kind - the epitome of everything a mom wants in a daughter - now you have a daughter of your own - all grown up but never out growing my heart - smiles through your tears - funny and serious - joyful moments of the present, hope and promises of the future, happy memories of the past: look at the head of hair on that baby - not much of a sleeper - couldn't keep you in your baby bed - dr. herb called you a grubber - let's see, there was the weather stripping off the door - the black bug that was still alive - dirt and rocks -the Lawrence Welk bubble incident with Selsun blue- blowing bubbles out your mouth and nose - 'trimming' your bangs - murals on the walls - a bit of a biter - always my baby - always my best friend - always the little sister - defending like a mama bear - we've been to hell and back - the three of us - we learned survival - we learned to enjoy the moment - we hold fast those memories - kissing that bald head for good luck - we learned from mistakes - we anticipate the future - we were a team - we still are - it's difficult to stop writing because there is so much to say - I have to stop - just know that even though your dad and I had disagreements - there is one thing we do agree on and I know I can speak for him - WE LOVE YOU !
Taken at Surprise Baby Shower at Burrage's...( I was growing rounder and rounder as we waited thinking you would be here 'just after Christmas.' You did come 'just after Christmas'...about 3 weeks 'just after Christmas.'
Dad and LAW waiting patiently. We didn't know if you were a boy or girl...
A baby girl with a very large voice...
Was she a Princess? Ask LAW about the pencil eraser...
Early morning feeding...
Napping...
Long John's with a drop seat...
You could be found in any number of places...
A collage of memories...
Above: Your favorite place: with Grandmother while she sewed and your favorite look
Below: More precious memories...
Left: Dressed for Tea
Right: Dressed to Play in the Snow (It was 2 degrees below zero outside.)
You liked to do everything yourself, "Me do, it...Me do it." From planting your own garden in the front yard, later known as "The Famous Watermelon Incident" and Blow Drying your bangs so they stood straight up...later you whacked them off...
Your favorite cousin Melissa...Wayside Elementary...no teeth...
The memory you mentioned about Junior..."Aspen's Main Street...very cold..."
The Fishing Expedition...Cimarron...Taking the Shortcut...Fishy Mouths...
High School Graduation...Edison Tulsa...
Having fun with Best Friends...at OU...Where?
Three Best Friends...
Another Best Friend...Oklahoma State University...Go Pokes...
Dear HansMan ! The mystery as to what happened to your house shoe has been solved. Check out the video at the bottom of this post.
Many pet owners will spend New Year's Day looking for their beloved fur babies. Shelters report that New Year's Day and The Fourth of July are when they are full of scared run aways. . . mostly dogs.
Dogs and cats are able to hear fireworks that are miles away because of their amplified hearing. Because of that they can still sense the noise even when a human can faintly hear it.
Holidays like New Year’s Eve and the Fourth of July are the days when most pets get lost due to them running away from fear.
These sounds trigger their nervous system, causing them to become afraid or anxious. The bright flashes and smells from fireworks can have an overwhelming effect on pets.
Distressed pets exhibit symptoms that vary from one animal to another. On a general level, they may drool, pant heavily, or attempt to escape. While these signs are easy to pick up on, there are more subtle ones a pet owner should observe.
Toileting in the house is a symptom. The pet may also be overly restless for unexplained reasons. No matter what you try, calming them when already distressed may take a long time. Cats tend to hide from the source of distress, while rabbits may keep still and thump the ground heavily with the back feet.
Dogs left outside will possibly scale a fence, dig under it, or break a leash to escape a sound they hear that may be miles away, but they sense it is in their backyard. Therefore, they run from it.
Fireworks phobia is a common occurrence in pets around New Year’s Eve. If left unchecked, it can escalate into full-blown fear where even the slightest thud throws the pet in anxiety mode.
A Few Tips:
MicroChipping/Identification
Be sure the dog or cat is micro-chipped. Check with the company that all the information is up to date. Micro-chipping is crucial as it increases the chances of being reunited with your pet should they get lost. If your pet is not micro-chipped, this should be on your 2021 To Do List ! Identification tags on collars are important and should have license, rabies information, vet information, owner's name, phone numbers, address, etc. Many times if a pet escapes, the collar sometimes comes off. This is why micro-chipping is important.
