No, this is not “Strawberry Fields Forever,” (the Beatle’s song), but the berries I picked yesterday morning are in my hands now, and in the freezer, and in an awesome new strawberry pie for which I uncovered a recipe I had never noticed before.
The recipe book was one my mother’s generation made at North Goshen Mennonite Church in Indiana where I grew up. The names in this cookbook are special to me, conjuring up women who I had long ago forgotten. Erma Slabaugh. Pauline Beachy, Cleo Yoder, Nora Bender, Betty Stringfellow, Alma Yoder. Mary Mininger. These women, and a tribe of others, had brought me up, taught my Sunday School classes, saw me through MYF for three years of high school.
Oh my, wouldn’t they all love to see their names published on the Internet! (Ha!) I hope the recipe book still sits on a library shelf at North Goshen Church. (Someone tell me, yes!)
I’ll give you Erma Slabaugh’s interesting (and brief) recipe in a minute, but I hope you can be remembering more women—and a few men—who were excited to have their “receipts” in print (as some of them used to say. Google the truth of that).
More women who shared recipes back in the mid-60’s. “Phyllis Schrock. Ruth Swartzentruber. Alberta Troyer. Lizzie Weaver.” Oh my goodness, what memories. I won’t go on, but the yellowed “Fellowship Cooking,” compiled by North Goshen Ladies Fellowship, should follow me to my grave, I reckon.
We made the best Raised Doughnuts from recipes in the cookbook, one from Sue Christner. And I was super elated when my sweet wonderful daughters, some 13 years ago, surprised me by making a huge batch of Raised Donuts for my 60th birthday (instead of a cake), held in the fellowship hall (no not at North Goshen) but in Harrisonburg, Va. (In our Presbyterian church. Roll over my friends, yes, I turned Pressie, as my sister Pert would say about me and her other Presbyterian long time friend.)
Rich and tasty, this filled our tummies over a couple days.
Okay, here’s the “new” recipe I unearthed in the Pie section of Fellowship Cooking, meant to cover an etc. of fruits: Strawberry, Red Raspberry, Peach, according to Erma.
FRESH FRUIT PIES
2 c. fruit| 1/8th teas. salt| 1 c. sugar 4 Tab. flour
Mix together. Put in unbaked pie shell. Put on top your crust and bake in 425 degrees oven until done (NO!! My insertion here, see Below). For 9 inch pie. –Erma Slabaugh
***
My changes: Okay, all went well, but I took it upon myself to change the cooking temperature, and brought it down from 425 to 350 degrees after about 15 minutes in the oven. Erma never did give a cooking time, but I went with my tried and true 45-50 minutes for a pie like that, watching carefully.
My husband and I loved it, even though it looks different that way.
I always freeze strawberries that I wish to keep over fall/winter.
THEN I DISCOVERED WHERE THE OTHER STRAWBERRY PIE RECIPES COULD BE FOUND!
There are four in this cookbook, one pie with a pint of vanilla ice cream in it! In all 4, strawberry recipes for a cook’s sampling!
And just for the record, Erma Slabaugh was the mother of Rosemary who was a good friend of my oldest sister, Nancy. Rosemary’s father was Jacob and she loved swimming in our pond on Sunday afternoon. IF we didn’t get any blood suckers.
I think I’ll love strawberry pies forever!
A rainy stormy night left the strawberry field quite muddy. But I was glad when the owners said they would hold my box of strawberries, (I paid for them), and keep them in their fridge as I did a number of errands around town.
Yes, this photo is a bit far off but I didn’t want to do any close ups with the darling children I saw in the patch.
On a busy Saturday right before Mother’s Day, I found myself waiting in line at a local Dollar Store (that now features most items at $1.25, of course). Others were also busily buying balloons (yes, Mylar) and Mother’s Day cards for sure, but I became aware that the cashier was also cheerfully whistling as he worked, checking out a woman whose shopping cart of flowers ended up being $68 worth.
Whew. I knew it would take a long time for him to process it all and I had deadlines.
But my mind went immediately to my mother’s penchant for whistling while she worked, and the cheerfulness that she always exuded in our kitchen as she made breakfast or washed dishes or put things away. Her thoughts, I know, ranged from good things to worrying things, and while I never quizzed her on her thoughts as she worked, I know her brain held joy, sorrow, chagrin, worry, faith in God, love and more. Mom died almost four years ago now in October 2021.
