Simple Joys

Being back in Michigan affords me a lot of different enjoyments; the simple kind that you can't pay for. What a simple joy it is to walk barefoot in the grass.
I have always been a fan of bare feet. Even when I lived in Arizona for 11 years, I rebelliously walked barefoot outside a lot. I say I was a rebel, because bare feet in Arizona is at best ill-advised. But yet, just for the thrill, I would venture out onto hot pavement, rocky terrain and any number of pestilent perils. There were scorpions, rattlesnakes, tarantulas, and lots of black widows. I know someone who's scorpion bite lost them about six months of memory. Heck, my poor dog was bitten by a scorpion and suffered three days of paralysis in his back legs. Why would I continue to go outside barefoot?
Only now that I am back in my home territory can I realize why. Because this is how I always did it. In Michigan, we don't have to think about poisonous snakes and killer bugs. I spent my childhood sans shoes. Walking barefoot in the grass is a like a childhood blanket, or your mothers voice as she read you stories. It is an ingrained, deeply rooted memory. It encapsulates the freedom of childhood.
Maybe I so identify this as freedom, because even though I kept doing it in Arizona, it was never safe, nor terribly enjoyable. I never contemplated why I would risk heel and toe on my dark driveway or by the pool or to the mailbox. I just did it.
Now I realize I wasn't going to let that part of me die. The barefoot, back yard adventurer lives. Now I'm back in safe barefoot land and I love stepping out the door without a thought as to where my shoes might be. I get to water flowers in the pre-dawn cool, feet naked and unabashed; sinking slightly into the black dirt, wet blades tickling my toes.
It's these small things, when paid attention to, that increase our joy quotient. As humans, we tend to focus on the 'big' things that will bring us joy. How much more enjoyable could our days become if we were to focus on simple joys? The morning light shining through an open window, the breeze that smells of spring, the sound of children laughing and playing, riding a bike with the wind in your hair,  waves crashing on the beach or the feel of bare feet freely frolicking in the green, green grass. Take some time today to enjoy a simple moment of your own and in this way, spend some time really living.  

Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.  ~Leonardo DaVinci 

Family Treasures

Do you ever come across something that you've had for a while, but you didn't really 'know' what you had?  I came across such a treasure the other day. I've had this small green recipe box since 2008. It's moved around to a few houses with me. But the other day, I finally began to discover what a rich fortune it is. 

The box itself is old, dating back to 1913. As I peruse the recipes inside, I realize based on the dates of magazine clippings that these recipes were probably mostly compiled in the 60's and 70's.  This was my grandmother Kathryn's recipe box, although everyone called her "Kay". She was married to my grandfather Glenn W. Eaton Jr. He was the mayor of Grand Haven, Michigan in the years 1960-1964. 


As I began to read through the various entries within the recipe box, I was delighted to find gems like good old Chop Suey, Mrs. Ericksons Chicken Casserole, and Holiday Ham. I found the Sweet Potato Casserole that I now make at every Thanskgiving. I was quite impressed when I came upon a recipe called "Poulet de Normande". This must quite something, I thought. In reality, it's a casserole. How many casserole recipes did a 60's broad need anyway? 


The cool thing about Grandma Kay is that she jotted the recipe giver's name at the corner of each card. What a gift to walk down memory lane remembering my grandmother's friends, each a contributor into the family meals. These are great names too; like Avis, Dottie, Pam, and Mrs. Sam Yorty. It says a lot about my grandmother I think, and maybe of her era, that she purposely sought to remember who gave each recipe. 

The pie section calls to me. I bake pies often. I'm pretty great at it too. Soon I'll be whipping up a Mile High Strawberry Pie or any of a dozen other strawberry, rhubarb, or blueberry varieties. Creme de Menthe or Pumpkin Chiffon sound fancy. Whatever I decide, I will throw it in "Elaine's Pie Crust" and I'm sure it will be divine! 


How about a drink? A Pink Squirrel? A Rusty Nail? There are many party sized recipes that call for a whole fifth of whiskey.  This is where the imagination goes wild. It's the early sixties. Grandma Kay would be dolled up in a floor length number, her 6 foot frame looking statuesque as she stood next to my charismatic grandfather. I'm sure they lounged on the davenport and chatted with their friends. Who might they have entertained? Is this where I got the gift of hospitality and how to throw a party? Are large sized drinks and hot appetizers in my genetic code? Pigs in a Blanket and Bloody Mary's? 


Then! the piece d' resistance! A Pina Colada recipe; not in Grandma's script, but in Grandpa's. He had an elegant hand I think!


Recipes like these are historical documents. They should be treated as such; tenderly and lovingly cared for. They trace the taste buds of my ancestry through one of the most important and honorable traditions - the family meal. They whisper about the kind of people they were, how they liked to entertain, in what esteem they held their friends. As I mix a drink or cook up a meal, I can share in a moment with the spirit of my loved ones. And if I get really frisky, I'll do what my sweet Grandma suggested to me in her 80th year; "Let's get a little wild, and split a beer!"


I'll leave you with a party drink recipe sure to please! What else? Here's how to make a....

 "Sneaky Pete"

1/2 Gallon Jug

3 pkgs. frozen Raspberries (strain the seeds out)

Dissolve 1 C. sugar and 1 C. water and pour over the berries

Add 1/2 a Fifth of "CHEAP BOOZE"

Let stand for three weeks. 

Oh. Yeah.