'Tis the Season

Despite the cheer around me, I find myself melancholy this time of year. The Holidays aren't what they used to be. Still, memories of traditions tuck me in at night and keep me warm when the winter weather seems never ceasing. What do the Holidays mean to you? Family? Spirituality? Hope?

I am still very blessed and can say that God has been good. I can enjoy the snow and the beauty of winter without having to shovel out my car and drive in bad weather. My home is warm and I have people to care for me and about me. Come to think of it, maybe this time of year isn't so bad.

The Christmas lights still bring a smile to my face, and New Year Resolutions (unfortunately) still bring conviction. As I wrap my shawl tighter around my shoulders and sip my hot tea, my eyes see past my comfortable room and into the days of my childhood.

Traditions. That is what made my holidays so special. Every year my family would sit down together and open all the Christmas cards... I would open them and read them, then pass them to my mother for her to enjoy - and, in turn, my father would read them and place them back in the envelopes. Even after I went to college my family would wait on my return home for this sacred ritual.

When I was a child, the anticipation of Christmas was almost too much to bear. My family would spend a bitter December evening picking out the perfect tree and hauling it home to adorn it in seasonal splendor. As my father and I decorated the tree, my mother made us hot chocolate to enjoy as we thawed out from the winter air. How that tree would shine! Every year I swore that the tree was bigger and better than the last! Popcorn garland, handmade ornaments, and ribbon all added luster.

The meals that came with Thanksgiving and Christmas were an all day affair. Cooking, baking, even butchering... everyone had their jobs to do to add to the fabulous feast that we would all share come dinnertime. Turkey, filling, sauerkraut, puddin', mashed potatoes - we had it all.

New Year Eve came with the promise of parties. I would spend all evening dressing to the nines, dreaming about an evening of dancing, music, wine, and perhaps a handsome gentleman admirer to sweep me off my feet.

I sigh as my reminiscing come to a close. My tea is cold, but my heart is warm. Blessed. I am certainly that. I may not go to grand balls but, you know what? Those shoes killed my feet. And I may not be lugging trees anytime soon, but thank God I don't have to clean up those blasted pine needles. I don't have to do endless dishes, or deal with unruly relatives...

Maybe these are the "golden years". They are feeling rather 'golden' at the moment...

Happy Holidays, and God bless.

Becoming a mother is allowing your heart to run around outside of your body for the rest of your life. It's becoming selfless and putting your children first in all things. It's sacrificing everything for someone else, loving another human unconditionally with every ounce of love you've got to give. It's scary, at times, to feel like you don't know what you're doing; frustrating when your children don't listen to you; a struggle when you know you're doing the right thing, and "the right thing" is hard to do. It's rewarding when your child throws his arms around you in a hug; awe-inspiring when you watch them grow and learn. And at the end of the day, when you kiss them goodnight and hear the words, "I love you" - it's enough to make your world complete. Somehow, when a child is born, it fills a mother's heart so completely with love. Most often, she didn't even know it was empty.

When I was growing up, I didn't know any of these things. I was a child and I wanted things my way. I fought my mother on most of her decisions. I was often angry with her for her discipline; throwing tantrums when she didn't give in to my requests - and as a teenager, I fought her every step of the way. Now that I'm a mother, I look back and wonder how I could have ever behaved that way. If only I had known then what I know now! But it is a learned process, and I think to truly appreciate my mother, I had to become a mother myself.

There were good times when I was growing up. If I'm honest, there were more good times than bad. My mother always put us first; did everything she could to make us happy. She cooked special meals, baked treats, played games, went shopping, threw birthday parties, and held us when we cried. She was always there to share in the laughter; to comfort the tears, and guide us through the growing pains.

My mother was wonderful, and I regret that there is only one day a year to honor her. I would like to think that I take the effort to show her all year how much I think of her. But I doubt that I do.

For all the diapers changed; all the sleepless nights; all the boo-boos kissed, meals cooked, shopping excursions, hugs, kisses, & holidays - here's to you, Mom. I love you.

Happy Mother's Day!

It's Spring!

Spring.

It's when the flowers bloom, the birds sing, and life renews itself. These days, I watch the birds through my window and look at flowers in our indoor garden. When the weather is warm, I venture out on the porch. With the sunshine on my face and the tantalizing smell of lilacs filling my senses, I reminisce about times long past.

As a boy growing up on a farm, Spring meant a lot of things. It meant that nature was renewing; the trees were blossoming, and it was time to plow the fields and ready them for a new season of crops. It was time to spray for weeds; time to plant, and time for animals around the farm to give birth.

