Emily was born round.So round that if she fell down she could almost roll down the hill to the bottom.Her mother put red frilly dresses on her so frilly she shone like the sun.Sometimes people thought she was the sun.

At school Emily was teased for being round.The more they teased the rounder she got and the more she ate.She ate and ate and ate until she could not feel the pain anymore.After she ate until she could not consume not one more morsel she would read.She would read and read and read and pretend she lived in the storybook.She was safe in the story and did not have to face that she would never look like the other girls in her class.She was safe in the books, she was safe in the Sears catalogue.No one could hurt her there.No one would dare.

Emily never dated like the other girls but she really liked this boy who looked like Howdy Doody.In her books that she read and read and read he was her prince.He was the prince , HER prince that would take away the pain.One night she gathered up great courage and went to the school dance with a beehive hairdo, a gray pleated skirt and a gray sweatshirt.It was the best she could do.She didn’t want to look like the sun after all.Slowly she walked down to the corner where he sat with the other boys and with a small tiny voice she asked him to dance.He said no very loudly and he and all the other boys started to laugh and laugh and laugh.Emily slowly turned around and walked and walked and walked out the gymnasium door, out the front door and her feet didn’t stop until she reached her house and she slammed the door shut.

One day Emily found out that if you did not eat you could get thin.So for days and days and days she did not eat.She got so small her grandmother pleaded with her to eat.Emily did not care.She was thin now and all those boys that laughed at her liked her now.Someone liked her,no someone LOVED her and that is all she cared about. She married that someone but he did not really love Emily.He loved that Emily could work three jobs and send him to school.He was not the prince.He was not THE prince in her story books.So Emily ate and ate and ate and the prince finally left.Good Riddance to the prince.Adieu..farewell…

The princes came and went for years and years.Sometimes Emily would eat and eat and eat and then she found out if you threw up you could be thin.So she worshipped and re worshipped the porcelain throne until she was very thin.So thin she looked like a stick.Her hair was falling out and her heart pounded but she was thin.So thin ..so very thin..stick thin.

Emily tried for years to stay thin but she was dying trying to be thin.One day she gave up and started to eat and eat and eat again.Sometimes you hurt so bad that nothing else helps.You cant bury the hurt, you cant kick it along.It lived in Emily.It ate Emily alive some days and story books could no longer take it away.

One day Emily gave up as she could not stay thin without hurting herself.She could not be like Barbie or Midge or Skipper.She could not be willow thin nor even semi thin.She could not be young anymore she could only be old… very old.She could only be herself and not who she really wanted to be. Not who people wanted HER to be.People did not like this Emily,they could not accept it and made her know that.She just was not acceptable to them and they hurt her over and over.

One day Emily was hurting so bad she opened one of her old story books and pleaded with them to swallow her whole.Swallow her whole and stop the hurt.
The very next day someone came to see Emily and couldn’t find her.They looked and looked and looked and she was gone.They called and called and called out her name over and over and over.They kept searching and searching and searching and finally they looked under the bed and there laying face open on the floor was a thick dusty storybook.And there on page 39 with a folded corner at the top was a picture of Emily.She was smiling and smiling and smiling.And yes..she was thin.,..So very thin..

Linda Seccaspina
copyright 2009
Savannah Devilles

Steve came home from work Friday night with the ’sneezies”. He never gets sick and I assumed it was allergies.He sneezed off and on through Saturday and part of Sunday and we assumed the Airborne would take care of it.After all he is Steve,the smoker that is never sick.I asked him if anyone at the office had a cold and he said no.I keep forgetting about the hundreds of people that he sits with every day on BART.When I go out I adorn my all black “uniform’ with a huge bright hot pink and orange fleece scarf.I often put it over my mouth.I have not had a cold in 1.5 years and attribute the scarf to not getting sick.Okay that is probably a lot of malarkey,but Id like to think it had some merit.

