To Our Men and Women in Uniform

In one of my favorite movies "A Few Good Men" Demi Moore's character is asked why she likes the Marines she is defending so much:

To my Father, my friends and family past and present, my two granddaughters in ROTC at Tuskegee Institute and to all of those how have put on the uniform to serve...

Thank You for standing on that wall.  

Mmmmm....Soup.

A little poem crept into my mind when I opened the curtains early this morning and saw fog whisping along our street for a second day in a row:

The fog comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on.*

Amazing the things you remember from high school English class.  It made me homesick for November in Michigan with the turning of leaves, the cool damp mornings and my mother's kitchen.  It triggered off a nesting instinct in me which meant that the first thing I did today was to put on a pot of soup.  

Mmmmm...soup.

In the fall and winter, I nest in my kitchen.  Cooking and baking are two of my favorite things but I had gotten out of both as my sons grew older and moved out onto their own. Picking up something fast for one on the way home after a long day at work was much easier than trying to think of what to cook for dinner. Since I’ve taken off work to return to school this last year, I find I have more time to pick back up the things I’ve let fall by the wayside and cooking for myself is one of them.

I used to make soup at least once a week when the boys were little, making full use of a very large, very well used crockpot.  Many times I would put all of the ‘fixins’ in it at night before bed on the lowest setting and be awakened the next morning to the most wonderful savory aromas. More than once on a cold morning my sons went off to school after insisting on a breakfast of homemade soup.

In the spring and summer I go for lighter broth based soups like chicken vegetable but I’ve recently been turning to heartier soups like split pea, navy bean or a hearty Italian vegetable. Today I’m making a spicy pinto bean chili which I learned from helping my mom (a great cook) in the kitchen. Mine is a little spicier than hers (I love spicy food) and I use ground turkey instead of ground beef. I still make a big pot but now I freeze a couple of individual serving for later. To go along with the chili there is a pan of homemade cornbread which I also learned to make from scratch from my mom.  Very little of that goes into the freezer because I jump on it as soon as it’s out of the oven.  

Mmmmm…warm cornbread.

I’m glad I started cooking for myself again. There is nothing I love more than the comforting aroma of a pot of soup wafting throughout the house. No matter which variety it is, it always smells like home. Does this time of year trigger a nesting instinct in you? If it does where is your favorite place to nest? I’d love to hear about it and I’d also love to hear about your favorite soup. Feel free to share the recipe.

*Carl Sandburg, Chicago Poems (1916) "Fog"

  US biographer & poet (1878 - 1967)


*Linked to:  33 Shades of Green's Tasty Tuesdays

Josephine and Marvin Sr.

I feel so blessed to have a copy of this picture. Let me introduce you to Josephine and Marvin my mother’s parents. I remember back when I was in high school (a hundred years ago) Mom pulled the original of this picture out of the cedar chest that sat at the foot of her bed.  As you may have figured out I love old family pictures and to have a portrait of Mama Jo and Marvin Daddy – well! I was over the moon about it. My mom took the original and had copies made for her three brothers and a few other family members. I’m not sure if I was given my copy or if I stole – I mean - borrowed it ala my other grandmother Mama Carrie – but that’s a post for another day.

All of my memories of Mama Jo are bookended by my strongest memory of her standing on the front porch of her house. Every summer our family would drive down to Dallas where my parents grew up to spend the last three weeks of our summer vacation. As a little kid I was always amazed to see Mama Jo standing on the front porch of her house looking for us. I wondered how long she had been standing there and how did she know we were coming up the street at that precise moment. We would tumble out of the red station wagon and scoot up the front walk as fast as our little legs would carry us. She would gather us kids all in her arms at the same and hug us so tight. I remember those hugs, those warm tight soft grandmotherly hugs and how loved and safe I felt.  Those hugs lasted forever and they were wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. There is nothing in the world like a grandmother’s hug.

Marvin Daddy spoke slow but had a strong voice, always wore a hat and called me 'baby'.  I remember he called us all ‘baby’ as far as I can remember, but we always knew which one he was calling. We’d sit on his lap or snuggled up next to him as he sat and talked with the other men in my family, my dad and my uncles until we were called into the kitchen by the women or sent outside to play. He always gave us money for the ice cream man (yay!)and bought us candy when we would ride with him to the store.  Although Mama Jo went on to be with the Lord when I was in fourth grade, Marvin Daddy was with us until I was a young married woman. One of my last memories of him was when I brought my first born son down to Dallas for him to see. He was dying from prostate cancer at that time and I wanted to make sure he saw my son. He was also so proud of my husband who was in medical school and would call him “Doc”.  Obediently my husband brought his medical bag and took Marvin Daddy’s pulse and blood pressure and listened to his heart.  My grandfather then declared to all in the room how he felt so much better now that ‘Doc’ had checked him out. 

Marvin Daddy went to join Mama Jo not long after that last visit.  I miss them both so much. The Bible says in Psalm 127 vs. 3a that “children are a heritage of the LORD…” and that is true but in my heart when I think of my wonderful grandparents I always think, grandparents are a heritage for children from the Lord like they were for me and my siblings. I love them, thank God for them and miss them all very, very much.