Dogs
It’s advisable to have preparatory measures in place before the fireworks begin. Take the time to walk your dog before dusk. A pleasant long walk will wear the dog out.
If the dog is exhausted as the fireworks begin, he’ll be less prone to panic because of the sound.
Walk your dog with the leash on. Remember that even the best-behaved dog can get frightened and take off.
Keep the house secure for your dog to prevent him from running away when the fireworks go off. A safe and comfortable hiding place within your home will help in easing his suffering. Keep your dog company during this “hiding” period to prevent him from panicking.
Keep the curtains closed in the area you intend to keep the dog. Turn on some light soothing music on radio or TV to lessen the effect of the sound from the fireworks. You could also keep the dog occupied by playing games until the fireworks have ended.
If the dog needs to go out for a potty break, put him on a leash and stay with him. One loud bang and he is gone !
Some dog owner have found that Thunder Shirts work well.
Cats
Animal welfare organizations recommend keeping your cat indoors during fireworks. In the same way you calm a dog, you can comfort a cat by putting on some calming music during the fireworks. Ensure your cat stays indoors by blocking off your cat flaps. Keep the curtains closed and allow your cat to roam around the house or put it in a safe place.
Small Animals
If you have a pet in the form of a rabbit or guinea pig, you also need to consider its safety. If you keep them in a cage or pen outside, you could consider one of two available options. You could either move them indoors or have their cages soundproofed.
Soundproofing the cages doesn’t have to be costly or a huge project. Simply covering them with heavy blankets will do the trick twofold. It will prevent the flashes and keep the firework sounds muffled.
Alternatively, move the cages to the garage or shed. Increase their beddings to increase their safety and make them feel snug.
*********************************
In case your pet gets too stressed there is a possibility to get prescribed medicine from a veterinarian for anxiety. This can help them. There are also new CBD products that veterinarians are prescribing for anxiety in animals.
Give them a new toy and a special treat and play a soothing sound. Pair good things with the noise and it will hopefully help them out for next year.
Generally I post something about eating black-eyed peas on New Year's Eve, but this year I'm posting EARLY in order to give all of you ample time to go buy yours NOW !
You have several options . . . dried black-eyed peas (the best with a recipe to follow), canned black-eyed peas, frozen black-eyed peas, etc.
Here's my history of black-eyed peas . . .
If you sat down to supper with my parents on December 31 around their drop-leaf kitchen table covered with a mustard-colored oil cloth, there’s a one-hundred per cent chance a very large bowl of black-eyed peas would be sitting there, front and center.
Curls of steam rose above the peas which were swimming in the juices of a succulent ham that had cooked on top of the stove for most of the day.
If you’ve ever tasted a black-eyed pea that hasn’t been seasoned with an ample amount of salt, ham, and the grease contained therein, it tastes a little bit like dirt.
No matter how badly you might not want to eat a bowl of black-eyed peas, rest assured that before being excused from my parents’ table, you would eat at least one. Not one bowl. One pea. According to my mother, it wasn’t so much that eating black-eyed peas would bring good luck for the next 364 days, but that not eating at least one might bring bad luck.
My mind is hazy as to when I actually began to like the taste of black-eyed peas. Possibly when I had children of my own and needed to convince them of the importance of eating them. At least one of them.
The complete meal consisted of the black-eyed peas cooked with ham, a fully baked ham, greens of some kind, cornbread, and a dessert. Usually, a banana puddin’. The greens might be anything from turnip greens, to mustard greens, to collard greens, to spinach, or a combination thereof. Polk salad was out-of-season, or it would have been on the table, too. The greens were also seasoned with copious amounts of grease and topped off with that hot, vinegary juice of pickled peppers. The cornbread was baked in an iron skillet. Mom fried bacon bits in the skillet, and while the pan was still hot, she poured the batter in. It sizzled and browned immediately around the edges.
During the years, it was explained to me by various family members what this meal represented: The peas swell when cooked and symbolize prosperity, the greens symbolize dollar bills, the pork symbolizes a positive motion because pigs root forward when foraging, and the cornbread represents gold.
