Baba baked some bread since she couldn’t find any in her kitchen. She decided the Pilgrims had the right idea, sitting down with their new friends, the Wampanoag Tribe in the New World and shared food, conversation and thankfulness.
May you all enjoy time with others during this holiday and celebrate your blessings no matter how small by giving thanks and sharing what you have. If you have little or nothing at all to share, then try sharing kindness – it’s free and gives back so much in return.
Baba snagged a TeeVee gig. She convinced the producers that she had cooking expertise. Her TeeVee show has yet to air because most of it ended up on the cutting room floor. I don’t know what that means, but I’ve heard lots of bigshot TeeVee execs say that…Tiny (This is not Yram.)
Yram has to copy everything I do. She does not have cuuking expertise. I’ve been working hard with my producer, Bozo, and he thinks I’m just a few Thanksgivings away from being the next Julie Child. (Only I don’t talk funny.) This is Baba…TaTa, Wyram.
Happy Thanksgiving from Baba and Yram…If you want our recipes you can call Baba at 999-999-9999 or Yram at 555-555-5555.
WE ARE VERY THANKFULL FOR YOU!
Uncle Jeff was born a couple years after my Mom. The doctor had to break his arm delivering him breach since he was a chubby big baby. He was named Melvin but as I wrote earlier, his nickname of JEFF stuck.
He was a lover of family, his town, his country and sports, as well as fishing and hunting. He joined the Marines as a young man shortly after Pearl Harbor was attacked. His mother, my Grandma Mary, who rarely left her home in Murdo, SD, made the trip to California to see her Jeff. She traveled alone by train and was hoping to get there before Jeff was shipped out. Her daughters, Ella and Loretta, met her at the train station and had to break the news that Jeff and already left. Her daughters said that Grandma wouldn’t look at the ocean the whole time she was in California because it took her Jeff away.
Jeff worked up to being a Staff Sergeant, and the only one in his family who served in WWII. Any time we visited my Mom’s home town, he was there to help us find a place to stay, and take us to lunch or to come visit and chat for hours. We were eating at the Star Cafe with him one summer visit. We all sat talking and when our food came, he asked if anyone wanted some of his French fries because he had about “a thousand fries” and couldn’t eat them all. He loved to kid around and have fun. He hung out with his brother, Wayne, since they were always good friends as well as good brothers. Jeff was the one who, as a young boy, unknowingly walked past the rattler first before the snake struck out at Wayne.
Everyone liked JEFF who owned SANDERSONS General Store for years and later worked for the rural utility company. He voluntarily managed Murdo’s youth baseball program for 12 years. He was man of the year in South Dakota one year as a senior. Quite an honor. And I cannot forget about his jeep that he used to haul hundreds of kids to different baseball games. The old Willis Jeep was towed out to the cemetery during his funeral procession. He loved his old jeep which now sits at Murdo Auto Museum. He would like that.
As I said before, Uncle Jeff was dedicated to family and community. He lived next door to Grandma and Grandpa and More often than not, he spent his noon hour visiting with them in their home.
I really am a good dog. Just look into my eyes. Dogs as young I am, usually aren’t so wise.
My first home was an old rug my momma found somewhere. She was frail and sick, yet 6 pups she had to bear.
She didn’t have much milk and the smallest 3 soon died. It was only by the grace of God that 3 of us survived.
One day when I woke up, I found myself alone. I didn’t know where Momma and the other pups had gone.
I saw a man run towards me with a rope tied to a stick. He tried to catch me with it, but I was much too quick.
When he was out of sight again, I began to roam. I couldn’t find the rug that we had called our home.
I hardly ever bark, but my tummy growls sometimes. Where were all the scraps that momma always finds?
When I finally fell asleep, I began to dream. I saw a little boy fishing by a stream.
He said hello my friend. I have a cup to dip. I’ll fill it up with water and you can take a sip.
