Dear Folks, During the height of the Vietnam War in the late 1960s I worked for The Coca-Cola Company as a Senior Secretary (read that as Administrative Assistant) in the canning plant in San Leandro in the San Francisco Bay Area. My boss was head of the west coast military division of the company and our basic job was to receive and process orders for canned Coca-Cola for shipment to Vietnam. Since all orders from the military came through our small office it was pretty much up to me to process them and advise the canning plant how many cases needed to be shipped to the Oakland docks for loading aboard civilian ships heading for Vietnam. For over a long period of time we received orders for about one million cases per month to be shipped to various ports in Vietnam. The canning plant was working night and day to fill such orders. It was a horrendous hectic time for all of us and we were all under tremendous pressure. One day I saw another order from the military in the mail. I had to steel myself to even open the envelope because I knew who it was from. The military. After reading what was ordered, I barely had a clue what to do about it. It was an order for about ten cases of kosher Coca-Cola to be shipped in time for Jewish Passover in Vietnam. I showed my boss the order and I showed it to the plant manager. After a conference between the three of us and an urgent phone call to the company's headquarters in Atlanta, it was decided that we better have a talk with the nearest rabbi regarding the procedure that needed to be adhered to in order to insure that the Coca-Cola we shipped was properly kosher. It was up to me to find the nearest rabbi, I called him and told him our dilemma and he graciously let me know that he would come to our plant and explain what needed to be done in the preparation of the kosher Coca-Cola. After that, it was between the rabbi and the canning plant. The rabbi would oversee every aspect of the production and I can only guess that it threw the whole plant into a tizzy right in the middle of a very tight schedule regarding the regular huge shipments. When it was all accomplished and when the ten cases of kosher Coca-Cola were shipped off to the Oakland port, we all felt proud that we managed to fill such an unusual order for the military in Vietnam. None of us had ever heard of kosher Coca-Cola but if that's what the military needed in Vietnam, that's what they got. vee

That's what each of must do "handle each day" and you, Vee, help each of us to do that "with a smile" Thanks. Evelyn

Dear Folks, When I got up today I knew that I had two thing that I had to accomplish. (1) go to the grocery store to pick up at least one gallon of milk and (2) do a load of wash because I was out of clean underwear. It wasn't until around 3:00 that I realized I hadn't gone to the grocery store yet and although I dreaded bundling up for the trip (I swear it's still winter here) I got in my car and drove the short distance to the small grocery story in the village. When I read the sign in the store's window that they had fresh corn on the cob for 10/$1.98 I couldn't wait to pick up about 1/2 dozen. But lo and behold they were already sold out of them. I could have cried. The clerk said they had another shipment due tomorrow but that would mean another trip into the village for me. Well, we'll see what tomorrow brings. I just LOVE fresh corn on the cob! There were other things on my grocery list that weren't on sale at all but I threw caution to the winds and bought them anyway. I really WANTED them! When I got back home and into my driveway I knew what I was facing again. That was hauling my groceries from the car to the house. I knew that it was really too much for me to do so I took whatever I could handle from my car trunk and then left the trunk open in hopes that some well-meaning soul would notice the groceries and get the hint that I needed help. And sure enough, my lawn maintenance man knocked on my door and stood there with all of my groceries in his hands and brought them right into my kitchen. I could have just hugged him for that! Regarding my laundry, I finally got around to doing it around 8:30 and got it dried around 10:00. It's all folded up right now and tucked into my drawers. It may not have been the most exciting day of my life, but I feel proud of myself that I handled another day of my life and had help doing it. vee

Hey Lorraine and all the folks, Don't let anyone call you old at 47 or any age. Your are younger than my kids! At 80 plus I am still figuring out when I will be old. Maybe next year but not now. And I am not saying 'you are as 'old as you feel'. Someday I feel lots of aches and pains but I just ignore them and they go away (most of the time). But you don't have to think 'old'. Maybe I will be old at 90. One of these days AARP is going to be sending out notices to anyone over 21. They want new members. I subscribe because of the discounts but on most issues they don't speak for me. Even though they lobby Washington and say they are the voice of the older citizen they are not my voice. Well, I am not going to get on that soap box. Did you notice that 'hey' at the start of this communication? When I was young I was taught not to say hey but I have five wonderful grandchildren. Their form of address is hey, so I am keeping up with them. Barbara Moll, Arizona soon to be back in God's country, Lewiston, NY.

