Christmas Memories II: Good Food

My memories of Christmas food and drink are all positive and wonderful. I was born in 1927 so my early years were during the Great Economic Depression and we were poor-but I never felt poor at Christmas and especially not when it came to the matter of food.

My first memories are of Mother making homemade candy. At the top of the list is wonderful divinity candy, then chocolate candy and finally date bars. All were filled with pecans which we had gathered earlier in the year at Grandma Doering’s farm and then cracked and made available in abundance for Christmas baking.

And there was always stolen and fruit cake and lots of cookies. Homemade bread was just a common daily part of the diet

The primary meat was, of course, fresh pork. We raised our own hogs and slaughtering hogs was a big deal in early December. We had to pick a colder day to ensure the meat would not get bad. The neighbors (Schwausch, was their name, I think) came and helped. I was always just a bit taken aback when the hogs’ throats were slit but that was overcome by my love of fresh pork. We had wonderful sausage, fresh pork cutlets, incredible hams and all the rest.

The term “all the rest’ included what we called bone meat. When sausage was made the flesh was all taken off the bones, but always a little remained. These bones were preserved and especially when money got tight these bones were cooked and served usually with boiled potatoes and red beet juice.

We had a smoke house, a simple shack of about 20 feet by 30 feet with a tall roof. We always used the bark of the trees as the source for the smoke, because it burned slowly and produced a lot of smoke.

The sausage was always stuffed into thoroughly cleaned intestines. We even used the stomach of the hog and filled it with stuffing. And I especially loved the fresh or smoked bacon which was always sliced very thick and then fried-but not too crisp!

Christmas was time for dad to buy the once a year bottle of whiskey. Parts of our county were dry-so he had to drive to a liquor store near Jarrell to get the annual bottle of Jack Daniels. I recall my Mother’s disapproval of this practice-as she was convinced that we could not afford it (and my Mother, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary seemed to often fear that we would “drink too much”. The only way the Jack Daniels as drunk was in eggnog. Of course, the eggs and the milk were fresh and the milk was supplemented by a generous amount of additional fresh cream. There was often an argument as to whether or not the eggnog should be cooked or drunk raw. Eggnog was front and center at the Christmas Eve party at Grandma’s house after the children’s service. Two large bowls were always in evidence, one with the whiskey already in one bowl and the other bowl alcohol free. It was a daring adventure for me as a kid to accidently take my eggnog from the wrong bowl.

Frankly- I do not remember Christmas dinner. What was important was all those homemade cookies, cakes and candy.  Glorious memories!

Christmas Memories Part I: Church

Being baptized as an infant and raised in a very devout Christian family made it very natural for me to learn very early that Christ is the reason for the Christmas season. Thus church attendance and church activities were (and are) at the core of my Christmas celebration.

I do not remember any special emphasis on the church season of Advent, though we thought a lot about getting ready for Christmas.

At the heart of the Christmas activities was the Christmas program at church on Christmas Eve. It was led by the children of Zion Lutheran School. By today’s standards it was really simple and would be considered terribly boring. We had no manger scene or reenactment of the visit to the manger. No one played the role of Mary. It was very old-fashioned Martin Luther catechism inspired stuff. The children’s program had 3 important components.

The first was to tell the Christmas narrative through the format of questions and answers. The teacher asked the carefully prepared questions. He called upon students (one by one). Each gave the carefully prepared answer. I still remember the German question (though I do not remember the correct spelling of the German words) that always began the program “Welches hochest fest feiren wie in diesen tage?”(What high feast do we celebrate in these days?) Thus the Old Testament prophecies were recalled and the infant birth story up to the visit of the Wise Men was recalled.

The second element was that most (maybe all?) of the children had to memorize their “Christmas piece.” These were rhymes of poetry. In groups of about 4 students each we would march to the front of the church and recite our piece. There were no mikes and it was a big church so the instructions were drilled into us “Speak slowly and very loudly.”

Thirdly, of course, we had to sing the carols. It amazes me to recall that when we were in the upper grades we always sang in two and even three part harmony.

The Christmas Eve service was usually early in the evening. A huge (30 feet tall) cedar Christmas tree was decorated and in my early years adorned with hundreds of lighted candles. Two special ushers were seated right next to the tree with buckets of water handy should a fire erupt. After the close of the service came another highlight. The ushers distributed a Christmas bag to each of us children. These were plain brown grocery bags, but they were filled with incredibly wonderful gifts. Even during the deepest part of the Great Depression we each got at least one stick of Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit chewing gum, an orange, an apple, some nuts and some ribbon candy. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!

