The antique hand pump

The hand pump was a fixture on the large back porch of the big farmhouse built in 1869. It was the house where my mother was raised, and where I started going in 1965. My grandparents, John R. and Janice Day Watson, lived there for some 55 years. Before that my grandfather's parents, Garfield and Ellen Barker Watson, lived there.

The last time I was at the farm was yesterday, to pick up the hand pump that I won in the Watson Auction.

The Watsons are my kinfolk. My mother, Sandra Ellen, was a Watson before she married my father, Fred McDonald. Her brother, David, and his wife, Kathy, and their two children now own all of the Watson farm. My late aunt and uncle, David and Peggy Ruppel, and their children used to also live on the farm.

I paid $121 for the hand pump. Why? Because it means something to me. It's a part of my memories of the farm. I haven't been in the farmhouse since 2018, after my grandmother died, to collect a few things. After that the house was gutted and renovated. 

The back porch was removed. The hand pump was saved, I was informed when I asked about it.

Last week I saw it in the online Watson Auction. 

I never resided in the farmhouse but for 50 years - until the middle of 2015 when grandmother was sent to a nursing home -  I was a reoccurring visitor. 

After my mother died in 1968, my grandparents wanted me to live with them. But my father did what he thought was best for himself and me and he placed me with his parents, Fred and Ruth DeVol McDonald, in Caldwell while he lived and worked in Columbus. 

Dad made certain that I saw my mother's family. 

Dad remarried and started a new family but he made sure I had a relationship with my mother's family. And I did.

Over the years I came to love to go to the farm and I made memories there to last a lifetime. 

Some of the memories I have are in photographs taken by others and some I have taken myself. 

In July 2012 grandmother and I visited on the back porch and before I could snap a picture of her my rechargeable camera battery was exhausted. Earlier in the day I captured the empty rocking chair, hand pump, cat and the view. 

I had this photograph made into a canvas that hangs in my house. This image invokes a strong memory of the farm, porch, farmhouse, grandmother, cats and LOVE.

See grandmother, in her nightgown, feeding the cats a day after her 87th birthday in 2013. There's the hand pump.

The hand pump is on the porch, circa late 1940s, where grandmother and her sister-in-law Dorothy who married my grandfather's brother Harry, pose. They have picked strawberries and are in front of the porch of farmhouse where their in-law's Garfield and Ellen Watson reside. Grandmother and Grandfather later moved into the farmhouse.

I'm sure my love of cats started at the farm. They seem to be in a lot of photographs, especially when I was little. 

Today is National Cat Day!

As far as the hand pump, maybe it will be come a garden water feature at my home. Stay tuned.

Revival of Vintage Family Fixin's

Early this spring I started a recipe column in the local newspaper where I worked. I called it Vintage Family Fixin's. I wanted to offer readers a recipe - or two - from the recipe boxes of my late grandmothers. In doing this I recalled stories about these women, and other members of my family, and found that sharing those memories with an audience resulted in letters and telephone calls from those who knew them.

It was the beginning of a great journey for me that ended too soon. After the publication of only five columns, I suddenly lost my job due to an error in a headline that had nothing to do with the recipe column.

I did not have an opportunity to tell any of the readers about my sudden departure or my blog but it is my hope that as I revive the recipe column maybe you will share this URL with someone who might find it interesting.

Over the next few weeks I will reprint all of the columns on this blog.
 
Here's the first one.

 

Vintage Family Fixin's

Two Ruths

Welcome to Vintage Family Fixin's.

Today begins with a story of discovery, a theme that has accompanied me through the past year (more about that in a future column).

My late paternal Grandmother Ruth (DeVol) McDonald's recipe box is much like my maternal Grandmother Janice (Day) Watson's attic -- full of unexpected surprises, coincidences or perhaps fate.

Looking through Grandmother McDonald's recipe box last week I ran across a dish called Chicken Cashew Casserole by Ruth DeMarco who in cursive wrote her recipe on a large index card that has two holes punched along the top. DeMarco, hmmmm, I know a DeMarco.

Wow!

It just so happens that Ruth's son, Steve DeMarco, is a contributor to [the name of the newspaper where I used to work] of news concerning Cambridge Concert Association. We are periodically in communication as I am his contact at the newspaper. We also are friends on Facebook.

So it was a coincidence that my Grandmother McDonald, who died at age 68 on Jan. 20, 1989 -- six months before I came to work at the newspaper -- at some point and time during her life met Ruth DeMarco.

