New Year’s Eve Tradition

Fact:  My greatest culinary powers lie in the realm of appetizers.  I put out a spread.

Additional fact: It’s delicious.

I’m drinking quality bourbon, kissing my sweetie, and counting my blessings.  That’s a Happy New Year!

December Book Report: Frederick Douglass: Prophet of Freedom

David W. Blight’s thorough and thoughtful study of the life of Frederick Douglass is a heavy lift - literally.  At more than 750 pages, it’s not a quick read.  But it should be essential reading for our nation’s civic well-being, especially now, when our leadership’s collective ignorance about our racist history is so damaging to our ability to move forward together.

But I digress and that’s not fair to Frederick Douglass., whose incredible life and words are at the center of this book.

Born enslaved to a mother from whom he was separated before he ever had a chance to know her, Frederick Bailey learned to read thanks to Sophia Auld, a kindly slave mistress who had a fondness for the young boy who worked for her family.  When her husband learned that the enslaved boy had been taught how to read, he angrily ended the lessons, telling his wife that Frederick the reader was now, “forever unfit” for life as a slave.  The lessons stopped, but Frederick continued to read.

By then, the enslaved child’s fondness for and joy in reading was a settled fact.  In the coming years. as he was frequently denied the ability to read, Douglass’s fury about slavery would grow.  When he made his escape to the North at the age of 20, his ability to read helped him to make the journey successfully.  For the rest of his life, words that he read, spoke, and wrote would be at the center of Frederick Douglass’s existence.  His enduring importance and influence in this nation is a direct result of the words that fed his reader's soul and then poured from him.

The power of reading is not the only lesson to be taken from Blight’s amazing portrait of Douglass.  The book is a discourse on Douglass and his many contributions to the freedom that America celebrates.  There is abundant and shameful irony in the fact that those freedoms were given much greater meaning by a man born into slavery, and that reality was never lost on me as I read about Douglass’s life and his contributions to our national history.   My copy already has multiple pages marked to use as I teach about Douglass later this school year.

But to me personally, one of the most poignant aspects of Douglass’s story is in the simple power of reading.  I was a late reader as a child.  When the spark finally caught in the third grade, I was consumed by it.  Reading became my most absorbing passion and it opened worlds for my imagination.  I am a history teacher and thoughtful citizen because of the books I read.  Reading informs the person I am and the person I try to to be.  In so many ways, books fuel my world.  To know that Douglass’s world was similarly inspired by the power of the written word is thrilling.

As thrilling as the story of Douglass; as thrilling as the power of this incredibly important book.  In my mind, it's required reading for this nation.

Winter's Lights

In the post-Christmas days, as the amount of light in our days lingers at barely 9 hours, I find comfort in the twinkling lights that glow in my home.  There are lights on the front porch.

A string of fairy lights in a glass hobnail jar is tucked among the plants that have come inside for the frosty season.

There is candlelight throughout the house in the form of glowing electronic candles that I enjoy immensely; they are a cozy pool of light that make Winter’s darkness less daunting.   A candlestick shines in each of the front windows.  I've tucked another into a metal house that sits by the front window.

In the dining room, another candle flickers in the hurricane lantern.

Winter’s short, dark days can sometimes darken my mood.  I consult my sunrise/sunset calendar and remind myself that the daylight will eventually begin to lengthen.  But it’s the tiny lights in the house that provide the most comfort in these dark Winter months.

That's happy!

A Happy Christmas

We had a busy holiday at Sassafras House.  My parents are visiting, JT is home, and the little kitchen was put to the test.  In the midst of all the busyness and conversations, I enjoyed the quiet of lighting the paper bag luminaries that are a Christmas Eve tradition in my town.

On Christmas Eve, I paused to admire the tree with its twinkly lights and pretty packages.

Playing Santa is always a treat…

…even if my “believer” is rather large.

Tiger enjoyed his cat nip treat.

It was nice to have my parents at the table for Christmas supper.

It was a simple day of happy traditions and I enjoyed it very much. 

That’s happy!

Santa!

