Another Way for week of September 1, 2023
What Does a Baby Think? Celebrating Grandparent Day
So … I’m watching the daycare webcam where my young granddaughter has been recently enrolled. It is early. A nursery worker is busily changing all the sheets on the cribs in the nursery as a young father walks in, sets his seven-month-old child (guessing age) down on a lovely patterned rug showing children of various hues, and walks out. The little tyke sits there, looking around, not crying or anything, but obviously eagerly waiting for some interaction. A worker hands a toy to him and he happily starts crawling across a device that looks like a safe slide for the ”under one-year-old” crowd.
I’m in Gramma heaven, wishing of course I could be hands on but just as happy for the workers who have good jobs at the daycare center which focuses on teaching the little ones things, and not just babysitting them.
And I wonder, what does that little fellow think? How is he doing? The busy worker glances his way at various times, checks her watch, more little ones will soon be arriving. Another baby crawls on the floor and she soon joins the first boy, crawling herself. The worker bounces a ball for him, waiting for the others to arrive. I know from reading the center’s goals for youngsters that these workers definitely have an agenda as they spend 7-8 hours with very small persons. (Of course grandparents and parents are not allowed to take home photos of anyone, and I’m a fan of that policy.)
Ever since our granddaughter has been born, I’ve been studying her early connections to the world—a little over six months old.
She is enjoying the newly opened world of real foods: first a quarter of a banana, then a piece of lightly steamed broccoli, next one-sixth of a peeled apple. She eagerly explores each. At the center, she mostly gets bottles filled with her mother’s milk and pureed food, such as what I first introduced to our daughters.
I well remember the mother’s six-month-old birthday (our youngest daughter). Our niece had accompanied us to Virginia from her home in Indiana, and she was about 10 or 11-years-old at the time. She went by “Krissy” then. As time went on, her love of babies and well-disciplined children was obvious as she raised her own crew, now five strong and a grandmother herself. For Doreen’s “sixth-month” birthday, we even had a little cake and ice cream as Krissy helped to entertain our three daughters, ages just-turned 5, just-turned 3, and the six-month-old, messily slurping up some ice cream. We had our hands full those days. I wouldn’t trade them for the world, of course.
What a marvelous gift it is to be Grandma and Grandpa and my heart goes out to any and all who wished their hardest for grandkids but were not as lucky. Now I’m bawling. This youngest granddaughter (our only granddaughter amid five eager grandsons, her boy cousins) will surely have a romping good time in years to come keeping up with those boys who are now ages almost-five, through almost-ten.
While I’ve been writing this, I see my granddaughter has now arrived at daycare. So curious, so engaged, so eager to explore the whole world which is pretty small right now but grows with each passing day. She’s playing rolly ball with the other little boy who arrived early, and with the grammy caretaker. She holds the ball, studies the half ring around her that she balances in, and pats the ball. Not quite ready for sitting all by herself or crawling. Now the ball rolls away from her. Caretaker rolls it back to my granddaughter. What busy beavers they all are.
Granddaughter loves to babble, sing with her mother (kind of), smile, laugh, and be lifted up in the air by her father. She loves to look at herself in mirrors or cell phones. She grabs at things, so there is definitely “thinking” going on in that busy little head and body.
Oh how very grateful we are to have this granddaughter trailing on behind the five grandsons. We love them all!
***
If you are a grandma or grandpa, what is your favorite thing to do with a grandchild?
If you are a new mom or dad, what has surprised you?
What have you learned about parenting or grandparenting?
If you haven’t done so, you may want to check out this book on grandparenting by Shirley Showalter, and Marilyn McEntyre .
Comment here or contact me at Another Way, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834, or email anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of August 25, 2023
Working the Assembly Line
Labor Day is coming and we all need to better appreciate the hard work by millions across the U.S. and elsewhere who—by choice or necessity, work the assembly lines or related jobs in our factories.
Singer Lee Dorsey made famous the original “Working in the Coal Mine” song written by Lee Dorsey which carried us oldsters all into the depths of that dirty and dangerous job back in the 60s. The song of course features a pickaxe clinking at some coal.
