A Cup o' Joe

One of my favorite indulgences is a good cup of coffee.  Long before Starbuck's was around, I was enjoying gourmet coffee.  In my late teenage years, General Foods came out with their International Coffee flavors.    Each flavor was inspired by flavors associated with various countries and came in a cute little tin, decorated with the colors of the flag of each country.

My favorite was Suisse Mocha.  Inspired by Swiss chocolate, this flavor had the most inviting aroma.  I also liked Cafe Vienna which was flavored with cinnamon and Orange Cappuccino, from Italy.  All you needed was a cup of hot water, a tin of coffee and a spoon.  Money was tight for my parents back then.  My brother & I didn't know it at the time because they always provided for all of our "needs" and most of our "wants".  So spending hard-earned money on fancy coffee was probably a big stretch for my mother, but she did it anyway.  Truth be told, she enjoyed it as much as I did!  When I went away to college, Mother would send me packages to lift my spirits.  She called them "goody pokes".  They included candy bars, cookies, or other supplies that I couldn't find in the small village of Cullowhee, but there was always a tin of International Coffee nestled among the other items.  A cup of that coffee would transport me back to my home and I could almost picture Mother sitting across the table from me enjoying a cup.  

During the recent Christmas holiday, I organized my kitchen pantry and discarded out of date items.  As I burrowed deeper into the pantry, I uncovered a bag of ground, chocolate-flavored coffee.  I instantly remembered that Mother had put it in my Christmas stocking years ago.  It was still sealed so when I opened it, the fresh aroma filled my nostrils.  I wasted no time in readying my single-serve coffee maker and brewing a cup.  I added a detail that was a trademark of Vera.  She always liked to drink her coffee or tea from a china cup.  No clunky ceramic mug or Christmas cup would do for her.  She wanted a dainty, china cup.  In fact, she loved china cups so much that she started collecting them.  I am proud that she entrusted them to me several years ago and I proudly display them on the buffet in my dining room.

So this morning, as I drink my customary cup o' joe, I am remembering many times in the past when Mother & I shared coffee, laughter, and most of all...love!

On the spur of the moment

One of the nicest things about being retired is that when the spirit moves you to do something...you can just go ahead and do it.  You don't have to worry about a board meeting or whether the front desk will be covered...you can just go.  Today was one of those days.  Maggie has painted her back foyer and is in need of a few accent pieces to go with the new decor.  Now, if there is one thing that I have, it is accent pieces.  Steve Jenkins would have called them "junk", but I prefer the elevated name of "accent pieces"!  Anyway, I had the perfect mirror to go in the foyer, along with some decorative plates, so after I did my civic duty and voted in the special election, I loaded the pick-up and jumped in for a spur-of-the-moment trip to Perry, GA.  It was a beautiful day; a few clouds, but sunshine peeking through every once in a while and not much traffic on I-75.  I made one stop in Norman Park to pick up some of Lauri Jo's salsa and jam for Maggie and then I hit the open road.  Michael Bolton and Eric Clapton serenaded me while I drove.  I love to turn the music up when I drive and I had it so loud that when I came to the ungated railroad crossing on Main Street in Perry, it was a good thing there was a car already stopped for the approaching train or there might have been a collision!  I delivered two mirrors and two decorative plates to Maggie.  One of the mirrors had belonged to my neighbors, Randy & Pat Gay.  It had made the rounds in their families and was no longer needed, so it found a home in Maggie's hallway.  She has been trying to cover up, I mean decorate around, a large circuit breaker box that is strategically placed smack dab in the middle of her hallway.  The mirror beautifully disguised the box and is perfect.  The other mirror is a family heirloom.  It is a round mirror that is etched/painted around the border with gray and silver vines.  It belonged to my mother, Vera, and holds a great deal of sentiment.  Mother used it as the base for her wedding cake.  The day before Maggie's wedding, I used the same mirror as the base for her Victorian Charm cake.  The plates also hold some deep sentiments.  One was given to me as a wedding gift from a couple who attended my home church in Cincinnati.  The other plate was hand-painted with delicate pink flowers by Mother as a baby gift for Maggie.  To see the glorious results of Maggie's painting, click here.  After hanging mirrors & plates, Maggie & I decided to go out to lunch before I returned to Moultrie.  I have been craving some Grillmaster BBQ for several days, so we drove to the restaurant, only to find it closed on Tuesdays.  However, our second choice was just as tasty...The Swanson.  We usually dine in the sunshine-yellow front room, but today Maggie and I were seated in a lime-green room.  The paint colors at the Swanson always make me feel so happy!  I had fried chicken, broccoli casserole and macaroni and cheese.  They serve the tiniest little butter muffins to add just the right touch.  It's too bad I didn't have a driver, because after that delicious meal, I could have napped on the way home.  All in all, it was a wonderful day.  I arrived safely back in Moultrie around 4:00.  No need for supper tonight.  As my dad would say, "I think I'll just have a toothpick and a glass of water."