Every Christmas Eve, Santa drives through our town accompanied by an assortment of the emergency vehicles that the town possesses.  It’s New Jersey tradition, one that I always enjoy.  When JT was a little boy, the excitement of Santa’s trip through town could barely be contained.  These days, I am charmed by the neighborhood children who come out to wave.

I never grow tired of the joy that Santa brings and this year, watching on my front porch with my parents, it was a special treat.

I believe.

Real Live Conversations with Mom: New Jersey edition

The backstory:  It’s Christmas Eve and the town fire department sirens are growing closer.  My mom and I set out on the front porch to spy Santa as he comes by (this is a Jersey tradition).  While we are waiting, one of my neighbors pulls out of her driveway, and honks and waves as she drives by our house. My mom hears the honk, but doesn’t see the wave.

Mom:  What’s her problem?

Me:  She was honking and waving hello.  Damn, Mom, you’ve been in New Jersey too long.

I think that about sums it up, folks.

The Little Kitchen That Could

My kitchen is small — I joke that it’s a one-bootie kitchen — but that is largely true.  Two people at work at these counters have to coordinate carefully.  From the edge of one countertop to the other is only 6.5 x 8 feet.  Space is maximized as much as possible and from this small (and, I think, charming) kitchen comes a whole lot of delicious cooking.

At no time has this been as clear as it is this past week, with JT home and my parents in town.  I’m cooking family meals and prepping holiday treats on overload.  With T’s help, I’ve made sour dough bread; coffee cake; pulled pork with coleslaw; baked potato soup; cowboy chicken; homemade salad dressing, 4 pounds (!) of baked potatoes; caramel pie; chocolate kahlua cake; a host of dips and appetizers for Christmas Eve………and the party isn’t over yet because Christmas Day supper is on the horizon.  

The 20 plus years-old dishwasher is in overdrive, running loads three or four times a day.  I am grateful each time it gurgles to life.  And I am glad to have the blessing of family for whom I may stir, cook, and bake.  Here’s to a happy Christmas Eve, y’all!

The Case for Impeachment

Last week, the House Judiciary Committee advanced two articles of impeachment against President Trump.  In the hand-wringing and the hubbub that has accompanied the whole of the impeachment process, I wish that the talking heads could pause and give themselves - and us - the time to think.

Impeachment is a Constitutional obligation.  But when it happens, it is a political process.  Because of that, and because it has happened before, some of the elected figures in our government - both Republican and Democrat - will treat it as part of politics.  For them, it’s about power: who has it; who wants it; and what can be done with it.

There will be no escaping that view of impeachment, no matter how rock solid the charges against the president may be.  There were Democrats, Jerry Nadler, the Chair of the House Judiciary Committee, among them, who called for impeachment of Trump almost from the start.  For them, that was at least as much about the fact that Trump lost the popular vote as anything else.  They felt the will of the people had been subverted in 2016.

Fair enough.  The will of the people had been subverted when Donald Trump secured the presidency.  The people had selected Hillary Clinton.  But the Electoral College, the Constitutional method by which we select the president, chose Donald Trump.  Therefore the presidency was his.  Galling and infuriating as it is, that was the Constitutional outcome in 2016.

But.

There’s always a but.

Winning power is not the same as securing power.  Donald Trump never seemed to understand that and the mistake has cost Donald Trump and the Republican party.  Worse than that, it has cost this nation.  We are three years into a presidency with a president who is wholly unqualified, a liar and cheater at every turn.  He’s a racist, misogynist, thoughtless, ignorant, and unpopular leader.  He has sought to use the presidency to further enrich and empower himself and his business interests.  He has openly asked for foreign interference in American elections.

None of us are under any obligation to ignore these facts. Elected members of Congress, people sworn to uphold the Constitution, must not ignore them and they must enforce the Constitution.  Presidents who violate the Constitution must be impeached.

That is the reality we face right now.  Things will get even uglier as this political process unfolds.  The Senate, controlled by Republicans, is unlikely to vote to remove the President from office. The party of Lincoln has abandoned principle in favor of politics.  But that doesn’t excuse the Democrats from seeking to fulfill their Constitutional obligation.  The process will be ugly and unpleasant; it very likely will further strain the bonds that hold the nation together.  So be it.  