According to the U.S. Census Bureau, manufacturing (often on an assembly line) is the fifth largest industry in the U.S. This ranks behind 1) Health care and social assistance jobs; 2) Retail trade; 3) Accommodation (hotels, etc.) and food services; 4) Waste management and related occupations. (Statistics from 2021 census.) Many many more people work in manufacturing than in our educational system, which I found interesting. And for the record, dangerous mining is near the bottom of the list of employment statistics, but near the top in pay (deservedly).
In some factories, workers are paid $19 an hour and up so the pay is better than say, fast food. However, in many such places, factories and fast food alike, employees often quickly walk out or don’t show up for their jobs. Turnover is a big problem in many locations.
I can’t say much: at my worst summer job, I walked off after two nights at a lumber mill. But I hope it was justified, my biggest complaint being no lunch time as such and no bathroom breaks unless you could get ahead of the machine. Meanwhile, the supervisor was able to sleep in a corner while we worked. I worked the rest of that summer in a shirt factory, neatly placing men’s shirts in plastic wrappers with some fun co-workers.
My husband worked about 44 years in manufacturing and retired as soon as he could, owing to arthritis from standing/walking on concrete 40-60 hours a week. Many times the overtime was mandatory and he still laments the Saturdays when he would have rather been attending ball games or spending time with family at home.
I had been in several factories but never saw an assembly line like the one we were fortunate to visit recently in Dearborn, Michigan on the outskirts of Detroit. If you get a chance, take the time to visit the large assembly plant named “The Ford Rouge Factory.” “Rouge” refers to the river that runs nearby. The whole complex was amazing and management has done their environmental homework to make the facility as “green” as possible on the outside. As described on Wikipedia, the titanic Rouge factory was able to turn raw materials into running vehicles within this single complex, a prime example of “vertical-integration” production. The basic product is a Ford 150 Pickup Truck in various colors and ready to roll.
We were able to walk over the production area, watching the workers beneath us add one or two features to the truck, before it moved down the line. The materials they needed were always brought to them by conveyor belt. We watched the trucks beneath us gradually transform into real and complete vehicles and moved off to a testing area outside before being loaded for delivery. It was fascinating to watch, but we weren’t allowed to take any photos in the production area. Visitors to the factory are picked up at The Henry Ford Museum and driven by bus to the site (tickets run about $18-$24 depending on age).
The workers mostly wore ear muffs to deaden the noise (probably some had music playing), but with the noise, there was little interaction with other employees. I can’t imagine that’s very much fun: can’t talk much. A friend who worked on an assembly line said he’d much rather work fixing something in a shop than putting things in place on an assembly line.
However, what would this world be like without factories and assembly lines that are run by people who care about their jobs and end products. I’m sure that robots will do more and more as the years roll by but let’s not forget the personal touch.
***
Have you worked in a factory? Let us hear.
Have you ever visited a factory on vacation?? What did you learn or enjoy? Or not?
***
Comments here or write to me at Another Way, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834, or email anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of August 18, 2023
Do Your Family Members Know Each Other?
For some families, August is a great month of family get togethers or reunions including trips across many miles to reunite.
But sadly, for many of us, family gatherings have fallen by the wayside. This is natural in some respects, due to families living at long distances from each other. Travel can be costly, jobs take priority, and two-year-olds don’t travel well.
Plus as the older generation dies, there have to be new generations to do the work of organizing and getting folks together. Some families are better at staying connected than others. Some don’t care about gatherings for various reasons. Past hurt feelings. Brothers who rub each other the wrong way. Sisters who gossip and critique too much, maybe.
J.D. Vance, who wrote Hillbilly Elegy: Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis (2016) says how the first eleven or so years of his life, he had seen his extended family members during happy times: “family reunions, holidays, or lazy summers and long weekends.” In recent years, “He saw them only at funerals.”
I’ve heard many other families express this truth and frustration. I was tickled that my husband and one of his cousins took the initiative fifteen or so years back to organize their remaining family for some reunions while their last aunt was still living.
We met in different states including North Carolina, Virginia, and Maryland. Even though these were not my blood relatives, I enjoyed the “organizer” roll with my husband, who did the telephoning and connecting as his cousins found locations to meet. Earlier we had gone to a larger family reunion in Alabama and this launched several years of our putting on paper some of his father’s family history. But as we all get older, travel across states becomes more difficult and uncertain.