He shared a bite of food and offered me another. He said he’d never seen a dog gulp down peanut butter.
When my dream was over, I woke up with a start. That little boy was there and I saw inside his heart.
He took me in his arms and I gave his face a lick. He said Just like peanut butter together we will stick.
So if you see a dog like me living on the street, please give him some water and a little bite to eat.
If you sometimes feel that you’re not so good at friending. You’ll soon find out a dog’s love is never ever ending.
In honor of Calamity Jane, Frank, Angel, Baby Jane, Sadie, McKenzie, Pixie, Pattie, Sammie, Obie, Missie, Cyndie, Lillie Dale, and a little kitty named Dollie…Who all gave us unconditional love.
We now have 2 new friends….Nellie and Rylie
I’ve often heard people say that “he” or “she” came from good stock. It’s a simple way of saying they came from a respectable family with qualities that others admire. I learned the most about the stock I came from through antecdotes my mother told me. I wish I had listened more closely or asked more questions, but one thing I know for sure is that I came from good stock. I’m writing a series of stories centered around things my mother told me about her family as they navigated through hard times and good times.
Uncle Wayne was one of my Murdo Uncles and the oldest in Grandma and Grandpa’s family. It was said of him that during the tough US Depression and the Dirty ‘30’s he kept the family of eight alive and fed, working on the farm, trapping pesky birds and animals that plagued farm crops which earned money from the state and also working jobs on the side to help the family. During this time, he survived a rattlesnake bite. His dad, my grandpa, cut a slit near the bite and sucked the venom out. I don’t think they advise doing that anymore.
Wayne later started his own dirt moving business.
He bought a home and raised his own family while still living next door to his parents and helping others. He lost an eye as a young married man. I didn’t know him well but my Mom always spoke of him with great love and respect. He was my hero when I was about 8 and he bought me a black pair of cowgirl boots, the first pair I ever had. This happened during a summer Murdo trip we made from Pennsylvania. It was a highlight to my childhood.
Next in age from the six SANDERSON kids, came my Mom, Ella.
She also worked hard and learned to cook from her sweet Mother, Mary Sanderson. She told many stories of growing up poor during tough times. She remembered being kicked into a barbed wire fence by a horse when young, crying when the family feared Wayne might die from the rattlesnake bite, being ill with pneumonia and missing so much school, she went back a grade to be with her younger brother Jeff. The two were close and were nicknamed Mutt and Jeff after a popular comic strip. I learned how to make pies from my Mom and try to be kind and forgiving.
Mom often said not to discuss religion or how much money you have with other people. She didn’t know what it was like to go into town until later. The kids pretty much just stayed on the farm and each one had chores. During high school she worked as a babysitter, a cook and a maid to pay for boarding so she could stay in town. Later she worked at the family’s general store.
She always liked nice clothing and shoes. She went to California to work in the aircraft industry during WWII. She was always slim and beautiful with a big smile.
He raised his hand high and answered the call
She protected our freedoms and asked nothing at all
Thank those who have served us again and again
And ask God to be with them before saying amen.
This video includes just a small sampling of family, friends, and acquaintances who have served our country and those who sacrificed so their loved ones could answer the call. I hope it conveys my heartfelt thanks…
There is something I have been thinking a lot about, lately. In fact, I can’t get it out of my mind.
It’s food.
Not all food. Just the food I ate when I was a kid. Sometimes I crave things like a BLT sandwich. While on our trip, I saw them on the menu at a small cafe and ordered one. They asked me if I wanted it toasted. I thought they were kidding. Who would eat a BLT on anything but toast? I told them to be sure to put lots of mayo on it as well. It was delicious.
I also crave Grandpa Sanderson’s fried cornmeal mush with syrup on it. We always ate it when we were at the Nemo, SD cabin or when we came back to Grandma’s and Grandpa’s house after a long day of fishing.
I don’t miss minced ham sandwiches. Some people call it bologna. When he was little, my brother, called it new meat. I guess because it’s pink. He said we ate a lot of it. All I know is that I have never liked it.
