Potatoes & Gravy

There is a good reason that some foods are called comfort foods. They give us a feeling of calmness, warmth and often fond memories. Unfortunately many if not all of these foods are not necessarily something that we should be eating at every meal. Unless of course we work a 10 hour day of hard labor. Yet still there are the occasional times when we indulge ourselves and partake of those things that always seem to bring a smile to our face.

A comfort food that can well be called one of my favorites is potatoes and gravy... You know the real potatoes cooked up and mashed just right. Then the gravy that is not from a package but made from the drippings of the meat cooked earlier. My mother being the German she is, had several ways to prepare potatoes. And I think I can safely say we had them every day at least once and sometimes twice. From potato pancakes to fried potatoes and onions they were all so delicious. Yet my favorite by far was when she fried pork chops and made potatoes and gravy.

I have tried over the years to duplicate that taste from her yet I just never seem to get it right. I think much of this is because it just always taste better when someone else prepares food for you.... That is if they are a good cook. Yet from the reviews I receive on my own attempts I am led to believe that I am not too bad at it.

There are a couple other things that give me a smile and a fond memory. My grandma's Lemon Pie: something I later found out she would make just for me when she knew I was coming. Saltine Crackers with a thin layer of real butter spread across the top: This was the treat that my grandma would give us as children when we stayed at her home. Soft white bread with butter and sugar on top: Another treat from Grandma. My moms fried chicken: something I still have not completely perfected. Pie Crust squares: Left over pie crust which is rolled out and topped with sugar and cinnamon. Violet, a woman I worked with when I was young, taught me how to make this. And the list goes on.. I guess I have a few more than just a couple.

Comfort foods bring us a feeling of nostalgia. A remembrance of people whom we love and hold dear. They may not be the healthiest food, yet it is hard to say that they are not good for you. As they take the worries of the day and make them disappear for a bit, giving you a moment of serenity and peace. So I say indulge now and then. Give homage to the memories and the people who with just a few bites can make us feel a little bit better, if only for a while.

French Fries & Coffee with Cream

When I first started writing this, it was my intention to somehow help those who knew me and others who would eventually know me to possibly understand me a bit more. You see I am not the easiest person to get to know... At an early age, I was a very timid child and kept to myself most of the time. There were reasons for such behavior yet that is something that I do not necessarily want to dive into today. However because of this kind of character, I have always been the kind of person who stands back and observes. Slowly inching my way forward until I feel comfortable enough to dip my toe into the water. And believe me... sometimes this can take a while.

Because of this behavior, I have been considered aloof, recluse, snobbish, and just plain wierd... All of which I dont really consider myself... Ok.. maybe the last one, but only at times... In looking over the entries although I do believe that they give insight to me, I wondered if they gave enough..... I guess it is time that occasionally I write a bit more personal...

I spoke earlier that I was an observer. I am sure you know what I mean. The kind of person who just sort of sits back and watches. I have to say that it can be extremely insightful. I have learned that in doing this, one can find out so much about a person.... People like to tell you who and what they are, yet I think that many do not realize that they can say alot of things, yet it is their actions that will truly paint the truer picture.

In the town where I grew up, my mother cleaned the bank on a weekly basis. Since I was too young to attend school I accompanied her. The banker and his wife, took a liking to me, seeing that they themselves did not have children of their own. Each week, while my mother cleaned, Mr. Pate would see it as his duty to give me something to do. This could be a variety of things.

Sometimes we would go across the street to the local cafe where he would get me french fries and a cup of coffee. I have to say that it was more milk than coffee. To this day I still drink my coffee the same. He taught me to never drink my coffee with my spoon in the cup. Not only was this unmannerly, it also had the possibility of poking my eye out. Mr. Pate also felt an obligation to see that I was a proper little girl. In the closet next to his office he kept a nail file and nail polish remover. He did not feel it was appropriate for little girls to wear nail polish, so if needed he would clean my nails of any polish and file my nails down to an acceptable length.

Mr. Pate was a grandfather figure to me. That is the manner I remember him most. A kind man who was thoughtful and good. Not only to me did I see these actions exhibited yet to many others whom I watched him interact with.

Some thought the manner of his attention towards me was odd. In later days I even found out that others thought it more than odd and decided to add their own gossip and stories to the mix. I found this revelation sad and it greatly angered me. Yet, people will be people, especially in a small town. When there is no news to pass, there is a good chance that someone will think of something to talk about while they sit around the pool hall or coffee shop.

Just Another Hot Summer Weekend

As I am sure it has been noted, I did not manage to add to my blog over the weekend. I could make up many excuses as to why I was unable to do so..... from electrical problems to a death in the family. However the true excuse is that I just did not get to it. It was not that it was not important enough for me or that I did not want to. It was just that I never managed to do it.

There were many things that were happening. I mowed my yard and tended to my gardens. I planted more plants and made sure that my cats were watered and fed. I went to town and ran the errands that needed to be done, and that was just on Saturday. Vince was off visiting his dad with his brothers for Fathers Day and later his daughter came out to celebrate with him.

I hate to say it but Father's day holds no importance to me. I wish it did, truly I do. I have to say that I do appreciate the "daddy" of my grand kids - Kylie & Brexton. Jon may not be the biological father but he has proven himself so much more. I would rather have a daddy over the other any day. I am happy that they have that.

The man whom I knew as that man was far from a daddy. He is the reason that I don't celebrate the day, at least not in a personal way. Through the years I have learned to deal with the memories he left me. Memories of drunken nights and hideous outbursts. Memories of nights of fear and relief when he was finally gone. Memories of all the little tidbits he shared with me in regards to his feelings towards me. Not the normal ones of his love and support of me or his belief in my ability, but of the lack there of.

I will say that he did give me one thing. In the end before he passed, I went to see him one last time. It was a visit to try and convince him in his last days to be near to his family, especially his brothers and sisters. He refused to do so. Yet he did give me the opportunity to have closure with all that had occurred in the earlier days of my life when he was present and also the times when a positive presence from him would have been beneficial. He did not say anything. No apology or words of compassion. He sat in silence as I was able to voice to him my feelings.

I am thankful that it was not a moment of anger or raised voices, just the chance to say my piece. It was that night that he passed. My father did not give me much, in fact he gave me very little, but that last gift he gave me meant alot. It has allowed me to let go and move on. To not live in the past and dwell on the things that I did not have because of him. This does not mean that I was not affected in some way by my childhood, but I was given the chance to resolve it.

So to me... Fathers day is just another hot summer weekend. I look forward to the days when my own sons have their children, whether human or rabbit form. (This is a personal joke). I look forward to seeing the fathers they become. I can only give this one piece of advice, as a little girl/grown woman who did not have a daddy. There are times when I am sure that a child can aggravate a man. From the constant why questions to the messes they seem to find themselves in. Yet know this that a little girl looks to her daddy for security and for love. She looks to him for approval that she is the beautiful little princess and the intelligent young woman she wants so much to become. Never take for granted the influence you may have over her or him for that matter. Although I can not speak from a male point of view.

A little serious for my second entry.. Did not mean to intensify so quickly... hopefully tomorrow will find me on a lighter note. Til then enjoy the evening... and hug the one you're with.

Peace

Janie