Oh great, so that's what it's all about! If they would have let me know I'm certain that I could get ahold of some sort of umbrella even it I had to go to the local bar tender for those little umbrellas they serve with the fancy drinks. Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. vee ----- Original Message ----- From: <Snow689@aol.com> To: <NYNIAGAR-FOLKS-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Monday, May 02, 2005 12:58 AM Subject: Re: [FOLKS] Me and my mice and my ants! > <<<Why in the world are the mice and the ants > scrounging around in my bare kitchen hoping for food scraps when it's now > spring and there's all of the outdoors to forage in?>>> > > They don't like the wet that's been outside lately - they are just > dropping > in to get dry! > > >

<<<Why in the world are the mice and the ants scrounging around in my bare kitchen hoping for food scraps when it's now spring and there's all of the outdoors to forage in?>>> They don't like the wet that's been outside lately - they are just dropping in to get dry!

Dear Folks, I know that I've belabored this subject years before but once again I have a mouse problem along with an ant problem. Regarding the mice, they're back again and for the life of me I can't understand why they're in my kitchen and scurrying all over my kitchen counter top. I'm very particular that when I go to bed at night there's not a scrap of leftover food on the countertop. Well that goes the same for the ants that continue to stroll all over my counter top. No they're not in a mass group heading for an open sugar bowl, it's that there are just enough of them to drive me crazy. Regarding the pesky ants, I'm certain that the advice I would be given is to put out some sort ant deterrent to keep them off of my kitchen counter top. Regarding the mice, I'm certain that the advice I'd be given would be to plug up the holes in the foundation where they're entering my house. Like right! My house is as old as I am and there ain't no way that I could plug up all of the holes as small as the mice could crawl through. Here's my big question. Why in the world are the mice and the ants scrounging around in my bare kitchen hoping for food scraps when it's now spring and there's all of the outdoors to forage in? clueless in the country, vee

LOL Well I must be getting there. I turned 52 last Saturday..And it is getting harder to look for a good paying job. Joan

In a message dated 5/1/05 11:26:40 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time, LorraineLatta@aol.com writes: But, I guess it was a wake-up call that I'd better get used to the idea that I am just a few short years away from the big 5-0. Time to "put away the things of youth?" No, No, No! Don't let them get you! The day you admit to being "old", is the day you allow yourself to believe it. I have an aunt who will be 90 soon. She calls the people at the senior citizens recreation center, old folk. She flies back and forth to Florida every year to visit her daughter. She is always busy with something, reading, writing letters, going to help entertain "the old folks" at the Sr. Center. I've seen women in their 50s who look older and more worn. She has had several heart surgeries, and is on a lot of pills, but she never admits to much being wrong with her. I just hope I got the same genes, and I wont ever admit to being old. Lol - I have quite a few more years than you, Lorraine, and last night I was playing follow the leader with a 2 yr.old (she was the leader). Tonight I was coloring with a 5 yr. old. And - I do belong to AARP - saves you more off of AOL than it costs for a year! Kathy

Dear Lorraine, Oh my goodness, recieving a membership form from the AARP when you're only 46 years old is about the most depressing thing I can think of! I can certainly agree with you that at your age I didn't have a clue what I wanted to be when I grew up either. But let me tell you this. Once you figure out what you want to be when you grow up, let me know because I'm still trying to figure out that one. Lorraine, don't push away the things of your youth. Continue to enjoy your memories and continue to act like you really want to. Hey, girl, I can still recall some very exciting escapades I had at the age of 46. Trust me. I'm actually blushing at the memories right now! vee ----- Original Message ----- From: <LorraineLatta@aol.com> To: <NYNIAGAR-FOLKS-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Sunday, May 01, 2005 11:26 PM Subject: Re: [FOLKS] An elderly lady > Vee, I certainly related to your being somewhat offput by being referred > to > as "elderly," but in a slighty different way. And speaking of the AARP... > I > recently got a membership offer in the mail from the AARP!! It stated in > a > couple of places that anyone over 50 should join because of this benefit > and that > benefit, blah, blah, blah. The thing of it is, is that I'm still 46! > (Turn > 47 in August) I have to tell ya, it rattled me. I mean, I haven't even > figured out what I want to be when I grow up, and here the AARP is trying > to make > me a senior citizen already!? whoa! > > So... I returned the membership form, but not before writing on it, "I'm > only > 46, don't rush (and depress) me!" But, I guess it was a wake-up call that > I'd better get used to the idea that I am just a few short years away from > the > big 5-0. Time to "put away the things of youth?" > > Best, > Lorraine >