Most of you know that I grew up in a small town. We ate breakfast, dinner, and supper. Our big meal was at noon. That was dinner. Supper was usually leftovers or sandwiches. When I was 11, I went to California where Billy was going to college. Several of our aunts and uncles lived there as well. One day my aunt made homemade spaghetti sauce. It simmered on the stove all morning. I sat down at noon to eat what I thought was going to be mouth watering spaghetti and she placed a minced ham sandwich in front of me. “I thought we were having spaghetti for dinner,” I complained. “We are,” she said. “This is lunch.”
When Mom made a tossed salad, she put a little Wesson oil on it. I had no idea there was any other way to eat it until I was in high school and someone introduced me to French dressing.
I miss Mom’s pot roast. She baked it in one of those oblong, egg-shaped, blue speckled pans. My cousin, Mark, sent me one that he found in his parent’s attic. It’s just the right size for a pork loin roast.
The only pizza we had was made from a boxed Chef Boyardee kit. The parmesesan cheese in it smelled so bad, Billy left the house when Mom made it.
We ate a lot of tuna and noodle casseroles with crushed potatoes chips on top. Sometimes, Mom made what she called a boiled dinner. She boiled cabbage with a ring of sausage bologna. We also ate a lot of Swanson TV dinners and chicken pot pies.
Mom made great chocolate chip cookies and chocolate cake, but we only had dessert on special occasions or when Mom got the urge to bake.
I have never liked Oreos. Mom took them to a PTA meeting once and it really embarrassed me. All the other moms made homemade cookies. Don’t ever feed me a minced ham sandwich with Oreos for dessert.
My very favorite meal was fried pheasant and corn on the cob, with mashed potatoes and gravy. We sometimes had strawberry shortcake made with Bisquick and thawed frozen strawberries. As dry as that bisquick cake was, when the juice from the strawberries soaked in, it became a soggy mess. Though better than oreos, it is not something I crave.
If we’re talking about sweets, the thing I loved and still crave, is a Bing candy bar. That rich cherry mash covered with chocolate and finely chopped nuts is the best!
Tomorrow will be day 1 of my diet. I’m pretty sure the extra pounds will still be there.
What foods from your past do you crave?
We’re back home. Our house hasn’t sold yet, so we have moved back in for the time being. Here are some highlights of the last days of our 6 week road trip.
All told, we spent time in Arkansas, Tennessee, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Kentucky, West Virginia, Virginia, North Carolina, Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana, and then back to Texas.
We saw friends, family, and ended the trip with family and friends who feel like family. We stopped in Tyler, TX for 2 days. Kip had a doctor’s appt there on Monday. Sunday afternoon, daughter, Heidi and boyfriend, Joe, came to see us and brought friends, Ray and Janice. We got to spend a fun time relaxing on our RV deck.
That morning, Kip and I went to Cracker Barrel Cafe for one last food splurge. Kip’s HAPPY shirt aptly describes our final full day on the road
NEXT trip post: The Yays and Nays of RV living life… example: keep track of your purse. Some nays can create new yays
Baba Wawa has sunk to a new high. Or has she risen to a new low? She reports you decide…
Remember when I said I would tell you about the things that happened during our trip that weren’t funny at the time, but we laughed about, later? I think I should tell you about today because I need you to validate that it might be kind of funny…later.
I will admit that I might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer. Maybe the elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top. It could also be possible that I’m not dealing with a full deck. Everyone makes mistakes, but it is kind of nice to be blissfully ignorant of most of them. Today threw me.
We’ve had a wonderful trip. We have been having so much fun, that I have gotten behind in my travel posts. Thanks to Cousin Val/Baba/Lav, who is quickly growing a following, I can catch up as I have time. We have done a lot of things I haven’t told you about, yet.
We began today in Monroe, Louisiana and we ended the day about 90 miles down the road.
