I just found this entry that I started at Christmas time but never finished. So although it's dated in April, remember I'm just late in getting it posted.
Today I finally decorated my small Christmas tree. I have some fake candles for it and while I was putting them on, I had a memory of Mom telling me of her Klopp grandparents having real candles on at least one Christmas tree that she remembered.
This is hazy and I'm not sure what I remember and what I think should be. I think she said that once they were lit, someone made sure to be there watching to be sure nothing caught fire and they left them lit only for a short time. What a short time was, I don't remember but I would think it would be no more than an hour, depending on the candles and how fast they burned down.
I wouldn't swear to this in court, or even argue about it but one thing about being old is having a connection to these kinds of historical events.
As an adult, I learned that a German Christmas tradition is/was hanging a pickle (assume a pickle shaped ornament) on the tree. I never thought to ask Mom about this and never heard her talk about that.
Do you know any German Christmas traditions that our ancestors would have had?
Tuesday, April 16, 2019
Monday, August 6, 2018
Since this is a place for remembering stuff..... this morning while I was cleaning up after breakfast, guess which song started running through my head?
Oh I wish I were a little cake of soap
I wish I were a little cake of soap
I'd slippy and I'd slidey
All up and down your hidey,
Oh I wish I were a little cake of soap.
(to the tune of "If You're Happy and You Know It")
I want to say there were more verses and I wish I were a little shot/sip of gin comes to mind, but I don't know what would go with it.
I looked this up on line and found several versions, but none with extra verses which rang a bell. For this one I thank the Denver Sky Rockets 4H club.
Segue into....
I love my rooster, my rooster loves me.
I feed my rooster on tenderleaf tea
My little rooster goes cock a doodle doodle
doodle doodle doodle doo.
I love my kitten, my kitten loves me.
I feed my kitten on catnip tea.
My little kitten goes meow meow meow.
My little rooster goes cock a doodle doodle
doodle doodle doodle doo.
I love my puppy, my puppy loves me.
I feed my puppy on dogwood(?) tea.
My little puppy goes bow wow wow.
My little kitten goes meow meow meow.
My little rooster goes cock a doodle doodle
doodle doodle doodle doo.
I love my _____, my _____ loves me.
I feed my _____ on ______(?) tea.
My little _____ goes _____ ______ ______.
My little puppy goes bow wow wow.
My little kitten goes meow meow meow.
My little rooster goes cock a doodle doodle
doodle doodle doodle doo.
This one from church camp at Camp Echo in the late 50's early 60's.
Beverly and I went to Petersburg a while ago and found that there is still Church Camp at Camp Echo and Greg Foley is in charge of it. He still tells the Old Indian Story. Perhaps I'll put this on here another day.... for posterity.
Oh I wish I were a little cake of soap
I wish I were a little cake of soap
I'd slippy and I'd slidey
All up and down your hidey,
Oh I wish I were a little cake of soap.
(to the tune of "If You're Happy and You Know It")
I want to say there were more verses and I wish I were a little shot/sip of gin comes to mind, but I don't know what would go with it.
I looked this up on line and found several versions, but none with extra verses which rang a bell. For this one I thank the Denver Sky Rockets 4H club.
Segue into....
I love my rooster, my rooster loves me.
I feed my rooster on tenderleaf tea
My little rooster goes cock a doodle doodle
doodle doodle doodle doo.
I love my kitten, my kitten loves me.
I feed my kitten on catnip tea.
My little kitten goes meow meow meow.
My little rooster goes cock a doodle doodle
doodle doodle doodle doo.
I love my puppy, my puppy loves me.
I feed my puppy on dogwood(?) tea.
My little puppy goes bow wow wow.
My little kitten goes meow meow meow.
My little rooster goes cock a doodle doodle
doodle doodle doodle doo.
I love my _____, my _____ loves me.
I feed my _____ on ______(?) tea.
My little _____ goes _____ ______ ______.
My little puppy goes bow wow wow.
My little kitten goes meow meow meow.
