“Gobble Gobble Gobble”

Every Thanksgiving as children, we begged our Dad to tell his now famous “Gobble gobble” story. He rolled his eyes and sighed, reluctant to share this not-so-happy memory of his childhood Thanksgiving. Over the years, we even corrected him while telling his own story. Imagining how our grown folks ever being young and disobedient was such a kick to hear after having spent a lifetime being told how good they were.

It began one cold November day while living in Wichita Falls, MO., a few days before Thanksgiving. Dad and his older brother were excited with the anticipation of a holiday when school was suspended and everyone observed a day of friendship and feasting. For hours on end, day after day leading up to the event, Dad kept charbling “Gobble gobble gobble” in his best turkey imitation. His Mother patiently reminded him to stop or his Father would have a say. Like all young boys, the repetitive sound was too much fun and since boys will be boys, he kept at it, “gobble gobble gobble”, all about the house. The night before Thanksgiving, his Dad, who was not quite as patient as his Mother and undoubtedly tired from his strenuous job, was tried by his youngest son's silliness, thus threatening him at the utterance of anything remotely sounding like a bird or any other barnyard animal. When Grandpa spoke, it was law. Dad was rather miffed at having been chastised by his Father and went to bed a bit chaffed, plotting his revenge.

When the sun came up it signaled the beginning of Thanksgiving Day with all the food and fun that was yet to come. His parents put on their coats and explained that they had errands to run, assuring them they would return momentarily while reminding them to be “good”. As Dad watched his parents back out of the carriage house garage behind their home, their Oakland Eight rumbling slowly past the corner of the old house, he felt a safe distance between himself and the “old man”, of whom he affectionately referred. Almost in the clear and certainly out of range, Dad felt compelled to throw up the dining room sash and yell out the window at the top of his lungs his best “Gobble gobble gobble”! With that came the screech of brakes and a slam of the front door which resulted in a very sad and silent little boy. From that day on, he never, ever dare say “Gobble gobble gobble” again, at least not while his Father was still alive. Grandpa died many years before any of us were born but we still had to coax Dad into sharing his ill-fated story.

As each of us grew older, college and marriage put distance between us. We always managed to send our holiday sentiments in a greeting card or a long distance phone call, reduced to 3 simple words in our familiar family code; “Gobble gobble gobble”!

Both our folks are long gone but we have children and friends who now know the story. With this Thanksgiving I wish everyone “Gobble gobble gobble”.

Guardian Pigeons

It was a beautiful day, almost Indian Summer like, even though it was still early for the eminent Fall. We were in central Ohio visiting my Mother-In-Law at her new residence. A three story Victorian-esque manor complete with a turret , gables and a wrap-around porch lined with crisp white spindled rockers. After strolling (more like rolling) back from our over sized lunch that satisfied our every sense, we stopped short of the door to pull-up a rocker and sit for a moment to admire the surroundings and the day. The sun had been shining and some clouds were moving in as predicted, but only to add to the dramatic fall skyline and contrasting colorful canvas where flowers were still in bloom and the grass still a vibrant green soft carpet leading up to the porch. The birds were busy feeding on seed from the nearby bird feeder banging off the side of the house. All at once there was a whoosh of ornithological activity when I spotted a pigeon perched on the edge of the steeply pitched roof line. Soon after another joined it, followed by more where they sat together looking at us, we looking at them, mimicking each other.

It wasn't until the following day that my husband shared an interesting story with me. He told me how his Father kept homing pigeons as a boy while living in Pittsburgh, PA. Periodically, his parents would take him and his pigeons out into the country to release the birds in free flight. The birds were often reported to be home before they arrived, hence the saying “straight as the crow flies”, or as in this case, “pigeon”. I believe he kept pigeons for many years, watching and learning from their behavior and interactions with the world. I suspect the pigeons that appeared spontaneously on Z's rooftop that day were also carrying a message, watching over loved ones like guardians.