Grillmaster BBQ; a converted gas station.  How Southern can you get?

The Swanson

Maggie's Victorian Charm cake atop the mirror.

Vera & George Stinson cutting their wedding cake.

We're off to see the Wizard...

The Colquitt County High School choral department presents a musical every year in February.  This year, the production will be The Wizard of Oz.  Connie Fritz, the Director of Christian Education at First Presbyterian, is active in the theater productions in the county and always lends a hand for the high school musical.  So when she found out that costumes were needed for 40... that's right, 40...munchkins, she put out the word on her Facebook page that she needed help.  The result...14 people showed up at the Fellowship Hall at First Presbyterian tonight to cut & sew costumes.  Brightly colored piles of fabric greeted us as we entered the room.  The Schwartz girls sorted the colors and organized the scraps into piles.  Amzie Cooper manned the ironing board to iron out the wrinkles.  Karla Howell, Kim Booth, Susan Kirkland, and I laid out patterns and cut out fabric.  Jop Long and Amber Schwartz serged the fabric that had been cut.  Connie organized everything, answered questions and provided bottled water & encouragement.  What a wonderful evening!  While we were working away, lively conversation could be heard.  I was able to catch up with Kim & Karla about what was happening at Sunset School.  Since my children had attended there many years ago, I had lost touch with everyday happenings.  Amber & I discussed Friends of the Library business, since she will be the president & I will be the treasurer for the next two years.  We made a good-sized dent in the piles of fabric and had plenty of fun to boot.  I'm not sure if we will have another work session, but if we do, I would encourage everyone to join us for the fun.  I can't wait to see the production in February!

Getting organized.

Sorting reds, pinks and blues.

Sorting greens, yellows and oranges.

Amber Schwartz brought her own sewing machine.  Jop Long tried to hide behind her machine.

All ages found plenty of work.

Playing with fire

I have always loved a fire...bonfire or fireplace, it doesn't matter to me.  There is something about staring into the flames that is very relaxing.  I guess it stems from my childhood at the cabin.  We had no television to entertain us in the evenings, so Dad would build a big fire to take the chill off the evening and we would gather around it.  Aunts, uncles, and cousins would usually come to call.  Uncle Ed would sometimes bring a No. 2 washtub filled with Lima beans or green beans along with a juicy watermelon.  The melon would be placed in the creek that ran through the front yard so it would cool quickly and provide a sweet reward when the work was finished.  The washtub of beans would be placed in the center of the living room floor.  Everyone would grab a section of newspaper to place in their lap to catch the strings or hulls.  As we strung or shelled the beans, the "old folks" would tell stories about growing up in the mountains and their ancestors.  Not only did I gain a love of a fire, I also gained an interest in history and genealogy.  My ancestors had such unusual names; Granny Fanny, Grandaddy Seph, Pink Bishop, Lala Jerry...what child wouldn't be fascinated by such names.  And the stories were just as exciting; my uncles climbing around to the Sheep's Mouth at Caesar's Head to rescue a straying lamb, square dances on the top of the 100 foot water tower that had no guardrail, Aunt Dixie stopping a team of runaway horses by waving her straw hat as she stood in their path, Pap-Paw Jones sewing up his own wound with black thread after being cut by a boar's tusk, Uncle Lewis being prayed over by Miss Janie when he came home drunk.  Every evening, I was transported into a magical world that sounded like a fantastic story in a book, but was really the story of my mother & her siblings growing up in rural Appalachia.  The fireplace was always the focal point.  As the evening wore on and the beans were all strung, the warmth of the fire would bring on drowsiness.  Curling up on the couch, I would fall asleep to the hypnotic hum of voices.  It was so comforting and safe.  This feeling became such a part of my being that when Steve & I began to plan the building of our new house in 1984, a fireplace was at the top of my "must-have" list.  We finished the house on May 31st and moved in on June 1st.  I was so excited that on that very night, even though it was 80 degrees outside, I turned the thermostat down to 68 degrees and made Steve build a fire for me.  I know the neighbors must have thought we were lunatics, but I didn't care.  To take the chill off of today's gray South Georgia afternoon, I built a fire.  As I snuggled in my easy chair with a lap full of Puddin' and Sweetie Pie instead of Lima beans, I was transported back in time to the Three Bears' House on a cool summer evening.  I could almost hear the sweet voices of relatives as they related stories of their childhood.  Who needs the television with a heritage such as that!