Still, I think family get togethers are important if they can be managed and attended. They may take on a different flavor and happen in a smaller setting at a restaurant instead of a local church or park, but getting together in whatever ways we can manage are worthwhile for the glue they provide families and even the larger civilization.
I’m grateful my husband’s mother’s extended family had been getting together for years–some 100 strong on his mother’s side. A smaller variation of that with our “Hottinger and Sonifrank” relatives helped our children know many of their second cousins by face and name. Then last year, one cousin and his wife took the initiative to plan and host a potluck picnic at his father’s longtime farm (father now deceased) for our particular branch of the family tree. We’re looking forward to another get together there in September.
Why are family get togethers important? For most of us: connections, history, laughter, ties, support. Even if you go only for the meal–usually a sumptuous potluck spread that is a treat in itself–it is a gift to your older relatives who gather to be able to meet the newest members of the clan (babies, little ones, spouses) and help us feel bonds and a shared history.
Two psychology professors, Shoba Sreenivasan and Linda Weinberger wrote in Psychology Today (online) reminding us: “Generally, reunions can be highly valuable to our well-being. For those who want to learn more about themselves and make stronger connections with others, reunions can be a powerful vehicle for accomplishing this.” Reunions also build on and “celebrate the meaning of family by sharing memories and family rituals as well as encouraging a sense of belonging to something greater than your nuclear family.”
If you are wishing your family would get together more, perhaps test the waters with a sibling or cousin or two, try some possible dates or locations, and you may be surprised at the feel-good stuff that results. Unless you have a family that simply does not get along, staying in touch with family members will likely help build stronger bonds and memories for you and your children.
***
I would love to hear your reunion stories and memories! Here’s a rundown I shared last year in September.
Maybe it’s time for a sibling trip? A cousin get together?
Comment here–you may help someone else be inspired to get the clan together! Or write to Another Way, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834, or email anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of August 11, 2023
My mother’s 99th birthday would have been July 30. Somehow that has stirred memories, love, and emotion. My tears have been resurrected. Then I ran across a letter I had sent to her about four years ago. Perhaps you’ll enjoy reading it and even appreciate the idea if you have a parent living at a distance who might enjoy what we cooked up together:
Hi Mom, I wanted to send a short note. We decided to head out to Ohio this weekend Sept. 27-30 for [a grandson’s] birthday. I really wanted to celebrate birthday #6 with our grandson! We plan to return home on Monday. Sept. 30. [This was in 2019.]
I talked to Little Caesars near you and they do not deliver at all, and none of their stores do. So I called the Pizza Hut in Goshen that only does delivery. I asked them what minimum amount was needed before they would deliver, and they said I have to order at least $15 worth of pizza. A medium size supreme pizza like you like (not the little pan pizzas you love, but the same ingredients, with a thinner crust that you should be able to chew) is $15.99. He said they would be happy to work with us to deliver to Greencroft [Mom’s retirement center] to your Juniper apartment.
A medium pizza would last you at least two Saturday nights and maybe three, if you freeze it. Let’s try it once and see how you like it. You can give them a tip of say $2 or $3. I will put the pizza on my charge card. This will be my way of helping out since Pert and Nancy [my sisters] already do a lot.
I told the manager, Matt, that I would call on Saturday afternoon Oct. 5 for a delivery for you about 5 p.m. He said I should ask for him and he usually works on Saturday afternoon and evening. I think he thought it was a really neat idea.
So we’ll try it next Saturday. and see if the delivery boy can find your apartment. I will have him bring it inside and find #113. Love, Melodie
If you wonder how that little experiment worked out, the manager made sure the pizza was delivered; Mom loved it but decided it was a little too much hassle for her to manage (nervous about the delivery guy finding her, etc.). She also said frozen pizza wasn’t as good [no surprise about Mom there]. Plus pizza was more fun when she was eating with a group.
Of course! After Dad died about 17 years ago, we often treated Mom to pizza if we were visiting and she loved that, plus her Mt. Dew—which she indulged in only with pizza. Good thing too: I don’t think she ever made the connection that Mt. Dew would keep her up at night.
