Those 70ish Girls

I hope everyone is enjoying the kick-off Friday of Memorial Day weekend. It’s going to be a hot time in Ben Wheeler, with a chili cook-off on Saturday and all sorts of other goings on, including lots of live music. I’m going to help our daughter, Heidi, and her boyfriend, Joe, with their chili booth. I’m really excited to have something fun to look forward to. Kip will be able to take part for a while, but since he’s still recuperating from back surgery, he can’t stand for long periods of time.

I want to apologize to the readers of “A Story to Tell.” I have not been faithful to the cadence of the story. There is too much time between episodes. I want to add so much to develop it, yet my initial goal was to put a short little fun story on the blog. I have had so many ideas that would turn it into a better long mystery that I’ve decided to stop here, and rewrite it. Rather than play it all out on the blog, I will self-publish it on Amazon as a book. What do you think?

I made a version of Cousin Lav’s apple pie. I don’t have much counter space in the RV, so I made turnovers instead. I used her recipe for the filling, and even with Pillsbury pie dough, it’s delicious…

Changes to come…

I could understand Aunt Marti’s desire to know what happened to Holly and her mother, June. There were several crayon written pages with different made-up stories about dogs and kitties and several child-like drawings of houses with trees and billowing clouds. All of her pictures had a bright yellow sun shining down from the corner of the paper. Aunt Marti had grown to love the little girl she had never met and wanted to learn more about the family that had occupied this house so many years ago.

Aunt Marti did not have knowledge of the internet, and my guess was that it didn’t occurr to her that someone could do a search online and find out more about the family. I hoped there would be enough information in the lock box and chest to be able to do an adequate search to find out what happened to Holly and her mother. I didn’t have the first names of the grandparents, but I knew their last name was probably Reading since Holly’s mother was married to their son, and their last name was Reading. Holly said she was moving from the house. The date was 1923. Did the grandparents move, too? Aunt Marti had said the house had been vacant for 20 years prior to her purchasing it.

I kept digging through the papers and also found a photobook in the chest.

“Mr. B.. Oh my… where did you find that?” It was a handmade sock monkey.

*********************

“But Mommy, I don’t want to move. I don’t want to leave Grandpa and Nana. I love our house. Why do we have to go?”

Dear, sweet, Holly. This will be an exciting time for us.

If you’re expecting company, you should bake a pie. If you’re going to a potluck, you should bake a pie. If you’re celebrating the good old 4th of July, take a pie. For the red, white and blue Holiday, try green Granny Smith apples and maybe a few other varieties mixed in.

FIRST: Here’s what you will need for baking a special homemade apple pie: 4-5 McIntosh apples, 4-5 Granny Smith apples (peeled, cored and sliced) one cup sugar, 2 tablespoons flour, 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice, 1 teaspoon lemon zest, a little shake of salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and make a double crust pie dough- recipe to follow.

I’m using all Granny Smith apples since I couldn’t find McIntosh ones. Thanks, Granny. Please don’t eat those bananas in the background. We need them for smoothies, but that’s another story.

8 apples peeled, cored and sliced with the lemon zest, lemon juice, sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, dash of salt added. Mix it well and let sit while you make the pie dough.

TWO: Pie dough – mix together 2 1/2 cups flour, 2 tablespoons sugar, 1 teaspoon salt, 8 tablespoons vegetable shortening and 12 tablespoons chilled butter cut into little pieces. (Have ready 6-8 tablespoons ice water for after when dough is all mixed.)

You can use a spoon, knife, fork or one of these to cut the butter and shortening through the flour making it like coarse crumbs—-

After the pie dough mix looks coarse and crummy, I mean like coarse crumbs, add the ice water a tablespoon at a time and use your hands to push it together. Then form dough into two disks.

This is the flour worked in with the butter and shortening and a little salt and sugar.

Adding the ice water, a tablespoon at a time…

Wrap the two disks tightly in plastic wrap and chill for 1 hour— chill the dough disks, not you…you don’t need to chill, or you can if you want. Chill out!

Those 70ish Girls- The Apple of my Eye: Pie! By Lav

Continuing: preheat a rimmed cookie sheet in oven at 500 degrees.

