Do You Ever Wonder How Rich You Are?

One day a rich father took his son on a trip to the country,

with the firm purpose of showing him how poor people can be.

They spent a day and a night on the farm

of a very poor family.

When they got back from their trip,

the father asked his son,

"How was the trip?"

"Very good, Dad."

"Did you see how poor people can be?" the father asked.

"Yea!"

"And, what did you learn?"

The son answered, "I saw that we have a dog at home,

and they have four.

We have a pool that reaches to the middle of the garden,

they have a creek that has no end.

We have imported lamps in the garden,

they have the stars.

Our patio reaches to the front yard,

they have a whole horizon."

When the little boy was finishing, his father was speechless.

His son added, "Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor we are!"

~Author Unknown

Spurtles, Thivels and Dibbers

Spurtle, or Thivel

The spurtle is the traditional Scottish porridge-stirring stick, known also as a thivel.  Porridge, or oatmeal, was the traditional staple food of Scotland.

Usually spurtles are tapered.  Some have handles shaped like a thistle, the national symbol of Scotland.  Legend warns to use the right hand to stir porridge in a clockwise direction.  Stirring "widdershins," or counter-clockwise, will surely bring bad luck to a home.

Maybe in 2012 we aren't eating much porridge, but the spurtle can be used to stir our stews, rice, soups, gravies, chili, jams, sauces, and all things stirrable on the stove.  One lady uses the spurtle to stir and prod her pickles during the week-long canning process.  The wooden spurtle won't scratch pots and pans and easily gets into the round corners.  I'm thinking this may be the unique gift for that special gal who has everything.

Dibber, or Dibble

The dibber, also known as the dibble, is a hand-held pointed tool for making holes in soil to plant seeds and bulbs. It can be dragged in the soil to create a trench to plant a row of seeds.  Another gift idea for the avid gardener.

So, whether we stir the stew or sow the seed, the primitive tools made of wood continue to sustain us.

In the Presence of a Civil War Soldier

After hours of 95+ degrees yesterday, we took a trolley with the air conditioner cranked up to cool us down.  The corn must have grown an inch after the sustaining rains the night before.

Decorated Country  Cemetery

Alongside a gravel road, this patriotic rainbow caught our eye.  We stopped to snap a couple of pictures.  It's that business of living the moment and taking that moment home to relive later.

An iron fence secures this country cemetery, as does a grove of trees.  A sacred serenity, was my first thought.  A place of no pain, no suffering, and no fear.  It's that business of the double-edged sword.  No happiness either.

Civil War Gravestone

I stood outside the fence and looked down at the aged gravestone directly in front of me.  Can you believe that I was standing inches away from a Civil War soldier?  On the left side of the stone, the star flag holder read, "GAR 1861-1865."  What are the chances of that happening on the Eve of Memorial Day?

All of me was humbled and reverenced.  To think there lay a veteran member of the Grand Army of the Republic, one of the most powerful organizations of Civil War Veterans.

While researching the GAR, I came upon this paragraph that tells the reason these fraternal organizations were formed following the  Civil War.....

"Probably the most profound emotion was emptiness.  Men who had lived together, fought together, foraged together and survived, had developed a unique bond that could not be broken. As time went by, the memories of the filthy and vile environment of camp life began to be remembered less harshly and eventually fondly.  The horror and gore of battle lifted with the smoke and smell of burnt black powder and was replaced with the personal rain of tears for the departed comrades.  Friendships forged in battle survived the separation, and the warriors missed the warmth of trusting companionship that had asked only total and absolute commitment.  With that as background, groups of men began joining together."  (Sons of Union Veterans of the Civil War)

Last night's trolley turned into an unexpected rich experience.  Reading a book about the Civil War is one thing.  Standing where a Civil War soldier rests, is another.  We'll never know what this soldier saw, what he felt, where he fought, or anything about his family.  The important thing is that we honor his heroic efforts, and that's what Memorial Day is all about.