Justice is rarely easy.  This case is no exception.

Pretty Packages: December 15

I wrapped some package this weekend.

I love craft paper and old-fashioned ribbon.

That’s happy!

The Napping House

I texted this picture to JT this morning, a reminder that his home - and rest - await him when final exams are finished.  The picture was made over Thanksgiving Break when he was home for a few days and glad to put his feet up.  Though he’s back in the thick of it now, with a week to go until exams have finished, it is this image that I hold in my mind as I wait for his return.  

Apparently, I’m not the only creature at Sassafras House that misses him.

Memory Tree

On Saturday evening, T and I got the year’s Christmas tree and set it in the  stand.  Yesterday, I got out the Christmas decorations and set to work with lights for the tree, stockings for the banister, and all the happy traditions that are the backdrop for our celebrations.

Over the years, I've come to regard the twinkly lights and festive decorations as one of the best parts of December, a welcome antidote to the fading daylight as the Winter solstice approaches.  The cheerful decoration and lights make our home welcoming and cozy.

Hanging ornaments on the tree is more than just a pleasing tradition, it’s a chance to think about some very happy memories.  When I hang one of my very first Christmas ornaments, one that hung on the trees I put up in my apartment in Nashville many years ago, I think about how much I loved living in that city.

There is a Santa ornament that reminds me of a boy who believed with all his heart, a joy and confidence that was magic to experience.

Each year, I give JT an ornament that he can one day take to his own home and tree.  This guitar was the ornament JT received the year he was three and was obsessed with a toy guitar.

For many years, JT received a moose for Christmas.  Over the years, there have been moose stuffed toys, books with a moose, a moose figurine in his stocking.  This moose Christmas ornament, part of JT’s collection, reminds me all those moose surprises over the years.

This tiny mercury glass bauble was a gift to myself many years ago, when I was first a Mama on my own.  Things were sometimes hard then and I worried that holidays would also be hard.  But that first Christmas on our own was joyful and lovely.  This ornament reminds me to believe in myself. 

I could go on; my mind swims with memories as I hang the ornaments on the tree.  It is in the stories  these ornaments tell that I find the magic of the season.  

That’s happy!

December front porch

Over the Thanksgiving weekend, my neighbors spent the sunny and breezy Saturday setting out their Christmas lights and outdoor decorations.  I saved the task for Sunday, the first day of December.

As decisions go, it was a chilly one.

A cold rain fell all day and when I got my things together in the afternoon it was cold and icy.  Happily, porch decoration is one of my favorite things to do each month and so I wasn’t deterred by the wintery conditions.  The flag welcomes the Winter weather.

The table is cheerful and I am pleased with the fairy Christmas tree, which lights up in the evening.

There is greenery everywhere.

The fresh pine wreath on the front door smells lovely when I come home each afternoon.

Christmas decorations, with greenery and light, always feels magical to me and I enjoy all the traditions of the month. Merry, merry!

A Seat of One’s Own

One of my favorite annual reads is a book by Alice Taylor, An Irish Country Christmas, a collection of stories about the author’s childhood holiday memories.  Set in rural Ireland in the late 1940s, the book is a treat that I enjoy every December.

In one of the stories, Taylor writes of cleaning the kitchen in preparation for the coming celebrations, including a washing down of the chairs at the kitchen table. The chairs are an assortment, some with woven rope seats, and she notes that each chair “receives one differently.”

That phrase always comes to mind when I find a seat in the chairs of our Middle School common space.  That utilitarian room, sunk halfway downstairs, serves as a general meeting place for our students.  There are chairs and bleachers: students sit in both places.  The chairs have blue plastic seats and they’ve been in the hall as long as I can remember.  I’ve been here since 2002, so that’s rather a long time for plastic chairs and they look it.

