memories – Page 13 – Home's Cool!

Blessings of Habit, Good ol' days, Health, Homemaking, Inspiring, Who's the mom here?, Womanhood

You CAN Can!

Posted on July 18, 2011April 8, 2016 by Katharine

Rotel, carrots, pumpkin, tomatoes, beets, tomato soup, pickles, and green beans — Rotel, carrots, pumpkin, tomatoes, beets, tomato soup, pickles, green beans, and more pickles.

I remember canning.

Mama had jars, lids, rings, spoons and pans all over her huge kitchen. She let me hand her the “rings” (screw bands) which I wore like bracelets up and down my then skinny arms. The temperature in there had to be at least 100 degrees, but I do not remember that. I remember her praise when I managed to stay focused on my job and hand her the ring on time. I felt so grown up.

I also remember disappointments, especially the cherry jelly that turned out like taffy. MY we loved that. I remember our neighbor, Eula, tanned and in flip-flops, who made her own catsup. And dear old Mrs. Secrest, who always gave me hand-pumped cold drinks from the well inside her dark, quiet house.

For some reason I’ve kept those memories fondly. I’ve tried to resurrect them in my own adult life. I do canning. I make jelly and catsup. We have a well. I want this for my children’s heritage. I wonder why.

It’s not just that the food is better. It’s not only that it is more healthful. And it is not simply that I grew up with it.

It is the soil–the harvest–the glorious, breath-taking heat–the oceans of perspiration replenished by oceans of teas and juices. It’s working together, sharing . . .

Oh! I know what it is! It is the fellowship with those who have gone before and those who are to come, stepping into my place in a long, long line of real people living a real life, marching to the rhythm of summer.

So all my children and I would march down to the garden to harvest God’s blessing for each day.

I hope you will join us. Then together we will all put back something for those special winter days when only that which is straight from the garden will do.

Tomorrow: Six Tricks to Get You out of the Canning Kitchen Faster!

Homemaking, Who's the mom here?, Wisdom

HOW TO BE PREPARED FOR A TORNADO

Posted on May 28, 2011March 4, 2016 by Katharine

Know Where to Go

Have a safe place. If you have a basement, that’s the place. Go to the side or corner where the tornado is COMING FROM. (If a tornado lifts the house a bit and then drops it a bit further away, you will not be under it, supposedly. Another somewhat safe place is supposed to be inside any super-reinforced structure, such as a stairway closet, hallway, or shower stall.

Stock the Safe Place

One fresh gallon of water for each person.
High energy snacks.
Up-to-date medications, or copies of prescriptions.
Flashlights with fresh batteries. Candles and matches in watertight containers.
Protective headgear for each person. Hail happens during tornados; bricks fall. A bike helmet is better than nothing. A thick mattress is nice, too.
A radio that works by battery or crank. Fresh batteries.
Light jackets for everyone. You don’t want to be too hot, but it will probably rain.
Diapers, wipes, and formula if you have a baby. Renew this as baby grows: keep it current.
Spare set of car keys.

Have a Plan

Know where you will meet, if separated. (Choose several places in case one blows away.)
Know whom you will call (someone outside your area) for an info base.
Make rules for tornado watches. (Everyone put on sturdiest shoes and jeans. Everyone put one keepsake in the basement. Move cars under hail shelter. Etc.)
Make rules for tornado warnings. (Everyone stays indoors. Everyone be aware [no headphones on, etc.] Everyone make sure nothing obstructs path to basement, etc.)
Make rules for take cover. (Go directly to basement, put on your helmet, and get under the mattress, now. Do not stop for anything.)
Drill your take cover plan, exactly like a fire drill. Practice helps! Also, should you be injured or incapacitated in any way, the children may still know what to do.
If you can, have a bed or two in your basement and put the children to sleep down there, with shoes on, when the nights are dangerous. This saves endless trouble and worry. If you can add a few toys, they can play down there, too, when the days are dangerous. If you have no toilet in the basement, you may want to add a small pot, too.

