Creative Writing feb 26 2016

How Sweet It Is 

            Closing the door to the accounting office securely, Doris took a deep breath as she began walking down the street.  It had been a long day and prospects for a quiet evening looked very good, unfortunately.  Main Street was busy; school was out and traffic on the streets and sidewalks was picking up.  Passing several shops, she stopped to look in the bakery window, eyeing the seven layer chocolate cake that beckoned to her but she tried valiantly to ignore the call.  “Oh heck,” she said, “I might as well take a look.”  Shifting her heavy leather briefcase from one shoulder to the other, she opened the door and grimaced slightly when the bells on the door began to ring.

            “Hi, Doris!  What do you want to try today?”  Antonio called out.

            “Oh, I’m just looking!  You know I shouldn’t eat the desserts in here no matter how beautiful they are.”

            “Aw, c’mon.  How about if I give you a taste of this persimmon gumdrop cookie?  Or just a bite of this peanut butter brownie?  I know you’d like to try a slice of the chocolate cake…”

            Antonio Solarzo was one of the kindest men in town.  Easy on the eyes, too.  Was it just his Italian heritage that made him look so appealing?  Or was it the dark brown curly hair that always seemed to be falling over his forehead, covering those dark expressive eyebrows?  Or could it be the fact that his bakery creations were so wonderful?  Doris wondered how many times she had stopped in to The Village Bakery hoping that Antonio would ask her a few more questions about something other than food.  Vowing not to succumb to the aroma of fresh bread and cherry pie, she found a chair by one of the small round tables near the back room, set her briefcase on the table and plopped down with a sigh. 

            “I think I’ll have some coffee…. And maybe just a little of that brownie.”  She stepped over to the counter to pick up her order.  The bakery was such a friendly place with people stopping in to take a sweet treat home or sit down and enjoy a piece of baked goods with some local camaraderie. 

            “I’ll bring it over to you, Doris.  I bet you have had a busy day at the office, especially this time of year.  You need to take some time to relax!”  Antonio set her coffee and brownie on the table, looking like he would like to say more but he went back to work.

            A group of casually dressed men were sitting at another table, talking and obviously laughing at a story that one of them had just told.  Suddenly, one of the men started to cough, then choke.  He leaned forward, trying to get his breath but looked to be in distress.  His face was turning red, then almost purple.  The other men stopped talking; one of them got up and just looked at his friend.  Antonio rushed over from behind the glass case of baked goods.  “Get him up!” he said to the fellow next to him. Antonio moved behind the choking man, put his arms around the man’s torso, clasped his hands together and gave a sharp push.  Part of a jelly donut flew across the room and the man began to breathe normally, his color coming back. “Wow.  Thought I was a “goner.”  Antonio released him and they both sat down, smiling at one another. 

            “First time for everything, I guess.  Always read about a person having to do that but I never thought it would be my turn to help someone.  I’m glad you are ok.”  Antonio began to breathe more comfortably, too, as he walked back into the baking area.

            Doris got up, shaking slightly but walking deliberately around the glass case, and stood by Antonio.  “You really ARE my hero today!”she said.  “How would you like to join me for dinner at the Wild Rice Emporium this evening?”

            “Yes!” he said as he punched the air with his fist.  “I thought you’d never ask!!”

The music makers

          Jim and Perley spent a lot of time together after the war.  Both of them had signed up to get off the farm and get into the army but they were mighty surprised what happened next.  Now they were back in Haskerville, Jim with his mandolin and Perley with his guitar, looking to impress some women.
          

Family housing

In Zen in the Art of Writing, Ray Bradbury writes of his penchant for making lists and how those lists helped him see patterns and served as “provocations” for writing.  A good list to hand can prevent blank paper paralysis when we sit down to write our family history.  So for today, let’s make a list of all the houses associated with your various family lines.  Residences, vacation houses, apartments, rentals, all living quarters that were significant to your family.  Write down addresses if you know them.  Today you need only make the list. In a later post we’ll talk about how to use it, but if an entry “provokes” you to write about one of your abodes, go for it!

My family lived in a lot of different places -- some of which I was told about, others I do remember quite clearly!

When I was born, my parents had recently moved back from the Cities where they had worked at a munitions plant during the war.  After they married, they lived in an upstairs apartment near the old Farmers Union Gas Station.  That's where they were living when I was a baby. 

Then they built a house on a farm about 2 miles out of Roseau.  It was a small, story and a half house, painted white on the outside but I don't have any recollection of the inside.  We lived there when my father had an appendicitis attack and was hospitalized for a month with peritonitis and nearly died.  I imagine they had no insurance and soon had to sell the house to pay expenses.  