We all loved Mom dearly and looking back, I know our family was extremely lucky to have such loving, hardworking, giving, dear parents as Mom and Dad, even if Dad couldn’t abide pizza.
Also, I pondered whether other pizza shops would enjoy providing a service of delivering pizzas each Friday or Saturday evening to residents of retirement villages, where usually there is no meal provided and residents in those “independent living” spaces have to come up with their own meals, which for Mom was frequently just cheese, crackers, and some ice cream or chocolate candy. Or church youth groups could organize to do the same if area pizza deliveries are not possible for some of the older people they know, who hesitate at having to use credit cards for a pizza, or the stress of deciding and providing tips.
Oh how I would love to sit down with Mom and her beloved Pizza Hut mini-pan pizza. What do you remember and wish you could do again with your parents or parent?
***
What memories or stories come to mind for you? Would this be an idea for your church youth group to connect with some older members?
I’d love to hear: share here on the blog in comments, or contact me at Another Way, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834, or email anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of August 4, 2023
The Day I was Called to the Principal’s Office
Were you ever called to the principal’s office?
Don Augsburger, the pastor who baptized me, also served as my principal at Bethany Christian High School a few years. So you can guess I was terribly chagrined when he had to call me into the principal’s office one day.
That only happened once. I was 16 and hormones were buzzing and Don got a call or message from the local hang out (restaurant right across from the school), that my boyfriend at the time had been seen with his hand on my leg under the table.
Don himself was embarrassed to have to call me in for such a thing, but we both got over it. I think he felt the owner was overly worried about students’ behavior sometimes, and Don kind of dismissed me with a half-smile knowing that I was as mortified as he was that particular day.
You see, my dad served as Don’s deacon at church, and according to Don, he became a very beloved deacon for Don. Especially because Dad talked Don into wearing a bowtie with a regular suit jacket instead of the plain-collared Mennonite suit he had been accustomed to wearing at other churches he had served. Somehow the bowtie was less “fancy” I guess than a necktie.
Don died last fall and I’m amazed at how many intersections his life had with my own, from an early age. I’ve been wanting to add my tribute regarding Don but we’ve lost so many beloved friends and family in recent years that I’ve written about, and I don’t want this column to morph into an “obituary” column. But I wanted to share a little about this pastor, friend, principal, and seminary professor.
Don loved memorizing poems, including very long ones, and he could recall and recite them well into his 90s. In fact, one of his favorite poems, because of the power and the truths it conveys, deals with the “Death” angel being called to God’s throne who promptly sent Death to earth to bring back to heaven an older and tired woman who was very ready. The poem is titled “Go Down, Death.”
The family asked a skilled actor and poet, Helen Stoltzfus, to recite the poem at Don’s memorial service, who I knew from one of my college writing classes. Helen did not memorize the poem as Don had done over many years, but she read James Weldon Johnson’s long and powerful elegy with rich vigor and authority, accompanied by a pianist for background music. I think many in the audience felt like we were there by the side of one of our own loved ones, passing on to the afterlife: a better life, spent in eternity with God and Jesus.
Don’s brother, David Augsburger, a well-known writer, radio speaker and preacher, spoke at the funeral, reminding us that Don had prepared for his day of being taken to eternity. He checked his priorities every day, like the wise bridesmaids in the Biblical parable commonly called the “Ten Virgins,” five of whom missed a wedding because they had not brought enough oil to last through the wait for the groom to arrive. Dave said Don regularly “checked the oil” regarding his faith, so that he would be ready when the day came to be called to heaven. This meant spending ample time in prayer every day, reading the Bible, doing what he could to share and reach out to others, and focusing on God’s abiding love for us.
As I listened to this commanding poem at his memorial service, I knew that all of us will be one day called to the afterlife, and the wise ones are the those who have prepared by making sure they have followed in the footsteps of Jesus given to us in the Bible.
Don was a mentor in many ways—back in my high school days, instruction classes when I was preparing to be baptized as a young teenager, his preaching and leadership over 96 years, his mind and brain so very active, and a beautiful blessing for others. May we all follow his lead.