Vee, I certainly related to your being somewhat offput by being referred to as "elderly," but in a slighty different way. And speaking of the AARP... I recently got a membership offer in the mail from the AARP!! It stated in a couple of places that anyone over 50 should join because of this benefit and that benefit, blah, blah, blah. The thing of it is, is that I'm still 46! (Turn 47 in August) I have to tell ya, it rattled me. I mean, I haven't even figured out what I want to be when I grow up, and here the AARP is trying to make me a senior citizen already!? whoa! So... I returned the membership form, but not before writing on it, "I'm only 46, don't rush (and depress) me!" But, I guess it was a wake-up call that I'd better get used to the idea that I am just a few short years away from the big 5-0. Time to "put away the things of youth?" Best, Lorraine In a message dated 04/27/2005 10:13:11 PM Pacific Daylight Time, housman@adelphia.net writes: But when you think about it, how could she have described me any other way. I'm 73 years old. Describing me as a "Senior Citizen" wouldn't have even come close. Nowadays, anyone over the age of 55 is eligible to join AARP.

Dear Folks, Every day that I wake up I look forward to the next highlight of my day. Well, today I didn't have a happy highlight. Instead I had a dismal failure. It had to do with my frozen cut up cabbage. Over a week ago I made up a big pot of vegetable soup and I dumped in the right amount of frozen cabbage. Well, not only didn't the cabbage give the cabbage flavor to the soup that I had expected but it was so tough that it was difficult to chew. Today I was still "chewing" on the soup and I figured it was time to test out the cabbage I still had in the freezer. First I thought I should just thaw it out and then chop it up finely in my food processor so that it wouldn't be so tough. But then I had second thoughts. What if after I had done all that and boiled up the chopped cabbage to see if it made any difference, it still was either tough or still had that non-cabbage flavor. So I dumped all of the frozen cabbage right into the right size pan and let it boil until it should have been tender. Well not only wasn't it the least bit tender but there wasn't the typical wonderful smell of boiled cabbage in the kitchen. For those of you who love the smell you know what I mean and for those of you who hate the smell you also know what I mean. It just didn't smell like cabbage at all. I turned off the burner on the stove, put the pot aside to cool off and when it was cool enough I dumped the contents into a plastic bag and tossed it into the trash. I really hated to waste good food like that but I'd done the best I could to salvage the cabbage. OK, you win some, you lose some. At least I have more room in my freezer. Still looking for the next highlight. vee

Ruth asked, > What's a Mexican sundae? Dear Ruth, I'm glad you asked because I thought everyone knew what a Mexican sundae was. When you ordered one the waitress behind the counter in Kresges put a scoop of vanilla ice cream into a sundae glass, poured chocolate syrup over it and then sprinkled Spanish peanuts over the top. It was the bestest! vee

