Reactions are Rewarding

I started something! The reactions to my cabin blogs are wonderful. Now I know why I was compelled to write them. Many are sent to my "regular" e-mail address and several things were clarified, too.

Two neighborhood siblings remember their grandmother being the victim of an overshot dart from the living room into the bedroom behind the partition when they were staying at the cabin for a while. It landed in her wig! Their sister remembers the dog who liked to taunt the children while swimming. She also remembers the jelly making projects with me. One remembers the cleaning of rabbits in the old sink, plus seeing the "egg factory" of a hen being cleaned at the kitchen table and my mother showing what's inside it. The lazy susan that was, and still is, on the kitchen table fascinated one young girl. She shared the name but resented the lazy part. They remember the horsehoe pits and vying for time there; also playing Frisbie when adults were throwing horseshoes. The old horseshoes and stakes are in our utility closet today and haven't been used in decades. Today, these sisters are both elementary schoolteachers. Their "homey" feelings and remembering a welcoming place where so many people came and went were expressed with love.

One friend reminds me that she was there too, when the mouse ran across the mantel and left a scary shadow. She also described the fishing incident where SHE caught the turtle on her line while in a canoe with my brother and the demise of the critter afterwards. It was THE turtle that was later cooked and eaten. She told me that my mom claimed the turtle contained seven delicacies but, being a city girl, didn't want anything to do with actually eating it. No Way! Now I know. I didn't know that!

Their messages and descriptions have made the memories even more important. I wish ALL the children and visitors to Cabin Tranquillity would tell me more!

Geraldine,The "One-Time" Bully

I hear those awful reports of kids bullying other kids in school. I think it has been done for many years, but today's kids are the WORST! Of that, I'm sure. It doesn't excuse what I did but my one time bully act, was mild. Well, I think so, but my conscience tells me it was a nasty thing to do. I regret it.

The incident happened in the 7th grade at a Junior High School. A new girl arrived and joined my class. She was pretty in an unusual way. She was intelligent, athletic, and apparently came from a well-off family due to her clothing. Angora sweaters! Tartan pleated skirts! Real wool crew socks and shiny saddle shoes! The minute I saw her I felt a threat and was on guard. I envied her hair. It was a lovely shade of blonde, thick, and worst of all - she had a perfect and exceptionally outstanding widow's peak! Her eyes were sloe shaped, and she didn't wear any makeup. Who was this girl?

Her name was Lucretia. As time went on, she buddied up with others who had the best homes, clothes and things.

After lunch, it was the habit of all students to leave the building and participate in outdoor activities such as jumping rope, playing kickball and trotting around the field track. I usually could be found on the track.

In that time many of us started to wear skirts that had several rows of elastic stitching as waistbands. Apparently, in an effort to fit in with my group of friends, or to mock us, the "clicky" bunch of girls started wearing the same type of skirts.

I, to this day, have no idea of what actually came into me, but when Lucretia was jogging on the field track, right in front of me, I caught up to her and YANKED her copy cat skirt down to her ankles. She fell into the dirt, picked herself up, pulled her skirt up and carried on.

In a year or two, her family moved away and I never saw or heard from her again.

I am not naturally a mean person, but I do remember that this felt good and it is all I remember of what happened that day. Was I punished? ???? Was I ostracized? ??? Did I lose friends? ??? The mind is a strange thing. What I DO know is that my awful act of attacking a classmate who never did a thing to me, has remained a guilty transgression in my memory bank for over 60 years.

Dear Lucretia with the widow's peak, I'm sorry, truly sorry.

The Cabin - Part 5 - Conclusion

The Memories Without "Backup" Photos

You are just going to have to rely on my recall of the following incidents that happened at the cabin. They are as truthful as I can impart. Remember, these happened a LONG time ago. The aging process has retained - quite clearly, and embraced my long term reminiscences and is beginning to eradicate some of my short term matters. I just think a few of these are worth remembering. I'd better get them down on paper now!