So we moved to California.  We first lived in an apartment in Bell Gardens, a suburb of Los Angeles.  My recollection of that is that it was in a long row of apartments and we lived close to Julius and Mary Brunell (and their boys, Kermit and Donald).  I started first grade there.  Then we moved to a larger apartment in Lynnwood.  That was a series of 4-plexes and lived in a downstairs apartment next to a family who had a daughter named Katherine who was convalescing from polio.,

By the spring, however, we moved back to Roseau.  Then we lived in a small house on the river right by the dam, we lived in another house by the hospital, then a large house by the elevator, and finally we moved to the "Engebretson house" which was located where the license bureau is today.  That was such a nice house, I thought.  There were two bedrooms upstairs and a bathroom!!  My grandpa lived with us part of the time and he stayed in the other upstairs bedroom.  My brother John was born while we lived there. 

But then my dad bought a farm by Badger.  So they bought an old house and moved it onto a (very wet ) new basement in 1957 and added on a  living room, a bedroom, and a nice large bedroom upstairs.  There was no indoor bathroom at first but by spring, the small room downstairs was remodeled into a bathroom and so it was pretty comfortable.  I remember that the kitchen counters were a bit lower than what was standard; the original owners must have been short!  So we always remarked on that.  But I lived with my family in that house from 1957 until 1964 when I went away to college and lived in the dorm.

So I had never shared a room with anyone until moving into Pine Hall at BSU.  Poor Marion!  She had to live with this "not so fussy" housekeeper for a whole year!  But we had a lot of good times.  I liked living in the dorm so I signed up to be a Resident Assistant and I did that for the next two years -- had my own room again!!  But it was usually full of girls hanging out and visiting!  I did my student teaching in Thief River Falls, lived with my aunt Othelia, and had my own room again!

So then we got married in 1967.  Moved to Hawley and lived in a honeymoon cottage on the edge of town.  Furnished three bedroom house.  Very nice.  Moved to Roseau into a new mobile home in the East Side Trailer Court and we lived there for one year before we bought some land at Fox and moved the mobile home to the woods where Keith brushed out trees, made a lawn, built a garage, and I complained about the whole thing.  

In 1973, we sold our mobile home and purchased a manufactured (Dynamic) home.  It has served us well.  We put on an addition in 1995  which Keith built practically singlehandedly.  That has been a great thing; we have a new dining room and a bedroom downstairs.  Progress was good. 
 

Family food

For today’s five minute family history, write (or type) one “must have” traditional family dish.   If it came down within the family write what you know about its origins or who was most particular about it, or most famous for preparing it.

One of the family dishes that we loved to eat was "Potet Klub" or potato dumplings.   My father's family had them regularly and he always liked them -- even helped to make them.  My mother made them every once in a while and she maintained this wasn't something her family ate when she was young.   Bu tI bet they ate something similar.  Because, you see, that "delicacy" that we stand in line at the restaurants for today was really a type of peasant food - something that filled you up so you could go out and work in the woods or in the barn without having hunger pangs in an hour or two.

Potato dumplings are heavy, starchy, rather unattractive and delicious.  They are made by grinding or shredding raw potatoes and adding enough flour to the potatoes to make a semi-solid handfuls of dough.  A small piece of ham or (preferably) salt pork was set on the middle of the dough and then another scoop of dough was put on top.  The whole dumpling was shaped like a good sized potato and then dropped gently into salted water to cook for 20-30 minutes.
The dumplings would be scooped out, drained, and served in a big bowl.  They needed to be solid -- but not too solid!  They should stay together in a firm mass when they cooked.  When you placed one on your plate and cut it up, you would slather it with real butter and each bite would just slide down your throat.  Today, there are some folks who pour dark syrup on the dumplings and eat it that way.

The best way to eat them, however, is to slice up the cold dumplings the next day.  Then fry those pieces in butter, adding a little cream to make a gravy.  The crisp fried potatoes in the creamy gravy is very, very good.

My mother made delicious dumplings.  My aunts -- Alma, Gunda and Othelia -- made them as well and we were often invited to their homes when the dumplings were being cooked.  My mother would often grind the raw potatoes in a metal food grinder that she clamped to the counter, often placing a bowl on the floor because the potatoes had a lot of water in them which dripped down the metal parts of the grinder.  My aunt Othelia would shred the potatoes and she would use different cuts of pork inside. 