So Sunday evening comes,he is not sneezing anymore.Monday morning comes and I wake up to ears that feel like they are going to explode and a throat that is on fire.I let out a huge sigh and know I am in for it.If someone has a cold it runs its course.If I get a cold because of my horrible immune system I get it ten fold.And ten fold it was and then some.
Monday and Tuesdays are fourteen hour work days and I had to post items that had formerly belonged to a smoker. I thought I was going to heave most of the day and I graduated from Kleenex to paper towels.The Kleenex would no longer hold the volume of liquids coming out of my nose.Tuesday was the exact replica of Monday and I had to pack huge ‘will not fit in boxes” purses so a lot of creative time consuming packing had to be done.I was also asked by the Post Office Lady if I considered that I might have the Swine Flu.I shot her a look through my soaking wet hair with my face looking much like a horror movie victim.

When you have my job,time marches on and no laying in bed is allowed.I had to go to the city today to look for things.I got up feeling just awful and did more creative purse packing (its like a curse this week).I started coughing up flem.I looked and saw it was brown and always remembered my father saying it is a good thing if it is brown.Okay Arthur, we will take that as an improvement sign.I opened up the hatch to get some air in the loft to let the sickness out.My grandmother Mary Knight used to do that all the time.It could be 100 degrees below zero and she would tell me to help her open the windows to let the sickness out.So laugh if you must but the sickness was let out this morning.:)

I walked to the Post Office pushing at least 40 pounds of stuff uphill.In my mind I thought if this was the 80’s I would have a head band on and I wouldn’t have sweat dripping down my face at this point.Miss Ella was there and she looked at me as if I was going to die and people were shooting me nasty looks from behind me in line knowing I was going to hold the line up for 15 minutes.I brought out my huge box of Kleenex and started to blow my nose and cough and boy did that line back up near the door in fright in record time.Someone asked me again if I thought I had the swine flu..

Twenty minutes later I get on Bart,and make it uptown where the man at Half Price Books asked me if I really thought I should be out.I look at him and start walking around the store and start sneezing so much I pee my pants.Note to self..Must do laundry running out of pants and and underwear from sneezing incessantly.

Got to the city and had a fruit plate at McDonald’s and even the homeless wouldn’t sit near me today.Usually one of the regulars has a story or two to tell me and I hand them a dollar for their “brilliant” storytelling so they can get something to eat.There is NO one on this earth I do not chat with.:)

I walk up the street and the thrift shops are not helping my cold.Nothing like a store full of allergy and bacteria related items to encourage more.
I start sneezing so hard I pee my pants again.Thank goodness I always wear black.

I decide there just is nothing out there today and I make my way to the outside down Escalator at Bart.I see a small film crew at the top of the 64 stairs.I know there are 64 stairs. I have counted them so many times with my cart when the escalator isn’t working.As I make my way downstairs on the escalator I see some really bad acting going on on the stairs.Some actress pretending to pull her heavy suitcase up the stairs and jumping in “pretend ” fright as a icky looking young male in a pimp hat and wife beater shirt asks if he can help her.I can smell the beginnings of a porn movie being made in five seconds flat.Yes the acting was that bad:)I approach the bottom of the escalator nose running,pants wet,and my nose feeling like it is going to fall off.I see the VIVID ENTERTAINMENT written on the crew boxes and know my assumption of the type of film being made was right.All of a sudden I sneeze so hard I have nose liquid dripping down my clevage.

A film crew hand approaches me and another person and asks if we want to be extras at the bottom of the stairs for five minutes.I stand there pants soaking,nose and cleavage glistening,pockets full of Kleenex, and a face according to everyone that looks like I have the Swine flu and just dryly say to him.

“ahh so what are you filming?”
“Let me guess..it has to be a comedy if you want me right now”

With that I give him a look ,rotate around and walk towards the subway hoping I can get home without getting diaper rash.

Linda Seccaspina
copyright June 2009
Savannah Devilles

I am not a fan of the pig nor the pig collectible,but the picture was just so darn cute.I had no idea when they said ‘house full’ what it was full of.

So I hit The Pig House at 10 am this morning. It was not a quaint nor a charming experience.It was frankly pig hell.The house was barely 1000 square feet if that and everywhere unlike the strategically placed pigs in the pictures were thousands and thousands of pigs.China pigs, fabric pigs,pigs that oinked,wall pigs,basically a pig for every occasion and then some.In this house there were over 9000 pigs,I kid you not,the lady in charge told me so. There was no room to walk and people reaching for things were basically falling all over each other.I was kind of glad I had not been there yesterday with all the aggrivating dealers.There was not one inch of floor wall or counter space that did not hold an oinker.Seeing the poor woman was in a wheel chair and aisle span was about a foot and a half I have no idea how she did not break any.