Communion

First Presbyterian Church of Moultrie celebrates Communion on the first Sunday of every month. Several years ago, I volunteered to bake the Communion bread. It was nothing new for me because my paternal grandmother, Gustava Lee Roth Stinson, baked the bread and prepared communion for many years at my home church in Cincinnati, Price Hill Baptist Church. My mother assumed the responsibility when Me-Maw needed help. I was in my teens, so we made it a family endeavor. Three generations of Stinson women always had great fun in the kitchen on Ebenezer Road on the Saturdays when we prepared the bread. It is really quite easy. The recipe is one that Mother used from her red-and-white checked Better Homes & Gardens cookbook. It is nothing more than pie crust...flour, shortening, salt and water. Me-Maw had a metal-edged ruler that she used to cut the dough into squares before baking. I still use it today. My rolling pin belonged to Mother, as well as the pastry blender. I use a piece of cotton cloth on which to roll the dough. I'm sure it came from a scrap that was left over from one of the many dresses that Mother sewed for me. It looks like a pattern straight from the 60's! I have used it for so many years that it is impregnated with shortening and flour that has formed a kind of Teflon coating that keeps the dough from sticking. Now that Me-Maw & Mother are gone, you might think that I prepare the bread alone. Absolutely not! The spirits of these two amazing ladies are right there with me in the kitchen every time. Today as I was preparing the bread, Henry Klar called to tell me about someone from our church who needed prayer. Henry starts the telephone prayer chain and I send a message on the email prayer chain to about 20 members. I told Henry that I would send an email as soon as I finished baking the Communion bread. His parting comment was, "The Lord be with you as you bake the bread." I replied, "He always is!"  I suddenly realized that Communion for me was not only celebrated in the sanctuary of my church.  I was celebrating Communion right here in my kitchen at 109 Buck Creek Road...Communion with God and communion with Me-Maw and Vera!  It doesn't get much better than that.

My tools for making Communion bread.  See what I mean about the 1960's cloth?

Gustava & Herb Stinson (Me-Maw & Pe-Paw) in the Price Hill Baptist Church parking lot in 1954.  The black Pontiac on the left is their car, purchased from their son-in-law at Sieve Pontiac