Once, when the cabin was under construction and had no walls nor roof, my brother, sister, myself and my husband all spent a night there. The concrete floor had been poured and the fireplace and chimney were constructed and functional. There was no water and no electricity, but we were on an adventure. The folding cots were set up in front of the fireplace and a gas lantern was lit at bedtime. The fellas were not there when my sister and I went to bed. I believe they were still fishing down by the lake so we left the lantern on. Suddenly, she sat up and screamed, "A RAT! A rat just ran over the mantel!" Well, don't you know it HAD to be the shadow of a small mouse that was cast upon the chimney. Mice were a-plenty. Rats were not so likely to be around. It took her a long time to go to sleep after her scare.

Another tale that comes to mind is about the "Laura snake." The children, around the age of 9, 10, 11 and 12 used to cary a pail, coffee can or some other sort of container and venture down the dirt road to hunt for snakes. Yes! The snakes would come out of the rock ledges to sun themselves so they were an easy roundup. Many could also be found under rocks and in debris along the shoreline. I love their beauty to this day. When caught, either with bare hands or a forked stick, they were brought back to be discussed and admired before being released. These older children wanted to introduce a particular one they had just caught in the flowerbed to their little sister, who was outdoors in the playpen. The small green garter snake was only presented to her to handle and hold. She IMMEDIATELY snatched it up with both hands and BIT it! In the middle! It died. the older kids were horrified and the small child wailed when they took it away.

This snake account is one that happened when I was picking wildflowers on the bank of the dam. I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and looked down to see a coiled up very grandly marked snake just beside my sneaker. I held perfectly still and called for my husband to bring the shovel or a gun because it was, in my mind, a copperhead. I didn't want THEM around me or my children. He came, he shot it and it burst open, revealing dozens of sacs of baby snakes. Those shiny little sacks of babies just about ready to be born normally didn't have a chance, now. End of story? No. It was later determined that it was a common rat snake and not a viper. I was so sorry.

The boys, big and small, once hauled a turkey platter-sized snapping turtle from the lake. What a commotion that was! I draw a complete blank on how it was killed or the meat was gleaned, but I DO remember that my mom made turtle soup for all. From then on, whenever a snapping turtle was captured, the male family members released it to a new home at neighboring lake.

One morning, a very long time ago when we were here I saw very large cat paw prints in the snowy field right next to the cabin. I remember that there was some sort of swipe mark in the middle. It's presumed it was a mountain lion roaming. Strange wailing sounds had been heard previously in the night. Mountain lions our neck of the woods in Pennsylvania? Very possibly because we are surrounded by rugged mountains and have a water source.

Who could forget "Gemma" Mom's black Labrador Retriever. The kids all hated it when she was let loose to swim with them because she paddled too close and scratched them. They tried everything to make her go away, but she had rights and, after all, loved to swim and play too.

Once, after we carelessly dumped the spent charcoal from the iron hibachi onto a spot on the grassy field next the cabin, our youngest daughter, around the age of 4, running barefoot across the lawn stepped on the still hot coals! We had intended to dump water on the smoldering remains, but didn't move fast enough. We were just preparing to travel to our home away from the cabin and had to comfort her with ice-packed towels until she finally fell asleep. Burns HURT! (My husband remembers it was the middle daughter and not the youngest. He may be correct.)

Our oldest boy seemed to be the most active and was always getting into something. One time he got a fishhook embedded so deeply in his thumb that we had to take him to the local hospital for its removal. The doctors there didn't seem to have the correct tools and wire cutters were finally located. After that, we removed several other hooks from fingers, hands and arms ourselves. It's a tricky procedure, but I had posted explicit directions on a varnished panel board in the bathroom near the medical supplies for reference.