***
So, well: Were you ever called to the principal’s office? For good or bad?
Confession is good for the soul: comments and confessions here!
Share here or at Another Way, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834, or email anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of July 28, 2023
The Day I Sat in Rosa Park’s Seat
One of the places we visited on a recent trip to Michigan was the Henry Ford Museum in Detroit. I had been there as a 5th grader at Middlebury Elementary School in northern Indiana, and I remember being super excited for my first chartered bus trip. The only things I remembered from the trip were Model T Fords, a large train locomotive, and making a short hop into the city of Windsor, Canada which is just across the border from Detroit.
Slow forward about 60 years and I was eager to finally introduce my husband to the Ford Museum filled with so many interesting antiques, historical cars, and old trains (which he loves), and the histories of early airplanes. In 60 years, the displays had been enhanced, changed, grown and updated as one might expect.
As we strolled through interesting artifacts, we happened upon the bus that Rosa Parks was riding the day she was arrested for refusing to give up her seat in a Montgomery, Alabama bus, in the days when segregation was the rule. She worked downtown as a seamstress and was likely tired when the bus driver asked her to leave her seat so white folks could sit there. She refused and was thus arrested.
A guide for a small tour group was sharing stories from that era when we joined it and boarded the bus. My husband and I quickly sat down on a bench so we wouldn’t distract the other tourists from the guide’s input.
Then she paused for comments or questions. I piped up and asked, “What seat had Rosa been sitting on?”
The guide’s serious face changed to a friendly smile and said, “You are sitting where she sat.” I gulped. How fascinating.
But as we heard more explanation and stories, my excited feeling changed to empathy for the courageous but peaceful boycott that Rosa and others launched: a movement to end segregation in the Montgomery bus system. After a year of boycotting, the issue was taken up by the Supreme Court which declared laws segregating buses unconstitutional.
The history of how the museum landed this meaningful artifact was fascinating, including years where a farmer had bought and used it for storing lumber and tools. When museums (including the Smithsonian) became interested in obtaining and restoring it because of the bus’s history, careful research into its past was made. “This is the bonafide bus, right down to its number, even though it has been repainted and all cleaned up,” said the guide.
The guide at the museum stressed how Rosa Parks and her cohorts were able to keep the bus boycott free of violence, and that was not an easy task.
This experience was more than I expected out of our visit. I began to feel nudged to do more in the area of helping our communities, churches, and schools do more to end the racism that corrodes our whole nation. Fittingly, my small group at church is currently studying a newish book titled Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face, by Teri McDowell Ott (Fortress Press). While I squirm at the adjective “privileged” here, I know that I don’t have to deal daily with the ramifications of my skin color and history. I can go whole days and weeks without really digging into the disadvantages and dangers faced by many people of color.
I write a lot about my father who believed strongly we need to love all people, regardless of race or nationality. We moved to the deep south before my senior year of high school (1969) where I experienced how far our country had to go in abolishing racism. We have come a long way but as already noted, there is much to be done. Praying for change, courage, and spreading love.
Read more about the Rosa Park bus here:
More info on the successful bus boycott here:
Or read a friend’s experiences on a recent Civil Rights learning tour in the deep south (7 posts):
***
Comments? Questions? Your own thoughts or stories? Share here or write to me at Another Way, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834, or email anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of July 21, 2023
When We Had Orange Pineapple Ice Cream for Breakfast
Ask any of my siblings for one of their memorable vacation stories and at least one of them will come up with the story of being forced to eat Orange Pineapple Ice Cream for breakfast.
Now, I know that doesn’t sound so terrible and many kids would be excited to have ice cream for breakfast but on this particular trip to Niagara Falls our family found a small local motel which housed each of their visitors in small separate cabins which they called “huts.” Hagar’s Homey Huts to be exact. The “huts” were very cute and self-sufficient. With a refrigerator of some kind, this was long before anyone had microwaves and such in their motel or hotel rooms.
On a vacation, Mom and Dad usually visited a nearby grocery store to buy simple-to-make sandwiches, fruit, and maybe some veggies, chips and dessert of some kind. On this particular trip Dad saw Orange Pineapple Ice Cream in the store’s freezer department and thought it would be a wonderful treat. He had enjoyed it in times past and wanted to introduce us to it.