Appropos nothing, "I Found My Million Dollar Baby at the Five and Ten Cent Store." Does anyone remember before those yellow marshmallow "Chicky Doos" at Easter? It wasn't Easter without them for my Mother. We didn't have Kresge's, just Woolworth and Fishman's and later Grant's, maybe that's why I don't remember a donut machine. It sounds fascinating though. What's a Mexican sundae? Ruth At 11:47 PM -0400 4/25/05, Vee L. Housman wrote: >Dear Folks, > >Here's a story I wrote seven years ago that I thought you'd like to read >again. >vee > >The 5 and 10 Cent Store > >March 1, 1998 > >This evening I remembered an embarrassing thing that happened to me in the 5 >and 10-cent store when I was just a little kid. > >It happened around 1937 when I was six years old. My mother took me with >her when she went shopping that day-she didn't have any other >alternative-and she had some shopping to do at the 5 and 10. As most kids >do, I was dawdling along behind her and eventually she walked off a little >ways without my noticing it. I guess I was a bit scared when I realized she >was gone but when I turned around, there she was, standing with her back to >me at the opposite counter. I was so happy to see her that I wrapped my >arms around her legs in a hug. She turned around, a bit startled, and >looked down at me with my arms still holding her legs tight. I looked up at >her with a smile on my face and that's when I realized she wasn't my mother! >But, hey, when you're that small and short, a pair of pudgy legs in >stockings all look the same! I remember that I felt like I was gonna die >from embarrassment but, in looking back on it, I can well imagine that I >really made that woman's day! You don't get hugged by a strange little kid >in the 5 and 10 just every day, you know! > >I can remember the magic of the 5 and 10 when I was so small that I had to >stand on tiptoes to see what was displayed on the counters. I guess that >before you got even that tall, the only way to know what was up there was to >reach up high enough to where you could pick up whatever your little hand >could find and bring it down to where you could look at it. I wonder how >many times I got my fingers smacked for doing that! > >But as the years went by you got taller and taller and eventually you could >even go to the 5 and 10 all by yourself or with Betty or Evelyn or with your >sister. That's when you discovered all the wonderful things that were >there. Lipstick, face powder and perfume-ah, the scent of Evening in Paris >or Blue Waltz. The jewelry counter, the kitchenware counter, the underwear >counter, the school supplies counter and the notions counter-you know, where >they sold needles and thread and thimbles and stamped linen kitchen towels >to embroider. And at each counter there was always a clerk ready to help >you. > >You could buy anything in the world at the 5 and 10. A goldfish, a skate >key, a game of jacks, a pair of silk stockings, a yard of muslin or a "cut >glass" sugar bowl and cream pitcher. And you could stand for hours if you >wanted to, watching the donut machine make donuts. You watched the dough >being squeezed out of the tube with a ready-made hole in it, it dropped into >the hot oil, then was slowly pushed along with a paddlewheel contraption for >just the right length of time and then it was lifted out of the oil and >deposited on a rack to drain and cool off. I don't know at what point it >got covered all over with cinnamon sugar, but I sure can remember the >mouthwatering aroma of that donut machine. > >Yes, the 5 and 10 was where you bought your woolen mittens in the winter, >your marshmallow yellow chicks at Easter, your bathing cap in the summer, >your Halloween costume and your Christmas tree ornaments. And if you had 15 >cents left over, you could sit up at the counter in the luncheonette and >order a black and white sundae or a Mexican sundae or, if you were REALLY >rich, a banana split! > >Somehow, K-Mart just doesn't cut it the way the Kresges 5 and 10 did. -- Ruth Barton mrgjb@sover.net Dummerston, VT

Dear Folks, Obviously my mind set this evening has been on food. As a result I was reminded of a recipe that I wrote down that my husband at the time briefly spelled out for me. He was very Italian (both his parents were born in Italy) and he was a magnificent Italian cook. He called the recipe gagutsa. Note: when I later asked his older sister if she knew what gagutsa was, she told me she had never heard of it nor of the word. It was obvious that he had made up the word himself. Nonetheless, every time my husband made it, it was so scrumptious that I eventually persuaded him to give me the recipe. This is how it went. (Note: you'll notice that there was a lot of oil involved in the making): 3 zucchini, sliced in 1/2 lengthwise and chuncked 3 potatoes, chunked 2 medium onions, chuncked 1 medium eggplant, pealed and chunked 1 can tomatoes 1 can tomato sauce garlic, salt, oregano, pepper and basil Cook potatoes in LOTSA oil, no lid, large frying pan. MEANWHILE, cook (brown) squash and onions in separate frying pan in a fair amount of oil. When potatoes are done add squash and onions to potatoes until squash is done. Add tomatoes, sauce and spices and simmer. MEANWHILE brown and cook eggplant in frying pan with lotsa oil. Add to mixture. Now if any or many of you are gasping at the amount of oil that all of the vegetables were soaking up, you have every right to be. The end result may have been a cholesterol nightmare but let me tell you, there ain't nothin' in this world that is more delicious than gagutsa. vee

