Soulful Cookery

I enjoy using old pots and pans. Smoothed wooden handles.Generation-seasoned cast iron pans. Rolling pins with handles molded perfectly by use.These are my aged treasures that had prepared past foods with love and expertise.
Aunt Katie's hammered aluminium pots that boiled, mashed or roasted are as dear to me as the old recipes they held. Not all of my beloved kitchenware was handed down by family. I have scored some great things from antique and second hand stores. It is the handprint of time on these culinary tools that give them their soul. And soul is the best seasoning to cook with!

A Roast for My Big Brother Greg

Gregory Gerard was born into a still, pristine child-free household on the 22nd of October 1952. This "First Born" child of proud parents George and Joan, was photographed with paparazzi frenzy. The darling, dimpled cherub's first two years of existence were recorded in baby books with hundreds if not thousands of photographs indexed into heavy volumes.
Greggie on a pony.
Greggie with his Sammy Dog.
Lil Greg on Santa's knee!
"Just how adorable it this!" cried his parents."OH, and so bright!" others exclaimed in hopes that they too would be able to hold the bright,shiny new boy.
I did not mind being born as his younger sister, coming in second. Really. There is absolutely nothing wrong with hand-me-down diapers.I am sure my parents' camera had become misplaced or perhaps broken by December of 1954.
Greg wasn't quite willing to leave the comforts of his crib at the time of my birth. Playpens were much roomier anyway. Mom said it always gave me the opportunity to explore. Of course I can't blame my brother for my confused identity. Boy clothes were fine. A boy's bike? Sure. Except that middle bar was sometimes an ouchy.
No really, wearing my brother's football pads, helmet and jersey for a Halloween costume. Cool.
"No mam. I'm NOT Bobby."
The pristine household? Greg managed to clutter it up with toys and rocks and other such boy messes but hey, he shared. He shared boogers,chicken pox and the gum he stored under the desk.He even let me rub his back if I watched his choice of TV fare.
Yep. I was the number two of our household. But you know what? I wouldn't change it for the world because there is nothing better than having a great older brother! Love you Greg and happy birthday!

Pondering the Me Question

My guess is I started wondering who I was at the age of seven. I was cozy in my family nest but felt outside stirrings. Neighborhood. School. Church. I was incubated in midwestern Iowa. German influenced since 1886 when my great grandparents landed on New York's coast that April.
Rules and regulation.
Somewhat mellowed with three American generations, it is still the moral fiber that makes me who I am. I would never take something that was not mine. I was raised knowing I represented not just myself but my family. I represented my Church. I represented my Town. These were the teachings.Though I find pride in my heart for it even to this day, I find rebellion and the want for change. I image it is the natural progression in life.

The 291st day of 2008

Autumn's leaves, plucked by cool breezy gusts,
dip and swirl to summer's last song
and a fat yellowed moon casts silvery shadows
from the edge of the earth so eerily long.

Spiders and mice and low flying bats
make a search for warmth, comfort and food.
Owls with haunting nocturnal voices
announce the strange and ghostly mood.

I welcome the season of hallowed harvests
of apples, corn and pumpkined vine.
Cheers to this colorful Autumn Season
made of patches in earthtone design.
S.G.Dunn

George F. Gager

Today I rewired a lamp. The last person to rewire it was my dad. He died April 2 of 1999. I thought of him as I disconnected wires, reconnected wires. It brought us back together. Father and daughter. I inherited the knack of being handy from him. He barely taught me such things. Maybe by accident I stood too close to him the day he repaired a flat tire or filed down a sticking door. Maybe I just simply wanted to hang out with my dad and happened to learned something. I don't know. I do know he has some responsibility in who I am today. For that, I am thankful. Love you Dad!

The Sixth Day of the Tenth Month

A warm dry sixth day of October. Threats of a water restriction rumble under clear blue skies while healthy moles frolic under crusty baked Tennessee yards. Even so I do love Autumn. Not death in the year's cycle but a true beginning to one! A time for nature's decay to become the nutrients for spring's growth. Seeds nestle down in warm compost with dreams for April. The start to our earth's gestation. A jubilant time of year!