Vatican: Pope's Butler Charged

Tsk.  Tsk.  Tsk.  Trouble's brewing in the Vatican again.

Yes, yes, I know this is a hair-trigger subject, but that's not going to curtail my thoughts.  I'm what they call a  Cafeteria Catholic.  My curiosities were so burdensome that I sailed my own ship on the high seas of the church's history, studied every word and paragraph of the Old and New Testaments, went on a pilgrimage to Rome, Italy, where Pope John Paul held my hand and gave me his Papal Blessing.  Before doing all this, my heart, soul and head were starving to death on the spoonful of religious truth the church doled out to me.  I was hungry and went by myself to the spiritual cafeteria, filled my plate, and realized what was edible for me and what was not. You see, it's my opinion that you can't have faith without doubt; and, without doubt, you have blindness.

The Pope's butler is charged with illegal possession and leaking of confidential documents, reports, and poison-pen memos exposing political infighting, financial mismanagement, possible money laundering and administrative chaos within the Apostolic Palace.

What could possibly be the butler's motive for standing up to this mighty power structure?  What could urge him to violate the sacred trust placed in him?  What made him betray the Head of the Catholic Church?  What wrongdoing did he discover bubbling beneath the lid of the Catholic kettle?

Why is the Pope harboring and hiding potentially harmful documents in the first place?  Why is revealing the truth the crime?  Why on earth would this 46-year-old man, who lives with his wife and three children in an apartment inside the Vatican, jeopardize himself and his family?  He could go to prison.  Can he be fairly tried within the Vatican, by the Vatican, for violating the Vatican?   Did he merely examine his conscience, as the Catholic Church teaches, and do the right thing by bringing this to light?  What would Jesus do if he was in the butler's shoes?

Guess we're just going to have to keep our eyes and ears on high alert.  As Paul Harvey would have said, we're going to have to wait to hear the rest of the story.

Proud to Be an American Where I Know that I am Free

Our Fallen Soldiers Above assembled during the night for their annual fireworks display.  Quite a show they put on, with thunder and lightning that about shook the house.

Memorial Day is for remembering those who willingly stopped living so the rest of us can be free.  Celebrating our freedoms is something we need to be more diligent about.  We forget how fortunate we are to be Americans.

Memorial Weekend, for as long as I can remember, has been rainy.  Are they raindrops? or teardrops?  Is it thunder? or Heaven's percussion section?

We sit here this morning, just the 3 of us, safe and sound in our home.  My God, that in itself is a freedom the soldiers wanted for us.  We are free to get in the car and go wherever we want, buy whatever we want, eat where we want and what we want, stop in any church we want, visit anyone we want, sing if we want, cry if we want, go shopping if we want, or fishing if we want.  Those fallen soldiers earned these freedoms for us, they didn't come free.

If we teach our children one thing, let it be to appreciate their right to be free.  Somewhere in the last fifty years, we've grown to think we're "entitled" to a cushy life and the cushy stuff that goes with it.  Au contraire.  This nation wasn't founded on entitlements, nor was it founded by weaklings.  It was founded on personal responsibility and mighty hard work.  And, for America to maintain itself, responsibility and hard work must continue.  We have the freedom to choose our occupations according to our God-given talents, choose our institutions of higher learning, and the Ladder of Accomplishment is always out.  How high we climb is no one else's responsibility but our own.

Memorial weekend kicks off summer's fun, tourist attractions open their doors, schools have ended their final semester.  We are free to have fun.  The fallen soldiers must be looking down with pride and satisfaction when they see little children at amusement parks, licking ice cream cones, visiting with Mickey and Minnie Mouse, and catching wrapped candies at parades.  Let's fire up to them our own fireworks display of gratitude.  If they hadn't given their lives, we don't know what life could be like for us right now.  Maybe there wouldn't be such a thing as a summer vacation.

Please put your hand on your heart and click on www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q65KZIqay4E.  

John Edwards Trial

The angels showered last evening and graciously watered the earth.  Can you hear the quiet choir of gratitude coming from the blades of grass, flowers, bushes, and trees?