Grandmother McDonald resided in Caldwell and worked in the Auditor's Office and later Probate Court at the Noble County Courthouse.

Ruth DeMarco lived a very active life in Cambridge and passed away in 2008 at the age of 81.

The women were six years apart in age.

So how did Ruth McDonald know Ruth DeMarco?

"Her mother's maiden name was Riddle. So she has/had lots of relatives and friends in Caldwell and the area," said Steve of his mother.

Steve said of his mother's Chicken Cashew Casserole, "I make it often and it's very tasty!"

More meals from Noble County folk will be coming your way because in Grandmother McDonald's recipe box I found recipes from the old Ralston's (Pharmacy in Caldwell), the Club in Caldwell, and some of my grandmother's friends (Wanda Wheeler, Mary Jane Yontz) and my Grandfather Fred McDonald's sister Ruth Smith.

Plus you'll enjoy fixin's from my husband's late grandmother Bea Loos, plus some from my late birth mother Sandra (Watson) McDonald, my late aunt Peggy (Watson) Ruppel, and my mother who raised me Judy (Spitler) McDonald Behringer.

Today's featured recipe is from Grandmother Watson's recipe box. Grandmother celebrates her 88th birthday on March 25. Happy birthday, Grandmother! You are the best cook and I remember you making this soup for me. I'm so blessed to have you.



Grandmother Watson's Fresh Mushroom Soup recipe prepared by me.

Fresh Mushroom Soup

1 pound mushrooms

6 tablespoons butte or margarine

2 cups finely chopped onions

1/2 teaspoon sugar

1/4 cup flour

1 cup water

2 cans beef broth

1 cup dry vermouth (optional)

1/2 tablespoon salt

1/4 teaspoon pepper
Chop mushrooms. In large pot melt butter. Add onions and sugar. Saute over medium heat, stirring frequently for about 15 minutes or until golden. Add mushrooms and saute for 5 minutes. Stir in flour until smooth. Cook for 2 minutes, stirring constantly. Pour in water and smooth until smooth. Add remaining ingredients and heat to boiling. Reduce heat and simmer uncovered 20 minutes.

P.S. I fixed this soup and my family liked it with the exception of Will, 13, who doesn't particularly like mushrooms. Lee, 11, said, "It's delicious."



Grandmother Janice Watson and me.

BONUS RECIPE

Ruth DeMarco's Chicken Cashew Casserole

1 (3 ounce) can chow mein noodles

1 1/2 cans cream of mushroom soup

1/2 cup chicken stock

1 breast of chicken (or 8 ounces of any cold chicken, more if desired (cooked chicken)

1/4 pound cashews, cut in quarters

1/2 cup celery, cut fine

1/4 small onion, cut or chopped

Dash salt and pepper

Set aside 1/2 cup noodles. In 1 1/2 quart casserole, combine the rest of ingredients. If cashews are not salted, add more salt. Sprinkle reserved 1/2 cup noodles over top. Dot with butter.

Bake 30 minutes in 325 degree oven.


Originally published on March 23, 2014; reprinted with permission from the publisher of the newspaper where I used to work.


　
 


　


　
　




　
 

Overcoming my addiction

I finally reached a goal I set for myself following the death of my aunt a year ago.
I’ve quit smoking, and apparently just in time.
Today I was diagnosed with “mild” emphysema and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD).

My aunt, an educated professional who was 12 1/2 years my senior and more like my sister, was an addict.

For years she toyed with recreational drugs and alcohol (excluding her pregnancies). Then her husband died when her children were 8 and 12 years old. After that she was diagnosed with depression. Her addictions became more pronounced. Her physical and mental health deteriorated. Prescription drugs (written by numerous local physicans!) consumed her up to her death.

Her dying had become a real possibility to me but her death was still unexpected. I had prayed for God’s will to be done. I was working toward an intervention that might lead to her long-term rehabilitation, the only treatment for her, I believed.

I did not expect this kind of intervention.

I really miss my aunt with whom I spoke on the telephone many times a week. I hated her illness but I still loved her.

My life has changed in her absence.

To fill the void, perhaps, I started a blog – which you are reading - and tuned into Facebook and reconnected with people I haven’t seen since high school. What a place!

Plus I wanted to do one thing ….She couldn’t overcome her addiction but certainly I could. I had to try. Again.