The thoughts of those bag contents and trying the figure out what to eat first and what to save occupied our minds not only during the worship on Christmas Day but even on the mandatory-to attend service on Second Christmas Day services on December 26th.

AFGHANISTAN TORTURED FAMILY SAGA, PART III

 The saga of the 7 children who fled torture by the Taliban by coming to our country continues unabated.

First: the good news. The eldest, a young woman whom I call S1 continues to amaze us. She is in her last couple weeks of Junior College. She has amassed a grade point near perfect A’s, all with knowing barely a word of English when she arrived here some 3 years ago. She is the designated foster care provider for her 6 siblings. She manages to get tooth care for her family which had not seen a dentist in 5 years. She has applied for admission for university level work and just yesterday was informed that she was accepted at the prestigious University of San Diego as she awaits word on her other applications. She passes weekly very meticulous in-home inspections conducted by a very legalistic representative from the foster care agency.

The second oldest son whom I will call B2 is also doing very well. He works (for $10.00 an hour) at McDonald’s, keeps a to the penny budget, incredibly saved $5000.00 and last week purchased (on credit) a nice used car. His plan is to go to school full time, work full-time and also drive Uber and Lyft, save enough money and then open an Indian bakery The youngest, aged 12, is doing great in school and speaks “American” without even the hint of an accent.

Yet the challenges continue. The first is the changing attitude about them that they perceive in society. They are increasingly hearing terrible slurs about their Muslim faith. They fear that threats about deportation will be carried out even though they are here 100% legally and have green cards. They face some outright discrimination when they go in public wearing their headscarves.

S2 is having the hardest time. She is really struggling with her G.E.D. classes and her English. Her mental health is still not well. After all, when her family was informed they were next on the Taliban death list, they fled in the middle of the night and she fell and broke her leg as she ran. Then some “friends” took them in but after a while demanded payment: in the form of her (a 12 year old at the time) becoming the third wife of her protector who was aged 62. That is when they fled to Pakistan where they lived in exile for some two years.

Now money has become a significant issue. S1 cannot at the moment come up with the $300.00 university registration fees, much less the university tuition. They have exceeded their medical expense limits on health and dental care and so are going without, including not getting eyeglasses badly needed. S1 really thinks she will pass her drivers license test this Christmas season but does not know where she can find the money for the car insurance for a car which friends have found and paid for. And then comes the message from their landlord: “I intend to sell the house so you’d better start looking at an alternative.”

Yet-their determination is undeterred. All of them daily ‘show up’. All of them still see America as the land of dreams and opportunities. Their gratitude for all who have and are now helping continues to be expressed most profoundly.

And here is my pitch: If you feel moved to help I will be happy to “manage” checks made out in my name or in the name of Shamayel Ameri. My mailing address is 7831 Rush Rose Dr. 323 Carlsbad CA 92009.

Together, under God, they will be blessed and will be a blessing to our country and to the world.

-->

REFLECTIONS ON A LONG AND BLESSED LIFE NO.41: HOSPITALITY A WONDERFUL VIRTUE

 At one level it was just another dinner invitation. At another level it was a profound reminder of the great virtue of hospitality. We chatted on the phone working to agree when we would meet for a simple meal and deeper conversation. I offered pizza at our home. She said, “How about coming over to my place? I can grill some steak. I have a really nice bottle of wine just waiting for you.” It took me less than 5 seconds to respond. “When should we arrive?” When I hung up the phone I reflected upon hospitality. This is a custom expressed at all levels of society from the most primitive tribe in Africa through the oval office in the White House to China’s imperial palace. Every society has its own centuries-old (and ever newly emerging) ways to answer the question: “How do you show hospitality?”

I reflected upon the graciousness of my host. She is a single woman, living alone. Her business takes her to assignments all over the world. Her schedule is full. Yet, she didn’t hesitate to say, “Come on over.” I think I know where some of that hospitality comes from and I want to honor it. I know that she attended a Lutheran elementary school and that her father was a Lutheran parochial school teacher. So she and I share that mutual background. And I believe that hospitality was a key virtue I learned in Lutheran elementary school. I experienced it as people invited my large family over for many events. My Mother demonstrated it when I suddenly brought a softball team of high school guys into our home unexpectedly and within minutes she was setting the table and frying up scrambled eggs. So my memory is that the Lutheran school of my day and those who taught in it really believed that hospitality was an essential aspect of Christian living. And, of course they had ample Biblical support for teaching it.

