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Category Archives: Seasons

The Return of Christmas (Ch 22, Out of My Hands: the Stories of Harold Hunsaker Chapman)

04 Thursday Dec 2014

Posted by chaplines2014 in Books by Gary Chapman, Growing up, Seasons

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Books by Gary Chapman, Out of My Hands

OOMHWe hadn’t celebrated Christmas for several years. We were all sick with  the flu in 1918, and Mom died just after Christmas. Great-grandpa Ben  Hunsaker had died at Christmas in 1919. In 1920 and 1921 we were just
scraping by in Colorado, and we didn’t think we had anything to celebrate.  Dad died just before Christmas in 1922. The year 1924 was different.  Grandma started it just a few days before Christmas by saying,  “I’m tired of being sad at this time of year. It’s time for us to celebrate
Christmas again.”
Grandpa said simply, “All right.” He immediately sent Earl and me  out into the woods nearby to find a red cedar tree, “about as tall as you  are.” So we took a two-person saw, and we looked for a tree that had a  good shape and that was about my height. We found one, and sawed it  off, and brought it home. I found two two-by-fours, and Grandpa’s brace  and bit, and drilled a hole through the center of the boards. We cut a
couple of blocks the same width as the boards to nail to the bottom of  the ends of one board. With Earl holding the tree sideways and still, I  drilled a hole into the trunk of the tree. We found a seven inch spike in  a bucket of old nails, and we had a tree stand to keep the tree upright.  We proudly took it inside.

Grandma had popped corn and put Pearl, Mary, and little Lon in  charge of stringing the popcorn. Not much of Lon’s portion made it  past his mouth onto the string. They were plainly enjoying the tree-decorating. Grandma supervised the making of popcorn balls in exchange for a promise from little Lon that he would finish the strings.  Then they switched to strings of dried crabapples, so the tree was finally  crisscrossed with red and white garlands.

When the garlands were all on the tree, Grandma disappeared into  her bedroom for a while. She returned carrying a shiny metal star with  a candle holder attached to the front, and a partially burned candle in  it. She gave it to Chlora to crown the treetop.
Christmas morning we got up to a big breakfast. A bowl of oranges  was under the tree, and we each had one of them. There was also a bowl  of hard candy, a handful apiece, Grandma said, and six small boxes. We  children opened the boxes at the same time, and we each had a new pair  of brown cotton gloves. It seemed quite an extravagant occasion.

Grandma asked us what we wanted to eat for Christmas dinner.  What would be special? I had shot two wild rabbits a week before. Earl and Pearl suggested that we hadn’t had rabbit stew for quite a while, and  it would seem special, since we had eaten that stew so many times with Dad and Bonnie. So their suggestion won against the ham or chicken  or goose that the rest of us suggested. With Grandma’s supervision, the rabbit stew was filled with vegetables and potatoes and noodles, and
even small chunks of ham, and it tasted a lot better than any rabbit stew we had eaten before. We also enjoyed apple pie and pumpkin pie.  “Now I can pack my bags,” Grandma said. We looked at each other and wondered what in the world she was talking about.

How do we say “thank you?”

28 Friday Nov 2014

Posted by chaplines2014 in Caring, Events, Seasons, Words

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Serendipity

Todah, wado, efxaristo, danke, gracias, thank you, xie xie, salamat, grazie, mahalo, domo arigato, obrigado, spasiba, asante, cam on, medasi, gahm-sah-hahm-ni-da, dhanyavad…all ways to say the same thing among many more peoples and languages.

Usually these words call for an appropriate response. “You’re welcome” used to be the polite response in English. These days we hear an echoing “thank you” often, as if the “first giver” knows that the gift is being passed along in an endless series, popularized in the phrase “pay it forward,” in contrast to “pay it back.” The giver is not only glad to give; he or she finds reward in moving gifts along an endless sequence of giving.

Mrs. Veatch made that point to me in 1973, when she called our home in Iroquois, Illinois, from her home in Thawville and asked if she could come to visit. She had been my high school Latin teacher, but she instilled much more than Latin in all of her students. Latin was her base for sharing the love of learning and people. Her home was a library that became the start of a library for the village of Thawville and a resource for all of the area. She knew that my wife had just given birth to our second child, and with part-time work and graduate school almost finished we didn’t have much. She came bearing gifts.

“Don’t even think about repaying me,” she said. “I’ve already had my reward from seeing your accomplishments as my student. Just pass it on.” That was her consistent attitude, even as she faced the death of three sons in those years, and even as she faced her own illness and death. I have remembered her example as our opportunities to share with others became greater as the years have passed.

