A time to gather

As I am canning green beans, some thoughts surface in my mind.  I was reminded recently of something my mother said and most wives of farmers.  They said "It doesn't matter if harvest is early or late, the beans are always ready at harvest time".  I remember Mother driving the wheat truck for Daddy during harvest and then coming in and staying up late to can beans.  Our Grandma Horack (Millie) who stayed with us girls during harvest would have them picked and probably ready to can. 
Well, this year of 2012, wheat harvest began around this area in mid-May.  I checked the beans.  Sure enough, they were blooming.  By the time they were cutting our wheat, I was canning beans.  But I wasn't up half the night canning them. 
There were times that Mother canned beans even after harvest was over.  She would pick enough for a canner (7 quarts or 9 pints), wash, snap and pack them in jars.  Then she would get them in the pressure canner and get the pressure built up.  She would say "You watch the pressure gauge and if it gets over a certain number, you call me". Then she would go out to pick beans for the next canner.  Made me very nervous.  I watched that gauge like a hawk.  She always said you should but up 1 qt of whatever you were doing for each week of the year and some extra for company.  That was the canning rule.
 The year I really learned how to can beans, Aunt Doris and Uncle Harold were going to California to see Jean and John.  Aunt Doris said," Anita, the beans will be ready to can while we're gone.  You come out and can them".  Clinton was a baby.  But I went out.  He sat in his little seat.  I picked the beans and canned them for Aunt Doris.  Everything went fine.  Lots of memories of canning at Aunt Doris's. 
When you are used to home canned goods, nothing tastes the same.  We are very thankful for the produce and the knowledge to know how to preserve them.

More on Memorial Day

Andrea as written about our Grandma Horack taking us to the cemetery and telling us family history. I didn't realize it at the time but she was also helping us not to be afraid of death. The people in the graves became very real to us as she told us their stories and their connection to her and us. Then seeing pictures of them with her or our Dad made them even more real. Other people have remarked that they won't go to funerals, they hate cemeteries, they're spooky, etc. We girls had a great time at the cemetery. We weren't disrespectful or anything but we had no qualms about walking across graves or being there with Grandma. Anytime spent with Grandma was great fun. What I remember most about Memorial Day was Grandma saving peonies for weeks ahead to take out. When she'd open her refrigerator door, her frig was full of peonies. Everybody now either buys artificial or orders from the florist or buys pots from somewhere. Since my peonies are always done blooming by Memorial Day, last year I decided to try what Grandma did. I thought it would be neat to put peonies on her grave as she always did on everyone elses. Two years ago I cut them just as they started to open and put them in vases of water in the frig downstairs. I noticed the florist kept them in vases in a cooler so thought that would be the best way. I took them out the day before going to the cemetery and they opened beautifully. This year I called the florist in town to see if she had an opinion on the best way to store them. She said the old timers said to wrap them in dry newspaper like a diaper and put them in the frig. So I did that this year. By the day before Memorial Day they were looking pretty droopy and sad. I didn't have very high hopes for their rejuvenation. I took them out the day before, put them in vases of water and by the next day, they had opened up beautifully. So I had peonies to put on Gma and Gpa Horack, A. Pauline and U. Wayne, and Mother and Daddy. I also took artificial flowers for my Grandma's parents, the aunt that raised her, her grandmother and her uncle. I trimmed the dead heads off the peonies that still live on GG Grandmother Katherine's grave and GG Uncle Jim's. I do this not because I have to but out of love and respect for my Grandma Horack and for the others who came before.
I noticed that one row over from Mother and Daddy there was a very old rose bush that was planted on a grave that hadn't been cared for for a very long time. I was blooming and trying it's best. So on Tuesday when I went to pick up the vases, I took the truck and loppers and trimmed all the dead out. No one had visited it or done anything for Memorial Day so I didn't figure anyone would care. I'm sure the bush feels much better, too.

