Showing posts with label Daddy Tommy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Daddy Tommy. Show all posts

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Parenting


Father’s Day 2016.  Daddy Tommy when he was no more than a kid.  Sons #1 and #2 are older than he was in this photo.  I keep this one on my refrigerator.  I love to look into his smiling eyes.  I wonder what he was thinking?  I don’t know where this was taken.  Daddy joined the Army and left my mom and Spruce Pine around the age of 19, I think.  Mama left Spruce Pine to join him in Louisiana at not quite 16 years of age.
My BFF’s house was robbed not long ago and the one thing that she wants back is a card from her dad.  It accompanied a string of pearls that she was given on her wedding day.  “I love you, Dad.”  He was a victim of Alzheimer’s. She says it was clear that he had a great deal of difficulty writing those four words on that card.  It is probably the last thing he wrote.  She knows that she will never see it again, but it meant more to her than the jewelry that was taken.
I have a letter that my dad wrote back home to my Grandma Bell.  I promised Mama I would take good care of it when she gave it to me last year.  It is a big part of our family story.  It is the only thing that I have in my dad’s handwriting.  Hand-written letters are very personal and prized possessions.  The postmark is 1956, the year my dad turned 20.

Although he wrote it to my grandmother, he mentions my grandfather several times.  We lived next door to my grandparents for all but two of my first 18 years.  My dad and grandfather did not get along very well for many of those years, as I remember it.  That still makes me profoundly sad.  I loved them both so very much.  Parenting isn’t easy.  It is the toughest job out there.  Bar none.  My dad was hardheaded, as we say in the South, and I am pretty sure that he bucked all of my grandfather’s advice.  20-year olds are pretty sure they know everything and that they do not need parental intervention.  I wish that I could sit them both down right now and ask them all of the questions that have been swirling around in my head all these years.  They will both be in my Heaven, so I know that someday I will have the chance for a heart-to-heart talk with these two men who played such a prominent role in my childhood.
Daddy’s letter ends this way–

Did he ever call Papa?  I have no idea.  When he was discharged from the Army, he built a house next door to my grandparents and I was born in 1958.
Daddy loved country music, watching police serial shows, gangster movies and golf on TV, the Washington Redskins, Duke basketball, eating pimiento cheese and bologna sandwiches, camping and taking his boat out on Lake James in the summer.  He loved to 
tease me.  I hated it, of course.  He loved his dog Bowser, although that dog chewed through the bathroom door.  He loved Kentucky Fried Chicken and we would often stop in Marion on the way to the lake to buy some to take with us.  He loved my mom and his crumbcrushers, as he called us.
Life with Tommy wasn’t easy, though.  He was an alcoholic.  And not a funny or laid back one.  Quite the opposite.  It took me a long time to talk about this part of my childhood and to forgive him.  I wrote a letter to him towards the end of his life and I hope that I conveyed my love and the beginning of forgiveness.
Parenting is a tough job.  You want the very best for your children.  You don’t want them to hurt, either physically or emotionally.  However, although there are shelves and shelves of how-to books out there, parenting does not come with a fool-proof manual.  It is a combination of trial and error and doing the best you can.  It’s not about being perfect or making life perfect for your child.  Life is tough.  It’s not always fair.  It’s about trying to provide for all of your children’s needs and a few of their wants.  It’s about listening and admitting when you are wrong.  It’s the purest form of love.
This quote is also on our refrigerator–

It has been there for 26 years.  Son #1 recently used it when he spoke about his dad at his dad’s induction into our school’s Sports Hall of Fame.  Hopefully, someday it will be on Son #1’s refrigerator.  Hasdai Ibn Shaprut was a Spanish-Jewish physician and poet/writer (915-975 A.D.).
I found this recipe and plan to make it for the Ex-Ex and Son #1 today.  Unfortunately, Son #2 can’t be here with us.  Tommy Bell would have liked this sandwich, I’m sure.
Patty Melt Sandwich
from Leite’s Culinaria
(Go to his website to read the recipe in his much more interesting words!)
Makes 4 sandwiches (you know your eaters, though, and how much they eat, so adjust quantities, if necessary!)
For the onions:
  • 3 tablespoons olive oil
  • 2 medium Vidalia onions
  • 3 pinches salt
  • 1/4 cup white wine (SB note:  I didn't have any white so I used rosé!)
  • 1 tablespoon salted butter
For the patty melt:
  • Cooking oil
  • 1 pound ground beef 
  • Salt
  • Butter
  • 8 to 10 slices crusty bakery bread  (if you want to make a traditional patty melt, rye bread); SB note:  I used potato hamburger rolls, flattened
  • Sliced American cheese

DIRECTIONS

1. Preheat a skillet over medium heat and add the olive oil.
2. Slice the onions into fairly thin rings or half rings and add them to the skillet, stirring to coat with oil and continuing to stir  around until onions become limp, about 7 minutes.
3. Add salt and stir.
4. Add the wine and raise heat to high for 1 minute, stirring constantly until liquid evaporates, then return to medium, add butter and stir until melted.
5. Cook, stirring the onions in the pan frequently for another 15 minutes or until they are nicely golden brown. [Leite's Note: Just to be clear, the onions are not going to be caramelized after this short amount of time. And that’s okay. Although if you really want caramelized onions, be our guest and let them cook at least another 30 minutes or so.) Remove the pan from the heat.
Make the patty melt
6. Preheat another skillet over medium heat and add cooking oil to coat the surface.
7. Make  4  balls of ground beef.
8. When the skillet with the oil gets hot, place the balls of beef into the pan, one or two at a time. Season with salt and mash them flat with a spatula so that each patty is just smaller than the slice of bread. Cook the patties, without touching them, for 3 to 5 minutes. Flip them and cook for 2 to 3 minutes more for medium-rare, more for medium or well-done. Place the burgers on a wire rack placed over a plate.
9. Heat skillet to medium heat.  Butter 1 side of each slice of bread. Place 1 slice of bread in the skillet, butter side down. Add a slice of cheese on top of the bread, followed by a cooked patty, some of the onions, followed by another slice of cheese and a second slice of bread, butter side up. Cook for 2 1/2 minutes. Keep an eye on the sandwich so that the bread doesn’t burn. Then flip the sandwich and cook for 1 minute more. Using a spatula, remove the sandwich from the skillet and place it it on a plate. Repeat with the remaining patties, buttered bread, cheese, and onions. Serve hot.
 Bon appétit and Happy Father’s Day to all!