Is anyone, besides me, getting anxious to hear the jury's verdict in the John Edwards trial?  This morning I read that one of the female alternate jurors is flirting with Johnny Boy.  She smiles.  He smiles back.  She giggles.  He blushes.

Here's a question for us.  Is it a blessing or a curse to be extremely handsome or extremely beautiful?  In Johnny's case, I think his woman-killer looks are his downfall.  If he'd be as round as he is tall, if he'd have fewer filled follicles, and a sneering smile, do we really think this alternate juror would be teasing him?  My question is, how did a temptress get picked as alternate juror in a disarming case like this?  Is she capable of making an unbiased decision?

Our appearance is what I call the luck of the draw.  Our youth fantasizes over outer looks, but age sets us straight with that thing called wisdom.  As Benjamin Franklin said, "Don't judge men's wealth or godliness by their Sunday appearance."

Yesterday I saw a little girl who had just started walking on her own.  The poor little thing was wearing tiny cowboy boots, the tops of which were about to her knees.  Obviously a fashion statement on her mother's part.  I cringed with discomfort as I watched the little girl try to lift one leg, put it down, and lift the other, and do the same, to keep walking.  Mommie grinned, totally oblivious to the little girl's struggle.  Hell-O....

Twenty-first century casual dress is one of the best moves society has made.  Suit and tie and fancy dress and high heels just aren't the norm in my part of the world anyway.  After dressing for the office environment for over 40 years, I emptied my closets of all things restricting.  Most times before we leave home, hubby asks me, "Are you going to wear shoes?"

Back to Johnny....one can imagine how his pathetic ego must have puffed when Ms. H went gaga over his handsome face, his trim build, his thick head of hair, his seductive smile, and that magnetic southern drawl that pulls any woman with a pulse toward him.  That ego of his must've needed basting like the Thanksgiving turkey.  But, you know what?  The guy who is round as he is tall might be the pick of the litter, with no disgusting ego to feed.  Heaven help us if we let our eyes make our decisions.

The jury is in their sixth day of deliberations, asking to see and examine every private jet receipt, every handwritten note, and every voice-mail transcript.  They're doing their American duty, and it's not an easy one.  They are the only ones who will be able to decide Johnny's guilt or innocence.  They've heard the testimony.  Will Johnny be a jailbird, or will he fly away?  Due process is in motion, and we'll just have to wait for the jury's decision.

Stay tuned.

Pages from Kitchens Past

• Until the 1700s, it was mostly the wealthy who used cookbooks.
• Most of their servants had not been taught to read, so the lady of the household read the directions as the servant prepared the meal.  
• In 1796, Amelia Simmons, an American orphan, was the first woman to self-publish a cookbook, called "American Cookery."
• Simmons gathered her information through first-hand domestic experience.  She advises, when choosing meats, "their smell denotes their goodness."
• It was in Simmons' cookbook that the word 'cookie' made its first published appearance.
• Simmons recommended the use of pearlash (the forerunner of baking powder) to lighten dough and told how to make Indian slapjacks, brew spruce beer and dress a turtle.
• Simmons' book is online at www.fullbooks.com/American-Cookery.html.  It's really cool.
• Early cookbooks gave directions like the 'pinch,' and the 'dash.'
• Fanny Farmer (1857-1915) brought the scientific method of measuring ingredients to cooking, and we're still using them today .
• Cookbooks of the 1800s introduced household tips for the housewife, like, how to use a bone button to clean a saucepan.  
• One-pot meals (which happen to be my favorites) were the most basic in colonial cooking.  Those with more common backgrounds did not use slaves, and meals were made with whatever meat was available, if any at all.

What labels me as 'old fashioned' is my sadness that modern-day families don't eat their meals at a common table.  Maybe the kids won't miss what they've never had, but the family meal was the pivot point of childhood for us baby boomers.  We bowed our heads before meals.  We thanked for what was set before us, because it was the result of hard work.  Whether it was a plate of pancakes or a platter of fried chicken, we knew it was a blessing.