“Bitte” is a frequent response in German, “I beg” in English, which seems an odd idiom until we realize that the obligation to give is felt acutely in one who knows how much is owed to the others who have made giving possible.

Making mincemeat of it

26 Sunday Oct 2014

Posted by chaplines2014 in Caring, Seasons, Small town life

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100_5990[1]    Mincemeat was an obsession that my mother developed as she prepared for the holidays. In this she was tutored by a neighbor and fellow church member Myrtle Overstreet. Mrs. Overstreet had the secret recipe for mincemeat that was passed down through several generations, and she kept it in the bank under lock and key. When she saw that her days were numbered, and having no qualified children, she considered all her coworkers at the church for the person to entrust with this precious recipe, and she awarded the responsibility to my mother. In order to qualify she had to be trustworthy, a perfectionist as close to herself as possible, an excellent cook, and attentive to the slightest details of the recipe.

Mincemeat does not please everyone, but no one can argue with the goodness of the ingredients. One begins with the best and rarest beef one can find (neck meat), Jonathan apples, raisins and muscat raisins, cinnamon and cloves, unsweetened pineapple juice and grape juice and apple cider and apple cider vinegar, white and brown sugar, and raw suet. Driving for miles just to find the best ingredients was mandatory. It consumed many hours of my parents’ time, since mother involved father in the project when it came to the regional search for ingredients. Everything had to be coordinated so that the ingredients were as fresh as possible, so that October was the month of search, in between the days of harvest on the farm.

The recipe made 10 gallons of mincemeat, and it stipulates that no more than two batches should be prepared in one day, and those should be mixed in the afternoon. The preparations began the day before in the morning when all sugar, raisins, currants, cider and 1 can of pineapple juice were put to soak, then refrigerated by nightfall. Next morning the suet and two half-gallons of grape juice were added when the whole mixture was set out to reach room temperature by noon. Also in the morning the 16 pounds of beef neck meat was cooked and then ground. Then it was mixed with a gallon of cider, 2 tall cans of unsweetened pineapple juice, 2 to 3 jars of Welch’s grape juice, and 2 ½ gallons of Krafts’ canned grape drink. The apples were peeled and chopped fine, and the spices, and the rest of the juice and vinegar were added and thoroughly mixed. (Since this involved nearly seventy five pounds of ingredients, did anyone require any extra exercise?) The whole mixture was put into as many jars or freezer containers as needed, by pints and quarts, and sealed, either by the usual canning process or by freezing in double-sacked containers. (A more detailed ingredient list is available.)

The mincemeat mixture is added to various recipes or pie shells and baked when people are ready to use it. The shelf life of this mixture is unknown. The last stock that my mother made was twenty years old when we ate the last of it, using one or two quarts a year, and we did not notice any lessening of the quality. You may note that a limited amount of fermentation occurs in the original process.

After Mrs. Overstreet’s death, and a discreet waiting period of a couple of years, mother printed the recipe and instructions for anyone who was interested, and distributed it freely. Whether Mrs. Overstreet turned over in her grave or not has not been determined. Anyway the secret is out, although I’m not certain that anyone can follow it. How many recipes for life experience have such a history?

Trick or Treat

22 Wednesday Oct 2014

Posted by chaplines2014 in Growing up, Seasons, Words

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A License to Preach

Soon witches, goblins, vampires, werewolves, and other personifications of darkness will be knocking on our doors. Jack-o-lanterns, skeletons, and spider web decorations have been visible for weeks, preparing us for the night. Stock-piles of candy have been secreted away, with some occasional invasions from hungry critters, like mice or…me?

Yes, it’s Halloween, occupying more and more attention as the years go by, but possibly, just possibly, a vestige of our remote pagan past, grabbing some familiar corner of our primitive consciousness. Or maybe just plain fun. Angels, fairies, and assorted friendly creatures show up at this time, too.

Perhaps this exuberant show and canvass for goodies does represent our growing distance from purity of heart and piety. If inclined to say so, we may conveniently need to forget the “tricks” that attended the event decades ago—outhouse tippings, cars on roofs, damage to assorted properties. Though they still occur, those offenses are much less celebrated than years ago.

Still the forces of darkness, attending this season of increasing darkness, have plenty of real-life surrogates. A variety of terrorists, plagues, and catastrophes are making their marks in our increasingly populated, crowded, but shrinking human world. Why not have a little fun while we’re at it? Give some things away. Enjoy our children. Love our neighbors. Dress colorfully and silly. Let those evil forces know that at the end of the day we will laugh more than we will cry, and be grateful more than greedy.

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