Pumpkin Crunch and a Bit of Nostalgia

“Boy, this is a delicious crunch,” says my hubby.  These were welcome words to the baker’s ears as the two of us indulged ourselves during the evening movie.  It was raining when I made the crunch, but that’s okay because we have had an amazing September/October and the crunch brings back many good memories.

This recipe comes from a cook book my neighbor, Ann, sold to me many years ago, about 23 years to be exact.  Ann was an amazing cook and baker.  I say, “was” because we lost Ann to illness two years ago this November. It was a lose I still feel. Ann was a good neighbor, a generous neighbor and she was also an outspoken and opinionated neighbor who believed in speaking the truth. This set well with some of us and not so much with others.  Everyone doesn’t really embrace the cold, hard, unvarnished truth but, to me, it was one of her most enduring qualities.  You always knew where you stood with Ann and it was my good fortune to be her friend.

She was always doing something to help others.  The recipe book is a prime example. She volunteered to do the project for the Independent Order of Foresters from Hammond of which she and Kevin were members. Ann gathered the recipes from friends and provided many, many of her own culinary delights. Then she did the layout and had it printed and put together on a spiral binder. “Sharing Recipes” turned out to be an exceptionally good cook book with all profits going to the Foresters organization.

I’ve enjoyed many recipes from this book and the Pumpkin Crunch is a favorite.  I discovered it right away because I’m a fall kinda girl and love anything and everything to do with this amazing season.  For me there is nothing better than crunching my way through fallen leaves on a cool crisp October or November day.  I count it all joy to look out my windows to the trees, fields, and bushes that offer an amazing fall display as they enter their seasonal finale’ bringing flaming and vibrant color and life to an earth that is about to succumb to rest. 

Don’t forget the fields of pumpkins and squash all yellow and orange waiting to be carved, uniquely decorated, or better yet, made into pie. Who does not love pumpkins and pumpkin pie?  A pumpkin’s color is amazing and so is its fruit.  I enjoy it all, pumpkin bread, pumpkin donuts, pumpkin muffins, pumpkin pie, pumpkin soup, pumpkin lattes, and much more but never forget the Pumpkin Crunch.  Yummy!  So, without further ado here is a delicious fall recipe mixed with just a bit of nostalgia.  It’s easy to make and well worth your time and effort. Try it and enjoy the fruits of your labor.

Pumpkin Crunch

2 pounds canned pumpkin
1 (15 ounce) can evaporated milk
3 eggs
1 cup sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon cloves
1/4 teaspoon ginger
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

I yellow or white cake mix
1cup chopped pecans or walnuts
1 1/2 sticks of butter (melted)

Blend the pumpkin, milk, eggs, sugar, and spices and beat well. Pour into greased 9X13 inch pan. Sprinkle with one box of yellow or white cake mix, 1 cup chopped nuts (pecans or walnuts), 1 1/2 sticks butter. Melt butter and drizzle over cake mix, sprinkle with nuts.  Bake at 350 degrees for 50 minutes, until set and light brown. It’s delicious served with a dollop of whipped cream.

Good eating to all and have a Happy Fall.

Labor Day 2017

Thia is the view across the street from the mansion

I’ve been trying to find time to write while Labor Day is still fresh on my mind.  It was a beautiful day, not to hot with a balmy breeze that kept everyone comfortable while we enjoyed our annual Labor Day Parade.  As you may know the name of my blog is Under the Maples and that is where I was sitting while the parade went marching by. A couple dozen others, our family’s invited guests, were also there enjoying the festivities from the cool green lawn rather than hot sidewalks.    

It’s a quiet old town, founded in 1854, with a wonderful old downtown historic district that dates back to the late eighteen hundreds or early nineteen hundreds. Fortunately, most of these historic, turn of the last century, buildings are occupied with a variety of tenants and most are 110 years old or older.  The lovely old home we own, under the Maples, is even older and celebrated 147 years recently. It, too, is on the historic register and was built in 1870, only five years after the Civil War, 1861-1865. The Civil War that was anything but civil as Americans fought with each other over the destiny of the country which was not even a sovereign nation at the time. 