Horacks meet Deets (cont. from Watch God Work)

Notice the signature, A.J Deets, that was Leonards Dad
1937 graduating class of South Haven High School. Mother, first row third from left, Leonard behind and to left, Katherine, third row, third from right.
When Anna Mae was in high school, there was a boy a grade ahead of her named Leonard Deets. His mom was Anna Mae's Sunday School Teacher. I think it was her Junior year in high school that a girl came to their school named Katherine Kirk. She moved up from Oklahoma to live with her brother and attend high school. He lived where our Uncle Henry and Aunt Betty later lived and still owns.
One day Ernest came home and told Anna Mae that he heard the place across the road west had sold to some people named Deets. Anna Mae replied that she wondered if they would be related to the Deets she had known in high school. She was thrilled to learn that it was Leonard and Katherine.
Katherine & Mother in St. Louis
Leonard & Daddy at New Salem Park
Ernest and Leonard first met when Leonard got a phone call to grab a bucket and meet Ernest at the end of his driveway because Rigg's barn was on fire. Leonard later put two and two together when he saw Ira's threshing machine in the machine shed at Horack's. He recognized it as the machine that had threshed his Dad's wheat years earlier.
Stories with the Deets would be a complete other Blog. They have been such a big part of our lives and still are. There is not a doubt in any of our minds that God put out families across the road from each other. For which, we are forever grateful.

Thanksgiving - My favorite Holiday

As I was coming home from the store today, it hit me that I have a freezer so full I can't get anything else in it. My cupboard shelves are full with no room for more canned goods and I just spent $154.00 for groceries. That is on top of my monthly shopping I already did at the first of the month. I called Andrea and asked her to ponder this situation and if she had an answer to please let me know. She laughed so hard I don't think the blood could get to her head for her to come up with an answer. I think we already know the answer. It is Thanksgiving. My idea of the very best holiday. Usually we have a beautiful fall day. (No over the river and through the woods in a horse drawn sleigh in Kansas. However I do remember one Thanksgiving that we got a bad snow storm and we were to go to one of the grandparents. Of course, Mother had done a lot of cooking to take along. We ended up riding to Finks east of us on a tractor pulled conveyance. Deets also went along. Everyone took the food they had prepared.) To me that is Thanksgiving. Lots of people, relatives or not, lots of food, fun, visiting, card games, leaves crunching on the ground. One year when Jennifer and Bryan Gibson were little, we buried them and their dad, Jim, in the pile of leaves in the garden. There's a picture of that somewhere. Thanksgiving fills my soul with joy. It is the perfect time to embrace family and friends with no pressure of giving the right gift. Just the gift of loving each other and sharing. (by Aunt Anita)

The correct story of the meatloaf !!!!!

Now I know how family history gets screwed up. How do you know what to believe. It's a good thing the person who knows the truth about this crucial matter is still alive. I mean what could be more important in our lineage than the truth of the meatloaf recipe. Andrea said Mother told her that she "thought" that it was Grandma's recipe and she got it from the Capper's Weekly. Well, I "know" where the recipe came from and I will share this all important truth with you. TA DA!!
We were still living on the farm but we did have our first TV. During the noon news, in those days, they would have a short cooking portion and a lady would share a recipe and demonstrate making it. I was home by myself (or I wouldn't have been watching TV) and a lady made this particular meatloaf. I wrote down the recipe and asked Mother if I could make it. She said yes and it has been THE meatloaf recipe ever since. Uncle Cliff was also not a fan of meatloaf but admits that he likes this one. It along with a baked potato and home canned green beans is one of my "comfort meals". I also like it sliced, heated and used in a sandwich with mustard. I always make extra sauce and hold some back to serve with the meatloaf. I am hoping that between us 4 girls, we can get the family story written correctly.

The Way it all began - watch God at work

On August 4, 1919, Henry and Amy Wolf had their 4th child. A girl they named Anna Mae. This was not really a convenient time as harvest was in full swing. Put 9 months earlier, I'm sure this was not given a thought. Anyway, Ira Horack was at the Wolf's threshing their wheat. Henry remarked to him that he had a new little girl that day. Ira said how nice that was and that he had a son that was 2 years old and maybe they should get them together some day. Skip ahead some years. Anna Mae's sister Harriet and her husband Delbert were living in the Miller house at what is now the NW corner of 50th and Webb. (Such fancy names now when back then it was the Miller house on the corner across from Finks west.) Henry, Jr, Anna Mae's younger brother "happened to know Ernest" and came to Harriets to get Anna Mae to introduce her to Ernest. The girls had been horseback riding and didn't particularly smell or look too good. But they relented. When they showed up at Horack's (which was on the SE corner of the intersection), they got Ernest up from a nap. It was Sunday afternoon, for Pete's sake. But they met and from their it began.(To be continued.)