Some are wobbly; others are slightly lower thanks to years of being tipped on their back two metal legs.  Every once in a while a student (always a boy!) is sitting on one of the chairs when it finally gives up the struggle and cracks or slowly collapses.  We rescue the falling student, set aside the wonky chair, and find him a new seat.  I never look to sit in one that I don’t think of how each of them “receives one differently.”  And then I smile.  And choose wisely.

December Tradition

I like a generous-sized mug for my morning coffee and evening tea.  My kitchen cabinet is well-stocked with more mugs than I need.  Come December, I shift things around to place the Winter mugs up front.  I’ve a solid collection, especially when you consider that many of these mugs represent just one of a family of two.  

I find these sorts of small traditions to be a cozy treat during the cold months of Winter, especially during the month of December.  Each morning, there will be cheerful cloth by the coffee pot, with a Winter-themed mug at the ready for my first cup.

After a much-needed and happily relaxing Thanksgiving weekend, there are three cold and busy weeks between me and Winter Break.  These are school days that will start in the inky darkness before the sunrise and will most often end as twilight descends.  The days are growing markedly shorter now and in the cold darkness, a warm mug in my hands makes everything nicer.  Happily, I’m all set!

December 1: Fairy Garden

Earlier this morning, a sleety rain was falling when I walked out back to make a picture of the empty fairy garden patch.  In the hour since then, the sleet has turned to tiny flakes of snow. and ice  The damp cold will be with us for the next few days, along with a Winter storm that sent JT back up north back a day early so as to beat the snow that will also arrive in his corner of New England.

Winter is here.

The fairies packed up a month ago so they’ve no fear of the cold, resting on the warm shelves of the basement.  The days are growing rapidly shorter now and the tree branches in the backyard are bare for the coming season.

We’ll probably rake up a few more bags of leaves before Winter settles in for good.  We’ll fill the bird feeder in earnest now, aware that our fellow creatures are in need of nourishment.  The Winter season is that way for me, filled with days that call for an extra blanket and a warm mug of tea, a reminder to slow down and nourish my soul with good books, garden catalogs, twinkling lights in the fade of the day, and time for rest.

November Book Report: Over the Gate

On Instagram, I follow a handful of book readers, among them a group calling itself #missreadalong.  It’s a group that loves Miss Read books as much as I do and for some months of the year, the group reads a particular Miss Read book.  This November, the pick was Miss Read’s Over the Gate and of course I participated.

I’ve read this book before, but these days that is rather the point of a Miss Read book for me.  I’ve been reading them since 2006 and in every way, they have been comforting and happy reads.  The stories, which are unfailingly rooted in the joys and frustrations of everyday life, offer companionship and comfort.

There are two series in the Miss Read collection:  Fairacre and Thrush Green.  Each represents its own tiny universe of characters with amusing foibles of their own.  I love them both because of the way they are populated by very human people.  The Fairacre series is narrated by the wry Miss Read, the head teacher at the Fairacre school, a woman whose heart is kind without being sappy.  

The stories were written as a series and, as time passed, author Dora Saint filled in gaps in the collections, sometimes with stories of the characters who populate the books.  That is the case with Over the Gate, a collection of stories about Fairacre.

Nothing big ever happens in Fairacre and that is the charm of the stories - they are about daily life.  In Miss Read’s evocative descriptions of the everyday, there is always grace to be found.  When I need that grace I return to the stories, reading and re-reading them as often as I please.  That’s happy!

Food Friday: Turkey, Brie, Cranberry Panini

I like Thanksgiving leftovers best when they can be turned into something new.  One of my favorite post-holiday treats are the turkey, brie, and cranberry panini sandwiches we enjoy after the holiday feast.

I mix the the cranberry sauce leftovers with dijon mustard and spread a thin layer on a slice of bread, add thin slices of brie cheese, and minced turkey.  I top it with another slice of bread, butter both sides, and grill it on a low flame so that the brie has time to melt while the bread sears.  The result is delicious enough to become a holiday tradition of its own!

Card Sharks

My people are a competitive lot and nowhere is this more clear than when we play card games.  We are vicious and mean under these circumstances and normal people would be excused for dealing themselves out of the game.  

