Ice Cream Blessing

Dear Lynn,

Hope life is treating you well and that you are managing to stay safe during these pandemic times.  We and our families are all fine, thank goodness. I find myself thinking of my parents and am glad they are not with us anymore because I don't know how they would have managed to wrangle their way through all these restrictions.  It's difficult enough for Ted and I to keep up with it all!

Probably because of so much time on my hands I've been doing a lot of reminiscing lately. Had an ice cream cone yesterday and it took me back to my girlhood. 

Ice cream was a frequent summer treat in our family and I loved it!  It wasn't just the cool creaminess of it melting in my mouth, nor the myriad of flavours, or the hidden nuts, candy or fruit that made this treat special.  It was the way it brought our family together.

Back in the day when the "Sunday evening drive" was popular entertainment, we would often pile into the back of Dad's station wagon to roam the hilly country north of us, frequently ending up at Cloverdale Dairies in Northville.  We would all run in and order a single cone of our favourite flavour and sit outside and slurp and chat and laugh.

One summer weekend in the early 60's, we went to Mama's family reunion in Ohio.  The festivities were finished off by Cousin Merle hand churning ice-cream!  The sun had set, the corn field alight with fireflies and the call of the whippoorwill lulled us into a dream world.

Finally ooooh's and ahhhh's went up as the dasher was pulled from the bucket and each of us got to taste a finger full of the delectable confection!  Needless to say, Dad bought his own ice cream churn shortly there after.

Each Memorial Day, or Fourth of July, or Labour Day, Mama would make up the custard and Dad would crank away.  Often fresh berries or a can of Hershey's chocolate syrup was added. Yum!

After Mama died, Dad was ailing and just wanted to go and be with "the Good Lord, and my Marie".  Ted and I would visit and often take him to his neighbourhood Dairy Queen. We would sit outside at an umbrella-covered table and swap stories and laugh and slurp to catch the drips running down our fingers.

Not too many months later my sister phoned and said, "Come now!"  

I drove quickly the 7 hours with my youngest son.  Dad was surrounded by family when we arrived at the hospital.  He recognized us and smiled and whispered our names.

A nurse brought in a snack for Dad and asked if anyone would like to help him with it.  I volunteered and was privileged to feed Dad his very last meal before he left this earth...a bowl of vanilla ice cream!

What a loving God we have, to know how much this would gratify Dad and bless all of us, watching him enjoy what would be his final creamy treat!

Well, Lynn, time for me to run. Pray this finds you hale and hearty.  Wish we could enjoy a bowl of ice cream together in honour of our life-long friendship but that will have to wait for another day. Bye for now. Take care, good buddy.

Always,

Peggy

Dear Sylvia, 

It's been a long time since I have written and hope you are doing well. Fathers' Day is this weekend and I pray you and all the fathers in your life are prospering.

I have been thinking back to one of the earliest Fathers' Days I remember. It was the first time I saw my mother cry.  It was the Saturday before Fathers’ Day and she had spent all morning slaving over a lemon meringue pie as a sweet surprise for Daddy.

I watched from my seat at the pickled-oak kitchen table in the corner of our tiny kitchen.  Daddy had just finished putting on the last of the knotty pine cupboard doors for Mama.  Chrome handles that matched the trim on the yellow formica countertop were on an angle at the bottom of each door. 

Mama squeezed the ripe oval fruits into a glass measuring cup until just the right amount of juice was had.  Six lemon halves, ready to discard, lay on the counter top.  Mama’s capable hands were shiny with the oily fruit.

She cooked and stirred and cracked eggs and then, “Ding!”  Time for the crust to come out of the oven, all lightly browned, slightly risen and bumpy between its fork pricks.  Mama tilted the bowl of lemon pudding and scooped it into the flaky shell. 

After much beating, the meringue was ready to pile onto her creation.  Then back into the oven it went.  Mama kept as close an eye on the pie as I kept on her.  Mama could do anything with a bowl and a spoon!  Her kitchen was her stage and I was her audience.

Finally the timer went off.  Mama grabbed a potholder in each hand and opened the oven door wide.  The sweet, sticky delight was browned and ready.  Mama lifted it into the air but the pie wobbled in her grasp.  Mama shrieked and tried to catch her creation but it wasn’t to be saved.  This marvellously creamy, sweetly-sour delight lay upside down in the middle of the opened oven door.

Mama knelt down beside her creation as if she were going to say a Hail Mary, but instead, Mama cried.  I had never seen Mama cry before.  It took me by surprise.  This woman who was composed each and every day; this woman who was fastidious about the state of her home; this strong, capable woman crumpled down onto the floor and sobbed.

I wanted to comfort her but I didn’t know how. How does one comfort someone from whom comfort was not received?  I felt like a fish trying to fly.  I knew how to rock my crying baby brother, but had no idea what to do for a crying mother.  

Soon Mama was up and searching for things to help her dispose of the mess.  I couldn’t help her.  I would just get in the way.  I wanted to say how I felt.  I wanted to hug her and tell her I was sorry and that all would be okay.  But no words formed in my mouth.  I still have difficulty with that; with saying what I have on my mind.  The words get caught in my throat and nothing comes out.  Perhaps that is why I take to writing?

Take care, dear friend. Talk to you again soon!

Love, Peggy

Hello Again!

Hello family and friends,

I am resurrecting the blog that I created some time ago.  This is a trial to see if  I remember how to manage it.   

                    Peggy when locked in the house with Ted!

It will retain the title"Letters Home" and will be in the form of a letter to a friend or family member.  Let me know what you think. 

Thanks, 

Peggy