I’m sure we all enjoyed it for our dessert that night before we went to bed.
However, in the morning, there was still Orange Pineapple Ice Cream in the freezer and Dad wasn’t about to throw it out and so pushed it for breakfast. I don’t remember what else we had. I think it didn’t taste quite so good for breakfast, if my memory serves, because we all remember Dad making us eat the ice cream, even if it kind of turned our tummies at that hour of the morning.
Well, my husband and I just returned from a nice summer trip to northern Michigan and enjoyed a range of hotels: some were great, some just so so, but most of them had free breakfasts (well, at least the price of your breakfast was paid for by your room price, right?). One place kind of apologized for just serving coffee and small blueberry muffins, but hey, it was a breakfast.
Our last hotel was a very very nice one at a higher price bracket. Quite lovely. If Deep South comedian Jerry Clower were still alive he would have called it a “ritzy ditzy shore’ e’nuff fancy do-dad hotel.”
It had a sparkling breakfast area but with a big difference: no free breakfast! Our opinion of that place soon rocketed to the bottom. You had to PAY for food (free coffee), but I’m talking $12.95 or more for a breakfast dish. Times two of us. Plus tax and tip.
Yeah, it was a little stiffer than we wanted to pay for two breakfast plates so I began to comb through the food items I still had in our cooler and bags. I found some leftover pizza slices, an apple we could share, and chocolate chip cookies. There were other odds and ends we could have found and of course we could make “free” coffee in our hotel room, but it certainly brought to mind the Hagar Homey Hut breakfast of my childhood.
What memories or stories does this trigger for you?
My parents gave me the travel bug and thankfully, my husband enjoys traveling too, so the state of Michigan was mostly our destination this trip. He had never been to the northern parts. While we live in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley, I can’t help but envy Michiganders who enjoy lakes, rivers, and three of the “Great Lakes” we all learned about in geography: Lake Michigan, Lake Huron and Lake Superior all touch its borders. Boundless miles of natural forests met us over many miles. But the other thing I enjoyed a lot were the beautiful flowers at many homes in some of the resort towns. Growing and sharing flowers is something many of us enjoy at our own homes.
But don’t buy orange pineapple ice cream and ask me to eat it for breakfast.
***
What is your favorite place to travel to? If you could travel anywhere you wanted, where would that be?
Share your story, travel nightmares, or future dreams by commenting here or by mail at Another Way, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834, or email anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of July 14, 2023
Three Women Who Made a Dent in Changing Food Habits
Thirty years after the end of World War II, a Mennonite woman launched a cookbook, More-with-Less, which went on to sell nearly two million copies (so far). She had a lot of help with it but the idea for it came from her head and heart. (See below for a drawing or a free sampler from the More-with-Less cookbook, as long as supplies last.)
The author and organizer of this significant cookbook, Doris Janzen Longacre, was a young mother who had spent time as a church relief worker in Vietnam and Indonesia through Mennonite Central Committee (MCC). One evening her family and another which had also served overseas as volunteers with MCC, gathered to share an evening meal and their conversation turned to global hunger. They discussed how MCC had asked churches to examine their own food habits and challenged them to eat and spend 10 percent less. That led to Doris’ brainchild for a recipe book reminding cooks and others that “how we cook can change the world.”
I received Doris’s cookbook as a wedding gift, the year the book was launched. Doris was about 11 years older than me and just 39 when she unfortunately succumbed to cancer.
Forty years later, the publishers of More-with-Less cookbook updated and relaunched that cookbook with major revisions, a project spearheaded by Rachel Marie Stone. Rachel is an award-winning food writer who researched and shared the story of how this classic got started, around a picnic table. At first, the eventual publisher of this cookbook was reluctant to publish a cookbook that “didn’t have a cake on the front” and feared it would not sell enough to break even.
I liked this quote from Stone: “Decades later, Doris’s wisdom is still relevant. She championed simple food, well-prepared from whole, fresh, quality ingredients and eaten with gratitude.” I was excited to help relaunch that cookbook in 2016 as a managing editor for Herald Press.