Roll out bottom crust. It might not be pretty, but you can patch it with a little water and tear edges off as patches.

Place the rolled out crust into bottom of a pie pan and put the apples in. If there’s too much juice, drain some off.

Next roll out the top crust, cut slits – make a design of your choice- fold it once in half, place gently halfway across apples, then open top crust 100% then seal edges. You can use a fork to press edges together or just your fingers pinching top to bottom crusts.

Gently pull entire crust on top of apple filling. Seal edges.

Put pie on cookie sheet in oven and drop temp to 425 degrees for 25 minutes. Then after 25 minutes, rotate the pie and drop oven temp to 375 degrees for another 25 minutes or til golden brown.

Take it out of oven when it’s bubbly hot and golden brown.

Let it cool then enjoy eating it! Add ice cream for A La mode or whipped cream to make it more tasty. Enjoy!

I thought this would be a good time to write an update on a blog I posted a couple of weeks ago. My mental health has been stable, and I am more grateful than I can say. To anyone out there who suffers from depression, anxiety, or bipolar disorder, please remember there are qualified people out there who can help. I sought help, and I am sure glad I did. I learned a valuable lesson. I never want to feel that way again, so the most important thing to remember is self-care in the form of rest, healthy food (as much as practical), and exercise. If I am doing all of those things plus saying my prayers and still dread the day before me, then I will seek help. A check-up from the neck up can be a good thing. The mind is fragile.

Kip is doing great 3 weeks out from his back surgery! He’s on track to begin traveling on the 1st of August. He was released from Home Health last week but continues to do his exercises.

Yesterday, I was trying to tighten up our Jeep’s seat covers, and an elastic strap got away from me and gave me quite the shiner. I had contacts in, but I must have blinked just as the strap hit. After yelling,” I think I’m blind!!” I settled down and realized it only hurts when I laugh, which is when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Nellie and Rylie must find life with us is pretty exciting. They’ve had a few chances to run away, but decided better of it and came back. I’ll sure be happy when Kip will be able to help out more with the walking chore. They get 4 long walks a day. (The joy of RV living with no fenced yard.) We try to take them to a pasture in the middle of downtown Ben Wheeler for a leashless run every day.

Well, this is sounding like a Christmas letter. As Mom used to say, “Enough about me, how did you like my last movie!”

Holly…

“Hi Tara, I was exploring the house and didn’t hear the doorbell at first. I hope you and this sweet looking puppy dog didn’t wait too long.” Tara had just informed me that Mr. Bairnsfather had wanted to come home for tea. “Is he Aunt Marti’s dog?” I asked.

“He sure is,” Tara informed me as they walked through the door. “We call him Mr. B for short. Bairnsfather is a mouthful. I have no idea where Aunt Marti came up with that name in the first place. I took him to my house when she became ill, but he has become unhappy and barely eats. I thought it might help him to be back in his home for a few hours.”

“Poor baby,” I said. “Let’s go into the parlor and wait there until everyone gets here. I was just reading an article I found in an old trunk in the attic. Mr. Bairnsfather was a British soldier in WWI. He took part in the Christmas Eve truce of 1914. Do you know who Bernard was or is? His name was on the envelope containing the information.

Tara thought for a moment before shaking her head. “No, I don’t recall Aunt Marti ever mentioning anyone named Bernard. It is interesting to know who Mr. B was named for, though. I thought Bairnsfather was a name she made up.

Within 30 minutes all 5 cousins were there along with the attorney, Mr. Danes, who arrived last. Tara’s husband, Tom was there as well. He had picked cousin Drew up at the airport. Tonja and Grayson, who lived in Pleasant Run had driven over together. Everyone declined tea or coffee, so once we had visited a short while, Mr. Danes handed each of us a packet that contained a letter from Aunt Marti and a copy of her will. The attorney instructed each of us to first read our personal letters, and then he would read the will to all of us.

Dearest Dee,

Thank you for making the long trip to be here. I have a lot to ask of you.

I have left you my home, which, as you already know, is over 100 years old. It was one of the first houses to be constructed in Pleasant Run. I purchased it when I turned 30, and it became clear to me that I would never marry.