Housewarming Blessing

When our friends recently purchased their new-old house in an historic part of the city, it reminded me of “going home”. In recognition of this event, I created a few herbal concoctions and composed this blessing for their home:

Bread, so that you may never know hunger

Wine, so that you may never know thirst

Pet Nutrients, to welcome all family members home

Bug Repellant, to prevent unwelcome guests, and

A Besom, to keep your threshold clean and to leap over hand in hand so that you may always know love.

They will be celebrating their 28^th wedding anniversary this weekend together, in the timeless beauty of their blessed home and the love, they share, with everyone.  Congratulations!

Morrow Family Tree

For 89 years and through many generations, the Morrow Family holds an annual reunion in Tidioute, PA. I was given the Morrow family name as my middle name upon birth, and have proudly kept it over the years, whilst other names have come and gone! Betty Morrow Stevens recently introduced me to our “Cousin Bob Morrow” and included me in the growing “B. Morrow” clan within the family tree, which began nearly 200 yrs. ago with Robert Wallace Morrow. She forwarded this cleverly scribed poem of quite a prolific bunch, outlining the Morrow lineage in rhyme.

The Family

MORROW, (Robert and Sarah Nancy) was our ancestor's name

From hardy, pioneer stock they came.

With the sweat of their brow and the toil of their hand

They established a home in Penna.'s rugged land.

To grace this union, in due course of time

Susanna Jane was first in line.

When to womanhood she grew, she had not long to wait

For Andrew Robertson, whom she took as her mate.

To them, Robert, Harry and Raymond were born;

Tragic death took two. Raymond only to manhood grew.

With the passing of time, as the records will tell,

The stork's second visit brought Juliette Isabelle.

Belle married John Shanly, and with him by her side

Her two motherless sons she took over with pride.

Then Maudie, Bert, Rob, Bessie, Edna and Fannie

Appeared with a regularity almost uncanny

Little Maudie had not long to stay; the hardier five

Are still with us today.

Johnathan Lenz came third, a fine sturdy lad.

With wife Gertrude Palmer, Robert, Joseph and Adaire they had

Three handsomer lads one seldom would see;

How they've remained batchelors is a mystery to me.

Harriette Seville came fourth, a true bundle of joy.

Hatti married Jerome Morrison, himself quite a boy

Came Jim, Bill, Agnes, Tom, Bob and Harry—six children in all,

Three are still here, three have answered the call.

Then came Mary Elizabeth to gladden the house.

The handsome Will Bimber she took for her spouse.

Grace, Harry, Walter, Ray, Archie, Marion and Edmund--

a fine family are they.

The second one (Harry) has now passed away.

Next William Sherman came into this life.

Isabelle Chambers he took for his wife.

Eight children they had--Charlie, Marshall, Rusell, Luella,

Fred, Annabelle, Sara and Walter--

And 'tho left alone, Belle's stout heart did not falter.

With courage undaunted she tackled the task

and raised a fine family from first to the last.

Nettie Matilda next raised her sweet voice.

The gallant Bruce Fairchild was the man of her choice.

Helen, Irene Robert, Frances, Mary, Jim and Ted—four girls

and three boys

is the family that came to add to their joys.

They brought them all up with more or less ease,

Now they're doing real well with their college degrees.

Carrie Leona now joined the gay throng,

With husband, Fred Holcomb, two children were born.

She was left a young widow; then Will Tapp came along

And their forces were joined to raise quite a throng.

With her Gladys and Raymond, his Bill, Margaret, Harold and Ted,

They had a full house from the day they were wed.

The stork, somewhat weary, now paused for a rest

'eer Bertha Luella was placed in the nest.

She married Robert Fairchild, a man of much sense.

And William and Marjorie were their blessed events.

The descendants of those mentioned in this bit of a rhyme

Are too numerous to mention in a brief space of time,

But they're here in great numbers, and together the crowd

Makes a mighty fine family, of which we're real proud.

And 'tho many have gone to the rest they well merit,

I'm sure that today they are with us in spirit,

And happy to know, that 'tho they are gone,

The tradition they started, we still carry on.