Looking at the pink walls and the pigs coming out of the rafters I thought if I had money I might keep this as a tourist attraction and play Green Acres on the television and bake take home treats from the BABE COOKBOOK sitting on top of the stove.A pig tearoom!! Sounded pigalicious to me.Anyone that devoted that much effort to something like she did needed to be immortalized.Heck,The National Enquirer would be on it in a second.

So I purchased a few things and no I did not get a pig. But the man following me out did.He bought a huge bronze baying pig.He actually paid 20 dollars for it. He carried it out on one hand like a waiters tray and joking asked us if we knew where we could find some pig stuff.Across the street more people went in and I could hear the exclamations of surprise as they walked in.

So off to the other estate sale I missed that apparently thieves had made off with a lot of the cookbooks the night before the sale. In a zillion dollar home in the Berkeley Hills,it belonged to a former UC professor that loved to read and cook.I felt terrible that some one had broken in and was sure they would turn up at the flea market.Well the joke was on those crooks big time.I was going to buy some and most of the pages in the books were underlined and words were circled much like a teacher corrects a thesis.I thought it was random but out of the 12 cookbooks and 7 books I picked up they were all ‘corrected’ by the professor.So I couldnt sell them like that,plus my hands were starting to smell and were almost greasy like.

I recognized it right away. Cat urine big time on everything. So even though I couldnt buy any I was happy that the thieves got theirs.Good Luck trying to sell those books now.I could spot them now as soon as I saw them.And boy I would beware of those books.Smell and all.

So the day is over and I ask myself.Where are they going to unload all those pigs that didnt sell ? Are we going to see mountains of pigs at the flea market every week until they get fed up with them or go to some pig landfill site?

Surely they should have alerted the Happy Pig Collectors Club. I am sure they would have emptied that place. They are are a serious lot,they even have a pig motto.

Happy Pig Club Motto: This is a club dedicated to people who collect pigs, so that they may gain more enjoyment from their hobby and to meet and mingle with others cursed with the same strange affliction. Just for the nonsense of it all and to give respect to “When I see a pig I think of you”.

Okay girls…:) her is the link… Happy Hog heaven to you..:)

http://sfbay.craigslist.org/eby/gms/1158928815.html

Linda Seccaspina
Savannah Devilles

Today I had a grand 53 or was it a 54 block walk looking for things.Did I find anything? Of course not.People are not buying so they are not donating either so things are really grim.Tomorrow it’s an estate sale and then a 4 mile walk to and fro to the Coliseum flea market.Deesperate times require desperate measures.

Most time there are no perks and it is just one long dusty walk with me and my silver cart named Leopold.

Until today,I got to walk past Bakesale Betty’s on the corner of 51st and Telegraph.It does not matter if it is pouring rain or the winds are hurricane strength there is always a line up out the door and down the street past all the ironing boards and chairs she has out there to eat on like tiny picnic tables.

Bakesale Betty was founded by Alison Barakat in January 2002. Alison moved to the Bay Area from Australia in 2000 and cooked at Chez Panisse Cafe for 3 years.

There is NO menu.Just one giant white poster board that they HAND write what’s for ‘eatin’ every day.The staple is the chicken sandwich that is like no other.Chicken pot pie and thats about it except the desserts.

Betty’s Banana Bread
Moist and delicious made with fresh bananas and honey.

Betty’s Brownies
Fudgey and delicious, Betty’s Brownies are classic.

Betty’s Famous Scones
Apricot almond, lemon raisin, and pear ginger scones.

Betty’s Ginger Cookies
Spicy and chewy with chunks of crystallized Australian ginger.

Betty’s Lemon Bars
Made wih fresh lemons.. A delicious buttery crust is perfect with the tart, lemony…

Betty’s Oatmeal Raisin Cookies
A buttery cookie with plump, juicy raisins, and walnuts. Often referred to as the best Oatmeal Raisin Cookies.

Betty’s Vanilla Shortcakes
Tender classic vanilla shortcakes wonderful with whipped cream and fresh berries.