The Three Bears' House

In the early 1940's, my father was stationed at the Army Air Corps base in Greenville, South Carolina.  At the same time, my mother was working at the YWCA in Greenville, South Carolina, and was in charge of arranging events for the servicemen at the base.  They met at one of those events and eventually married.  They remained in Greenville until 1945 and a few months after my brother was born they moved to Cincinnati, Ohio...my father's home.  Before they moved North, my mother bought 5 acres of land from her father, Solomon Alexander Jones, and my father (with the help of Solomon and other Jones men) built a cabin which they intended to use as a summer retreat.  They had no idea of the influence that this place would have on their lives, their children's and grand children's lives, or various other relatives and friends.  As was the custom, the cabin was given a name.  There were many "summer people" who had built cabins on Cedar Mountain and each had a distinctive appellation.  Vera & George chose Triple Oak because of the large oak tree in the front yard that had a single trunk that split into three large branches about 6 feet from the ground.  The name was very stately while the cabin was very meager.  Dad used rough cut lumber to side the cabin in batten and board fashion.  The interior was not insulated, but rather showed all of the studs & joists.  A huge stone fireplace was the focal point of the living room.  The stones had come from blasting the spring which provided our water.  Solomon did the blasting of the spring and the building of the fireplace.  The cathedral ceiling was supported by several large Poplar tree trunks used as beams.  The downstairs bedroom belonged to Vera & George and the two loft bedrooms housed guests until Bert & I came along.  The name of the cabin was changed by Bert.  Looking forward to their summer visit, Bert asked when they would be going to the Three Bears' House (obviously influenced by a bedtime story).  The name stuck!  At first, there was no indoor plumbing, but my meticulous Northern grandmother, Gustava Stinson, insisted that my grandfather, Herb, build an indoor bathroom after her first visit.  Mother cooked meals on a wood-burning stove and I remember visits from the ice man to replenish the "coolant" for the icebox.  We did not have a telephone or television until the late 1970's.  There was no need for "artificial" entertainment...we had relatives that were very entertaining!  There was our cussin' cousin Markley, so named because of his colorful language, and his old-maid sister, Corrie.  Uncle Paul was a storyteller and quite a comedian.  Uncle Speedy (Clyde Gustavus) was the teaser.  When he came to visit one Saturday and noticed my hair curlers as I was preparing for the weekly square dance, he asked if I was sending or receiving.  Bert & I spent every day with our cousins; Martha and Paul Howard and Ruth Jones.  We hiked the woods, waded in the creek, picked blackberries, swung on grapevines and walked the footlog across the creek.  What a wonderful childhood we experienced! 
All of this has come to my mind today because my brother & I are organizing a trust with the bequest left to us at Mother's death in August.  We named it The Three Bear's House Trust because the cabin is the focal point for our extended family.  Five generations of the Stinson/Jones family have enjoyed summer vacations and have been profoundly influenced by the house and it's builders.  Today, it looks very different from its original facade.  Winterizing the house for year-round living by my parents changed it drastically. But when I close my eyes and think about the cabin, I still picture it as it was during my childhood...a house full of laughter, love and character.  For those who did not have the privilege of seeing it then, I provide these photos.  They were taken in 1972 by Lance McKinney and yes, that is a very skinny Melody playing with our little chihuahua, Taco, in the front yard.

tra·di·tion (noun)...

...the handing down of statements, beliefs, legends, customs or information from generation to generation, especially by word of mouth or by practice.

 

Traditions are very interesting.  Some traditions are ingrained in us by our cultural or ethnic background.  Others are more personal and come from our families.  Having Southern roots and a large but close-knit family, most of my traditions fall into this second category.  Christmas morning held many traditions during my childhood.  My household would awake early and anxiously await the arrival of my paternal grandparents (Me-Maw & Pe-Paw) and my aunt & uncle (Sissy & Ray).  Uncle Ray owned a Pontiac dealership and always drove a white convertible.  On Christmas morning, he & Sissy would pull into our driveway with the top down, even when it was snowing, and presents piled to almost overflowing.  To my childish eyes, he looked like Santa Claus in a convertible!  The family would gather around the tree, each staking out a spot on the couch or in a chair.  My brother & I would hand out the presents. Present opening was always the same...we opened them one person at a time, starting with the youngest and going to the oldest.  We all watched the person who was opening their presents and made appropriate sounds of approval and joy.  It was a good thing Me-Maw was always the last because she insisted on saving the bows and not ripping the paper so it could be used again next year.  This painstakingly precise process took a long time and my brother & I had very little patience!

 

New Year's Day is also steeped in tradition.  Eating black-eyed peas insures good health in the new year and eating greens brings you wealth.  Being with family & friends on New Year's Day will signify happiness for the year.  So, today I ate my greens & peas and spent time with friends.  I certainly don't want to tempt fate.  However, I have a few personal traditions that I observed today.  I always watch as many college football games as I can on this day.  Today the Dawgs and the Noles made me proud.  And while I am watching football, I am taking down the Christmas tree and the decorations.  As fond as I am of Christmas, it is always refreshing to see all the space in my living room when the tree is gone!  However, I have one tradition that might sound a little strange.  I have a beautiful island in my kitchen which is more like an old-fashioned sideboard.  Steve designed it and his good friend, Frank Clements, built it using heart pine.  It has stood in the same spot for 25 years.  Frank instructed me to oil it once a year to keep it looking good. Over the years, it has developed a venerable patina.  A dark circle is visible where a hot pan slipped off the trivet.  A faint red stain remains from kool-aid.  The yearly oilings have softened these imperfections without erasing pleasant memories of happy times.  Today I oiled the sideboard with Georgia olive oil.  It brought back memories of Steve and Frank and every friend who shared a meal or a conversation around it. 

 

 

ʃ