My little rooster goes cock a doodle doodle
doodle doodle doodle doo.
This one from church camp at Camp Echo in the late 50's early 60's.
Beverly and I went to Petersburg a while ago and found that there is still Church Camp at Camp Echo and Greg Foley is in charge of it. He still tells the Old Indian Story. Perhaps I'll put this on here another day.... for posterity.
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
Today someone posted a series of pictures on Facebook about root cellars and canning. I remember canned fruit and vegetables (particularly tomatoes) that were done at our house from the earliest I can remember at least once we came to West Virginia. The root cellar that I remember was in Wilsondale at the Carrolls (neighbors who lived just down the road) where we played a lot. We finally had one at "the Wolfe House" in Augusta. It wasn't quite all underground, but was built into a hillside so part of it was able to keep it fairly cool.
I don't know how we stored potatoes etc, or if we did when there was no cellar, but I remember one time when we had a lot of green tomatoes at the end of the season. A frost was expected and the tomatoes were picked. Dad had read or heard somewhere that if you wrapped each tomato in newspaper and put them someplace cool, they would last a long time and would gradually ripen. This was at Wilsondale and we put the tomatoes in a single layer in shallow boxes and put them under the bed in one of the bedrooms. (That house was quite cold in the back rooms in the winter.) Unfortunately, I don't remember if we actually salvaged any of those tomatoes, but I do remember that some, if not most, went bad. Nothing like the smell of rotten tomatoes!
We did have canned goods stored somewhere all the time where ever we lived. I'm not sure when I got involved in doing it but I learned enough from home that I was able to do it for myself after I married and had a garden. For a couple years I canned everything I could without spending tons of money. Our garden was mostly tomatoes, peppers and broccoli. Broccoli didn't can but I did tomatoes, pickles and various applications of zucchini. I made zucchini marmalade, zucchini pineapple, and even made zucchini bread in wide mouthed jars that sealed and kept the bread pretty well. I made all kinds of jams and jellies. Canned peaches, grape juice and even made kraut. I bought a pressure canner so I could can vegies that wouldn't work in a water bath.
Now that I'm old and single, I have tackled a few 1/2 cup jars of some kind of jam and even found a recipe for Penrose pickled sausages (that have gone off the market). I made a few 1/2 pints of these and even though sausages are some sort of preservative for meat, and they were pickled, after I put them up in a water bath, I kept them in the fridge and enjoyed them for a few months. I'm not sure I'd trust my pressure cooker any more. I'm sure the rubber gasket is dry rotted.
I was able to teach my friends, Lee and Maggie, to can tomatoes. Once they learned, they were hooked. Now they can all kinds of things. It's amazing to hear what they have tried. I don't know of anything they did which was a failure, so it makes me feel good to pass along this old timey skill that lets us preserve food so that we know exactly what is in the jar... sans chemicals etc.
It was fun while it lasted.
I don't know how we stored potatoes etc, or if we did when there was no cellar, but I remember one time when we had a lot of green tomatoes at the end of the season. A frost was expected and the tomatoes were picked. Dad had read or heard somewhere that if you wrapped each tomato in newspaper and put them someplace cool, they would last a long time and would gradually ripen. This was at Wilsondale and we put the tomatoes in a single layer in shallow boxes and put them under the bed in one of the bedrooms. (That house was quite cold in the back rooms in the winter.) Unfortunately, I don't remember if we actually salvaged any of those tomatoes, but I do remember that some, if not most, went bad. Nothing like the smell of rotten tomatoes!
We did have canned goods stored somewhere all the time where ever we lived. I'm not sure when I got involved in doing it but I learned enough from home that I was able to do it for myself after I married and had a garden. For a couple years I canned everything I could without spending tons of money. Our garden was mostly tomatoes, peppers and broccoli. Broccoli didn't can but I did tomatoes, pickles and various applications of zucchini. I made zucchini marmalade, zucchini pineapple, and even made zucchini bread in wide mouthed jars that sealed and kept the bread pretty well. I made all kinds of jams and jellies. Canned peaches, grape juice and even made kraut. I bought a pressure canner so I could can vegies that wouldn't work in a water bath.
