Cecelia, I enjoy reading your stories and hope you continue to post them here. - Heather http://hblair.uchicago.edu/ PS -- do you remember a Bugs Bunny cartoon with King Arthur and the Singing Sword? The sword sounds exactly like a musical saw: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0051825/ On Sun, 13 May 2007, Cecelia wrote: > Funny! I wondered if you got a trip to the woodshed or a peach tree switch > for your experiement! > Yes, yes, yes! The "children's snuff" was great! But we used cinnamon > instead of cocoa. > My grandmother was from Cannon Co., Tenn., and she used snuff. But we > thought that spit can was so gross, we didn't want to copy that, at all. > However, Bertie, my mother's help, in Calvert, Texas, had a big knot in her > lower lip, that she told us was snuff. She kept her spit can hidden, > though, and I didn't ever notice her spitting. We begged and begged for > some snuff like Bertie, so she mixed us up some cinnamon and sugar in a cup. > We went around dipping and spitting happily. (We couldn't get candy or > cookies due to sugar rationing, but "snuff" kept us satisfied for the whole > day. > I made some up for my grandson when I was making cinnamon toast for him. He > liked the toast, but didn't want much of the snuff. I just saved it and > made more cinnamon toast the next day. > Another treat that we got was something that my mother called a "man". She > would use left over pie crust, roll it out, put it in a pan, put on some > butter, sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar, roll up the edges, and bake it. > Wonderful ! Sometimes she would make them and put lemon juice on them, > along with the sugar and butter. Maybe the cinnamon too, I can't remember. > At times, instead of making them flat, she would roll them up, loosely. So > good. > I thought that, when I retired, I was going to just make all kinds of > goodies for my grandsons (and myself!). I haven't had one thing turn out > like my mother's! (When I told my mother, years ago, that my soup and > goolaush weren't turning out like her's, she said she believed it was a > difference in water.) She didn't leave recipes for those basic things, and > I didn't write things down. Even the French Toast and scrambled eggs, that > I used to make for my children in the 60s, won't turn out like it used to. > I know I am doing the same things, using the same items and procedure, it > just isn't working. I grew up, sitting in the kitchen, with my mother, > grandmother, great aunts, and they told me how to do things. I went to them > for help, as they were still alive, when I was a young mother, if I needed > to check on something, But, now that they are all gone, I'm just not having > much luck. Even simple pie crust won't work. > I got up one morning at 4 a.m., wanting to make scones for my grandson. > What a mess I had! At 9 a.m., long after the boys had gone to school, I was > still fighting with the really runny, sticky dough I had made! Once made, > they were okay-for after school snacks. I decided I would just buy them at > the store. However, those are not very good. Dry, and always labeled > incorrectly! I heat them and put whipped cream on top, and they are okay > that way. > My grandfather used to get up really early and fix a big breakfast for the > family, then he would spend a lot of the morning baking. My dad sure was > glad when my grandfather came to visit! He loved those fresh biscuits every > morning! And I loved the pies and cookies. (This was the grandfather who > was married to my grandmother from Tennessee. He was from Texas, but his > parents were from Alabama. > Grandpa walked with his knees bent. We had a Civil War sword that my mother > kept hidden in the couch that had a space to store blankets. I found that > sword and took it to school to show in history class. One of my classmates > had argued that I didn't have a grandfather in the Civil War. I thought I > did and took the sword to show them. My teacher just told me to take it > home, that it was too valuable to bring to school. Soon, we made a trip to > Ft. Worth and took the sword. My mother said it was not because I took it > to school, but because my sister was at that age of getting into everything > and they were afraid she would find it and hurt herself. My mother and her > sister traded things back and forth, including their parents ad they got > older. They would stay with one a while, then they would rotate. > I knew that the sword belonged to my grandfather, so I had asked my mother > why my grandfather walked with his knees bent. I asked if he was in the > Civil War. She was busy and just said, "yes", probably so I would go away > and quit bothering her. I asked if that is why Grandpa limped, and she said > "yes", and went on with talking to someone else. So, I always thought that > Grandpa got