Keyboard gadgets don't teach respect, and never will.  If technology eliminates our respect for one another, well, then maybe it's not the best human advancement.  I don't know.  I'm beyond the age of having a valued opinion.  I live in the past....when we were called in for supper.....and we ran full speed to get there.  We washed our hands, we said our prayers, and mom passed the food around the table.  If there was something we didn't like, we were told to at least take a small portion, and try it.  Rules were rules, and they were enforced.  Our wrongs were given consequences.  We learned right from wrong.  

There's one recipe that needs be kept in our cupboards today, and that is..........

Gramma's Recipe for a Loving Family

4 cups of love 

2 cups of loyalty

3 cups of forgiveness

1 cup of friendship

5 tablespoons of hope

2 tablespoons of tenderness

4 quarts of faith

1 barrel of laughter

Take love and loyalty, mix it thoroughly with faith.

  Blend it with tenderness, kindness and understanding.

  Add friendship and hope.

  Sprinkle abundantly with laughter. 

 Bake it in sunshine.

  Serve daily with generous helpings.

  Serves one entire home forever.

  ~Anonymous

Our Day on the River

Not one frickin' bite, not even a nibble.  No ice cream cones on the way home.  Skunked.   We tossed fine-dining morsels of nightcrawlers into waters that should have been highly populated with bluegill, but all we got was snagged.

There's far too much Columbus in us to get discouraged, so we turned to Mother Nature for some backwater exploring.  C'mon, let me show you what we found....

This Blue Heron doesn't have to wait for a fish to bite.  He waits patiently for one that looks yummy, stabs it with his powerful beak and doesn't bother with chewing.  One big gulp, and the poor fish is on its way for processing.

By the time I got the camera focused, only one turtle was left on this log.  Turtles galore were out sunning themselves, but they're very skittish.  The second they'd see our boat, off they plopped back into the water.  Ker-plunk and they were gone.

See the colonies of Swallow mud nests?  As we drove our boat under the bridge, the Swallows swooped and screeched for us to get the heck out of their territory.  Interestingly, our winters take a toll on the bridges, and each spring the steel parts need to be washed to prevent corrosion.  This washing with power washers destroys the mud nests.  The State DOT now protects these nests by washing only the steel parts of the bridges, and not the concrete parts where the nests are.  That way, Swallow reproduction is protected.

Can you see where the clams have crawled in the sand?  Can you see my head?

All I could think of was a bowl of steaming hot clam chowder with puddles of butter, and my spoon ready to dip in.  But, we were good environmentalists and put the little darling back where he belonged.

Man-made wing dams, like this one, were built to divert the river's current away from the shorelines and reduce erosion.  Some are below the water and pose danger to the average boater.  The river rule is:  If you see ripples on the water surface, that's a good sign that a wing dam is lying beneath.  The best bet is to stay within the buoys in the main channel.

These beaches were empty yesterday, but every square inch will be occupied by boaters camping for the Memorial Day Weekend.  How well we remember the days of pounding tent stakes in the sand, water skiing, peeing back in the trees, and sand in the pants.

"Barge traffic on the Mississippi river represents the most efficient, most cost-effective, most environmentally sound means of transporting commodity goods from this region of the country to market."  ~Leonard Boswell

"The eyes of the dragonfly are one of the most amazing and awe inspiring sights.  Given almost 80% of the insect's brain power is dedicated to its sight and the fact that it can see in all 360 degrees around it, the dragonfly symbolizes the uninhibited vision of the mind and the ability to see beyond the limitations of the human self.  It also symbolizes a person's rising from materialism to be able to see beyond the mundane into the vastness that is really our Universe."

Was it just a coincidence that this dragonfly landed next to hubby just as we docked our boat?  or, was it Mother Nature Herself coming to thank us for taking the time to appreciate her wondrous works.  The spiritualist in me says it's the latter.  And, that makes me feel really good inside.  