Sunday, December 27, 2015

National Fruitcake Day



Who knew?  Thanks to the talented and hilariously funny Sandra Boynton I now know.  A whole day dedicated to fruitcake.  You either love it or you hate it.  And most everyone I know falls into the latter camp.  But not moi!  I love it.  I've had some that were better than others, of course, but I refuse to be a hater.  (The Ex-Ex is a hater... but I keep hoping I will win him over.)

I've been a fan of Sandra's cartoons for a long time.  We even decorated Son #1's nursery with a wall paper border featuring her adorable critters.  When I saw the above post on Facebook this morning (yep, I stalk follow her), I reposted it for all those fruitcake haters out there to add comments. Instead, lo and behold, who do I hear from but my Cousin-in-Law in the great orange state of Tennessee.  (Go Vols!)  She falls into the lover category, too, just like me.  And it gets even better.  She has a recipe that belonged to my Daddy's sister, my Aunt Helen, her mother-in-law, and CIL even went to the trouble of digging it out of a recipe box so she could send it to me.  That is cousinly love, friends. Cousin-in-Law even found a photo of my beautiful Aunt Helen.  She did not like having her photo taken and I did not have a single one of her-- not until today!


Daddy's family is from High Point, but moved to Spruce Pine before he and the baby sister were born.

This is how I remember my grandparents best- (Papa is holding my nephew Jerm, I think)


Papa (George) and Grandma (Christine) had nine children, including one who died either in childbirth or shortly thereafter.  (My Cousin K will correct my Bell Family facts if I get something wrong.) Daddy Tommy was second to last.  A cutie pie for sure, n'est-ce pas?


I have a few family photos, thanks to Mama Mildred who let me go through a huge tin of photos and take the ones I wanted.
Here is one of me sitting on Mama's lap (check out the tummy-  I still have it!), with Grandma and her mother (I think?), one of my cousins and, I am sure, a beloved dog.  (Everyone seemed to get that dog-lover gene except me.)


When my parents moved back to Spruce Pine, after my dad's stint in the Army (Mama Mildred ran away to join him and get married in Louisiana at the tender age of 15- in this photo she is probably about 19 years old), they built a house right next door to Papa and Grandma and I spent a large percentage of my first 18 years at their house.  I loved them so much.  Papa George owned a small hosiery mill and gave his employees a fruitcake every Christmas.  We always got one, too.  Maybe that's why I love it so much?

Cousin-in-Law also found this photo, taken in Florida, where my Aunt Helen lived, and where my grandparents had a second home.


So, in honor of National Fruitcake Day and my Aunt Helen, I will pass on her favorite recipe for all you lovers out there.

I have no idea who Mrs. Harvey is.  The recipe looks as if it was cut out of a newspaper.  Here is the original recipe.  My modifications are listed at the end**.  In years past, I have made Fruitcake Bars and Fruitcake Cookies.  Both are very tasty... if you are a fruitcake lover.

Mrs. Harvey's White Fruitcake
makes 5 pounds cake

5 large eggs
1/2 pound butter or margarine
1 cup granulated sugar
1-3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 pound candied cherries (1 pound = not quite 2 cups)
1 pound candied pineapple
4 cups shelled pecans
1/2 ounce vanilla extract (3 teaspoons or 1 tablespoon)
1/2 ounce lemon extract (3 teaspoons or 1 tablespoon)

Chop nuts and fruit into medium-sized pieces; dredge with small amount of flour.

Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy.  Add well-beaten eggs and blend well.  Sift remaining flour and baking powder together; fold into egg and butter mixture.  Add vanilla and lemon extracts; mix well; add fruits and nuts, blending well.

Grease 10-inch tube pan. Line sides and bottom with heavy brown paper; grease again.  Pour batter into prepared pan.  Place in cold oven and bake at 325˚F for 3 hours.

*Cake may be baked in two  3-inch loaf pans for 2 1/2 hours.

**I hope that Mrs. Harvey and Aunt Helen aren't rolling over in their graves right now, but I made some changes.  I used dried fruit --cherries, blueberries, cranberries, and pineapple (it is very sweet) instead of candied fruit. Next time, I think I will use dates instead of the pineapple.  I put the fruit and nuts in a Ziploc bag with about 1/4 cup of the flour to "dredge" them. While playing true confessions, I have to admit that I  misread the ingredients and put in 1/2 teaspoon of the vanilla and lemon extracts instead of 1/2 ounce.  I tasted the batter, however, before adding in the fruit and nuts and it tasted good. I buttered two loaf pans and did not line them with heavy brown paper.  I remember my mom doing this once upon a time, though.  Not sure why.  She used brown paper grocery store bags. I did line the bottom of my pans with parchment paper, though. Maybe the Ex-Ex will at least try it this time?

It is certainly full of goodies.  I tried a bite while it was still warm.  Yum.  The dried blueberries taste really good.

"People who like fruitcake will probably like that" he said with a strange look on his face.



Bon appétit to all fruitcake lovers, especially Cousin-in-Law and all the remaining Bells.