My addiction for more than a quarter of a century has been nicotine, in the form of cigarettes. My parents don’t know this but I started smoking occasionally in high school. (My parents are proud of me for quitting).

I smoked in college. I smoked after college. I smoked when I started my job at the newspaper 21 years ago. I smoked at my desk! Crazy.

A health scare on Sept. 9, 1998, and a trip that night to the ER revealed I was asthmatic. (I know this date because I found the ER discharge papers in my files over the weekend). I’ve used an inhaler ever since.

And I continued to smoke … until last summer.

Through my workplace I entered a smoking cessation program that has been a godsend. Four months after my aunt’s death, since August and one time a week, I have spoken with a professional health coach – “S” - on the phone.


When I became ill last Halloween and ended up in the ER with severe respiratory distress, I had been smoke-free for a couple of months. I relapsed on Nov. 20 but thanks to “S,” got back on track in February when I became ill again and vowed I did not want to leave my children motherless (like my aunt) if I could help it.

This past weekend I shredded more than a decade of medical information - reaffirmation for my non-smoking brain. I examined every doctors office and hospital bill and prescription receipt. Seems every year of those 12 - sometimes two or three times a year - I’d visit the doc and be diagnosed with bronchitis.

And still I smoked.

I am pleased with myself and my effort to stay quit. It’s not been easy and I’ll tell you the truth, I came this close to smoking last night after an argument with my husband – just hours before my appointment with my pulmonologist. But I didn’t. It’s a huge hurdle.

Now I am focusing on weight loss through exercise because I’ve got more to do to make me well.

Today I think of my aunt and thank her for helping me to stop smoking before it’s too late.

(Those struggling with an addiction or those who have a loved one struggling with addiction are encouraged to watch “Intervention” on A&E and to visit the Web site -http://www.aetv.com/intervention/index.jsp)

Scents

The 10 year old said it smelled like Christmas the other day.
It was cold outside and the furnace, which had kicked on a few days earlier, was running around the clock.
I remarked at Christian’s association of the cool outdoors and warm house and apparently some other comforting smells.
Likewise, his 8-year-old-brother a couple of months ago told me, “You smell like Aunt Peggy.”
I was taken back and shocked at his Will's senses.
My aunt, Peggy Ruppel, died unexpectedly at age 55 this past April and I brought home some of her favorite perfume “Opium” that I had not worn until the day Will said I smelled like her.
At that moment we all remembered Peggy and it was sad but comforting that something so simple like a smell could incite a fond memory.
Maybe I get emotional when it comes to the senses.
So many smells trigger certain places and certain times.
My grandmother Ruth McDonald wore - more often than not - a perfume by Evyan launched in 1945 called “White Shoulders.” Grandma’s been gone for 20 years now but I still smell her occasionally like when that woman pushed her cart by mine at Riesbeck’s the other day.
My grandmother Janice Watson’s signature scent is “Youth Dew” by Estee Lauder. She smells wonderful, and always will.
What I really wish is that I could bottle the way Grandma Watson’s 1800s farmhouse smells – like radiant gas heat mixed with clean laundry, hot tea and orange slices.
Bedrooms and bathrooms each have their own radiant floor heaters. There are fireplaces aglow in the office, parlor and living room. In the kitchen at least one burner is continually lit on the gas stovetop. And so in the wintertime the house envelopes me with its warm historic smell that will always be remembered as grandma’s house.
I loved the way the house I grew up in smelled too, which is a compliment to my mother, Judy McDonald given she had four children and a husband and all of their smells to deal with. Mom and a lot of her friends used Claire Burke Original room freshener. It contains roses, lavender and spice mixed with patchouli and vetiver. For a while Kroger marketed a spray air freshener that rivaled Burke’s trademark scent and I remember grocery shopping with mom and stocking up on canisters.
I have an affection for patchouli and enjoy wearing perfumes containing this mint that originated in East India and yields a fragrant oil. I’m always checking out Bath & Body Works latest scents to see if they contain patchouli.
I started wearing a new fragrance this week called Angel by Thierry Mugler, which contains patchouli.
I love the smell of Gerber’s Grins and Giggles Oatmeal Baby Wash, which we’ve been using for 10 years, since Christian was born.
This scent is no longer manufactured but I bought nearly a case of it at Odd Lots this past summer because I just can’t let it go.

We have maybe 12 bottles left.
Smells are like music they take you back to different times in your life and for a little while you remember ....