A Fishing Frolic

Hub and I are taking the boat to the river today.  When we're about half-way there, I'll toss him the usual wager.  The one who catches the first fish buys ice cream cones on the way home.  The reason I do this is......well, to make sure we stop for ice cream.  After baking and burning in the hot sun, nothing cools a person down better than soft-serve, velvety-smooth, ice-cold vanilla ice cream.  I think I read somewhere it's good for the appendix, or whatever.

Did you know......

"Fishing is the sport of drowning worms."  ~Author Unknown

"A bad  day of fishing is better than a good day at work."  ~Author Unknown

"There is certainly something in angling that tends to produce a serenity of the mind."  ~Washington Irving

"Bragging may not bring happiness, but no man having caught a large fish goes home through an alley."  ~Author Unknown

"Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after."  ~Henry David Thoreau

"If people concentrated on the really important things in life, there'd be a shortage of fishing poles."  ~Doug Larson

"There (s)he stands, draped in more equipment than a telephone lineman, trying to outwit an organism with a brain no bigger than a breadcrumb, and getting licked in the process."  ~Paul O'Neil

"Even if you've been fishing for three hours and haven't gotten anything except poison ivy and sunburn, you're still better off than the worm."  ~Author Unknown

"Three-fourths of the earth's surface is water, and one-fourth is land.  It is quite clear that the good Lord intended us to spend triple the amount of time fishing as taking care of the lawn."  ~Chuck Clark

"Fishing is much more than fish.  It is the great occasion when we may return to the fine simplicity of our forefathers."  ~Herbert Hoover

"Nothing makes a fish bigger than almost being caught."  ~Author Unknown

"There will be days when the fishing is better than one's most optimistic forecast, others when it is far worse. Either is a gain over just staying home."  ~Roderick Haig-Brown

Enchanting Cantabria, Spain

Yesterday's Sunday Crossword Puzzle threw out the clue, "River originating in Cantabria."  Hmmm.

Consider today's blog a geography lesson.  If you're like me, you can't learn enough about this wondrous planet we share.  Besides the answer I was looking for, my research gave me more insight into Cantabria (can-TAH-bree-ah), the hidden jewel of Northern Spain, that has an est. population of 600,000.

• Cantabria's landscape is a kaleidoscope of flower-filled meadows, green valleys, dense forests, mountains, canyons, and enticing coastal beaches for those preferring not to wear clothes (the nudes)  and those preferring to wear clothes (the textiles). 
• Remnants of ancient cultures can still be explored in its Medieval villages, ancient monuments, and 15,000- year-old cave paintings.
• The ancient Village of Potes is a pilgrimage destination to the 6th Century Sanctuary of St. Toribio...which claims to hold part of the left arm of the cross on which Jesus died...the largest remnant of the True Cross. 
• Cantabria is considered to be Green Spain, because its wet and humid climate is perfect for agriculture and vegetation.  
• The flag of self-governing Cantabria is made of two horizontal stripes of equal width, white on top and red on the bottom, with the regional coat of arms in the center.  
• Santander is the capital, or governing city.
• Despite its small size, Cantabria has 7 national parks.
• Picon Bejes-Tresviso is a sharp Cantabrian blue cheese made of a mixture of cow, sheep, and goat milk.  It is left to mature for 3-4 months inside cool, damp limestone caves, which are the ideal environment for blue mold.  .  
• Fishing fleets arrive daily in ports bringing in high-quality fish and shellfish from the Atlantic....anchovies, crabs, mussels, lobster, squid, sardines, tuna, and seabass.
• Ever heard of a stew called "Sorropotun" made of fresh tuna and sweet red potatoes?
• A local drink known as 'sidra' (cider) is poured from a height so it fizzes in the glass.
• The answer to the crossword clue is the 470-mile-long Ebro River which flows southeastward from northern Spain to the Mediterranean Sea.

Route of the Ebro River 

And, that is why I love doing crossword puzzles!