So are you still with me? I know you have your hand in some cookie jar..:) I want to.:)

So I had to write about this because I have celiac disease and I have to get it out of my system.Celiac Disease = No flour, no Gluten.. no fun… But I love Betty’s and went there once and ate the chicken and the coleslaw.I will remember the experience for the rest of my life.Yes, it was that profound !!!

So,back to today ,and I am walking down 51st and quickly approaching Betty’s.I see her and one of her co workers bringing in the supplies through the back door.Boxes and boxes of fresh strawberries,huge bags of flour,and my stomach starts churning and I know I cannot eat it.I try to close my eyes,I walk faster,I increase the speed and then it happens. Because I am not watching I bump into a patron sitting at one of the ironing boards.I look down and what do I see and smell.A hot Bakesale Betty’s vanilla shortbread ,tons of fresh sliced strawberries and a HUGE dollop of creme fraiche.

I walk faster now, I am screaming inside.It was THE famous strawberry shortcake.She does not make it all year long only when the strawberries are fresh.The aroma of chicken sandwiches and fresh lemonade circle my head and all I want to do is yell. Darn you Betty, Darn you for making stuff that everyone loves .And I cannot eat hahaha…

What can I do? How can I get this longing for Betty out of my system?
I know what I can do..I can write a short story and add links to Bettys food to make everyone else hungry..:).Seeing 99% of the people on my mailing list will not be able to eat it either will make me feel better and get the longing for Betty out of my head..:) Enjoy!! And may the shortcake be with you..:)

THE CHICKEN SANDWICH

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NeVcRheC70E

THE SHORTCAKE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eeElO9bGF8M&feature=related

THE BAKESALE BETTYS PATRON

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K4SEij5ZQAk&feature=related
LINDA SECCASPINA
SAVANNAH DEVILLES

Today I was looking for something on the Internet I came across something that just baffled the mind.Who knew fifty years later old social columns would be posted on line.Obviously someone who was into genealogy ,or had way too much time on their hands has posted years and years of pages of a small local paper we had back in the Eastern Townships in Quebec, Canada called The News and Eastern Townships Advocate.

Most newspapers had a column for residents to submit local news that might be of interest to others. This would often include such tidbits on area residents as birthday announcements, illnesses, job promotions, wedding announcements, visitors to the community, and other news of a more personal nature like who was where and when and why.To sum it all up it gave people something to talk about from week to week.

Today, I was mesmerized and read years of the paper on line.

I even verified today that I had graduated from Grade 3.There it was in bold print and I jumped up and down and exclaimed,

“Look I graduated from Grade 3 !!”
“There is my name !! ”

Of course other names of fellow students were there and I remembered each one as I read their names.Dickie Miner will always be the kid I remember the most with the flaming red hair that was sheared into a Mohawk as he loved the wrestler LITTLE BEAVER.Of course he had to be escorted to school most times by his father as the kids made so much fun of him.:)Or Bobby Perkins the smart kid.Or Arnel Williams (changed the name to protect him hahah) the kid that never took a bath and was a dead ringer for Pigpen from Peanuts.
What also caught my eyes from the social column from the late 50’s paper were the following words:

“Mr and Mrs Arthur Knight with their little girls, Linda and Robin spent a weeks holiday in Montreal.”

Me, being Linda, marvel at age 57 that I was formerly “little”.Seems like it never happened and every day when more things fall apart on me like in the movie Death Becomes Her ,it feels like it might be someone else.Seeing my parents nor Robin are no longer here,I wonder if they existed too sometimes.What the paper never stated was my mother was in the Darlington Rehabilitation Centre for years and years and we were probably in Montreal staying with my grandfather while she was under going some new process trying to get her to walk again.She became paralyzed from the waist down one New Years Eve and never walked again.No matter what great master mind they brought in, they were just baffled at her condition.She died at age 34 with a listed “heart attack” as the cause of death as they didn’t want us to have to explain that no one knew what she died from.

The mystery was solved when my sister died in 1997 at age 40.It was finally pieced together that my mother had lymphoma on the spine and my sister died from lymphoma also.It is hard to detect now. so in the 50’s and 60’s they had no clue what they were dealing with.So yes, little Linda and Robin vacationed in Montreal.They vacationed in the hospital all that week and sat on chairs for a very long time waiting for my mother to come down as anyone under the age of 16 was not allowed anywhere above the reception area.