More recently, I discovered an essay by June Mears Driedger, whose name I had often heard in Mennonite circles but never knew her story of how she came to the Mennonite church through the More-with-Less cookbook. I doubt she was alone in that journey. In a nutshell, June had been teaching at a school in the Dominican Republic:
“Although our midday meal was cooked by a Dominican woman, we were responsible for making our own suppers in the school kitchen. One evening, while looking for a recipe to make mayonnaise for my tuna-salad sandwich, I grabbed the More-With-Less Cookbook off the shelf, found the recipe, made the mayo, and then began reading the introductory section while eating the sandwich.
“’This book is not about cutting back,’ it declared. ‘Put dismal thoughts aside. This book is about living joyfully, richly, and creatively….’”
“My heart was warmed by the writer’s sensible, matter-of-fact tone and her nonjudgmental, multicultural perspective. An hour later I was still reading the introduction. I wanted to know the writer behind the words—who was this woman who advocated such a countercultural approach to cooking, food, and life?” (From The Other Side website.)
I recently read a non-fiction book called Unbroken by bestselling author Laura Hillenbrand, an amazing but difficult story of one man who was a prisoner of war during World War II and suffered in every way possible. His story of beatings and starving—and later, forgiveness—after surviving various POW camps in the Far East struck me deeply. Now, just looking at packages of rice in the grocery store, or pictures of recipes using rice on the front of a cookbook turn my stomach—because so often the POWS were given rice that was infested with maggots. (I know, now I’ve spoiled your supper.)
May we all eat our meals with more appreciation and gratitude as we try to cook and prepare healthy foods, and mindful of all those all over the world who do not have enough good food for growling bellies.
***
The 2016 edition of More-with-Less (320 pages) will be given away in a drawing August 12, 2023.
Six non-winners will receive a “preview sampler” with 12 recipes.
To enter, comment here on my blog!
Or send your entry to Another Way, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834, or email anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com. I must receive it by August 12, 2023.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of July 6, 2023
Pruning Time: When Growing Tomatoes is like Raising Children
I think my favorite job in our rather large garden is pruning and tying up tomato branches.
Even if you don’t do any gardening or raise tomatoes, stay tuned for the lessons pruning can teach us about life.
My parents basically had just bush tomatoes in our garden, that I recall, but my father-in-law here in Virginia was an amazing gardener. He taught me the art and need for pinching out suckers. If you look closely at tomato vines, there are little sprouts that come between the main tomato vine, and the stems which grow and bear tomatoes as the vine progresses. I know some gardeners may argue about the need for pruning but it depends on how you grow the tomatoes.
Bush tomatoes may not need this pruning but if you grow your tomatoes with stake supports or t-posts (metal fence posts found in farm stores), you can tie up the branches as they grow. Many varieties of tomatoes will then keep producing fruit until frost comes. So that is where pruning comes in. One website, Gardeners Supply, notes that if left unattended, “tomatoes will grow into shrubby, multi-stemmed plants that topple under the weight of their fruit.” That website also notes that allowing some suckers to flourish further up the plant can bring late season tomatoes.
But as I quietly work the rows, tying up stalks and pruning the suckers, it makes me think about life lessons on raising children. When children are just babies, we likely love everything about them except diapers or colic. As they grow into toddlers or grade school, we may try to weed out such habits as thumb sucking, temper tantrums, taking toys from siblings, bullying others at school, or worse. The teen years we try to help steer them to positive relationships and friends, and away from drugs, alcohol, smoking. Of course I am aware of negative pruning in families when children are mistreated and punished in severe ways.
But garden pruning as an adult reminds me to trim out bad habits or tendencies in my own life and personality. Am I jealous? Judgmental? Think of myself as better than others? Yes, yes and yes: I can slip into those habits or bad behaviors.
As I work painstakingly to remove the little tomato suckers to help larger robust stems prosper and bear big fruit, the quietness of the garden helps me remember others in prayer, to breathe deeply of the fresh air (well, recently it’s been smoky), and helps me look out for tomato worms. Tearing up old t-shirts or sheets to make soft tie-ups for the branches occupies me on other mornings.