hit behind the knees with a sword during the Civil War. > Of course, that was all wrong. It was his father's sword, but he polished > it every time he visited us. There was also a wall pendulum clock that > belonged to his parents, that he worked on every time he came to see us. As > soon as he left, it would stop running! > A younger cousin told me that she thought that he limped because of a > boyhood accident with an axe. He didn't really talk about things. > After my cousin's parents died, the children divided things up. One son > took the sword. But he has distanced himself from the family, and someone > told me that the sword is now in the posession of a sutler. I wrote to them > and asked for a photo of it for our family things, but no answer. Maybe I > can draw a picture of it. It was kind of plain. I can remember the blade > part, but I can't remember, exactly, the handle. It might come to me, once I > start drawing. > Anyway, I remember my grandfather, limping around the kitchen singing "Billy > Boy" (which I thought was very appropriate!), "Froggy Went A Courtin' ", > etc. > Anybody ever play the musical saw? My grandmother did, while my grandfather > played the fiddle. My mother and her sister played the piano. I was only > about 3, but I remember it distinctly, and just did a drawing about it. I'm > trying to write memories, as well as drawings of things that I don't have > photos of. My grandmother tried to show me how to play the jug or the > spoons so I could join in their Saturday night sessions on the farm. I > couldn't manage them, so I just "rode the horsie" on my grandfather's foot, > while he played the fiddle. I didn't know the words to the songs, but I > tried to sing with them. Now if it had been classical, songs from the > movies or popular radio, or from the Methodist Hymnal, I could have sung > those. My mother said that I knew every song in the Methodist Hymnal by the > time I was 2! Of course, I was always with her at choir practice, church, > piano lessons in our house, and every time there was some need for a piano > or organ in town! > I was researching musical saws for my drawing. I'm sure my grandmother went > outside and brought in a saw and a hammer, after I asked her what she was > going to play with the little group. My grandfather had brought out his > fiddle, and my mother and her sister were playing duets on the piano. I > didn't believe that playing the saw was possible. So, she showed me! And > just grinned all the while! > I hope y'all are putting all these stories down, and labeling all your > pictures! > I always have thought that my little stories were too new, and not anything > unusual or interesting. My family is totally uninterested. So, I'm just > writing, painting and drawing, anyway, for someday, when I am no longer here > and they will want to know. > I finally decided that, maybe, they are a little interesting to some people > when I was at writers conferences and read some of my things. I thought I > was writing something very serious, when people would just be fallling out > of their chairs laughing, and told me to finish what I was writing. I was > puzzled, but I guess it is funny, come to think about it. > I mentioned the time when one great-uncle, as a little boy, didn't want to > take violin lessons. His mother made him go. So, Eddie went to his lesson. > When the teacher was out of the room, Eddie peed in the teachers violin > case, then ran home. He didn't have to take anymore violin lessons. I had > actually written about a room in my great-grandfather's house, and I > remembered when he died, and a grandfather clock that was in the hall. That > was strange, because I was upstairs, and not in that room at all when he > died. I was only 1, and was in my baby bed, not sitting in a chair in the > entry hall, looking at my socks, while the grownups went in to see > great-grandfather. But people got a big kick out of my story! > Another thing that interested people was how, when we went to the picture > show, everyone had a certain place to sit, sort of like in a family room. I > was struggling to write the assignment, which was supposed to be a murder > mystery (not my area of interest at all), and I started writing about the > old movie theatre, and how things were. Never did get to a mystery or a > murder! > Guess that is a sign that I'm getting old! I found myself starting to tell > little stories to my students before I retired. I grew up in the next town, > so they knew the families, people and places. They seemed to enjoy them, > but I would stop myself when I realized I was telling old stories. (We > could do those things in art, journalism, yearbook, and newspaper classes! > Might not work so well in other subjects!) It really helped when the kids > knew people that I knew, or their parents knew my family. > Cecelia