There was a full article about the wedding shower of our next door neighbour Verna Wilson.It explained in detail about each gift and how people fawned over the hand painted glasses and other things.I had watched my mother a talented pianist and artist meticulously paint each glass and each one was a work of art.I had not thought about them until I read about it today.Of course it was mentioned that her dog Tippy and her bird Budge had given her a china puppy.I remember the puppy well,I broke it during the party.Of course that was never mentioned..:)

Then I read about how The Brownies closed their season of 1959 with a doll exhibition at the church hall.If you remember I have written about the doll show and how I was ratted on by Mrs Wilson,same mother of the bride mentioned above that my mother had mostly sewn the dress for my Miss Revlon doll.Needless to say the paper said that Judy Clough and Linda Lee Pratt won out of the 30 entries.There was a picture of each girl with their doll and I learned a lesson that day to finish what you start.What I most remember about that day (and was in the adjoining article) was my father being amazed that television signals were finally coming from Newfoundland to Nova Scotia and my father said that he hoped the residents of Newfoundland would be able to see the Queen’s address on Christmas Day. God Bless the Queen..:)He was telling us that ( or yelling it) as he was standing precariously on the peak of the roof of the house installing a TV Antenna with the neighbour screaming at him that he was going to break a leg.

On January 21st 1959 it was written in The Advocate that my mother had a shower for Mrs Wilson’s daughter in law.Elaborate adjectives were used for all the decorations my mother made and there was a complete list of all the women that attended.Every mother of every childhood friend I ever had was listed.Of course there was a parasol cake.If I remember correctly the “cakes du jour” were either a parasol or a swan.There was either one or the other at every party as Woman’s Day Magazine had probably had a picture essay on how to do it at some point.

It was also mentioned that all the ladies were all accompanied by their children for whom entertainment was arranged.Yes it was Sparkey the Clown from the local Legion.Sparkey liked to have a good time and alcohol and smoking were his perks.If I remember correctly one of the fancy paper table cloths caught on fire when Sparkey tried to hide a cigarette under the table.My father was summoned from his business and I don’t believe Sparky ever appeared again outside Legion functions.

I could go on and on about all the comings and goings,but my favourite entry on July 9th ,1959 was:

Mr and Mrs Murray Wallet and their children Sheila and Gary spent a week at their summer cottage in Iron Hill.

This is what I will always remember until the day I die.Their cottage standing there in all it’s glory hidden partially by the lilac trees and there isn’t a week that does not go by that I don’t think of it.

Wonderful memories of walking along the stream that came down from the top of the mountain and the abandoned shack that stood beside it up the road.Their swimming hole that was more a mud hole and how we made evening gloves on our arms with the mud while we swam.

Toasting marshmallows and hot dogs in a bonfire by the stream late at night while the fireflies buzzed around us.Having to shake the hose that ran up the hill to the underground water source when the water flow slowed and unsure if a bear was going to pop out..:) Well ,that was what her Dad kept telling me..:) Finally sitting inside sipping cocoa and laughing at stories while the rain pounded on the tin roof.

So the Social Columns of days gone by did give some details of what went on in their towns and now it seems to be documented for life.But, it never told the full story and as my favourite late story teller Paul Harvey said,

“and now you know the rest of the story”

Linda Seccaspina
Savannah Devilles

Today I heard that Woolworths was going to drop down the black hole of retail at the end of the month in the UK.Granted the ones in Canada closed first years ago and then the ones in the US followed suit a few years later but I do not think anyone does not have at least one  great memory of Woolworth’s

I bought my first black Lady Jane eyeliner and mascara there that had more alcohol content than a an expensive martini in the 60’s.Yes it burned my eyes but looked great with the orange, red, pink or white lipstick they had.Oh the horrors of having only four shades to pick from, but we thought it was great.A few years later I would buy my first pair of pantyhose to go with my mini skirts relieved that I would no longer have to wear garter belts and hose.