There was another thing that I was reminded of this summer during our fairly significant drought period. We had weeks without any measurable rain. The grass turned brown and crackly. I watered the tomatoes night after night for three weeks, using water from our well, or some rainwater storage tanks. My mind then went to so many people around the world suffering from long dry seasons, dealing with dust and walking miles for water or food. I thought of children with those extended bellies and the elderly with thin arms and legs. On the opposite end, were countries and communities which experienced too much rain and flooding. My heart and prayers go out to all who lament on either end.
My Dad had a true heart for people suffering from food and water insecurity, as folks call it these days. He participated in two worldwide organizations (CROP and Heifer International) which attempted to bring food and livestock to communities and families in need—who were to turn around and raise the offspring of livestock to keep feeding the family in future years. I need to do a better job of sharing with others, like my Dad taught. Perhaps he’s still pruning me!
Speaking of food, be on the lookout for my next column sharing experiences from a dietitian who launched a cookbook which has helped millions eat healthier.
***
Do you raise tomatoes? Do you like pruning?
How do you work at pruning bad habits or tendencies?
Tell us here or contact me at Another Way, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834, or email anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of June 30, 2022
The Exciting (or Scary) Future Changes in Technology
I was super frustrated.
Why did my credit union have to completely change its online banking services? A new password was needed. Oh, now they want me to use at least one numeral. Try again. Then it locks me out temporarily for 10 minutes. Oh why all this difficulty for those of us in our “upper years,” shall we say?
Because things are getting dicey in terms of online activity and if we don’t keep up, as seniors we will soon dry up, have to rely on our kids or other younger helpers to do our accounting, etc., our online business, and even checking the “My Chart” medical info that is so so so hard to get to. Hey hospitals and doctors: do you hear me?
My husband has taken to driving and showing up physically at the cardiac department of our local hospital to make arrangements for an appointment, because too often the phone tagging back and forth with messages left and not answered for 48 hours are left hanging. Or, you are left in queue endlessly and then have to listen AGAIN to 12 different messages if you want this service or that office or whatever.
Ok. Rant over.
The world of AI, artificial intelligence, may be exciting and serve useful purposes, but also scary to those who fear they won’t be able to keep up with technology. AI can clone your loved one’s voice and make a phone call where you think you are hearing from a granddaughter, for instance, who says she needs money to get home from an accident. Or something like that. And it isn’t your granddaughter at all.
Psychology Today website notes that “facial recognition technology can be used to identify individuals without their consent, or to track their movements.”
Some are also concerned about early experiments with self-driving cars. TechTarget website explains that a self-driving car (sometimes called autonomous or driverless) “is a vehicle that uses a combination of sensors, cameras, radar and AI to travel between destinations without a human operator.” These can be not-so-safe and I hope and pray those game-y efforts are shelved for safer models many years (say maybe 25 years) in the future. Our children and grandchildren may have to worry about them or eagerly adopt them but we can hope for real people to be in control and that our grandchildren will be able to keep up.
I was intrigued by a fellow blogger and distant friend, Shirley Showalter, who recently wrote a regular blog post about her grandchildren, and then worked through the Bard website to write a second section of her blog post using AI. The computer-written piece was well done, perfect in every way—but without the human touch of Shirley. A computer does the research and supplies sentences on the topic. I have not yet tried Bard or ChatGPT but I can imagine that if I were still in an office job, I might use such tools to write routine things like a report or news release or advertisements. But stay assured: this is me writing, not a robot!
In a recent small group, those of us over the age of 70 expressed our frustration and fears for the future, especially those of us with children and grandchildren. Just like my grandparents likely did over a hundred years ago! My grandmother on my father’s side was orphaned at the age of five; my grandfather on my mother’s side lost his mother at the age of eight. But both children were resilient (and taken in by relatives). They grew up to be fine persons and parents themselves. So while we may worry about what may be ahead for our grandchildren because of changes in technology, health concerns and worldwide issues, it may not be wise to worry excessively. We can try to keep up the best we can.
***
I’d love to hear your rants or raves or cautions about technology!
Write to me at Another Way, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834, or email anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
***
findingharmonyblog 