Mom, the actress, much later in life, greatly enjoyed preforming in funny plays!
My husband was waiting in our car for me to pick up the goods I had ordered the day before, and we were rushing to get to the 75th birthday party for his middle brother. Would we make it in time? There were other helpers setting up chairs and tables in the VFW Hall where the festivities would take place, but I didn’t want to be late when others had hurried to get there too on a beautiful sunny day. The party was about seven miles away.
But I soon I became more engaged in his whistling and the woman’s joy at her bundle of artificial but beautiful flowers. I guessed she and her daughter were probably planning either a large party or spreading the flowers on some graves, somewhere. I couldn’t hear all of their conversation but she was smiling happily, knowing that she was doing something good, I’m sure.
I began to think I would maybe tell the cashier how his humming reminded me of my mother. When my turn at the register finally came, I did quickly tell him that he made me think of my mother who always whistled. He smiled and since he was already in a cheerful mood, I relaxed, knowing that we would probably be able to pick up the birthday cake over at Costco’s and make it to the party site on time as well. It helped my worry.
We arrived at 1 minute to 5 o’clock. While we had lots of stuff to take into the building and organize, it was not worth worrying. Others were decorating the hall very nicely and organized the kitchen goods.
Remember that the next time you have a deadline you are afraid you won’t make.
My mother, on the other hand, when women or planners at her very Mennonite church would tap her shoulder that she should take on the roll of “head of the kitchen,” she was smart enough to turn it down, knowing that it would make her way too nervous or anxious. May she rest in peace with no worries about cooking for a group!
Our oldest grandson, though, has just been appointed “Grub Master” as he advanced up to regular status of Boy Scouts. He has always been on his toes asking what’s on the menu at our house—not complaining or fusing, but just interested in the food! He and his mother have already planned his first gig: planning, purchasing, and preparing food (with help!) for their next outing. I am so proud of him and his interests and I’m sure he’ll learn a lot. Go Sam!
And happy birthday to my brother-in-law, Nolan!
Nolan was told to blow out his non-existent candle, which I forgot to bring!!
We also turned off the lights and had everyone turn on their cell phone lights to sing his Happy Birthday!
***
Do you like planning birthday parties? Or celebrations for mothers, fathers, children, graduations?
Some of us depend on the opportunity to sit down and write, figure, find information, but for the last week or two, I’ve been lost. My computer decided to have a vacation, and I don’t know why. I took it to a local business which is very busy and depends on people for his job (income) and he’s quite good, but when it comes to finding everything I used to have at my fingertips, I’m lost in outer space as I try to remember which is my password for various things–important things!! I have them everywhere and I need to sit down and organize them, leaving space to enter changes as the years go by. Ugh.
So I’m at a happy but frustrated stage, because there are dozens (maybe hundreds) of passwords and now computers make you prove that you are who you say you are or think you are and send you things that are supposed to be helpful. Such as “your childhood nickname.” Well I know what it was, but somehow, I must have put in the wrong childhood nickname, you know.
Today I found my blog user name and then, yes, I found the right password. From 2013. It can’t be, but here I am, rejoicing. I feel like one of my grandsons trying to make beauty out of Legos, and having something finally go right.
Anyway, for now, I’m happy. And have work to do.
One more thing: having my first cataract surgery today. Prayers welcome!
Tell me how you deal with frustration. Start over? Quit forever?
I don’t think I’ll ever forget the Palm Sunday tornadoes of April 11, 1965 in northern Indiana. I was 14. We got out of school on one or more days that week and were turned loose to help pick up storm debris. It was sad and remains a difficult memory. The tornado hopped over our farm and hit our neighbor’s barn, which my Dad never forgot his good fortune (to be missed).
The youth from church had gathered at our house that Sunday evening before the tornado fell. I remember that well, too. The youth group leaders and my Dad stayed outside to maybe help detect what paths the ornery wind was making, while they sent us younger people down to our meager basement. We gathered in a room where mom stored stuff like glass jars of peaches, apricots, applesauce, tomatoes, green beans and some meats. We were more excited than scared, I think. Especially with the grown leaders hanging around outside. In fact, a newspaper report later said that many people missed the tornado warnings because they were standing outside, waiting and wondering, I guess.
