Peggie Groves, my neighbor and best childhood friend.

Swinging on monkey vines in the woods at the end of the street. Damming up the little spring fed stream then watching the destruction as we let go the waters of our tiny lake.  Hours and hours playing our new Monopoly game on the dining room table. I stepped back in time into the today. I spent the day with my childhood friend Peggie Groves who recently moved to Ellenton, Florida.

Once I went away to college I did not often go back to Crucible, Pennsylvania where I grew up. Last year I went to the 50th anniversary of my graduating from Carmichaels Area High School. I realized then how much I had forgotten in the last 50 years. I tried to waken my memory by writing about the things I did remember. I talked with my siblings. I got out taped recordings of interviews with siblings who have, to use the Southern expression, "passed on." The more I look back, the more I remember.

Talking with Peggie today I heard again the music of the names of the families who lived in Crucible: Descutner, Patterson, Miller, Grimes, Sergiovani, Kawalski. So many of the names ended with ski that I felt like my plain ole Huntley name was boring, unimportant. My favorite Italian was the grammar school bus driver, Romeo Palone who expected a kiss on his cheek as we boarded the bus each morning. Nothing like that is possible today, but he was wonderful and made us all safe. Those were the good ole days when a child could ride the school bus and not worry about being beaten up or threatened with a knife.

I love the sounds of those names. Serbian, Italian, Irish, Polish, Slovakian, Dutch. These men came to work in the coal mines. A good day's wages for a good day's work. It was a tiny town, but its diversity of ethnic groups was amazing. There was unity of purpose in the workday, but there was also separation. The company built houses for workers to rent called The Patch and each nationality had its own section. The groups hung on to their native language, but they learned English, too. The influence of many cultures on the area is amazing. Germans in Pittsburgh gave us Heinz catsup and dill pickles. Wives shared recipes hullopkis (cabbage rolls), nut rolls, and all kinds of ways to make jello. Most of the wives made bread at home without the aid of a bread machine. Irish soda bread, yeast bread, biscuits, and for breakfast, buckwheat pancakes dripping with butter and sweet syrup.

I've probably spelled heaps of things wrong in this post. I don't remember how to spell all those lovely immigrant names, but I love what they brought to my little coal mining town of Crucible, Pennsylvania.

Now that she is forty

Cammie 'n Chris' Wedding Day

Cammie was born on September 29, 1974. Of my three children she was the most difficult to bring into the world. I labored for twenty-four hours before she came hollering into the world.  But I did not care about the pain, God had given me a baby girl. After the much easer births of David and Jonathan, the exquisite pain was a surprise. The joys that came later were just as amazing. 

My mother taught me to sew when I was about twelve years old. It was a skill I needed, too because Allen and I were so poor when we first got married. I got pregnant very soon after the marriage certificate was signed. Married November 22, 1967, first baby boy born August 25, 1968, David Wroyston. My quickly expanding waistline required new clothing and we could not afford a whole new wardrobe. I was working in a Head Start program and had to have maternity outfits to accommodate my growing belly. Allen purchased for me a Singer sewing machine in the most popular color, light blue. Back then fabric and patterns were not as expensive as they are now and I was able to make all the clothes I needed for my job and for my new position in life--an expectant mother.

Jonathan was born two years later, in 1970 and I had lots of fun making matching blazers for him and David when they were just toddlers. The jackets even had fancy insignias sewn on to the breast pockets. I have photographs of them smiling into the camera, all dressed up for church. 

When Cammie arrived I was eager to get out the Singer sewing machine and make some pretty little things for my infant daughter. Making girls' clothes is much more fun than making coats for little boys. Before she was born I made diminutive t shirt type garments with a drawstring closure on the bottom to keep Baby from kicking off the covers and getting her tiny legs cold. Later came romper suits in all sorts of bright colors and patterns. My favorite pattern was one that crisscrossed  in the back and buttoned on the shoulders. The back was open and showed off matching bloomers.

By the time Cammie was a toddler we were living in Lakeland and I was teaching High School English. I would often take her with me to basket ball or baseball games. Friends from that time  still remember that beautiful little three-year-old with softly curling blond hair, inquisitive blue eyes, and a fearless drive to know everything about the world she inhabited.  She was a delight!

And still is. 

In the Land of Plenty

I just got back from spending four days in Pennsylvania with my brother, David and his companion, Peggy. Our sister, Elaine was also there. I went to help with harvesting and canning the produce of his garden and fruit trees. What delights awaited me there! Hungry? Want some lunch? Just walk out to the garden and pick some corn, a few ripe tomatoes, some squash and a small bowlful of green beans. On your way back to the cabin, snag a few of the red raspberries and pop them into your mouth. MMMMM!