Fales eyelashes,scarves,umbrellas or a cold drink at a moments notice.Woolworths had it all.How many kids put a nickle in the bronco pony and rocked on it for about 2.5 minutes? Then there was Santa in December who sat in the toy section on a red velvet covered wooden chair. He was not a deluxe Santa like the department stores,but  a skinny Santa with a large  Woolworths pillow  packed  under his suit and smelled of one too many cigarettes or an occasional beer.But he was Santa and king of the toy department where they had hundreds of colouring books , pale pink plastic dolls and teddy bears filled with straw.

The thing I  will always remember about Woolworth’s was their counter lunch bar.My grandmother and I would go to Montreal to buy her wigs for her sparse head of hair and we would always go there for lunch.Kresge’s would have booths but Woolworth’s would have the rows of chairs around  U shaped  counters.The waitresses were about skinny as Santa and some of them tapped their pencil on the order book while you went through their menu to order.

I always got the same thing.The turkey dinner with one scoop of potatoes ,a couple pieces of turkey with dressing underneath and gravy on top and of course some canned green beans on the side.Then for dessert we would each have a slice of one of their layer cakes that graced the glass containers on the counters.It was such a treat and there was always  a roar of conversation and men flipping their newspapers.

The thing I will always remember about Woolworths was something I can still  see in technicolour today  even at  the age  of 57.I used to go to the small local one after school every day to look at the toys on the way home.I was about 6.5 years old and the lady with white hair who lived across the street from us used to work in the toy department and shook her head at me as I touched everything.

It was an ordinary day, and the sun was shining..I fondled the toys and was just about to go home when I needed to use the restroom badly.I just couldn’t hold it and there in the middle of the toy section at approximately 3:40 pm that day I peed my pants all over the floor.I saw the lady with the white hair go into a closet to get a mop and shake her head and headed towards me quickly.

I ran out of there faster than a speeding bullet, and never darkened their doors again for at least a year.I can still see it frame by frame to this day.

So people moved on.They bought cell phones and plasma TVS and Woolworths just never grew with the time.People didnt need their turkey dinners anymore as they had fast food.No one wanted memories anymore,they had moved on to Walmart.Children had the internet and webkins and no longer needed to ride the Bronco Pony machine.

So where do our memories come from now? Will the next generation recall the day they got a great deal at the Circuit City that was closing down? Or will they recant years later to their grandchildren about the great Super Nachos that Taco Bell has added to the menu last month? I think, from now on everyone should write their memories down for I fear memories are slowly going down the same black hole as Woolworth’s.And there is no coming back.

Linda Seccaspina
copyright 2008
SAVANNAH DEVILLES

   Thanksgiving has come and gone in Canada.It is always the first Monday in October.Americans cannot seem to get over this and always ask me why Canadians do not celebrate it the same time as they do.In Canada it has always been on that particular day as the harvest came sooner than south of the border so they celebrated it then.Somehow it always made sense to me,but every American Thanksgiving my mother who was born in the US let my sister and I stay home from school and we sat there and watched the Macy’s Day Parade and for lunch she made us leftover  boiled ham sandwiches and milk with Nestles Quick.My father a stickler for Canadian tradition closed his eyes as he ate soup and bread with ketchup on it while we feasted on Swanson turkey TV dinners for supper.Every time a TV dinnerwhich was rarely served my mother would tell us how they became to be.

Gerald Thomas, a C.A. Swanson & Sons executive, had a big problem. What to do with about 270 tons of left over Thanksgiving turkey.
“After Thanksgiving, Swanson had ten refrigerated railroad cars — each containing 520,000 pounds of unsold turkeys — going back and forth across the country in refrigerated railroad box cars, because there was not enough storage in warehouses. We were challenged to come up with a way to get rid of the turkeys,” said Thomas.
He got the breakthrough idea from the trays used for airline food service. And the TV dinner was born. The first production order was for 5,000 dinners, thought to be a big gamble at the time. They had about two dozen women armed with ice cream scoops filling the new trays at night.
The first TV dinner featured turkey, corn bread dressing and gravy, buttered peas and sweet potatoes. It cost 98 cents and came in a box resembling a TV.My grandmother shook her head every time she heard we were fed one of these things that she said was going to stunt our growth.:)
My grandmother one week before Canadian Thanksgiving had gone to  McLaughlin’s grocery store and bought the biggest frozen turkey known to man.She would bring it home and put it on her cutting log outside and stand there in her rubber galoshes (never done up) plastic rain kerchief on her head and whack that sucker in half.Half would be served for Thanksgiving and the other half stored away in the freezer for Christmas.Seeing that she made about 365 different recipes from leftover Turkey,I never knew why she just never cooked the whole darn thing.She kept professing it didn’t all fit in the wood stove,which looking in it one day and seeing everything stacked baking I understood..:)
Christmas Eve we  would all go to church and sing carol after carol in the highest decibels known to man (well my grandmother did).We had decorated each pew with pine tree branches  trimmed with large ,floppy  (over ironed) red ribbons the night before and the wonderful smell would bring tears to your eyes.For two months of  previous Friday nights we strung popcorn and that was all the around the Christmas tree by the organ and my grandmother had insisted nothing but blue lights should be used on the tree to give the perfect glow to the nativity scene under the tree.