My other memory regarding that tornado was the fact that school was out on Monday, and Mom took us to town to buy some suitable clothes (jeans, maybe) … to help us with the clean up that was set other days that week. Mind you, in those days girls wore dresses or skirts to school—no pants, shorts, jeans or any outfits of that ilk. On our farm, we were allowed to wear jeans. So wearing jeans to school was like a “school day out” that turned the sadness into camaraderie and worries into flirtations with possible boyfriends or girl friends.
We lived not far from Elkhart, Indiana and I found this picture near some of our relatives in Dunlap, Indiana who were doubly scared and worried that day. Years earlier, their home had been struck and pretty much destroyed, and they started over. But it was something our larger family always remembered, and felt sorry for the Breniser family (correct spelling).
The double funnel shown in the picture below, was nabbed by a man named Paul Huffman working for The Elkhart Truth. President Lyndon Johnson even visited Dunlap to personally see the destruction of that storm. Just a year and a half earlier, our nation had gone through the trauma and drama of experiencing the shooting death of a president, John F. Kennedy, never to be forgotten.
I don’t think I’d ever want to see one of those single funnels, let alone a double or bigger storm coming our way. We lived through a bad storm that was named a Derecho in 2012, and after about three 3 days of no electricity (and melting ice in the freezer), we finally were able to borrow a friend’s generator to get our electricity back on the very day we had hoped to leave on a vacation.
Be safe and well, my friends. And when we have the opportunity, help with clean ups or donations to those who have not been as fortunate. Blessings and prayers.
My husband wanted to experience a really really big boat for his birthday so he chose a cruise ship called “Oasis of the Seas,” with roughly 5,000 passengers and 2100 crew.
If you are lucky, there comes a time in life when “the government” makes you have RMDs (Required Minimum Distributions)—and you have to take some of your “retirement money” and spend it or at least put it somewhere. Our financial advisor encouraged traveling while we could.
So husband wanted to try out the big boat. (It truly didn’t sway much at all, but we were, again, lucky, I know.) Gorgeous deep blue and lovely swashes of green waters on every side, clipping along at 20-21 knots or so. Seemingly an “endless” ocean after we launched from a port in Fort Lauderdale, Fla.
After sailing solid for two long days, we made day stops on three very small “oasis” island countries: St. Kitts, St. Maarten, St. Thomas (all pretty close to places like Puerto Rico), and all offering excursions (for extra $ of course).
And ending with Coco Cay’s “Perfect Day” with free food on a very small island (no extra $ involved unless you went snorkeling or something).
Children playing with real baby monkeys, but were warned that the monkeys could have fleas. Of course!
My sailor, with “Oasis of the Seas.”
Overall, we enjoyed three sumptuous meals a day, at our leisure, no extra tip or money required. (Well, there was the initial cruise amount which included free meals.) No making beds, no cleaning bathrooms, the “stateroom attendant” took care of that, each day, with those cute wound up “towel” animals made out of extra towels. It was sweet. Sleeping in. Reading books. Playing on phones. Watching TV news. Going to shows onboard. A fantastic hour of women and men flying from amazing heights into water and then watching the water disappear… !
“Central Park” is a large area in middle of ship.
Listening to karaoke contests. Singing with a guy, Andy, who focused on songs everyone knew from the 60s and 70s: “When you’re weary, feeling small … I’m on your side… bridge over troubled water” etc.”
Andy played many nights in one corner of the ship … The shiny piano reflecting someone’s shirt!
Husband had almost daily exercise on a huge roomful of bikes and other exercise equipment, and I enjoyed rounding the huge ship’s long track 4-5 times.
The busy busy staff cleared plates from our tables before we could object, and waiters dashed to and from the numerous ship kitchens (guessing at least 4-6 of those?). They also managed to engage in conversation with us: finding out who we were, where we were from, the dot to dot games we played while waiting on dishes brought to us, remembering their own games from childhood, always inquiring if the food was tasty. Husband says he had the best New York strip steak he’d ever ever had, so that was a nice win.