As I write this letter, I am 90 years old. If you are reading it, it means I have passed on without solving the mystery.

I don’t know what happened to the family who lived here. The house had been vacant for 20 years before I purchased it.

I found several things in the attic that caused me to be extremely curious, even alarmed. The remarkable thing is that no one living in Pleasant Run at the time I bought and restored the house knew much about the former inhabitants.

I know I won’t be able to rest in this life or the next until the mystery is solved. Please find out what happened to Holly. She was born on Christmas Eve, 1914. Her father was fighting in Belgium.

You will find all the information I have been able to accumulate in the chest in the attic. My attorney will give you the key to the strong box inside.

I know you are a retired sleuth. Maybe you will decide to make this house and Pleasant Run your home…once you have solved the mystery…

Love and blessings,

Aunt Martie

I know the Little Murdo Girl and her brother Billy, really love their Mom. Billy took her to the races for Mother’s Day, but really, what could be better than a heartfelt poem from your daughter?

Hi Mom, I called to…Mary is that you?

Yes Mom, I want to…I called Ella today. I had some “news” to tell. To get a word in edgewise, I really had to yell!

Well, Mom how long…Oh, we talked an hour, and it was on my dime. If she wants to talk again, she’ll have to call next time.

So, Mom…I’d tell you what she said, but it was blah, blah, blah. If you really want the truth, I forgot it, ha, ha, ha.

I only have a minute Mo…I went shopping with my coupons. I thought I’d save a ton. They told me they were all expired, no more two for one. Say, last time I saw you, I was constipated. Did I tell you aloe vera juice is very overrated? I use Metamucil now, two teaspoons to a cup. You should try it dear, you really sound bound up.

I have a question Mo…I have a tickle in my throat. I’m sure that I’ll start coughin. It’s been fun catching up. You should call more often.

I’ve been trying to reach you Mom, but it’s been really hard….

Oh never mind, this Mother’s Day, I’ll just send a card.

I heard her hang the phone up. She was in a tizzy.

I knew, if I called back again, the line would still be busy.

She’d be calling sister Ella, so they can talk in rhymes.

I know for sure that every day, they talk at least 3 times.

************************************************************************

Ella and Loretta Sanderson…sisters and friends

Tea time is a refreshing part of my day. A fresh hot cup of tea can put zip in your sip and giddy up in your cup. Adding sugar, sweetener, milk or half and half makes it even better. You will be astounded by how to make a lovely start to your day with wet, hot, yummy tea. Cheerio and pip pip.

The Attic…

It was all a little overwhelming. Aunt Marti had come to me in some sort of dream and informed me that at 3:00 o’clock that afternoon, I would be given a letter explaining why she was leaving her house in Pleasant Run to me.

It was only noon. I had 3 hours before the other cousins would arrive for the reading of the will. It seemed a little strange that all of this was happening so quickly. Aunt Marti had only passed away the evening before and there had been no discussion about anything. I was guessing that the attorney arranging the meeting would also be informing us of Aunt Marti’s wishes regarding her funeral.

Since I had plenty of time before everyone arrived, I wanted to do a little more exploring. I decided to start at the top of the house with the attic. I had remembered seeing what looked like a drop-down ladder in the hallway. I pulled the cord and was excited to see a substantial ladder unfold. Halfway up, I reached the cord to the light and continued to the top. What I saw was typical attic decor. a discarded table and chair set lined one wall and some dressmaker paraphernalia was on another.

In one corner, there was an interesting looking chest. I was excited to find it wasn’t locked. Inside, there were several boxes and a long narrow tin box that had a padlock on it. I opened the largest cardboard box and pulled out a man’s army tunic and trousers. It looked to be from the WWI era. Possibly an English uniform.

There was a manila envelope under the uniform with the words, “From Bernard.” scribbled on the outside. Inside, I found several typewritten pages…

On 12/24, 1914, in the dank, muddy trenches on the Western Front of the first world war, a remarkable thing happened.

It came to be called the Christmas truce. And it remains one of the most storied and strangest moments of the Great War—or of any war in history.