When I first arrived David and Peggy showed me around the garden. My favorite part was the bean house. This was a loose, open structure made from ten foot tall stalks of bamboo. The bean vine grew up the walls of the "house" with the bean pods hanging down within in easy reach of the harvester. Double fencing surrounded the bean vines to keep out the deer, abundant in that part of western Pennsylvania. When the beans are ripe they are black. The original beans for this year's crop came from Native American Indians who were friends and working associates of Peggy's a few years back .

We processed about one and a half bushels of tomatoes. We canned tomato juice, some whole tomatoes and several jars of salsa made entirely of ingredients from the garden. One machine was indispensable to our work: the Squeezo. Peggy inherited this piece of equipment from her mother. On the top sits a hopper and a wooden mallet is used to push the fruit or vegetable down against the grinder. The handle is hand cranked--woman-powered. The mashed food comes out an opening on the front and to the side the waste parts twist out and fall into the bowl. Fuel for the compost barrel.

Some of the pears were ripe so David picked a basketful to be used to make "fruit leather"-- a homemade version of fruit roll-ups, but without heaps of sugar and preservatives. We washed the fruit, then cut out any suspicious spots, then pushed the slices through the Squeezo. We had a big pot of pulp to which David added a bit of sugar, some pectin, then boiled for a few minutes. After it cooled  a bit he poured small amounts on to the six layers of the dehydrator. David let the machine run over night and in the morning we peeled off the thin layers of fruit leather. It was delicious!

I came home wanting to grow a huge garden--I could do that at this time of the year in Florida. I wanted to grow heaps and heaps of tomatoes and get canning equipment to "put them up" for the winter. I wanted to plant apple trees and pear trees and buy a dehydrator to make fruit leather. I wanted to live in a real log cabin in the woods. Well, that's not gonna happen. But it's OK. I understand my impulses: when I go to the opera I want to be an opera singer. We know how likely that is to happen.

The Bean House:  David & Peggy

 Abundance of tomatoes!

Magnificent Squeezo!

Frick Museum in Pittsburgh: Harriet, David & Elaine

Three generations of Huntley men: David, Simon & Eliot

Now that I am seventy

 I've often tried to decide just when a person becomes an Official Old Person--OOP. As I approached the top of each decade I pushed the date forward ten years. I'm not sure I can do that this time.

I was already depressed about being seventy when a few days before my birthday I visited my doctor. I like the lady; she is from Argentina and is very calm and caring--at least she seems to be. I had had blood work done before my visit and from the numbers she declared that I would now need medication for my diabetes and for my high blood pressure.

That same day I received a letter from a local funeral home suggesting I might want to make advanced funeral arrangements.

That same week our 15 year old dog, Tasha died.

I checked out the obituary page in the news paper and found that many people were dying in their seventies or even younger. If God grants us three score and ten years--70--I must now be living on borrowed time, as my great nephew, Anthony Henry observes.

Allen took me out for a birthday dinner at Hemingway's at the Grand Cyprus Resort in Orlando near Disney. This is our special occasion destination. Dinner conversation centered on end of life issues, but it was not depressing. I asked him if he knew he had only seven more years to live, what would he do? He answered he would not do anything differently. Really?

I would travel. I want to see China--the Great Wall, that huge dam they built, the terra cotta soldiers and the Forbidden City. I would want to lose weight so they would not have to buy an "extra large" casket for me. I'd want to see at least one thing I've written published.

So what will I do about it? In the next year I intend to exercise more. Early morning walks with my husband are pleasant and don't take a huge chunk of time out of my day. I intend to go to bed earlier and get up earlier when the house is quiet and use that time to write. Since the writing and walking may conflict I guess I'll have to go to bed really early and get up while it is still dark.

I think I hear my husband baby-talking the cats. Guess it's time to close here and cook us some oatmeal with raisins and apples. MMMMM!

So What Did YOU Do Today?

The question comes from someone who has been gone all day, busy with the business of providing for the family. Someone who does not know how much work goes into "keeping house".

WHAT DID I DO ALL DAY?! It sounds a bit like an accusation. Maybe I did nothing but lie in bed all day and read, sipping on a cup of hot tea and nibbling on a large slice of home made lemon pound cake. Maybe. But I didn't. Your underwear is clean, folded and stacked in your dresser. Your dress shirts are washed, dried, ironed and hung in your closet, organized by color. I made you a hot breakfast, served with a mug of hot coffee. The kitchen was cleaned. The bathroom was clean. The towels for your morning shower were stacked in the linen closet. Heaps of news papers were removed from your library to recycling. Healthy, hot, homemade dinner was waiting for you when you got home from work. 