Now that I'm old and single, I have tackled a few 1/2 cup jars of some kind of jam and even found a recipe for Penrose pickled sausages (that have gone off the market). I made a few 1/2 pints of these and even though sausages are some sort of preservative for meat, and they were pickled, after I put them up in a water bath, I kept them in the fridge and enjoyed them for a few months. I'm not sure I'd trust my pressure cooker any more. I'm sure the rubber gasket is dry rotted.
I was able to teach my friends, Lee and Maggie, to can tomatoes. Once they learned, they were hooked. Now they can all kinds of things. It's amazing to hear what they have tried. I don't know of anything they did which was a failure, so it makes me feel good to pass along this old timey skill that lets us preserve food so that we know exactly what is in the jar... sans chemicals etc.
It was fun while it lasted.
Thursday, June 7, 2018
The Beginning (of me)
Perhaps my family history should begin with me. First we need a short history lesson.
It is 1943 and in cities and towns air raid drills were held to practice blackouts in preparation for a bombing attack by the enemy. Homes had black fabric to be put over windows or no lights could be on. Cars had to travel with no headlights, if they went out at all. Other buildings had other things to do but basically, no lights were to be showing. It was thought that the enemy planes couldn't find their target if there were no lights showing.
Now back to me.....I was not born in the lobby of a building, not in the fields nor in the car on the way to the hospital, but there was a little more excitement than to be expected when I decided to make my way into the world.
Mom woke during the night when I let her know that it was time to go to the hospital. Perhaps they had heard sirens that notified folks that there was an air raid drill going on. In spite of this, she and Dad got up and turned on a light and began to get ready to go to the hospital. Shortly a Civil Defense Warden knocked on the door and said they had to turn off the light. They tried to explain the situation, but the warden basically said "Too bad. No lights and no, you can't drive." I guess things were tense for a little while but then the drill was over and things went back to normal. They made it to the hospital and I was born at about 8:00 AM on June 29.
It must have been still summer when the picture below was taken. Although I'm bundled up like an eskimo, Mom is in short sleeves so I would have been only a month or two old.
I don't know why the scowl. 😊
It is 1943 and in cities and towns air raid drills were held to practice blackouts in preparation for a bombing attack by the enemy. Homes had black fabric to be put over windows or no lights could be on. Cars had to travel with no headlights, if they went out at all. Other buildings had other things to do but basically, no lights were to be showing. It was thought that the enemy planes couldn't find their target if there were no lights showing.
Now back to me.....I was not born in the lobby of a building, not in the fields nor in the car on the way to the hospital, but there was a little more excitement than to be expected when I decided to make my way into the world.
Mom woke during the night when I let her know that it was time to go to the hospital. Perhaps they had heard sirens that notified folks that there was an air raid drill going on. In spite of this, she and Dad got up and turned on a light and began to get ready to go to the hospital. Shortly a Civil Defense Warden knocked on the door and said they had to turn off the light. They tried to explain the situation, but the warden basically said "Too bad. No lights and no, you can't drive." I guess things were tense for a little while but then the drill was over and things went back to normal. They made it to the hospital and I was born at about 8:00 AM on June 29.
It must have been still summer when the picture below was taken. Although I'm bundled up like an eskimo, Mom is in short sleeves so I would have been only a month or two old.
I don't know why the scowl. 😊
Wednesday, June 6, 2018
Welcome.
Sit here with me while I reminisce about a lifetime journey that took me from Buffalo, New York in the 1940's to various places in West Virginia and then to present day Florida . I
I want to share stories, memories, photos, music, and genealogy treasures with family, friends or anyone else who may be interested. Things will be posted randomly as they are found or come to mind. Too much organization would be like trying to write a book.
If you find it interesting, please follow. At least come back and check things out from time to time. Maybe you will find something that you like at another time.
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