December 2007 Archives

Joey and I hosted Christmas this year for the first time. We were happy to do it because we finally have enough space in our new house to accommodate our large family. It went very well, however, we would have liked to have our countertops in place, and our sink and dishwasher as well. Some wonderful men in our family washed the dishes in the laundry room, which is the "kitchen" sink I've been using since we moved in. I was hoping to have my countertops before Christmas since that is what we were promised, but now I'm hoping they are in before my Bonco party on Saturday night. It's not looking very good though because we haven't heard from the guy yet and tomorrow is Friday. Joey put down some fabulous temporary countertops (plywood) so we would have room to put things down. So glad he did because the countertops were packed, which you can see in the picture. The kids all had fun running around and the adults were able to sit all together for dinner and visiting. The evening was merry despite the kitchen limitations. Hope yours was too!

Christmas 2007

Christmas Day 2007

Christmas Day 2007

Christmas Day 2007

Christmas Day 2007

New Kitchen - Christmas Day 2007

Dave, Scott, Aaron

Sisters

Today is Grandpa Ferrara’s 97th birthday. He told these stories one evening to several of us around the table, stories that nobody had ever heard before.

His mother died when he was four years old. He remembered chasing the horse and buggy that her casket was in and he lay across the rod that connected the back wheels so it wouldn’t move. He said someone dragged him away, kicking and screaming. What a sad memory for a little boy to carry forever. His father married again and one night he and his wife left in the middle of the night to return to Italy, leaving his mother -- who never learned to speak English -- in charge of his ten children. He said his brothers Nancy and Joe had watched his father fill up the trunk, little by little, and they stole some money that he had packed away. Later they wished they had taken it all! The grandmother couldn’t care for the little boys so they were placed in a boys' home in the French Quarter. Sam and Joe were downstairs and Vic and Andy were upstairs. Grandpa said he had vivid memories of Vic and Andy who were 2 and 3, dressed in long white gowns, crying and reaching for him and Joe through the railing of the balcony. He didn’t remember much about the food served, but he did remember a big boy pitching chunks of bread to the boys around him, breaking them off of a long loaf of French bread. If you couldn’t catch it, you didn’t get any. Was that supper? I don’t know. Grandpa ran away from there when he was seven years old. He remembered he was barefoot and it was a cold day. When he got home, somewhere in the Carrollton area, he hid under the house and listened to them talking because he was afraid they would send him back. They didn’t, and eventually the others were brought home once the older boys found work and could support the household.

Does anyone who was there that night have anything to add?

Today is my dad’s birthday. Once again I had to get out my calculator and do my arithmetic. 2007 take away 1897 equals 110, more than one year younger than my mother – to her everlasting chagrin. My dad was mostly a serious fellow, but if he ever started to laugh, he had a hard time stopping. My story is a church story. My dad was seated on the aisle. He needed to use his handkerchief, so he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his crisp, white, starched handkerchief. He gave it a good snap to open it up, and then to his surprise and wonderment, he watched it unfurl up the length of the aisle. My mother had mistakenly put my sister’s three-yard dress sash in a neatly folded package resembling a man’s handkerchief into the drawer along with the other freshly ironed handkerchiefs. He started to laugh uncontrollably. My mother first rolled her eyes at him to behave and then she started laughing too. We watched in amazement, not having the slightest notion of what was going on, and before you knew it, we were all laughing too. Not out loud, of course, but silently, with tears streaming and shoulders shaking. Who has not had a terrible fit of laughter in church?

Their laughing together is what I remember most about my parents. What could be better than that?

From Shane MacGowan and The Pogues with the late Kirsty MacColl. MacGowan is an acquired taste. He has a harsh singing voice and an even harsher appearance (Google him). He's a great songwriter, though. I love Kirsty's contribution. The song is sad and sweet. Lyrics below the fold if you're interested. For best results, click on the play button on the lower left rather than the center, then click it again to pause. Let the song load. It'll only take a few seconds on a fast connection.

Happy Birthday, Anne

Today is Anne's 23rd birthday!! Congratulations to her and no, you are not getting old. I drove to Menomonie and took her out for dinner at Green Mill(they have good pizza and other stuff too) last night. Best wishes for a great birthday Annie---hope between getting projects done you have a moment to celebrate your day.

Today is my mother's birthday. I got out my calculator to do the arithmetic: a lady born in 1896 turns out to be 111 years old today. As I've said before, imagine that!

As all of you know, both of my parents were teachers. He was born in Hector, Minnesota, and she was born in Glencoe, Minnesota, adjacent towns, but they didn't meet until they were enroute to a teacher's seminar in Winona, Minnesota. There were many of them traveling by train, probably an all-day trip. As my father told it, they met after my mother winked at him as he walked down the aisle. Every time he said that, she would say, I NEVER DID, STOP TELLING PEOPLE THAT. As a little girl, I never knew if she was truly angry, nor did I know if the wink was a fact. I rather doubt it, because he had a tricky look on his face when he said it and I know he enjoyed her mild hysteria. During their five-year engagement while they saved their money in order to marry, they each taught in different one-room schools all across the State. All of his schools were in the far north, close to the border, while hers were closer to home. They both boarded in family homes in the towns where the school was located. My mother told me townspeople considered it an honor for the teacher to choose their homes to live in during the school year. They paid $3 a month for the privilege; so that might be why it was considered an honor. One more memory about this time and then I'll quit. One of the things my mother taught was what she called "deportment." She would have the girls bring prepared food from home in order to have a picnic lunch at the table in the yard. They would set the table, the boys would be seated, and then the girls would serve the food. Afterwards the girls would clean up, and the boys would put the table back to the edge of the grounds, out of the way. While the boys were eating, she would instruct them on good manners -- how to use the silverware, how to drink from the glass, how to use a napkin, how to say please and thank you. While they ate, the girls would stand in attendance behind them to see that they were properly served. Don't you love it? Don't you wish things were still done this way?

Today my brother Pat would be 79 years old. Imagine that! When he was about ten, he had a BB gun. One day, he was lying on the sofa wondering if a finger could stop a BB. Well, no, he learned that it couldn’t. He told my mother, holding up his index finger, that he had shot himself. There was no blood, no hole, and at first she didn’t believe him. She then had to make the decision to call the doctor now or wait for my dad to get home. (Back then, the MAN was in charge of the purse.) She did call the doctor and he said he’d come as soon as he could. He used the kitchen for an operating room and was finished very quickly and the boy made a full recovery.

Do any of you PJT children know anything about this story? If you can add to it, please do. I can be excused if I omitted plenty of details because look at me: I was hardly alive back then -- if he was 10, I was 4!