I consider myself less competitive than the rest of my family but I’ve made up for that in the form of JT.  The boy is so competitive that my mother, the lead genetic carrier of this dominant trait, eventually opts out of games with him, leaving a trail of simmering resentment when she departs the table.  

It’s somewhat interesting that JT is so fierce at the card table because in the world of sports, where competition is officially encouraged, he is genuinely a sportsman.  He cheers on teammates, celebrates their victories (even if they come at his own expense), and truly cares about his teammates.  The kid won an all-conference sportsman award in his first semester of NCAA athletic competition.

It’s clear that the NEWMAC conference has never played cards with the kid.  

Nowhere is JT’s ferocity more unpleasant than in the game of Monopoly Deal.  We bought it years ago in advance of a snow day and from the age of 8 forward, the kid just roasted me at the game.  Over and over, I’d lose to him, millions of dollars in debt, his sinister victory laugh the soundtrack to me shuffling and dealing a new game .  Eventually, I just refused to play that game with him.  

Whenever he plays cards with T and me, he proposes a round or two of Monopoly Deal.  We always say no.  But last night, in the spirit of thankfulness, we said yes.  It’s a different games with three people, more competitive for everyone and with less room for JT to slaughter the competition wholesale.  He won the first two rounds but without the usual wave of destruction.  Then T won a few rounds and both of us had the chance to stick it to the boy.  

It was delayed gratification for the beatdowns of so many years ago.  And in the true spirit of my people, I hope that we play again today.

Thankful

When I was a kid asking after everyone’s favorite holiday, my dad would choose Thanksgiving.  At the time, this seemed patently stupid to me; everyone knew that Christmas is the best holiday.  Yet there was my dad, suggesting that a family feast and time to be grateful for our blessings was the nicest day of the year.  For some time now, I’ve realized that my dad was on the right track as far as Thanksgiving is concerned.  I enjoy the tradition of day spent being thankful.

My Thanksgiving day started early so that the yeast rolls would have plenty of time to rise.  As the coffee brewed,  I stirred together pumpkin pecan bread for our breakfast.  As the bread baked, I sat with my coffee and laid out the day’s master plan.  We eat our supper in mid-afternoon and so I plan according, with a precise plan to bring the feast together.  It’s a process I greatly enjoy.

The day unfolds with ease, the kitchen smells amazing, and I feel incredibly grateful to have this happy home and a family to enjoy.  Our list of blessings is great and we know it. 

That’s happy!

Thankful Bouquet

I enjoy fresh flowers in the house and I am always sad to see the last of the zinnias picked from my garden.  This fall, after the frost, T urged me to treat myself and pick some fresh flowers from the market.  I can work wonders with a $10 bouquet and so I took her up on the offer.  Most weeks this fall, we've had fresh flowers to enjoy.  This week's Thanksgiving bouquet is especially nice.

That’s happy!

Happy Days

I remember a moment in May of 2018, as JT’s high school graduation and then departure from home for college was rapidly approaching, when I felt lost in the face of the coming changes.  I didn’t feel quite ready to give up my job as a full-time mama and I longed to stop time and even rewind it to experience again the days of working full time and then coming home to supervise homework, wash the laundry, get supper on the table, and tuck an eight-year-old into bed at night.  

I’m a realist and even in the midst of that longing, I remembered that those days weren’t always easy.  But on that day in May, as I was about to celebrate a high school graduate and was looking at a future that felt uncertain, I wished to go back.  

I am never a fan of uncertainty and the prospect of an “empty nest” (what a horrible phrase!) was uncertain.  How would I feel after JT left for school?  Would life (and the house) be too quiet?  Would I miss him with an empty aching feeling?  Worse yet, would he be homesick?  I thought he was ready to go but what if I was wrong?  How would I fill the time ahead of me?  The questions piled up as the uncertainty loomed.  