Stuart’s best-ever steak in background; my huge chicken BBQ plus beans, rice and roll. All was delicious but couldn’t eat all that chicken!
The attendants were from so many countries including Europe, Asia, India, Africa, Romania, Philippines, many South American countries, even Canada and a few U.S. I was particularly excited when at breakfast one morning I noticed a mother and son (in his 20s) next to us were chatting in an interesting language, Catalan. That is now the main language used in Catalonia, an area where Barcelona, Spain is, and where I lived for almost a year as a college student. It took me back to the fun times we had with Catalan friends.
I especially admired the room “servants,” if you will, doing the “dirty work” for us. Scrubbing toilets, washing down showers, hanging up fresh towels as needed, making sure we had toilet paper. Then, one day, the bag I reserved for our dirty clothes (that I thought I had placed near the bottom of some space near drawers) had disappeared. I was a little embarrassed. The attendants weren’t supposed to take clothing of course, but I asked the attendant if he had taken my bag of dirty clothes and put them somewhere. (They were able to send clothes to a laundry on ship for you if you wanted to pay for that, but I had planned to wash our underwear etc. in the very small sink.) He was likely from one area of Nigeria and I know he was terribly embarrassed to be approached about any issue, let alone dirty clothes. Two days later, I took time to hunt in our closet for the missing clothing and to my chagrin found that I had put the dirty clothes bag inside a piece of our luggage, so no one would mess with them. I was only too happy to apologize to Igede for MY mistake. And we lived happily every after with that attendant.
A word of caution about the yummy meals, especially breakfast: by the end of the week, on the morning of disembarking, we noticed the wonderful waffles we had enjoyed were quite stiff and hard to chew, like they had been warmed over to serve to us. I mean really hard to chew. I will forgive them for the wonderful foods we enjoyed the other days.
Unusual markers like these helped us (especially me) find our way (outside one dining room).
Disembarking is a zoo, of course, and we were happy to finally land in the correct bus taking us and our luggage back to the airport. I won’t mention the terrible stiff winds we experienced flying to Dulles Airport near Washington D.C. We were so happy and thankful to be safely home and greet Britney who took care of dog Velvet and cat Pumpkin (who wondered where on earth we had disappeared to).
The world God created and still maintains is just amazing, and the endless oceans (making up 71 percent of our world) was a joy to experience. May we continue to take care of our corners of the world.
I like to keep papers. I kept them at the office for 43 years, and now have kept them at my home for (when did I retire?) almost 6 years ago.
Melodie, it is time to clean the stash. Let go.
My husband has myriad bolts he won’t let go of, he might need them some day. But do I really need to keep the Mennonite Convention papers from 30 years ago because I might need to know what seminar or workshop to go to next. Those were precious, wonderful, fun, and explorative years. I loved going to conferences, going to seminars, collecting papers and mementos. But do I need to keep an office newsletter (See the “Alert” below) from 1975? Um … Melodie, you have a problem.
Do you have a problem too? Write to me, I will love it and probably keep your email or letter for 20 years. Until I die.
Okay, I’m 73. Do I really want my kids to have to decide what to keep and what to throw? I remember when my dear mother began throwing stuff away, I was surprised about some stuff. Truth be told, I have some of her keepsakes. My sisters and daughters do too. And that’s okay, to a certain extent. But oh paper. Paper paper paper. It will go. Soon.
Some things have gone to a local Mennonite & Brethren Heritage site. I gave them them freedom to throw the stuff they didn’t want. Some items have gone to local libraries and Elkhart, Indiana archives. We like to be remembered. Our work likes to be savored. Especially writers who write things down. Like now.
But here goes:
[Melodie closes her eyes and plops some old old columns into a very black plastic bag and takes them to the dump. One chore done. Many more to come.]
You know what? It feels pretty good to be finally getting rid of some things. Decluttering, they call it, yes? I still have plenty of things to hang on to but slimming down our closets and garage and basement … pretty nice. And you know what else? I can keep things I’ve written here on the blog forever and ever if I want to. Oh yeah, my kids will have to delete some stuff. Some day.
For now, I need to go throw some more papers.
One daughter and husband recently talked their sons into allowing a darling little “play kitchen” that they had given their oldest son when he was just two, I think, to be given away. But when the three boys (now 11, 9, and 6) realized they’d be giving it to the little cousin they adore, they were happy–even excited–to do so.