Inside our house, my mother was also busy. Spring meant spring cleaning. Her first order of business every year was to turn off the heat and put the screens in the windows. She always said her favorite part of spring was throwing the windows wide open and letting in the breeze. Once that was accomplished, she would clean the house from top to bottom, giving everything a good scrubbing. She would sing as she worked; the spring air blowing through the house and the smell of flowers always kept her in high spirits. She had a garden full of a colorful array of daffodils, roses, pansies, gardenias, amarillas, and petunias. Every morning she would bring in fresh flowers from her garden to place around the house.

Spring also meant that school would soon be out, brining the anticipation of summer just around the bend. I would get anxious for those last few weeks of school to fly by, looking forward to my long summers. Sure, there were a lot of chores and hard work on the farm, but if a boy planned right he could be up early and have all his chores done quickly to have the rest of the day to himself.

I remember those days. I can remember the smell of dirt as it was plowed, the fel of sweat on my brow that came with a hard day of farm work; the ache of my muscles. I can still envision my mother's beautiful smile at the open window, her joy at hanging wash out in the fresh air to collect the smells of spring. I can still remember how it felt to be so young; so full of innocence and wonder. It is the awe of every spring when life starts over.

Now, I watch the trees and lawns grown greener every day from my window. I see the daffodils, petunias, pansies, and roses growing rampant in our gardens. I am reminded of my mother, of my youth - and I am happy with just the feel of warm sunshine on my upturned face.

Eastertime

When I was a young boy growing up on our farm in Brogue, PA we were never short for eggs on Easter! We had plenty of chickens, and plenty of eggs from the chickens to collect for Easter activities. My mother would spend all afternoon boiling the eggs and then she and I, together, would dye and decorate them. I was an only child, and my father was always busy with work on the farm, so it was just my mother and I for activities like this.

Once the eggs were dyed my mother would gather them into a basket and, the night before Easter she would hide them around the house and the farm while I was asleep.

We would get up before dawn on Easter morning and head to the sunrise service at Horn Field, where all the churches in the area gathered for the sermon.

Following the service, we would return home and I would go on a hunt for all those eggs my mother had hidden. There were always surprises in store for me on my hunt, including a basket from the Easter Bunny with lots of goodies in it. The basket was full of peanut butter cups - which are still my favorite today.

Later in the afternoon, all of the family would come over for a ham dinner. There'd be more candy form all my uncles and aunts. Sometimes, I think I got more candy for Easter than I did on Halloween!

I found out the truth about the Easter bunny when I was 12 years old. I've no idea how I believed the tale for so long. I guess my parents would very good secret-keepers. My own children found out early. My elder child found out when he was 6 years old, and promptly told his younger sister, who was only 4.

Whether you believe in the Easter bunny or not, and whatever your religious beliefs... Easter can be a fun time with family and friends... so, Happy Easter!

Our Valentine's Snowy Days story

The snow on Valentine's Day proved to be very reminiscent for me. As I watched the snow fall outside my window, my mind led me down the road of memories into past snowfalls and Valentine Days.

To this day I remember the first Valentine's Day card I received. I was in first grade, and he was my first boyfriend. Of course, all these years later I cannot remember his name - only his face. I remember his shy smile as he handed me that home-made card and I remember the way I felt...

One year, while in middle school, my parents sent flowers to me at the school. They were beautiful flowers! Although I loved them, I was embarrassed to tell any one that they were from my parents. I made up an older boyfriend in high school, and told everyone they were from him.

I remember candy hearts with messages. While, cute - I never did like them. I always thought they tasted like chalk.

I always try to wear red on Valentine's day. I suppose that started when I was young, and my mother would dress me in pink & red. It stayed with me as a traditional all these years.

As I grew older, the thrill of the day wore off, as happens when we lose the innocence of childhood. I still celebrated the day with my husband, later in my years. Sometimes we would go out for dinner. When the kids were at home, we would put them to bed early, order in some food, and have a nice meal together. Sometimes we'd watch a movie.

I remember a few of the presents I received from my husband. Usually he'd give me flowers or a box of chocolates. One year, I received a stuffed pig holding a heart! If money was good, I'd sometimes get jewelry from him.

My two favorite songs for Valentine's day are "Let me call you sweetheart" and "You are my sunshine". These were songs I sang to my children when they were babies, and songs that my husband and I would sing to one another.

I am snowed in this year; stuck behind a window, watching the snow fall and icicles form from the eaves. I can't remember another Valentine's day when it snowed, but I know there must have been a few. February is always the coldest month, as far back as I can remember.

I do remember other snows of my youth. How much differently we viewed the snow when we were young! Sledding, snowfall fights, building snowmen and forts... what fun! We never felt cold, running around with our friends; we never wanted to go inside!

Now, snow is more of a hassle than a treat. We have to worry about driving and schools being closed and having enough groceries... Of course, when I was a kid we did not have snow days. The schools did not close for the snow. We still attended. And, yes, we walked.