Okay, there you have some ideas to get you started.

My siblings and I slept in the basement many nights, to the sound of the radio broadcasting the cities and counties in the path of some tornado. Some nights I remember being lifted down those stairs, still half-asleep. Some mornings I awoke to the sounds of my parents readying for another day, upstairs.

The basement was the one my parents built immediately after that infamous tornado in Ruskin Heights.

Believe it or not!, Blessings of Habit, Homemaking, Wisdom, Womanhood

Ten Steps to Tornado Safety

Posted on May 27, 2011March 26, 2018 by Katharine

Yesterday I shared my memories of surviving the Ruskin Heights tornado of 1957.

Today I’d like to explain what was wrong with what we did.

Few people took tornadoes as seriously as they should have.
ALWAYS TAKE A TORNADO SERIOUSLY; IF YOU WANT TO CHASE OR WATCH THEM, GET THE TRAINING, FIRST.
There were very few sirens and they were not systematic in their sounds.
LEARN WHAT THE VARIOUS TONES AND PATTERNS OF YOUR EARLY WARNING SYSTEM MEAN. ALSO, DEMAND THAT YOUR AREA SOUND SIRENS ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES AND PRESCRIBED TESTING, NOT FOR SETTING CLOCKS OR CELEBRATING.
It was against some law or policy to issue tornado warnings over radio, although a Mr. Audsley did so, that night in 1957, risking his job to save lives.
ALWAYS LISTEN TO RADIO, OR BETTER YET, TO A DOPPLER-BASED WEATHER RADIO STATION. HAVE A RADIO THAT WORKS DURING BLACKOUTS.
Few people knew what to do. Our hiding under a table was as futile as our running across lawns was dangerous.
KNOW HOW TO BE SAFE, WHICH PORTIONS OF ANY BUILDING ARE GENERALLY SAFER IN A TORNADO, AND HOW YOU CAN BE SAFER IF CAUGHT OUTDOORS.
We were barefoot or nearly barefoot.
WHEN YOU REALIZE A TORNADO MAY BE ON ITS WAY, PUT ON YOUR MOST STURDY SHOES AND SOME SOCKS, STURDY JEANS, AND A STURDY SHIRT. MAKE YOUR CHILDREN DO THE SAME.
Although helmets for children were not available over 50 years ago, today we also should store helmets in the basement or safe place during tornado weather, one for each family member.
Many people were caught bathing.
NEVER BATHE DURING LIGHTNING OR TORNADOES.
Although Kansas and Missouri are notorious, worldwide, for hosting tornadoes, few people were ready with a plan and supplies.
WE HAVE LEARNED HOW TO FACE TORNADOES WITH PREPAREDNESS. RENEW YOUR PREPAREDNESS PLAN AND SUPPLIES AT LEAST EVERY SPRING.
We were shocked at the far-reaching effects.
DEBRIS CAN LAND ANYWHERE. WATCH OUT FOR FALLING DOORS, TRICYCLES, ETC.
People were injured by the aftermath.
DO NOT TOUCH DOWNED WIRES OR GO NEAR THEM—ELECTRICITY CAN JUMP. IF YOU SMELL GAS, EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY AND DO NOT LIGHT OR START ANYTHING OR CAUSE ANY SPARKS, EVEN ELECTRIC SPARKS. DO NOT GO INTO WRECKED BUILDINGS WITHOUT HEADGEAR. ETC.
Although phones were different back then and most were down, today we must:
MAKE ONLY ONE PHONE CALL TO AN OUTSIDE FRIEND OR RELATIVE AND ASK HIM OR HER TO FORWARD YOUR STATUS. LEAVE THE LINES OPEN FOR THOSE WHO NEED EMERGENCY CARE.

More tomorrow.