Usually in the winter way back in the 60's the water was drained and the cabin was put to sleep for the winter. Winterizing had no impact on us. We came on weekends anyway. Eight of us. The fireplace still could provide heat and the living room became a good drying area for the wet winter attire, some slung over the beams. Water was collected from a spring that was located at the water's edge on a bank nearby. The children had this chore and they made it into a fun activity. A small red plastic toboggan with an attached rope was utilized to transport the water jugs from the spring up the bank and to the side door. There was much wetness involved as you would guess. It got away from them one time and slid back down the bank and across the icy lake for quite a distance, the filled jugs remaining in place except for one that flew off and burst open.

A hole was chopped through the ice, which could reach 30 inches thick, for two large pails to be dipped and filled and brought up to the cabin. Why? To flush the toilet of course!

As for keeping the fireplace logs burning through the night, my husband would be sure to drink lots of fluids before going to bed so he would have to wake up for nature's call and then could reload the fire with enough logs to keep it going until morning.

The elderberry color is lovely, full of depth and drama - it looks more purple in some lights, but usually tends more towards the burgundy with purply-blue undertones. The actual elderberry home made items show off this marvelous color. Have you ever had elderberry pie? Elderberry jelly? Mom made the pies (they are too seedy for my taste) and I made the jelly. When the jelly didn't jell - we used it as pancake syrup. It's a labor intensive process; gathering, washing, sorting, cooking, bagging into cheesecloth to strain. When the mushy bag is accidently dropped into the the old porcelain sink and goes SPLAT! the colorful stuff can stain anything in its vicinity. That's what happened to me one hot afternoon. It's bad enough to have purple hands from the project, but to have to peel off a hot-berry splattered shirt was difficult. Then my face, arms, hair, underwear and all were purple. Needless to say several items of clothing were tossed in the garbage can that day. The clean-up of me and the kitchen was agonizing. I was more careful the next time I made that delectable sweet and colorful treat!

The Cabin - Part 4

Activities Around the Cabin

Swimming AND diving happened all summer long for many years until the diving board cracked and had to be removed. The dock ladder often became slippery and was scrubbed regularly. The dock finally gave way to a new one, that was built by my daughter and grandson in 2004. The float, a wooden structure mounted on metal barrels, was anchored to the bottom of the lake with an iron chain attached to a huge metal wagon wheel. The float was taken in to the beach bank before winter and then re-launched in the spring. Our family men took care of this maneuver yearly until several years ago when it was too much to handle by the one who did most of the duty alone.

Fishing still is a main activity, done by almost every family member - big or small. An old flat-bottom row boat with an electric motor was in service until a new "V" hull one took its place. Just throwing a line from the bank or dock results in a nice catch often. Fishes caught are: pickerel, largemouth bass, bullhead catfish, perch, crappie, bluegill sunfish and longear sunfish. A long time ago walleye, northern pike and trout were stocked and caught, but were fished out.

Boating is our recreation in water through the use of rowboats, canoes, kayaks, sailboats, paddle boats, pontoon boats - all human-powered or electric-powered watercraft. Then there are the non-boat floation items used for drifting, paddling and moving about: tire tubes, rafts, noodles, and inflatable or foam lounge chairs. What fun!

Picnics, steak bakes, pig roasts, birthday and graduation parties and holiday celebrations such as 4h of July and Memorial Day, were mustered and enjoyed by family, friends and guests. Once there was even an outdoor poultry processing demonstration, put on by my mother to educate an assemblage of youngsters and adults. What an experience that one was! Exclamations of "yuk!" "phew!" and "wow!" rang loudly several times. A barbeque chicken dinner followed, of course.

There are the quiet activities and pastimes: Walking, running, dog walking, bicycling, stroller pushing, ice skating, tenting, reading, and porch sitting. Go carts, quads, snowmobiles, a powered ice boat, the "ice-screamer" horses and ponies, motorcycles, tractors, mowers, saws, weed wackers, snow blowers, generators, and commercial vehicles are the noisemakers. I almost forgot to mention the target shooting before hunting season and horseshoes clanking against the old iron posts!

Cabin Tranquillity is not tranquil all of the time!

Mom & Pop had no idea what they started!