British machine gunner Bruce Bairnsfather, later a prominent cartoonist, wrote about it in his memoirs. Like most of his fellow infantrymen of the 1st Battalion of the Royal Warwickshire Regiment, he was spending the holiday eve shivering in the muck, trying to keep warm. He had spent a good part of the past few months fighting the Germans. And now, in a part of Belgium called Bois de Ploegsteert, he was crouched in a trench that stretched just three feet deep by three feet wide, his days and nights marked by an endless cycle of sleeplessness and fear, stale biscuits and cigarettes too wet to light.

“Here I was, in this horrible clay cavity,” Bairnsfather wrote, “…miles and miles from home. Cold, wet through and covered with mud.” There didn’t “seem the slightest chance of leaving—except in an ambulance.”

At about 10 p.m., Bairnsfather noticed a noise. “I listened,” he recalled. “Away across the field, among the dark shadows beyond, I could hear the murmur of voices.” He turned to a fellow soldier in his trench and said, “Do you hear the Boches [Germans] kicking up that racket over there?”

“Yes,” came the reply. “They’ve been at it some time!”

The Germans were singing carols, as it was Christmas Eve. In the darkness, some of the British soldiers began to sing back. “Suddenly,” Bairnsfather recalled, “we heard a confused shouting from the other side. We all stopped to listen. The shout came again.” The voice was from an enemy soldier, speaking in English with a strong German accent. He was saying, “Come over here.”

One of the British sergeants answered: “You come half-way. I come half-way.”

What happened next would, in the years to come, stun the world and make history. Enemy soldiers began to climb nervously out of their trenches, and to meet in the barbed-wire-filled “No Man’s Land” that separated the armies. Normally, the British and Germans communicated across No Man’s Land with streaking bullets, with only occasional gentlemanly allowances to collect the dead. But now, there were handshakes and words of kindness. The soldiers traded songs, tobacco and wine, joining in a spontaneous holiday party in the cold night.

Bairnsfather could not believe his eyes. “Here they were—the actual, practical soldiers of the German army. There was not an atom of hate on either side.”

And it wasn’t confined to that one battlefield. Starting on Christmas Eve, small pockets of French, German, Belgian and British troops held impromptu cease-fires across the Western Front, with reports of some on the Eastern Front as well. Some accounts suggest a few of these unofficial truces remained in effect for days.

By the time winter approached in 1914, and the chill set in, the Western Front stretched hundreds of miles. Countless soldiers were living in misery in the trenches on the fronts, while tens of thousands had already died.

Then Christmas came.

Descriptions of the Christmas Truce appear in numerous diaries and letters of the time. One British soldier, a rifleman named J. Reading, wrote a letter home to his wife describing his holiday experience in 1914: “My company happened to be in the firing line on Christmas eve, and it was my turn…to go into a ruined house and remain there until 6:30 on Christmas morning. During the early part of the morning the Germans started singing and shouting, all in good English. They shouted out: ‘Are you the Rifle Brigade; have you a spare bottle; if so we will come half way and you come the other half.’”

“Later on in the day they came towards us,” Reading described. “And our chaps went out to meet them…I shook hands with some of them, and they gave us cigarettes and cigars. We did not fire that day, and everything was so quiet it seemed like a dream.”

Another British soldier, named John Ferguson, recalled it this way: “Here we were laughing and chatting to men whom only a few hours before we were trying to kill!”

Other diaries and letters describe German soldiers using candles to light Christmas trees around their trenches. One German infantryman described how a British soldier set up a makeshift barbershop, charging Germans a few cigarettes each for a haircut. Other accounts describe vivid scenes of men helping enemy soldiers collect their dead, of which there was plenty.

Just how many soldiers participated in these informal holiday gatherings has been debated; there is no way to know for sure since the ceasefires were small-scale, haphazard and entirely unauthorized. A Time magazine story on the 100 anniversary claimed that as many as 100,000 people took part.

The sound of the doorbell brought me back to the present. I rushed down the ladder and to the front door. When I open it, I saw Tara standing there. She was holding a leash. At the end of the Leash was a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel.

“Mr. Bairnsfather wanted to come home for tea.” Tara said.