That little two-year-old girl cousin is eating it up. She loves it. She serves tea in very tiny metal cups to her dad while he works at his job in their home.
Well. Here’s our fourth or fifth snow of the season, I’ve lost count. I do still care, and the soft snowfall today is, yes, beautiful and calming. We stay at home, mostly. And wait for cleared roads and the toil of snow blowing and scraping our driveway and sidewalks. It is nice as retired folks to not HAVE to go anywhere.
Even my brother and his wife built snowmen in north Florida a few weeks ago, to their delight. (They’re back to wearing shorts etc. by now but it was quite extraordinary for Floridians. Yes?)
Some of my citified grandsons in Virginia had the opportunity to build snow huts in their front yard (remember those?). They were enchanted with cuddling up inside those little holes. For as long as it lasted. When you live near a big city, things do melt pretty fast.
I am trying to be unendingly grateful, because waterfall and snowfall have been very scarce in many sections of our county and state and country (while of course some places are flooded and inundated and having to start over their lives and homes). This past week we saw rivers and creeks in our area swelling to nice heights—not over the top, just nice. Keeping fingers crossed.
We’ve lost electricity two times, so far. We can count on losing electricity 5-7 times a year. I guess that’s what we get for living in a somewhat mountainous area, where trees crash and tumble from too great of burdens on their limbs.
That’s what happens for people, too. My prayer list grows longer.
So I lived with almost two weeks of poison ivy irritating my skin and happiness. Huh? Poison ivy in the middle of winter? At last the various creams I apply get things under control, and both my husband and I (he had it too, not as bad as me) will be very very careful as we move the wood around for our woodstove in the basement which heats the whole house … using gloves and other protective gear.
Between times, we celebrate two birthdays in the family and manage to drive about 100 miles to both on days when snow was not an issue. Virginia is nice. Come on up, or down, or east!
Do you like snow, or not?
What is your favorite season?
What state or country or city do you enjoy the most?
I’d love to hear from you. Is it snowing where you are?
Did you know that animals are praised in the Bible?
Ok, some of you probably have no use for animals in the house and yes they can be annoying and make extra work. They cause young and old alike to fall at times, breaking hips, arms, shoulders. Especially here in the middle of winter, it’s especially treacherous to be outside with pets and have them accidentally brush a little too close to you and you end up in the hospital.
But, I had forgotten this praise for animals in the Bible: “Lord, you save both humans and animals” in Psalms 36:6. Remarkable, yes! God cares about the animals in this world.
And of course there is the whole history of Noah building a huge animal ark in order to save animals from the flood that came in ancient times. Elephants, hippos, lions—and we hope dogs and cats—sailed on the sea for quite a while. Our pastors have held “animal appreciation” services in the summer—outdoors—so people could share their love on animals and pets.
My husband and I have had numerous cats and dogs in our lives and in our various homes (we only had three moves—lucky, I guess). We both grew up in homes with some acreage and pets were expected to stay outside—in barns, sheds, and occasional dog houses. My dad allowed our dog to sleep in our covered porch in the winter, on a rug, and I’m sure while it was chilly, it was decently warm enough for our various dogs (only ever had one at a time).
Stuart and I now usually travel with our dog Velvet and she has come to expect that she gets to go with us on various excursions. (We never take her to town … just on trips.) We’ve paid extra to have her sleep in our motel or hotel rooms and she watches and guards us like the “sheep” that we are. She is a mix of Australian shepherd and mutt, and as she gets older the more tuned she is to making sure animals and us are dutifully taken care of. (Annoying as heck for her to bark and bark for our cat Pumpkin when she wants to come in through the deck door, and then sniffing the cat to make sure the cat’s ok.) Velvet also barks goodbye on the phone to our grandchildren, who love that. Not sure who likes that little fun more: grandparents, grandchildren, the parents of the grandchildren, or the dog.