Believe it or not!, Good ol' days, Inspiring, Who's the mom here?, Womanhood

RUN! OH, RUN!

Posted on May 26, 2011October 18, 2019 by Katharine

Tornado! I remember my mother’s voice that evening: It warbled.

And though I was only six years old, I knew the warble came from utter terror. We were running as fast as a heavily pregnant woman with three children ages 2-6 could run. She was watching the sky more than the path to the gate, carrying my sister, holding my brother’s hand, and sort of warbling to me, “Oh, run, hurry, RUN!”

I dug my toes into my flip-flops and ran.

I knew it was a tornado up there, whatever a tornado was. I looked up, too, and stumbled.

Mom scolded me sharply. “Don’t look up! Don’t look up! Don’t look up!” She seldom scolded sharply. It hurt my feelings but I knew it was no time for hurt feelings. Her words were like a mantra, a warbled charm against bad omens . . . don’t look up, don’t look up . . .

But, when I had looked up I was puzzled. It looked just like clouds.

Then I had seen a door. And when, disobeying, I looked up again, I saw a tricycle.

We were headed to our neighbor’s house. My mom screamed for them to let us in. We cowered under their huge oaken table, in the dark, with our mother’s arms encircling us. I heard my mom praying, so I prayed too. We cried and pleaded with God to protect us. I did not know what to be scared about, but my mom’s fear was plenty for us both.

The neighbor calmly stood on his front porch and watched the sky. His wife wrung her hands and paced through the house. I remember her shoes and feeling sort of dumb lying on the floor under her table while she walked by. I thought of a Little Rascals episode in which the children hid under furniture.

Then it was over. We went home. My mom talked for days about the foolishness of standing on the front porch to watch a tornado go by, summoning new terror at each telling.

It was over, yes, for us, but for the victims it still goes on. The forty-four dead would be burried. The over 500 injured would tell their stories.

And the RUIN still speaks.

More tomorrow.

To read a beautiful memorial written for one of the victims, read here.

Good ol' days, Homemaking, Inspiring, Wisdom, Womanhood

THE MONEY MOM

Posted on May 19, 2011December 13, 2014 by Katharine

Hello, Friends!

This week I must devote entirely to several speaking chores. So I thought you would enjoy viewing the introductions to my presentations. Here they are in their approximate final draft. Enjoy!

Managing Your Money

About sixty years ago, two sharecroppers laid their baby boy in a box that was really a dresser drawer, his first cradle. Nursed and blanketed carefully, he was as secure and warm in that box as in the finest crib.

They pumped all water by hand and heated it on a kitchen stove. Dishwater never went to waste. Once that water was hot, it did dishes, the stove, the countertops, the cabinet fronts, the tabletop, the chairs, and last, but not least, it did the floor.

Bathing happened once a week with “washing up” in cold water for other days.

Clothing, being almost all homemade, was divided and washed by use: undies, being all whites, went first, while the water was hot, with colored clothing next, followed by jeans and work clothing, all washed in the same water. Making soap, heating water, and hauling it away took too much time to waste a drop, so when all was done, the water proceeded to the garden, via siphon hose.

The soap was real, homemade, back then and not toxic.

And all had to dry on a line.

The baby boy grew and acquired a little sister. The two children played in the dirt at one end of the rows in a huge bean field, while the dad and mom walked the fields, pulling weeds for their living.

In time, their finances improved and they bought a farm. Almost all food for the next forty years came from the garden. Most was canned or pickled. Seldom was anything thrown away. Scraps went to the chickens. Children who did not like the food offered at the table still had to eat it. And no one got dessert until the plate was clean. The children grew up adaptable to almost any food.

Meanwhile, a city girl grew up only a bit more affluent, dressed in home-made clothing that was washed all in the same water and hung to dry. Climbing trees and building cities in the dust under them, she also had to clean her plate, no matter what, and it was garden food. Scraps went to her chickens, too.