SO HERE'S TO THE OFFSPRING OF THE GREAT MORROW LINE:

MAY THEY MULTIPLY AND PROSPER TO THE ENDING OF TIME

By Miss Edna E. Shanly.

July 20, 1952

I sincerely hope we can join you this year. I look forward to seeing you again for the first time!

Brightest Blessings to All,

B. Morrow (Holcomb Tapp Miller Feeley) Evans...whew!

Morrow Family 2006

Food Inc. The Movie

“Frozen Banana” Shake

I was recently inspired by “Tommy’s” restaurant on Coventry in Cleveland Heights who is offering a free milkshake for Facebook fans who post a memory.  Tommy’s is best known for their sensational and unique combinations.  I purchased a bag of really ripe bananas then baked and shared as many of them as I could before I began to run out of ideas.  In an attempt to risk their sacrifice, I decided to make a banana milk shake.  My personal challenge was to make it as healthy as possible preserving the food value, while avoiding “unfriendly” dairy.  Not sure how “good” it would be sans the ice cream, I satisfied both sweetness and creaminess with whole, ripe bananas and it goes something like this:

3 lg. Ripe Bananas

1 ½ c. Almond Milk

Generous dose of Organic Chocolate Syrup

Sprinkle of Penzey’s fresh Cinnamon

½ tsp. Penzey’s Cake Spice

Several Ice Cubes

Blend on High Speed until smooth

Variations on this recipe include: Oat Milk or Rice Milk (also naturally sweet)

½ tsp. Agave Syrup to sweeten, in lieu of the Chocolate Syrup

A dollup of Yogurt, Vanilla Pudding or Orange Sherbet; if you have no dietary considerations.

1 tsp. of Pure Vanilla Extract for added dimension!

Have fun and try your own combinations you may crave, and please, share your creations.

Heart Day Cookies

 
When I was 4 years old, I received a parcel in the mail from my Grandmothers. A shoebox wrapped in brown paper and tightly tied with white cotton string contained a greeting card inside wishing me a “Happy Valentine’s Day”. The card was particularly special because inside was a metal heart-shaped cookie cutter with the best cookie recipe for rolled butter cookies. Beneath the lumpy card was my first doll, a “Raggedy Ann” doll whose face is painted with the most sincere smile. What made Raggedy Ann especially significant for Valentine’s Day is the heart tattooed on her chest that reads “I Love You”. My Raggedy Ann had an additional heart, a pink candy heart that also read “I Love You”. I remember asking my Mom if I could have the candy heart and she told me that I could since Raggedy Ann would forever have a heart with the message of love.

The Valentine Cookie recipe became a tradition in our home. My Mother would make a production baking these cookies every year to share in our classrooms, for neighbors and at home. We all took part individually decorating the carefully rolled, crisp and flaky heart-shaped butter cookies. I remember seeing the cookies in stacks 6 high once they cooled, parsing them into equal numbers for each of the lucky recipients. Mom made royal icing from scratch adding a couple of drops of red food coloring to turn it the most perfect pink. From that first bite, I knew what “pink” tasted like! In the center of the heart, we positioned a candy heart with a selected message, just like Raggedy Ann’s. I topped-off the surrounding 3 points of the heart with heart shaped-cinnamon red-hots, later becoming a staple in our home for these annual cookies and Mom’s homemade signature pink applesauce come fall. I remember placing three cinnamon hearts to represent “Home”, “Family, and “Love” because “with these, what more did you need”. As I became the “Mom” and the daunting task of making these Valentine Heart Day Cookies became my legacy, I soon realized the huge responsibility with which that commitment came. It did not take long before I took a year off and made them biannually. With my daughter fully grown and family separated by many miles, it has been so long since I have made them and am long overdue! I have been craving them recently which reminded me of our “Heart Day” tradition and our reason for making them altogether…”Home”, “Family” and “Love”.

Extra love to "Dad S." (Arnie) for his appreciation and acknowledgment of my cookies and me. He took great pleasure in sharing his portion with others!