After the service we would help my grandmother and her altar guild team  get the linens ready for the morning service.She would go into the church hall kitchen and make everyone a warm mug  of hot chocolate with one large marshmallow floating on top.I never understood why she rationed marshmallows in her cocoa and will never ever ration them for myself. She told me that is how it was done on the Kraft TV commercials and I would never argue with the Holy Grail of food commercials.I mean you have to admire the Kraft food economists in the 60’s that had rivers of melted cheese flowing  over toast with a large bright red tomatoe slice thrown on top as a garnish. You just have to love that..:)

Christmas morning we would pile in the cold car and off to Grammys once again we would go.Of course she had been up since the crack of dawn cooking that half turkey.Her secret recipe stuffing would be in it and she would giggle and say she would never tell anyone her secret..:)We all knew she added mashed potatoes to it but anyone telling her that would bring her to tears like not being able to watch The Queens Message on TV at 10 am. Did I also tell you she had been phoning since about 7 am to make sure we were all over on time  so as not to miss the Queen? She would sit there and watch Queen Elizabeth read her Christmas message wringing her hands and going on and on on how she hoped Princess Margaret wouldn’t give her any more trouble this year :)Then heaven help us all ,the annual Robert Goulet Christmas record would be  put on.And he went on and on and on until the CBC Christmas day programming began.

Before we could eat our Christmas dinner at noon we all had to get a paper bag and heap as many as we could carry  royal blue and gold tinned LIONS CLUB fruitcakes and go give them to some of the neighbours.I tell you those suckers were probably made sometime in the first half of the 1800’s as if you dropped one of them ,shatter into crumbs they would not. These cakes, according to my grandfather were baked exclusively for Lions Clubs, and  were hand finished, free of artificial colourings & additives, and only use the finest  ingredients.  He even added,more importantly they were superb to eat and most of their sales were HAPPY repeat sales.If they were so superb why did he need that glass of sherry to go along with a slice?:)Got to get that piece of concrete down somehow..:)

Cake deliveries done,snow boots off and we would run into the dining room that my grandmother decorated in the Poininsetta mode..The center piece every year was a hand made candle that Mrs Wilson made.She used to make these candles out of paraffin,empty tins and one whole heck of a lot of decoration.People just marveled at them ..:)

Why does something that takes weeks of planning ,hours to cook,only take 30 minutes to eat?I have never quite understood the logic behind that.Her piece de resistance was her handmade mincemeat fruit pie and Christmas pudding she wold bring out after we all felt we could not eat another bite.Every Christmas she would make her mincemeat from scratch and hang the suet on the tree branches for the birds to eat as a treat.Even to this day there is nothing I like more than buying a jar of mincemeat fruit pie  filling and taking a spoon to it.Years later my step mother would bake a pie and put dimes in it and my grandmother was horrified.She was so horrified at the modernizing of one of her traditions I swear it made her gray wig go sideways.

So after a day smelling turkey, cooking turkey, and eating turkey what would she make for supper? Well a huge plate stacked of turkey and dressing sandwiches of course with tall glasses of milk and oh yes more of that mincemeat pie..:)Then of course we would listen to the Prime Minister John Turners  message with my grandmother wringing her hands hoping he wouldn’t marry Princess Margaret as that would just kill Queen Elizabeth and of course Mary Louise Knight,my Grammy..:)

LINDA SECCASPINA
COPYRIGHT 2008
SAVANNAH DEVILLES