The Old Diving Board
The Old Dock
The Old Float on Tilt

The Old Float Repaired

The New Dock

Grandson & Son
Daughter
Husband
Grandson
Flat Bottom Boat
New "V" Hull Boat
Floating & Lounging
Daughter's Inflatable Friend
(Me) Grilling Hamburgers in Tire Rim

Granddaughter's Birthday Party
Blue Ribbon Hand Made "Pig-Rig"
Skewered Pig Cooked
Removing Skewer
Removing Chicken Wire Wrap
Picking and Tasting
Poultry Plucking
Poultry Processing
Son on Motorbike
"Dune buggy Gang"
Brother on Motorcycle
Trail Riding
The "Ice Screamer"
Granddaughter on Quad
My Kids and Husband Snowmobiling
Mom Mowing
Husband Blowing Snow
SC Friends Camping
Brother & Pop First Sign
Husband Replaces Sign

Furnaces and Frost Memory

The 'heating with coal' method in the 40's was dirty, messy, a lot of work but quite efficient. I believe it was the primary fuel source to heat homes.

An asbestos-covered furnace existed in our cellar. The pipes running from it were also asbestos-covered. In fact, in the grammar school I attended, the asbestos-covered pipes ran all through the hallways. I remember scratching my initials and drawing pictures in the asbestos coverings with my fingernails! (This was done when my parents weren't looking because a strong scolding always resulted, but I couldn't help myself.) Naughty!

Coal slid from the delivery truck down a metal chute which went through our cellar window at the far end of the house. The truck first had to back into our neighbor's driveway to deliver. Then the back of the truck would raise up and tip downward, the chutes would be attached and a lever was pulled to release the coal. The coal was wet, I guess so it wouldn't spark and catch fire!

The coal was hand-shoveled into the furnace and had to be replenished regularly throughout the day. It was brought over to the furnace from the bin across the cellar in a hand-carried pail. When Dad was at work, Mom had to keep the fire going. Dad was away overnight for a day or two periodically. Times were hard then.

The fire had to be remade each morning which was the coldest time of the day. The first task was to remove the old ash from beneath the fire grate (a cast iron grid which held the coal). The grate was raised up to allow air in and to let the ashes fall into a pan, and this pan had to be taken out and up the cellar stairs to the outside driveway besides the house to be emptied. If there was no snow, it was emptied into buckets and kept for future use. The process created clouds of dust. Although most of the ashes did collect in the pan, the space below still needed to be swept out, which made more dust.

Keeping the fire going was really an art in those days. Chimney fires were always a threat when the heat was cranked up. It had something to do with the draft and the draw. If the fire went out, it was a pain to start it up again. I remember balled up newspaper being used. A hot fire in the furnace created the heat necessary to boil the water to make the steam. I remember there was a glass tube on the side of the furnace in which a certain level of water had to be maintained so the steam could build up in the radiators on the first and second floors. Steam heat was the result. How I loved to hear the whistle go off when the steam pressure was released. It meant heat!

It also meant that when I woke up in the morning the gift of an absolutely wonderful and beautiful frost-glazed window was sparkling bright to greet me. - and tempt me. I could now scratch magical designs with my childhood imaginative artwork. Breathing on the frost would enhance the drawings - in my mind! I would redecorate my window at every chance throughout the cold winter.

Recalled Memory

My friend who sent me the marzipan gift in the previous blog called, Nuts! Nuts! Nuts! has just read the blog and explained "Why Marzipan?" Her mom and I are life-long friends. She is now afflicted with Alzheimer's. Her daughters have always called me "Aunt Gere." This message came from Hawaii via e-mail. Isn't it great? ! !