This activity represents what I do some days. Other days I work in the yard. Take care of the patio garden, organize stuff for Book Club, organize the dinner for Shepherding Group. I take photos of friends for special events, edit and deliver them. I plan trips for us, make reservations. I volunteer at Nathan & Jacqueline's school. Some days I play with our granddaughter, Maggie all morning. I read to her. Let her play Doc McStuffin with me. 

I do stay busy all day. Some of the things I do don't seem that important, but all together, it makes for an orderly household and enriches the lives of my family.

 What did I do all day? Enough that I think I'm going to need that afternoon nap today.

The cure for what ails you.

It's official. I'm now diabetic. I am over the hill and slowly descending the other side. On my birthday this month I will be seventy. I am officially an Old Person. I can now joint the ranks of those whose constant delight is to talk endlessly about their medications, surgeries, and general decline. The scary thing is that I now enjoy these conversations.

I went to see Dr. Martinez and she looked at my numbers over the last year and the news was not good. I did a glucose tolerance test last week and some of those numbers were in red, declaring that medication was needed. When I saw her about four months ago, we decided I'd try exercise and a better diet, but that did not work so now I have three new medications to take. That doubles the number of pills I'm now taking. AM and PM pills for diabetes and one for blood pressure.

See, what did I tell you? I'm an official Old Person. I talk about my health in great detail. Are you bored yet?

I left the Watson Clinic depressed and angry that my body is letting me down. I thought maybe I'd be the exception and I could live for ever. I see pictures of long-time friends on Facebook and I'm amazed how old they look. I guess I just look in the mirror to put on make-up and I don't really see my face. However, there is my son, David who loves to take photographs with the camera the got for Christmas last year. His pictures of me show a fat old woman. David is a master of taking unflattering pictures and posting them on Facebook. He is better at landscapes than people, but I fear his pictures of me are accurate.

I left Watson Clinic about 9:30 AM and had not had breakfast. I headed north on 98 and saw just what I was seeking: IHOP! In defiance of my newly declared physical state I pulled into the parking lot knowing full well what I was going to order when I got inside. I got a healthy omelet with spinach and two blueberry pancakes. "Don't put that gooey blueberry stuff on the top. Just the fresh blueberries." I used a minimal amount of blueberry syrup. MMMMMM! It was the best breakfast I've had in a coon's age! I won't do it again. I'll get my medication. I'll take my pills. I'll exercise daily. I watch the amount of carbs I eat, but that one last breakfast was worth every carb, fat and calorie I put in my mouth. The memory of it still makes me smile.

What I love about England

Without even closing my eyes I can enjoy all over again the wonderful things we saw in England. Our trip by train to York right after we landed at Gatwick was lovely. The green fields marked off by hedge rows or lines of trees made the countryside look like a patchwork quilt. Some of the fields were bright yellow with the blooms of rape seed flowers. Evan told us the seeds are pressed for rape seed oil, a very healthful product.  As a part the crop rotation, this plant helps restore the richness of the soil. I tried to take pictures from the train, but they are all rather blurred. I do have the pictures in my memory.

I loved walking around in York. I loved the ancient buildings, many of them still in use. Right in town are the ruins of St Mary's Priory. It was a huge complex of buildings, but now only some walls and beautiful arches remain. I guess York was a one time a very wealthy city, so the priory reflected that. One can imagine the beautiful singing of the nuns echoing in those hallowed halls.

London! The city of Shakespeare, Milton, Lord Byron, and the Beatles! Those who changed the way we think about writing and music. I love to walk around the streets of London! Eva likes to jog. Being 69 years old, soon-to-be 70, this grandma had a hard time keeping up. The uneven surfaces of the sidewalks made me fearful of falling and being out of shape--especially in the matter of climbing down steps into the tube and up out of the tube slowed me down. There is Eva, 8 feet directly in front of me single-mindedly pursuing our destination. She looks over her shoulder now and then to make sure she has not lost me entirely. When we were traveling with our suitcases, she would take my suitcase (I would carry her big pillow) and nearly run up the steps. I was impressed with that!
After a day or two in London, we realized we wanted to see different things, so we went our separate ways, but usually had dinner together.

I love that the great museums are free with just a suggested donation. I loved it that we were only a couple of blocks away from Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery. We were close to two tube stations and could get to any place in London in just a few minutes. We were close to all the good stuff!

This is the library where Evan did some of his work on his doctorate.

Saint Mayr's Priory, York

Evan explains the original
layout of the priory.