Whether or not eating black-eyed peas brings good luck for the coming year, or not eating them brings back luck, the memories of sharing this meal with my family brings good memories for years to come.
My Mom's Recipe . . .
Black –Eyed Peas with Ham (serves 6 or a lot more if your guests only eat one pea)
1 pound dry black-eyed peas 1 small ham, cut into chunks 32 ounces chicken or beef broth 1 yellow onion, coarsely chopped 4 cups hot water, additional as peas cook salt to taste
Place peas in colander / Rinse with cool water to remove dirt and stray hulls / Drain well Place peas in a large stock pot / Cover with hot water / Soak for at least an hour (Soaking is not necessary, but peas will cook faster. Supposedly, soaking helps to reduce the risk of . . . a-hem . . . digestive upset. . . a euphemism . . . for farting) Place the ham chunks, chicken broth, and onion in a stockpot Simmer on low heat while peas are soaking Drain peas, again Add hot broth, ham, and onion to peas Add enough hot water to cover peas Place lid over stockpot and heat over medium high until liquid boils Reduce heat and simmer for an additional 1 to 2 hours Add more hot water to keep level just above peas (Amount of time it takes peas to cook and additional water will be determined if peas were soaked and juiciness of the ham. Amount of salt needed will be determined by ham.) Overcooking will cause peas to lose their shape and turn to mush
If you are vegetarian or don't eat pork, the peas can be seasoned with any number of other 'additives' . . . vegetable broth, green peppers, chilis, tomatoes, (Rotel), celery, garlic, anything in your refrigerator that might add to the deliciousness of this deletable dish . . .
Serve peas and ham with greens and cornbread. And, banana puddin’
Good luck !
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The History of Black-Eyed Peas
The black-eyed peas in this story are not to be confused with the American hip-hop group, The Black Eyed Peas. Botanically speaking, these ‘black-eyed peas’ are actually beans, members of the legume family.
It is thought that they originated in North Africa. The peas were a staple of the Roman and Greek diets, and were quite possibly introduced into India over 3.000 years ago.
There are several theories about how they ended up in the New World, but the most common one is that slaves from Africa stowed the seeds in their clothing so that they would have their beloved food in this new land. Another theory is that European and African slave traders arranged for the durable food item to be sold and traded in the New World. Regardless of how black-eyed peas arrived, they became a life-saving staple during the Civil War.
General William T. Sherman’s March to the Sea in November of 1864 resulted in all the land from Atlanta towards the Port of Savannah being stripped of food, crops, and livestock. The surviving Southerners were left with nothing . . . except black-eyed peas. In the North, people ate English peas. Only cattle ate black-eyed peas, the reason they are also known as ‘cow peas.’ Union soldiers did not leave the crops as a good-will gesture, they just didn’t know people ate black-eyed peas, so they saw no reason to destroy the crops since they had killed all the livestock.
Black-eyed peas were about the only source of food in the South after the Civil War, and saved thousands from starvation. Because the Southerners saw the crop as giving them a Second Chance, it became a tradition to eat black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day for good luck and prosperity.
During the 1900’s, the planting of the crop was promoted by George Washington Carver, the famous African-American chemist. The legume adds nitrogen to the soil and has a high nutritional value.
The black-eyed pea is a widely used ingredient in soul food and many Southern dishes. One of these dishes is called “Hoppin’ John.” There are plenty of stories as to how the dish became known as “Hoppin’ John.” One comes from the ritual where children on New Year’s Day hopped around the table before eating the dish. Another was to invite guests to eat the meal and hope for good luck by saying, “Hop in, John.”
Even in the Babylonian Talmud, there are recordings about ‘good luck’ traditions of eating black-eyed peas at Rosh Hashana.
Details of all these ‘black-eyed-pea-stories” differ, but all of them, in some way or another celebrate the communion of family and friends, bound by grateful hearts and renewed hopes for good times ahead.