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

YAY! I am SO glad you like your surprise! When I was a little girl, Mom and I were shopping in a specialty store, and she picked up a package of marzipan fruits. They were in a long, skinny white rectangular box wrapped with cellophane. The fruits were lined up side by side. I can distinctly remember her excitement when she saw them, “Oh, Aunt Gere loves marzipan!” Believe it or not, I can still see her picking them off the high shelf. She handed the box to me and asked me to hold it while she finished her shopping. I was completely captivated by the details of the fruits. They were so real looking! They were a work of art, and I was sure they must taste as incredible as they looked. I must have asked a hundred questions about them (and probably asked if we could get some for me), because I remember Mom telling me how they were hand painted to look real and that they were an “adult” treat. After we finished our shopping, the two of us delivered them to you at your house. You opened the box right then and there, and you offered a small piece to me. I was SO excited and felt very special to be able to share an “adult” treat. (I did not know then what a tremendous sacrifice this was on your part!). I eagerly popped it into my mouth, but unfortunately it did not taste anything like what I thought it would—I was expecting a fruity sensation, not an almond flavor! I was sorely disappointed!

For whatever reason, this memory has stayed with me all these years, and I think of you whenever I see marzipan. Enjoy every bite!

Love,

Sue 8-)

Reflecting and Contemplating

1937

I had a really good childhood during the 30's and never knew I was living in an economically stressed time. The only indication I consciously knew there were "problems" was during the time my dad took our cat and her kittens to a farm because they were" too much." My twin sisters had just been born. The year was 1942. I enjoyed the privileges of being an only child until I was three. When my brother was born, I don't remember any changes and, after the twins came, I still don't remember feeling less important or neglected at all. My ego and self esteem and self-importance were completely undamaged and elevated. I absolutely lived in my own happy world. I was the apple of my father's eye, my uncle's eyes, my grandpa's eyes and I knew it.

As a young teen I still felt special. Perhaps it was because my mother spent so much time and effort promoting modeling aspirations with me. I don't remember wanting to be a model, but being considered to be "pretty" my best guess is that my mother wanted it both for herself and me. She was on a mission and I was also to benefit??

That lasted until I was around fifteen and by then, I had become confident, bold and even adventurous, relying on both my higher than average intelligence and appearance. My emotional stability was ruined at age seventeen when the first and only real love of my life married someone else. It was my own fault, because I turned him down by refusing to live in a trailer on a marine base. I didn't know that a trailer was a home and thought it was a big ugly box that is usually pulled behind a truck! Complete miscommunication through written correspondence did the damage to my psyche. It was a naive and costly mistake. I now trace this crisis back to the beginning of my innermost self and personality deterioration and future reconstructions.

1955

I married at nineteen, not having any idea about how to keep house, raise children, and take good care of myself and a husband as well. Now, I guess that's because I believe I was taught by example and not by actual and clear communication. Yes, I knew how to bake, sew, iron, launder, and work hard. No, I didn't realize that children had needs other than being kept clean, safe, well fed and sheltered. I knew about discipline and thought that was what was expected of a mother. Love? That was assumed, wasn't it? Having full responsibility of caring for four kids under the age of five was one I did to my best understanding of the qualities belonging to a mother and wife. My kids were never left alone, dirty, or hungry and their injuries were promptly treated. Their emotional needs weren't considered. I hadn't grasped that. It never registered in my mind to be a duty. It just didn't come naturally.

1960

At age twenty-five I divorced and remarried.

1962

Things went well through my 30's, and two more children were born.

1968 1970

In my 40's my self esteem had almost totally recovered when an unsuspected striking blow of infidelity crippled and almost killed me. Hate and jealousy zoomed forward. Trust and restraint and power vanished. It's a wonder I ever returned to be alive. But I did and without professional help or medication.

Then, in my 50's, a son's mental illness and alcoholism took me to the bottom of the pit again. I tried with all my might and every way imaginable to save him and failed. Finally, in my 60's I let him go and recovered. The encumbrance of perceived responsibility was released and restoration hurdles were again cleared. There are lasting effects, however. Hurt once, I turned away. Hurt twice, I walked away. Hurt thrice, I ran away. I've stayed away. Now I trust no one but myself. I NEED space - much space. I NEED release and escape. I am bound by my roots. I want to be understood, but I don't understand. I've returned, but all of me is not here. Much was lost.

GMR 8/23/10