Dear Folks, While I was rummaging around in my freezer this evening I found a small container that I had forgotten all about. When I read the label that was tucked in with it I was pleased to know what was in it. The label said that it was 1/2 cup milk and 1/2 large egg. Oh. For the life of me I can't remember what sort of recipe I had prepared where I found myself with those ingredients left over, especially since the label was that concise. It lead me to believe that the original recipe called for 1 cup of milk and one large egg. It couldn't have been when I had made one piece of French toast just for me. But again I don't have a clue what I could have prepared that consisted of such a precise measurement of leftover milk and eggs. With all of that aside I now have to figure out what I can do with 1/2 cup of milk and 1/2 large egg. Maybe the next time I prepare potato soup I can add that into the pot and even if the egg cooked up on its own in thin threads, it may add a bit of Chinese appearance to the soup. Or maybe the next time I'm in the mood for French toast I'll thaw it out and use it to soak the one piece of bread in. If that were the case I wouldn't hesitate to throw the remainder out. Scrambled eggs? Nah, that would be too much milk. An eggnog or a milkshake of sorts? Nah, I'm not into that sort of thing. An omelet or a frittata? Nah, I don't go by any specific recipe when I whip up that sort of thing. Oh well, I still can look forward to my mother's old recipe for potato soup and adding 1/2 large egg into it. vee

Dear Folks, I guess to most people I live a truly boring life. I'm retired, I sleep until noon, I check my email, I eat lunch (too late for breakfast), I take my medication, I pour myself a glass of chilled Chardonnay and I go into my living room where I curl up with a good mystery book. After I get a bit achy, I go back to my computer, check my email again and then continue to edit the stories that I want to include in my book. Achy again I go back to where I left off in my mystery book. After a few back and forths, it's time to heat up my dinner. I check my freezer and this evening I decided that pork and sauerkraut sounded pretty good to me. Yes I had the leftover pork I had cooked up several months ago but no I didn't have any sauerkraut left. Not only that but I didn't have any leftover frozen mashed potatoes to go with it. However, I did have frozen little dumplings and sauerkraut juice. Yes, that would do nicely. Well, frankly it didn't do nicely. In case you don't realize it, dumplings have very little flavor of their own and what made it worse is that when I originally cooked up a pot of pork and sauerkraut, I had added too much water to the pot. Therefore, there was barely any flavor to the sauerkraut juice. (sigh!) So here's where the highlight of my day came in. I had known for a long time that the sauerkraut juice lacked virtually any flavor at all. So tonight I thought it was high time I did something about it. I got out a pan, dumped all of the frozen juice into it, set the burner on high and eventually it all came to a rolling boil. I turned the burner down, let it boil up a bit more and then when I had reduced the juice by half, I taste tested it. Now THAT was what sauerkraut juice was supposed to taste like! The juice is now in a bowl in the refrigerator and tomorrow I'll freeze it up again in small portions. Yes, that was the highlight of my day. However, I don't have any stress in my life. I no longer have a job that stresses me out, I have no children or grandchildren to stress me out and I don't have any nasty neighbors that annoy me. Boring life yes (if you want to look at it that way), but stressful life, absolutely not. To me these are my golden years even though there are many moments when I feel they're my rusting years. I wonder what tomorrow's highlight will be? :-) vee

Dear Folks, Just as I was finishing my dinner this evening a car drove up in my driveway and two people got out and knocked on my door. When I recognized them I made my way down to the door, unlocked it and welcomed both of them inside. They were the parents of my dear next door neighbor Ken and they were delivering my newspaper and my mail. Pattie and John stepped inside and handed over my mail, etc., but I also noticed that Pattie was carrying something else with her. She handed the plastic container to me and told me it was homemade apple sauce. I said, "Aw, you shouldn't have done that!" John's immediate response was to Pattie, "See, I told you she'd say something like that!" We had a nice warm conversation after that and when they left, I carried the apple sauce into my kitchen. Of course I had to taste test it and it was delicious, just the way I like it with a lot of cinnamon. But now I have a dilemma. I'm not all that fond of sweet things and I don't serve apple sauce as a side dish to my dinners. But don't worry, I'm certain that I'll nibble my way through the container of apple sauce and enjoy every spoonful. Nothin' like homemade apple sauce. :-) vee