Redstone, Colorado is known as “The Ruby of the Rockies." (red sandstone cliffs)
It is a tiny mountain town nestled about sixteen miles south of Carbondale in the Elk Mountain area of Pitkin County. It's about forty-eight miles from Aspen. The population ten years ago was 130. It is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
Redstone was founded in 1898. Originally the town was built as a model company town for coal and steel pioneer, John Osgood. He was the sixth wealthiest man in America at the time in 1900. He had 88 individually-styled European cottages, complete with plumbing and electricity for his workers.
Osgood's home was the 24,000 square foot Redstone Castle. His guests included such figures as Teddy Roosevelt, John D. Rockefeller, J.P. Morgan and Prince Leopold.
All that to say, HansMan and I have enjoyed going to Redstone for many years.
This year we packed up Stella and PeekaBoo and headed there for two days and nights. Might I say, 'frosty' days and nights.
Yes, there are pet friendly rooms built about a century ago. But, they are clean and comfortable and we have our favorite room.
As I've mentioned in the past, my 'travel' posts are just to document where we've been as a reminder to us that we've actually been there.
You are welcome to come along for the ride. Or at least watch the videos. Put on a coat because it's very cold.
I videoed Main Street standing in the back of the pickup, looking over the cab of the truck, freezing in 18 degree weather. I had no idea how long that street was until I did this. BRRRRRRR.
Sunburst over Redstone Inn.
View from our pet friendly room
Snow-covered cactus at Tiffany of Redstone
Frozen River
Redstone General Store and Santa
This little hill has special memories.
Even though it's small, we spent hours sledding down it with grandkids and dogs.
And, we built a snow cave.
And, if you don't want to sled . . . you can always slide.
Even after a year, I'm still giggling about what my friend said to me when I asked her, "Is this Christmas garland yours?"
She replied, "Nope Kathy, that's not my Christmas garland. I'm Jewish. Remember?"
This post is my attempt to learn more about Hanukkah and the significance of the Menorah.
Because of different cultural backgrounds, educational history, and personal relationships, there are many different religious beliefs.
Or should I say, a different belief: possibly that only one religion contains 'the truth.' Personal relationships could be the strongest connection because it may be the belief of our parents. For many, it is difficult to part from the belief of our parents that there's only 'one truth.'
For me, learning about Hanukkah and other religions is an effective way to cultivate the kind of intellectual empathy needed to take seriously the religious views and beliefs of others. That there is more than 'one truth.'
Of course, I'm speaking from my childhood memories and being so confused as to why there were so many different churches in the small town where I lived. I'm embarrassed to say that my dogmatic views followed me into adulthood. These were the views of my parents, and how could my parents maybe be wrong?
In Living Buddha, Living Christ, Vietnamese Zen Master, peace activist, and poet Thich Nhat Hanh describes an exchange that occurred at a conference of theologians and religion professors. A conference leader addressed the assembly: “We are going to hear about the beauties of several traditions, but that does not mean that we are going to make a fruit salad.”
In response, Hanh gently observed: “Fruit salad can be delicious!” In analyzing the incident, Hanh explains: “I do not see any reason to spend one’s whole life tasting just one kind of fruit. We human beings can be nourished by the best values of many traditions.”
Hanh wasn't advocating that we abandon our own spiritual heritage. He is simply suggesting that we all have much to learn from different religious traditions. “
Since reading that book several decades ago, I gave myself permission to deviate from the belief that there's only one truth and taken opportunities to cultivate a deeper understanding and respect for other religions.
One of the oldest symbols of the Jewish faith is the menorah, a seven-branched candelabrum used in the Temple.
It has been said that the menorah is a symbol of the nation of Israel and its mission to be "a light unto the nations." (Isaiah 42:6). The sages emphasize that light is not a violent force; Israel is to accomplish its mission by setting an example, not by using force. This idea is highlighted in the vision of the Prophet Zechariah who sees a menorah.
The kohanim lit the menorah in the Sanctuary every evening and cleaned it out every morning, replacing the wicks and putting fresh olive oil into the cups. The illustration featured is based on instructions for construction of the menorah found in Exodus 25:31-40.
The lamp stands in today's synagogues, called the ner tamid (lit. the continual lamp; usually translated as the eternal flame), symbolizes the menorah.