Am I correct in judging that hospitality expressed by inviting people over to one’s home for a meal is a diminishing experience?  The number of times that Jane and I are invited into someone’s home for dinner is far less than it was for my parents. When we are invited out it is often (not always) an invitation following one we had initiated. At the same time it is true, of course, that having a meal together with another couple at a restaurant is far more prevalent than when I was child. In fact, to the best of my memory that never happened for me until I was 21 years of age.

So customs around hospitality vary greatly from culture to culture and are ever-changing. In the midst of that the command of Jesus to extend hospitality not only to our friends but also to those often excluded does not have an expiration date. In a recent class which I taught at my church I challenged all of us to this particular act of hospitality: “Invite to your house for a sit-down dinner an individual or a family who is of a different color, ethnic group, or speaker of a primary language other than yours.

So this evening Jane and I will have a special treat. We will have a grilled steak (and grilling steaks is not permitted at the retirement community in which we live) a glass or two of good wine, lively conversation, and even keeping a tab on the Cubs vs. the Indians…. all instilled in the heart of a young girl attending a good Lutheran elementary school.

(For previous Blogs on the topic of Hospitality see “Hospitality To Strangers” 7/19/09 and “Gracious Host” 3/27/09 at Mel’s M∧Ms.com or melsmyths.blogspot.com.)

MEMORIES OF A LONG AND BLESSED LIFE NO. 40 REMEMBERING STUDENTS

Obviously teaching is all about students. My hope and prayer was and is that somehow or other my teaching has some effect (however minor) on each of the students I teach. Every teacher has the vision that students will be shaped, however slightly, by their teaching. In my days of retirement I now once in a while just try to recall the names, faces and traits of students who at some time or other sat in my classroom. My list runs from those fourth through eighth graders in Tracy, California through that very small band of grades one to three in Glendale, through the grad students I taught at the Concordias, through the students I taught through an interpreter in Hong Kong to many others all around the world. . But today I want to again go back to that very first classroom of some 32 kids at St. Paul’s, Tracy, California.

I will just select 4 boys for this blog and 4 girls for my next blog and let them be both individuals and also examples of tens of others who figuratively sat at my feet as students. For some unknown reason one of the first to pop into my mind is “Denny”. I recall his unrivaled enthusiasm for life. He was small for his age. He had a rough life as the son of a single mom who dearly loved him and struggled with a couple of jobs to have the tuition to send him to my school. Denny was always full of optimism and energy. He was convinced we would win any basketball or softball game we ever played. He was sure he would do well on tests. He energized me and I will always remember that when I went back to Tracy 50 years after I had taught there he was the middle aged person who still showed up all decked out in a smart jacket, shirt and tie and still with a zest for life.

At the other end of the energy spectrum was “Larry”. He has been abandoned by his birth mother and cared for by a wonderfully loving aunt and uncle. Studies were a bore to him and he did poorly. He was not interested in any sports and seemed unaware of his classmates. I wondered what would ever become of him. Yet, some years later we were living in Hong Kong and received a telephone call from him! He was in the US Navy, had a short leave in Hong Kong, heard about us being there and somehow or other not only located our telephone number but ventured north of Boundary Street (the limit for US servicemen) to come see us. He was full of life and looking positively toward the future. He had much praise for his years at St. Paul’s.

Tim was an only child. Both his parents loved him and wanted only the best for him. They even persuaded me to use some of my summer time to take him and a couple other students on daylong trips to the California gold country and there learn about the early days of our state. Some years later a former high school roommate of mine who had become a pastor told me that he’d had a call to conduct a funeral in Tracy, 500 miles from his parish in San Diego. . He got to talking to the funeral director in charge of the memorial. It was Tim, who upon learning that the pastor was Lutheran, told him about his Lutheran school experience and a teacher named “Kieschnick”. He sent warm greetings to the person he claimed had had a life-long influence on him.

Richard Hamlow was in the sixth grade. My relationship with him was influenced by another factor. I was a very close personal friend of his parents. Thus he often saw me in his home in a very relaxed atmosphere where his parents often shared a few beers with me. They always called me “Mel”. His parents, however, made it very clear to him that it was not appropriate for him to do the same. They made sure that Richard always referred to me either as Mr. Kieschnick or as Teacher Kieschnick. While I was his teacher I never heard him express any interest in becoming a pastor. But after I left he made that decision, graduated from the seminary and then served faithfully for many years until his retirement as a parish pastor. Richard was the first of many of my students who chose to enter the rostered ministries of various churches. While I, of course honor every occupation in which people find their vocation, I am also pleased that many chose their vocations as professional ministers of the church.  And Richard was the first.