Sitting here now, from the vantage point of more than a year since that transition,  I see those longings in a more complete framework.  Some days, as I leave work with a bag full of things to be done at home, I wonder how I ever did it all.  JT is home for Thanksgiving Break, his second one as a college boy, and he’s happy and settled.  Life without a child at home turns out to be full and busy, with text messaging as the primary tool of my parenting game and time for T and I to enjoy one another’s company.  Between T and two cats, the house never feels lonely.  There is less laundry and the house stays clean for longer.  It turns out I find that quite lovely.

Being the parent of a young adult is a different sort of challenge and the fact that I like the man JT is becoming is a happy blessing.  My heart is full and glad and that’s a very nice way to contemplate the coming Thanksgiving.

Perpetually Behind

Lately, finding time to sit down and write has been rather a rare event.  It’s not as if I don’t have things to say.  I do.  I think it’s that the time I used to set aside to write and edit has been altered by my need to get schoolwork done in the mornings before I leave for school.

When I get home after the school day,  the day seem just as busy.  I try to get to the gym, look to start a load of laundry, or make supper, or some other chore that needs doing and before I know it, it’s 8 pm and I am tired and ready to put my feet up and rest on the sofa, tucked under a blanket with T by my side.  I vow to write the next day, but I don’t because the next day brings more of the busy that was the day before.  And so it goes and days turn into weeks and postings lag...

…and then here we are, with weeks between posts while the list of things I want to write about or need to finish writing stack up.  And then I am annoyed by myself (an emotion that never pays useful dividends) and more empty days on my blog pile up.  I write and post here for myself, a sort of public journal of my thoughts and emotions over the years.  I value readers and I am always happy to hear that someone has enjoyed something I’ve written.  But this blog started as a project for myself and that is what it remains.

When I don’t write, I feel like I am letting myself down.  I miss the time to process my thoughts.  And I need to find my way back to a few minutes of writing each day.  There is no more time to be found in the day but there is time that I can carve out.  I need to make it a priority as a way of looking after myself.  And so I plan to try just that.

Renewal

At the end of the day today, when T and I tuck into bed, my boy will be home for some rest and catching up and I will fall asleep aware and glad of the blessings in my life.  This will be my first break since the end of September, when T and I took a day off to travel north and watch JT race.  That single day off was lovely after a busy start to the school year.  But it was followed by week after week of long days and more than a few evenings at work.  I love my job but I am spent.

Teaching for a living means a flow of emotional energy in one direction, outward, to look after the needs of children.  I neither resent nor regret that; I love what I do for a living.  But I also recognize that it can take its toll, especially when workdays regularly extend past 9 or 10 hours and into the weekend.  Done right, teaching and school administration is both a lifestyle and a career.  I do my level best to do it right.

Doing it right also demands that I take the time to rest and re-group.  So the coming five days off are as hard-earned as they are much-desired.  I will be glad to cook and enjoy some leisurely meals with my family, to grab a work out at the start of the day when I am neither exhausted nor sore-footed, to have an extra cup of coffee and read and extra chapter of my book just because I want it.  

That’s happy!

Sycamore Leaves

Last weekend, T and I spent some time outside on fall chores.  There were canna bulbs to dig up, leaves in the backyard too mulch, and leaves everywhere in need of raking.  Though I don’t have any in my yard, my street is lined by tall sycamore trees.  Sycamore leaves are everywhere.  These leaves are enormous.

As I raked them into piles for collection, I remembered that little boy JT often admired these leaves and kept a look out for the largest ones.  The year he was 10, we made pictures of the biggest of the year.

He was best-pleased by this activity. These days, when I see an especially large sycamore leaf, I think about that little boy and the ways he brought so much laughter into my life.

Squirrel-A-Bration!

Last year in the first week of November, T’s beloved pet sugar glider, Zip, departed the earth for the land of sweeter treats.  Zip was a much beloved creature and this week we decided to celebrate his life by leaving extra treats for squirrels in our yard.  Living in our backyard means they dine on my garden on rather a regular basis.  This week meant more nuts, more stale bread, and more bits of leftover cereal.  It’s our way of reminding the universe how grateful we are for Zip.  Naturally, of course, they opted for the front porch pumpkin as well.

We are not the boss of the squirrels.