Dear Folks, I came across another story that I had forgotten I had written. It was a memorable one of the 1940s. vee Exploding Root Beer November 30, 1997 One evening in the 1940s our family was sitting down to dinner together in the dining room when all of a sudden there was a loud "pop" from overhead in the attic. Mother turned to Daddy. Daddy turned to Mother. Both of them wondered what had happened and then almost in unison, they cried out, "The root beer!" Now, I wasn't involved with cleaning up the mess but I guess this is what happened. Back in the 1940s many families made homemade root beer. First of all you bought a small bottle of concentrated Hire's Root Beer extract. You mixed it with yeast, water and I don't know what else and then poured the mixture into what were originally glass ketchup bottles. You positioned the bottle underneath the metal bottle capper contraption, made certain you had the new bottle cap in the right position and then you clamped the cap tightly onto the bottle. After all of the bottles were filled you stored them in the attic and waited until the root beer ripened or aged or fermented or whatever it was supposed to do before you got to open that first bottle of homemade root beer. Now, obviously, things can go wrong with homemade root beer just as they can go wrong with homemade sauerkraut. But when things go wrong with root beer, it's like the Fourth of July! Not only is there one "pop," but that one is followed by the whole nine yards of exploding root beer all over the attic! Trust me, you better get your root beer makin's down just right before you even want to try to brew your own! But when you do, I guarantee you that it will be the best cold glass of root beer you've ever tasted!

Dear Folks, I had another exciting afternoon, only this day it had to do with my hairdresser appointment. Now I'm sure that you girls have had similar exciting hairdresser's appointments. In fact I'll be bold and say that you men have also had similar exciting barbershop appointments. I have an idea that we all go through the same routine. My appointment was for 3:00 and Fran was still working on Marge's new permanent. No problem, I picked out a magazine I could leaf through that would keep me entertained until it was my turn. Fran always has the latest "Country Living" or "Better Homes and Gardens" magazines. I love to look through them to see what the latest fashion is in home decorating. However, as much as I would love my house to have some sort of look as the ones they picture, it would ruin the look of my present house. You know, scarred and warped kitchen cabinet doors and linoleum that has seen better days. No, I'm quite content with the look of the character of my house as it is. While I was leafing through the magazines I could also keep track of what Fran and Marge were talking about. Oh my goodness. Marge was telling Fran about what her grandson had done recently while the family (plus friends) were having a lovely dinner in the Olde Fort Inn here in Youngstown. It seems that he kept leaving the table on a number of occasions to go to the bathroom. They didn't think all that much about it until Mike the owner approached the table and told the family that the boy had just completely trashed the men's room! I couldn't help but pipe up and ask Marge just how old her grandson is. Twelve years old!! Oh dear! In the meantime Edith came in for her appointment and she and Marge got into a conversation about their various ailments. They compared symptoms and it was all that I could do not throw in a few of my own. After Marge left looking beautiful with her new permanent, it was my turn to sit in Fran's chair. She asked me the same old "How have you been doing?" I let her know I'm doing just fine. From there we got on the same old subject of how awful the kids dress nowadays and from there I brought up the subject of my putting my stories together into a book. Fran was truly interested and Edith also joined in the conversation. The next thing I knew, I realized that Fran had shampooed my hair, cut it the way I like it, curled it up nicely with a hot curling iron and then poofed it up stylishly and sprayed it with hair spray. Now if you men deny that your afternoon at the barbershop is all that much different than mine at the hairdresser, try this on for size. You walk into the shop, pick up a copy of "Home and Stream" or "Hummer Beautiful" and then eavesdrop on the conversation going on around you. Does it sound familiar? vee