We were out of some necessities, so we stopped by the closest Walmart. The drill is that Kip stays with the dogs while I shop. I took an extra long time because Kip needed some things in the RV section and I couldn’t find the RV section. There weren’t too many people around to help. By the time I found what I needed, and had made my purchases, it was almost 11:00 o’clock which is kind of a late start even by our standards.
Kip helped me unload the groceries from the cart and began to put them away while I took the cart to the cart drop-off place. I’m not one of those who leaves a cart in the middle of the parking lot. I’ve had my car scratched up more than once by a wayward cart.
We finally got back on the road and had been traveling about an hour and a half, when I realized I had forgotten something at the store. When I told Kip I thought I had forgotten something, he said not to worry about it because we would be home in a couple of days and would have to make another run to the store, anyway. I hadn’t started to panic, yet. I was sure I had brought the item from the store, but after a quick perusal, I determined that I had indeed left without it.
“OH NO,” I yelled. “I left my purse in the shopping cart!”
Kip sighed a big loud sigh and said, “We will stop at this little town a couple of miles up the road and I will help you look for it. You wouldn’t leave your purse in a shopping cart.”
Fifteen minutes later, he became a believer. He decided we would find an RV park, get a spot, unhook the Jeep, and drive the hour and a half back to Walmart. I immediately got on the phone and called the store. After several rings, I heard, “Thank you for calling Walmart. We are very anxious to serve you. Please press 1 for the pharmacy, press 2 for the deli, press 3 for electronics, press 4 for automotive, and press 0 if you need to talk to an associate.”
I pressed 0 and after several rings an associate answered and promptly transferred me to customer service, who never answered. I called the associate back 3 times, no answer. I pressed 1 and got someone in the pharmacy who said, in not so many words, “Not my problem, lady.” I said, “Would you be a nice person and grab someone who can tell the people in customer service that you have a very desperate person on the phone, and she has been trying to reach them for 45 minutes?”
The nice lady at the pharmacy said she couldn’t do that because she was in the pharmacy and the pharmacy doesn’t do that. Before I could say something more convincing, I heard the sound of my call being transferred. No one answered. I was getting close to calling the gas station, nearby, to ask them to go to Walmart and find me some help. Instead, I called the store one more time, even though I could hardly stand to hear the recording tell me for the 10th time that they were very anxious to serve me. An associate finally answered. I began by saying, “Please stay with me. Do not transfer me, because I have called everyone in that store and no one answers. I have already pressed 1, 2. 3, and 4. You are 0, right? I am in an RV 90 miles from you and I think I left my purse in a cart that is in the cart return place. I can’t tell you exactly which one. I need to know if someone was nice enough to bring it into the store and hand it over to someone.”
The nice associate said, “I remember talking to you a while ago. You’re looking for your purse, right? I transferred you to customer service and then I went on my break. I just got back. Lady just take a breath, and I will find out if anyone has your purse. Are you for sure that it was this Walmart? We have more than one Walmart in Monroe.”
“I called the Walmart that I left 90 miles ago. My husband has all of the information in his GPS. The phone number was in the same area that has the button he pushed that said, DIRECTIONS and then START!”
“Okay lady,” the nice associate said. “Take a couple of breaths while I go find out if someone has seen your purse… Oh, what does it look like?”
Kip had been on the phone trying to find an RV park. When he hung up, he asked me who I was talking to. I was busy taking deep breaths so I didn’t answer him. By that time the nice associate came back on the line and asked me if they did happen to have my purse, what would be in it that would identify me as the owner?
I won’t go any further with the blow by blow. They did have my purse, and I am very thankful to the person who found it. I am also very thankful that we weren’t 300 miles down the road before I discovered my purse was missing.
Kip has been biting his tongue, hard. I don’t think he enjoyed driving the same route 3 times. I also don’t think he’s even one bit grateful.
Why isn’t he laughing?
Those 70ish Girls 