Both families owned only one car, one small black and white T.V., and no computers. Both families mowed their own lawns with reel type mowers. The girls in both families went to bed in curlers and there was no hair dryer in either home, no beater bars on the vacuums, and no A.C.

When visitors came, someone slept on the floor. Soda pop happened once or twice a year.

The children grew up and wanted brand new store-bought clothing, so they got jobs and bought them. Only–the girls did the math and often bought patterns and fabric, instead.

When they went to college, the boy and the girl each recognized something about the other; he, her homemade clothing, and she, his homemade chessboard. They married and made two decisions:

Mom would stay home, and,
Everything would be homemade.

It was a simple step to move to home schooling.

That was about 28 years ago, and the little tree-climbing girl stands before you today to say:

It can be done. Go there.

Blessings of Habit, Home School, Inspiring, Pre-schoolers, Wisdom

Weekly Photo Challenge: Wildlife

Posted on May 11, 2011 by Katharine

Not much to say, today, but wanted to show off one of my favorite photos. Surrounded by the safety in many uncles (the blue stripes and the adult finger belong to two of them) a young boy learns about which wildlife is to be trusted, a family tradition meant to instill wisdom and fearlessness:

: Boy and Bug

Tomorrow I’ll show you why this post was late.

See ya’.

Cats, Inspiring, Womanhood

Katharizing the Whole World . . .

Posted on May 10, 2011May 29, 2014 by Katharine

I seldom use the suggestions for Postaday blogging but one recent topic has struck my fancy: explaining my name.

Katharine is a popular name, if you count all its variants, such as Ekaterina, Caitlin, Kate, Kitty, and even Karen. Chosen by Russia for its famous queen, by Shakespeare for his famous shrew, and by the parents of the famous actresses, Carlyle, Hepburn, Z-Jones, and Ross, it is now also the top hit on every search engine because of England’s recent joy.

Katharine is also a family name, for me, handed down from my mother’s side. According to her, the family, being Lutheran, chose the name of Martin Luther’s wife for one of their daughters. Eventually it came to me to bear the honor of sharing with this great woman who never really achieved fame, nor wanted it.

We go farther back than that, however, back to the foundations of language, itself.

Specifically, the First Century Greek language contains words like katharismos, meaning “purifying”, and katharos, meaning “pure”. With Greek being the dominant language of much of the western world for some time, it yielded the name, Katharine, a good choice for parents to name a daughter if they aspired to purity for her, and a popular choice if they were educated people.

In the early fifties, I discovered my name means “purity”. I wish I could say this discovery dominated my every act from then on. However, the thought of it did lend me a certain awareness of possessing a backbone, of wondering about purity. Although this awareness resided quietly in the back of my mind for many years, it would occasionally surface, especially when I learned a meaning of any other name. In fact, learning name meanings became a hobby I enjoyed from about age eight.

No kidding, at a young age, I read baby name books from cover to cover, comparing the names of my acquaintances to my perceptions of their personalities, and, later, comparing the names of various beaus and the implications of the meanings, to my future.

Even today, when a person introduces himself to me, I mentally scour the pages of names I memorized for clues to his personality. Fitting or not, it colors my first impression. Still, I also realize we cannot help the name our parents chose and not every “John” grows up to be “Baptist”, although I believe each one is “given of God”, which is what the name means.

This beginning made me a person who feels sorry for people whose names have no meaning. Chosen from thin air because they feel good in the mouth, like pablum does, these names often are misspelled by any definition of phonetics. Often they also imply absence of a daddy in the “family”, and sometimes the absence of even a granddad or great-granddad. It saddens me, for the bearers’ sakes, this having no definition or history, no foundation or instruction for the core of their beings.

Like candy, their names give only short-term gratification and leave behind no sustenance.

I would be unfair, though, if I did not tell you one more thing about those Greek kathar- rooted words: They also gave us our word “cathartic”, which word I will leave you to look up, and to chuckle about, to yourself.