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Story: Pickles and Pie Pans (PY)
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Story: Pickles and Pie Pans (PY) |
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Subject: Story Add: PICKLES AND PIE PANS (PY) From: wysiwyg Date: 08 Mar 01 - 12:14 PM Here's a way we could do these. It's in second draft form. It seems to be the third or fourth in a series emerging in e-mail correspondence. For now, the series title will be Letters from Pennsyltucky. (That term IS actually pretty PC here, BTW.) Comments and edits welcome, for revise before submission to the Mudcat Storybook and publishers. I'll post the final revise here too.
~S~ (C) 2001 Susan O. Hinton |
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Subject: RE: Story: PICKLES AND PIE PANS (PY) From: katlaughing Date: 03 Jun 01 - 12:59 AM Great story, Susan. Reminds of my mom. She was always putting up so much stuff, including pickles. She insisted on passing them out to her kids. She still did even when I grew bold enough to tell her I didn't eat salty pickles anymore or was never really fond of the relish recipe she got from Denver Henry's wife across the road on the dairy farm. Thanks for sharing, kat |
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Subject: RE: Story: PICKLES AND PIE PANS (PY) From: wysiwyg Date: 03 Jun 01 - 12:59 AM refresh Edits/comments welcome. ~Susan |
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Subject: RE: Story: PICKLES AND PIE PANS (PY) From: wysiwyg Date: 03 Jun 01 - 01:03 AM Cross-posting! Does it all read smooth? ~S~ |
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Subject: RE: Story: PICKLES AND PIE PANS (PY) From: Bert Date: 03 Jun 01 - 01:06 AM Pickled onions are MY favourites. Wel actually that's a lie ,because I always use shallots when I can get them cheaply enough. Cold pickled in malt vinegar with just a little pickling spice. AAAAHhhhhhhhh! Bert, |
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Subject: RE: Story: PICKLES AND PIE PANS (PY) From: wysiwyg Date: 03 Jun 01 - 01:12 AM Bert, Big onions or little then? Green ones (scallions)? Vidalia? ~S~ |
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Subject: RE: Story: The D[xxxx] Nativity Set (PY) From: GUEST,WYS-out Date: 17 Jan 10 - 07:24 PM ST. PAUL'S "NEW" VINTAGE NATVITY SET People have asked me about the large Nativity figures presently gracing our Parish House. The Nativity set was donated to St. Paul's by the Derenthal Family of Owego, New York. When Ed V[xxx] and I picked up their gift, Mrs. D[xxxxx] (Cathy) shared with me her memories of arriving from New York City, where she'd grown up, to start her married life in Owego. She and her husband were to raise [xxx] children in the small house in whose driveway we stood visiting. "It seemed like a pretty big change," she said, grinning. We then shared our perspectives on how wonderful it is when a small town adopts you, how much you find you must learn to become part of such a community, and how gracious folks are to "train" you to join in. As she shared more lovely memories (with tears in her eyes), it was evident that she was still very much in love with her late husband, who had died suddenly just a few years ago... so I asked her, very gently, "How can you part with these? They sound like they've been such a powerful family memento." Smiling, she said, "I just can't put them up myself.... But I thought they should be seen and enjoyed by other people. So we all just decided to pass them on." Cathy was reassured to know that her precious Nativity figures were going to a community much like her adopted home town, and she was glad to hear a description of the oft-used Town Green and fountain her husband's Set might someday face. I had the feeling that, but for the distance, she'd enjoy worshipping with us-- and seeing our similarly-styled Creche set. I told her that at St. Paul's, we always appreciate a good story, and that folks would want to know more about the set-- particularly since it looks so much like our beloved indoor Creche set that Anne T[xxxxx] restored just a few years ago. Cathy told me that her husband, too, had lovingly restored their set every few years. "Of course it's designed to be seen from the street, not up close. But when you start to load up the pieces," she said, "you'll see that it's due for a touchup now..... well, we just don't have the time..." Cathy and her son Brian told me how the set came to be. Said Cathy, "You used to be able to buy a beautiful set of figures printed on heavy paper. My husband just applied them to his own plywood, cut out the figures, shellacked them, and made backs to stand them up and anchor them." Brian told me: "My Dad's name was Edwin D[xxxxx]. The set was put up originally~ in 1962~ a few years after they bought the [Owego] house in 1959. The Nativity was put up every year until Dad passed away in February 2006. That's 43 years. He maintained it fairly well. We (Cathy and her son) will both enjoy seeing pictures of the set once you get it set up." The set, because it is a handsome reflection of the smaller set found inside St. Paul's at Christmastime, would make a wonderful invitation to attend St. Paul's Christmas services. (Or the figures can again be displayed in the Parish House if it is decided that it is better suited for indoor use.) Father G[xxx] and I plan to shore up the backings during the year, and see how it might look in the front yard of the church. If anyone wants to assist with re-touching or re-varnishing it, or wants to construct a stable-outline as a backdrop, please contact us. Estimated cost to replace the 15 figures in today's economy: $1,000, according to Brain's figuring: - Buy the plywood, images, templates for plywood, eye hooks; - Labor to cut out and sand the plywood figures, install backing and install hooks, glue on the images, protect with shellac, re-touch as needed with paint. Respectfully submitted, ~Susan H[xxxxx] |