Today, we travel to different restaurants to try out the potato dumplings.  Nelson's Café in Roseau makes very good ones.  They always have a big crowd on dumpling days and often sell out so there are no fried ones the next day.  The gals at The Guest House make them as do the cooks at Café 89 in Wannaska, the Twins Café in Badger, the Twins Café in Greenbush. Even Fran's Café in Mesa, Arizona, serves potato dumplings once a week, during the winter months, at least!  Most of the restaurants do serve ham or bacon or sausage along with the dumplings.

 Fundraisers at various churches have potato dumplings on the menu and they are generally very successful.

I understand that some people make potato dumplings out of frozen hash brown potatoes (like the ladies at Badger Creek Church and whose dumplings are very tasty).  You can even buy packages of frozen dumplings in the freezer section of the supermarket and/or "potato dumpling mix" which comes in a brown paper sack. 

My grandparents would chuckle to think of their lowly "potet klub" being served commercially in so many places.  But  I bet they would gladly sit right up and enjoy a ;plate to "stick-to-your-ribs" dumplings!

Scavenger Hunt

You're involved in a scavenger hunt—boys versus girls—and you take off to help your team collect every item on the list. The first several items are relatively easy but the last item is very unusual. But, upon reading the last item, you know exactly where to find it. The only problem is that it...

We were looking forward to the scavenger hunt when we went to a "fun night for grownups" at the church.  Pairing up into teams, we anxiously grabbed the lists, knowing that we could find each item with no problem. 
A rubbing from a family gravestone?  check.  A copy of last week's county newspaper?  A visit to a local "hoarder" made that easy.  A unique pair of salt and pepper shakers?  Someone's grandma collected chickens in her kitchen.  Took care of that.  A dog kennel?  We got to the friend's house where we knew this would be portable and "borrowable" just minutes before the guys got there.  A single homemade cookie?  After we knocked on six doors, we obtained a Snickerdoodle from a lady's freezer! An old wedding photo?  One of our teammates had one in her purse, thinking she was going to get copies made for her children in the near future.  A lawn chair?  Easy peasy.  A piece of old sheet music?  Found one in the church library.  A pocket knife with at least six blades?  Someone knew someone who knew someone that carried one!  And finally, we had to borrow a MAMMAL-- not a bird nor a fish -- who had been stuffed by a taxidermist.  We knew of a few but they were mighty big.  And lots of people had deer heads but that wasn't a whole animal.  The local museum was closed and off limits.  But then.... Mary remembered that her neighbors had their favorite cat freeze dried and stuffed.  However, they were gone for the winter.  Who would be able to open the house so we could borrow the cat?  Cell phones were dragged out, phone books consulted, and calls were made.  No luck. And then....Amelia shouted "I know!  Get in the car!"  Off we went to the owner of a hardware/hunting store.  When we explained our mission, Joe McCarthy laughed and got in the car with us.  Down to the store, we zipped.  He opened the door and said, "Anything you can carry, you can bring down to the church!"  We looked at deer, at elk, at wolves, at foxes.  Too big.  Just then, Mary spied a small prairie dog in a glass case close to the floor where kids could look.  "How about this?"  "Sure!"  He opened the case, Amelia found a large handkerchief in her purse, and off we went (with Joe in the car!) to the church.
 Rushing into the fellowship hall, brandishing all our items, we were ready to claim our prize!  Until we saw the row of smiling fellows, looking at a mangy raccoon that had been languishing in Bill's attic for (obviously) many, many years. 
What fun!  We learned a lot about our little town in that fall evening!

Caught Pants Down

 

You wake up feeling refreshed. A new day, a new--- wait !  Your favorite pair of pants is missing. Darting up from bed you hear a noise outside. A woman is wearing them and looking straight at you. What do you do?

I yawned, of course!  And stretched!  What a beautiful day!  Last night I actually slept with the window open so now I could hear the birds chirping and singing.  I looked up in the trees and could see them flitting from branch to branch, tree to tree.  I swung my legs over the side of the bed and reached for my comfortable, well worn cutoffs that I had folded up on the chair by the bed.  I remembered I tucked my calendar page for the day in the front pocket when I had worked those overtime hours last night.  But they weren't there!  Where did I put them?

Just then I heard a yell outside. What in the world?  There was my mother, wearing MY cutoffs!  She had a fishing pole slung over her shoulder and a big grin on her face.  "Come on, lazy bones!  It's Saturday morning!  We have to get to the river right now!" 

She must have had a nervous breakdown.  My mother never wore ANYTHING that wasn't prim, proper and freshly ironed.  I had to look for another pair of pants and get out there to see if she was all right!