Our cat history is expansive, mainly when the children were preschoolers up through high school. We had batches of kittens that had lovely coloring and were easy to find homes for. All our children had their specific favorites. Let’s see (records kept by Michelle, recorded in January 1997) there were all these:
Tigger, Ceasar (Dad’s cat), Bibbs, Sunshine, Puff, Shelly, Darkhorse, Boots, Butterball, Squirrel, Muffin, Sad Sack, Blacki, Wonder, Perfect, Inky, Autumn, Sicky, Torty, Bossy, Comet, Cleopatra, Space Bars, Midnight, Bubbles, Sage, Paprika, Brainy, Sniffles, Reebok, Nike, Kodak, Lucky, Tie-Dye, Larry, Curly, and Moe. 😊 (There are some missing cats on this list because Michelle stopped recording them for us. I know there was at least Paisley but can’t name any other. And ask my husband sometime about his cat Tango who scared the daylights out of me once upon a time, before we were married.)
Boots as a baby kitten, under her mother, Shelly, I think.
Boots in a favorite adult place–early computer days.
Pumpkin (newest cat adopted from someone who needed to find a home; and Velvet.
Ceasar, stretching of course.
Bubbles, on chair in our old kitchen. She birthed many kittens with this coloring, easy to find homes for her coloration.
Fable (dog), little Paisley, and old old Riley.
Now there’s a list of cat names if you are in need of any. Most of these were adopted out to friends, neighbors and occasionally we advertised in the paper about our kittens. I did adopt a cat, Riley, who had very white long hair from my daughter’s friend who needed to find a home for him. I looked at the photo they sent us and he charmed me so much that I agreed to adopt him. I loved/took care of him until he died a natural death in 2015. And Boots was Michelle’s very special cat for many years. But Boots ended up dying of cancer. We even actually paid for the first surgery (something we rarely did for animals with cancer), but we knew she and Michelle were so attached.
Our dog history includes: Wendy, Junebug (or just June), Fable, and now Velvet. All of them were basically of mixed heritage.
Fable amazed by the beautiful sunset. Me too.
Beautiful Riley
Velvet admiring petunias.
Old Riley checking out Paisley kitten.
Are you an animal fan—or prefer not to have pets?
I’m sure the day will come when we can no longer take care of a dog. A cat? Maybe.
You might enjoy reading about a neighbor friend who adopted Dog 3 because he was very much in need of a home. She’s writing a book on their trials and adventures. Check out Sharon Landis’ stories here.
As the world bids so long to former President Jimmy Carter, I will just share this wonderful photo of Jimmy with my Mom and Dad. They were “hard Democrats” as my mother used to call themselves, so supporting such a devout church goer and hard worker and helper around the world was an easy choice. Please note how firmly Jimmy held Dad’s hand in that photo, literally helping Dad with his cane (cane not visible in the photo). So many are paying deserved tribute these January days to this fine man.
Dad is holding his cane in the right hand, and Carter helps him be steady. Photo sometime between 1992-2004.
My daughters and I were also privileged to hear Carter speak at a Mennonite Church Convention in Orlando, Florida in 1997.
Mr. Carter reminded those at that convention that the word Christian literally means “little Christ.” He explained that “every time I make the claim, ‘I’m a Christian,’ I am saying I am a little Christ.”
I looked up the origins of that term and here is what I found at Christianity.com: “Scholars say ‘Christian’ comes from the Greek word christianos, meaning “little Christ.” Stories say the term was used as a jeer, as their enemies would poke fun at them by calling them diminutive versions of their Savior — as in, “Look at those ‘little Christs.’”
I like Carter’s explanation. He said “We do not claim this in a proud, boastful way. Instead, we are to strive in every way to be as loving, giving, humble, wise and self-sacrificing as Christ was and is.” The wordplay helps remind us that Christians need to be aware of that truth and live it every day.
So long to Jimmy Carter. He is enjoying a holiday from his many efforts and reunion with his dear wife, Rosalynn. I was privileged to receive a personal letter from her thanking me and others when our organization, Mennonite Media, included her in a documentary sharing her long journey at the Carter Center in Atlanta, working to help those suffering from mental illness.
I will remind us that no matter what you think of Mr. Carter’s politics or the job he did as president, in his years after his presidency he demonstrated over and over again what a loving, gentle, daily walk he had as a “little Christ.”
May we be and do the same.
Parts of this appeared in a devotional I wrote for Rejoice! Magazine. More devotionals or a subscription from Mennonite Media can be found here.
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