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Subject: RE: Story: Pickles and Pie Pans (PY) From: wysiwyg Date: 10 Apr 12 - 12:09 PM RIP "Millie." I printed the last version of this piece (below) to take to her service in a little bit, in case a family member might wish to receive it (Hardi will know). ~S~ === P I C K L E S A N D P I E P A N S This is a piece I drafted years ago for eventual gathering into a book of memories of our ministry times in Wellsboro. Of course it exaggerates shamelessly; names are changed to protect the individuals’ privacy. The “Millieâ€쳌 in this piece represents a score of women I have lumped into one “piece,â€쳌 all of whom generously still help “raise me rightâ€쳌 as a newcomer they‘d called to their Boro. My dearly loved friend, I thank you for your letter. Your words sparkled with all the clarity I've come to recognize as your hallmark stamped on a thought. I feel quite unequal to the task of replying with like clarity, and I seem to have forgotten momentarily what my own hallmark might be. I'm thinking now of sweet old Millie Branson, our dear parishioner, who gives a million jars of pickles, all different recipes, in jars of every make as she's collected them through the years... pickles sweetened with honey or sugar or cane syrup... pickles dilled with garlic and without... pickles sliced, whole, large, gherkin... smooth pickles from early-gathered cukes, pickles that crunch, pickles that squish, pickles that chew, pickles that melt... They are all pickles, all green, all in jars full of the pickle juice du jour. One naturally wants to exercise stewardship over such gifting. And one naturally wants to express appreciation and admiration, anew, each and every time, because Millie's memory is such that she does not recall that she has given you “hundredsâ€쳌 of jars on past occasions. Each gift feels, to her, like the first time she's blessing you with her wonderful pickles. And all she really wants back are the empty jars-- to give them again, of course, pickle-packed. Yes... the neighborly, natural thing would be to see the blessing she's bestowed. The thing is, though, once she's got you on her pickle list, she's stuck in giving mode, and you could just about pickle-fill your belly on a daily basis. But you can't live on pickles alone. She must assume, if she thinks at all about how many jars you've stowed down cellar, that you entertain an awful lot. As she herself probably did, once upon a younger time. I bet most people fill the emptied jar with their own prize-winning recipe, and return it to her with a pretty ribbon tied 'round the fabric-wrapped lid. That's the way here. It must go on all year, too-- WalMart never seems to put the canning supplies away with the seasonal stock! Millie must have a really wonderful cellar of her own, too, by now-- jams, jellies, beans, sauces, chili peppers.... even a flatlander like myself can see the sense in the system. All she really needs to make are pickles, and pickles must fascinate her for you can always count on Millie's Pickles at the parish picnic in July-- every year, five or six new delights she's created. Making her specialty, she can get back everything a body needs to live. (I'm sure there are even people who plow her driveway when they bring back the boxful of pickle jars!) Yes, the system is fine-- she's just a bit stuck now on the "Must Give Pickles" side of the exchange. She's lived by this system for so long that I'm sure she accurately understands that when a cloth-covered pie turns up on her doorstep, someone is saying anonymously, "I'm sorry, I broke your pickle jar, but I baked you a pie and please keep my best pie pan, too." I bet if I dropped in on her today to bring her an audiotape with the Saturday night service's music, I'd find her with someone’s fresh pie-- all ready to cut for company. Some of us "just-arrived" newcomers take a long time to discover our own special recipe to put in Millie's jars. That's fine with Millie, as long as she gets the jars back. (After all, not everyone is smart enough to have been born and raised here, and grow up knowing everyone does have something they will give their whole life long.) She's happy just to have the jars back, actually. I suspect that even without the return of the jars, she'd be happy just to give her pickles-- what better gift could one give, after all, than the best pickles in the county? These ways are so automatic among the natives, so ingrained-- so inbred-- that she would be completely baffled if I asked her about this. Millie's lesson is totally contained in each jar. I see that I'm having a little trouble getting the giving end right, myself; I suspect I may be involved in several out-of-balance economies, as a clergy-spouse is always outnumbered. But I know a local expert who can speak to me in the kinds of words I use, and I think I will ask her to tell me more of Millie and the way people here manage to give what they have harvested. Her special recipe is helpful words, wrapped not in calico but in smiles and hugs. In the meantime I will add your peck to her store down cellar and return the jars as they are emptied. Your jars have the cutest labels you know, and I do love pickles! You must come to one of St. Paul’s parish picnics too, with your pickles. Do try to come soon, while Millie is still able to be with us! Oh-- and do keep the pie pan! All my love, always, Susan (C) 2001 Susan O. Hinton |
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