Thanksgiving

When I was a little girl, Thanksgiving was a special time for our family. We lived on a farm in between Dallastown and Red Lion, Pa. - just off West Broadway, up on a little hill. My mother would get up early in the morning and cook all day long for our family. Soon our kitchen would be redolent with the aromas of all the tasty foods Mom was preparing. Thanksgiving meal was at Noon, and all of the family came to our house.

I was there, of course, along with my brothers and sisters, our parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. The fire was always burning in the fireplace, creating a welcoming and homey atmosphere in our small living room as the family arrived.

There were so many of us, nearly twenty, that we had to spread out over two rooms! The kids' table was set up in the kitchen, and the 'family table' for the adults was in the formal dining room. Mom would have candles lit, and a beautiful centerpiece on the main table. All the fancy dishes came out for this meal. Mom's best china, crystal glasses, and silverware.

Before we ate the meal, everyone would hold hands and say grace. A thanks for our blessings and our food. Grandpa would carve the turkey to get us started.

As we ate our meal of ham, turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, rolls and cranberry sauce in the kitchen at our special table, we kids could hear the adults in the dining room. There were always lots of conversations going on at once. Everyone was animated and excited; everyone had stories to tell. It was one of the few times of the year that the entire family was together. It was a special time.

In between talking, everyone managed to stuff themselves. With dinner, everyone had iced tea or tomato juice to drink. When it was time for dessert, the adults would have coffee or hot tea, and the kids would have milk. Dessert was a wonderful array of delicious treats. There was pumpkin pie with whipped cream, pecan pie, and cherry pie. The entire meal, from start to finish, sometimes took an hour or two to eat!

After the meal, the whole family would go out together for a stroll. We would walk around Red Lion and just take in the beautiful autumn before it turned into true Winter.

Eventually the years passed by and soon enough I was married with children of my own. My husband and I lived on a farm in New Freedom, PA, and it was my turn to have the family over for the holiday. I would get up early in the morning - just as my mother always had, and cook all the foods my family loved to eat. Some things were different. Of course we had the usual spread of my youth - but now I didn't make ham. I made additional corn, lima beans, and creamed onions instead.

My husband would light the fire in the fireplace, and I would place the candles around our house. I had Mom's centerpiece from her Thanksgiving Day dinners, and I had the fancy dishes and glasses of my own. I never separated the kids from the adults. The whole family, yes - all twenty of us, ate at one big table. I tried to recreate the homey atmosphere of my own childhood, but also add the new traditions of my husband's family.

We would have our parents, our own children, the boyfriends, the girlfriends, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, and second cousins.

Instead of saying a prayer before the meal, we went around the table and each person would say what they were thankful for. A lot of us would have tears in our eyes when we were through - but they were happy tears, and everyone laughed.

Now, instead of my grandfather, or my father, it was my husband who carved the turkey. To drink with the meal - soda and iced tea.

It was still a special time for the family. It seemed just like the old days of my youth. Everyone was talking at the table, loudly. So many excited and animated conversations were going on at once that I would just sit back and smile. This was my childhood all over again, only now my family - and I was the Mom.

Dessert was much the same: pumpkin pie with whipped cream, pecan pie & cherry pie. But I also served cake and ice cream, along with a few other types of pies. We still had coffee, hot tea, and milk with dessert.

After dinner, some of the family would go out for a walk together. Some would stay behind. Some of the men would watch football together, while the rest went outside to talk. Often, the women would sit around the kitchen, drinking coffee and talking while the kids played.

Eventually, the years passed on again. Now it was my daughter's turn to host Thanksgiving. Generations still gather on this special day for good food and good times. Most of all, we gather to be together; to show our love and our thanks for everything good in our lives. We're thankful most of all, for our family.

Halloween!

Halloween was a really scary time when we were youngsters.

We remember trick or treating on Halloween night in the dark. It seems like it got much darker back then than it gets these days. Houses were farther apart in the country and we walked very far to get a bag full of candy. Sometimes were given candy, nickels or dimes, cookies or pieces of cake, apples or pears, and even magazines when the folks were out of everything else.

We started trick or treating about a week before Halloween and went with our friends, usually not accompanied by parents. Folks would actually invite us into their home and try to guess who we were underneath our masks. Sometimes we wore only a " false face" as a costume and sometimes we wore old clothing and dressed as a hobo. We would wear old sheets and dress as a ghost, but NEVER a purchased costume. Weeks before Halloween we would gather ears of corn and shell them into a bucket in order to have corn to throw on Halloween night. When we felt really mischievous, we would upset an outhouse with some poor, unsuspecting person inside it.

There were occasions when folks would throw a bucket of cold water on us to keep us from throwing corn or soaping windows. The only decorations we had in our homes were jack-o-lanterns and maybe a shock of corn.

Halloween parades were an important part of Halloween and occasionally we would wear a costume and participate. We were mischievous, but not vandals. And we had lots of fun!