The nine-branched menorah used on Chanukah is commonly patterned after this menorah, because Chanukkah commemorates the miracle that a day's worth of oil for this menorah lasted eight days.
The menorah in the First and Second Temples had seven branches. After the Temples were destroyed, a tradition developed not to duplicate anything from the Temple and therefore menorahs no longer had seven branches. The use of six-branched menorahs became popular, but, in modern times, some rabbis have gone back to the seven-branched menorahs, arguing that they are not the same as those used in the Temple.
Thanks to Amy for the first two photographs of the Menorah in her home.
Thanks to my daughter for the third photograph of the Menorah in her home.
The fourth photo was taken somewhere. I can't remember where.
And the fifth, with the Christmas tree providing the background for the Menorah, was taken on Wall Street.
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In the words of Thich Nhat Hanh . . . we human beings can be nourished by the best values of many traditions . . .
Today's post concerns the pronunciation of this plant:
Poyn-seh-TEE-uh?
Poyn-seh-ah ?
For over twenty years the holiday season brings with it a bit of discourse between theHansMan and me. on several different levels.
One level is, simply stated, we don't pronounce the name of this flower the same. That causes most of our conversations to be peppered with the word, "poinsettia."
"Did you buy dog food today?"
"Yes, and I bought some poinsettia chews for them, too."
Each of us emphasizing the word POINSETTIA for effect.
"Did you have the oil in the truck checked today?"
"Yes, and they balanced and aligned the poinsettias, too."
This highly intelligent form of conversing to antagonize each other is carried over into about everything we talk about. You can use your creative minds to just imagine where the word 'poinsettia' can be substituted.
TheHansMan and I have agreed to abide by the consensus of the blogging and Facebook world. Here is the million dollar question:
How do you pronounce POINSETTIA?
1) poyn-seh-TEE-uh
2) poyn-seh-AH
3) or some other way
We will forever use the pronunciation of the one that receives the most votes.
No, says POISINDEX. Ingesting this plant will make you sick but it probably won't kill you. A fifty pound child would have to eat more than 1.25 pounds of poinsettia bracts (about 500-600 leaves) to exceed the experimental doses.
Question # 1: Whose fifty pound kid was used to conduct this experiment ?
Question #2: What was the experimental dose? Did they use an entire greenhouse full of poinsettias?
Question #3: Wouldn't eating 500-600 of these leaves kill a horse?
Just some Food For Thought...pun intended.
Just for the record . . .
Some say poinsetta and some say poinsettia. In both cases, either pronunciation is acceptable. This traditional holiday houseplant, a native of Mexico, is named for Joel Roberts Poinsett, the first United States Ambassador to Mexico (circa 1820).
In Mexico, the poinsettia is known as Flor de Nochebuena, or Christmas Eve Flower. You may also see it written as La Flor de la Nochebuena, which means Flower of Christmas Eve. In Spain, Puerto Rico, and other Central America countries it's known as Flor de Pascua or Pascua, meaning Christmas Flower.
Visualize Clark Griswold and his family in that scene from Christmas Vacation when they all go out to find the perfect Christmas tree. I actually lived that scene when I was about ten years old. Just exactly like that. Well, almost. My dad, my mom, and I bundled up and headed into the woods to find the perfect tree. For those of you who know where we lived, it was the woods just to the east of the teacherage where Wren Shaw kept his Brahman cows AND bulls. Yes bulls. (see below) Unlike Clark, my dad did remember to take his ax. It seemed we walked for miles. While my parents were looking for a tree, I was looking for a charging bull or two.
There is was. The perfect tree. It didn't glow, nor did angels from heaven sing when we spotted it, as in the movie, but it was the perfect tree. Not nearly as big and sans the squirrel.
The little evergreen sat in a corner of our tiny living room for several days before we started decorating it because it need to 'settle in' and become acquainted with its new surroundings. Our house smelled like a case of evergreen air freshener had exploded all over the place.
My job was to keep the metal stand that had three long screws twisted into the trunk full of water. This was a daily chore as the little tree was very thirsty.
Our strands of lights had bulbs on them the size of 'hicker-nuts.' (translation: hickory nuts) They were all different colors and they didn't blink. Stringing them on the tree was my dad's job. He was meticulous about hiding the wires and clipping the bulbs to the branches so they stood straight up like candles.
Flocking was the next step in transforming the tree into a piece of art. My mother bought boxes and boxes of Ivory Snow Flakes, and we used her electric mixer to magically create fluffy mounds of snow. It was impossible not to sample a little of the snow, thinking it would taste like sweet whipped cream. Every year I tasted it. Every year it tasted like Ivory soap.
The directions on the box said to use an attachment on the vacuum cleaner to spray the tree. We didn't have a vacuum cleaner, so the snow was slathered on every-single-branch by hand. Applying it this way made the tree look like it had been caught in a snowstorm. We had contests to see who could pile up the most snow on each branch, and each other.
The smell? Exquisite. A beautiful balance of sap and soap.
After the 'snow' dried, we added glass ornaments that had been carefully stored away all year in boxes with little cardboard dividers. If one of them dropped to the floral-patterned linoleum, it exploded into a gazillion tiny shards. I dropped my fair share. The first day, most of them hung on the bottom half of the tree. Later, my mom rearranged them so they were perfectly equidistant apart.
Next came the icicles full of static electricity. They stuck to everything but the tree. This decoration also called for a contest. We would each take an icicle, blow it through the air, and see if it would land somewhere on the tree. We started out being very careful to hang one icicle at a time but after a while we ended up throwing them in globs at the tree. Again, my mom would 'fix' that.
The tree topper was a frilly, aluminum star that lit up. It twinkled. It was always my job to plug it in, along with the strands of lights, into the one and only electrical outlet in the room. This usually resulted in blowing the breaker. This year was no different.
After my dad rectified the electrical situation, we stood back to admire our masterpiece.
It was at this point when my sneezing began. A sneeze here. A sneeze there. The sneezing continued one after another with me trying to catch my breath in between them.
Soon they were accompanied by little bouts of wheezing. Now I'm sneezing and wheezing. And coughing. Large red welts crept up my neck and inside both my arms. By the time we loaded up in the car to head to the emergency room, my eyes had begun to swell shut.
The small county hospital was only about ten miles into town, but it seemed like we drove for hours before pulling into the parking lot. My dad gathered me up in his arms and sprinted in the cold winter air through the emergency room doors. Luckily 'Doc Haddock' was there making his rounds. He treated me for an asthma attack and in less than an hour we were headed home. Coated in calamine lotion.
The next Christmas we spent hours poking aluminum branches into a silver pole with hundreds of holes. Each branch had a little pom-pom on its end. We had all new glass ornaments. The were red. The tree topper looked like three round ornaments stacked on top of each other with a spike on top. It seemed to lean one direction or another, never straight up.
There were no 'hicker-nut' lights. There was no Ivory soap snow. There were no icicles.
But, there was that color wheel. That was the best part. It was mesmerizing to sit in the dark, watching the world change from red to green to blue to yellow. Thanks to the Sears and Roebuck Catalog, our living room had taken on a futuristic look, almost evoking a space-age feel. The walls, the ceiling, and even the linoleum-covered floor dazzled from the brilliance of the shimmering silvery branches. That tree sparkled and glittered and changed colors for many years to come. Our tree was special.
Even though it has been over half-a-century since my parents and I whipped up snow in a bowl and blew icicles through the air, whenever there's a whiff of an evergreen tree or a bar of Ivory soap, my mind travels back in time, and I smile.
Then, I sneeze.
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Yes, the aluminum tree is sitting in our living room this year . . . Not yet decorated.
I'm just checking to see if you're paying attention.
Below are photos of Brahman bulls. The kind that lived next door.
Fireworks?
This is the aluminum tree I wrote about in the story.
These photos were taken about six years after we bought it and it's in a different house. My cousin, Randy, and I were decorating it with the same red ornaments
Yes, this is the same Cousin Randy who thought he could raise a better tasting watermelon than I could. Fooled him.
This is the Pushmataha Hopsital the way it looked back in the Fifties.
This is Dr. Haddox. He was everyone's hero in and around Antlers.