A lot has happened since then both good and bad and, at this moment, our nation seems to be very divided again. However, I don’t wish to digress, and want to focus on Our Labor Day parade. It is the oldest parade in the state of Indiana and always has over a hundred entrants who participate in making Labor Day special in our town and bring in folks from surrounding communities.

HERE COMES THE PARADE
The siren blows, the Grand Marshall comes into view and, the next thing you know, here comes the parade!  A parade lead by our big bright red firetrucks, followed by rescue units and an ambulance filled with our hometown heroes waving at the folks that they serve so well?  Our trucks are followed by many other firetrucks and rescue units from neighboring fire departments and everyone watching seems to realize how blessed we are to live in small towns that have wonderful volunteers who keep their communities safe.

Lowell is located on the south edge of Lake County with more industrialized towns and townships to the North but, we have always been a farming community and the farmland and farm towns just to the South, west, and east of us prove our claim. As a farming community we always have our share of entrants with old tractors from by gone days. The enthusiastic collectors have put tons of restoration dollars and time into the beautiful old tractors they love showing off.  Old cars are also very popular as their proud owners drive by waving and allowing us to peek at their beautifully restored vintage automobiles.

The parade keeps coming and we whistle and cheer our Lion’s Club, Knights of Columbus, dance studios, churches, fitness centers and all the other wonderful hometown businesses that take part in making this a special day for all. Added to the mix are the Mexican dancers and equestrians in traditional native gear.  Sponsored by our Mexican Restaurant owner, they are our neighbors and share some of their lively and festive heritage with us on Labor Day.

One of the entrees I was looking forward to seeing this year was from Mommy’s Haven. This is up close and personal for me since my granddaughter-in-law was very instrumental in helping establish this safe place for pregnant girls who do not wish to have an abortion but to keep their babies and learn how to care for them.  The first Mommy’s Haven house is being built right now across from the mansion. It warms the heart to think of the many young women, through the coming years, who will be blessed by this place of hope for the future of both mother and child. 

With all of that said, and as much as I enjoyed it all, I think the part of the parade that really stood out in my mind and captured some part of me I have trouble verbalizing were the small army of marchers who build America and keep her strong. We had hundreds of Union members marching and standing strong for the professions that are the backbone of our country. I’m referring to the United Steelmakers, Boilermakers, Carpenters, Electricians, Brick Layers, Iron Workers, Pipe Fitters, Teamsters, Auto Workers, Operating Engineers, Heat and Air Conditioning Workers, and many others. They marched proud of their heritage and proud of being a part of middle class America. Middle class America, the behind-the-scenes of corporate America. The CEO wouldn’t have an office without American Laborers and craftworkers. Schools, stores, hotels and retreats wouldn’t exist without their expertise, and no one person is more important than the other.  Some have college educations and some barely made it through high school but through trade schools and apprenticeships became qualified craftworkers.  Others may simply work on a farm and help with the harvest but they are all important to our well being and to our nations success. We are all needed each other because the puzzle is not complete without our piece. The Bible tells us in Ephesians 4:16 “He [God] makes the whole body fit together perfectly. As each part does its own special work, it helps the other parts grow, so that the whole body is healthy and growing and full of love.”

Great sorrow comes when we are not allowed to play our part. The inner cities and a welfare government that makes people beholden to them while never letting them breath free and excel is part of the problem and needs to change. In the meantime,  should someone who has a college education and a profession believe that makes them more important than someone else? They shouldn’t and it doesn’t.  What it does mean is that they have a different purpose then someone else. On the other hand, should a skilled laborer demean someone with a college education that cannot put a machine together? Of course not.  We all have purpose and it is not for someone else to wipe their feet on us. We are a Republic, not a Democracy, and it is important to respect each other and remember “we are all part of the whole body.”

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could remember that and not feel the need to elevate ourselves high above someone else? Wouldn’t it be grand if we could be comfortable in our own skins, so to speak, and appreciate the differences we all make.  We all have dreams, but they are not all the same. One guy or gal may want to be a CEO someday while the other dreams of being able to help build a battleship and always remember their part of its success.  Some want to work on sky scrapers while others would prefer both feet on the ground and dream of owning their own piano studio or coffee shop. The list of dreams and possibilities is as long and varied as the imagination will allow us to go and all are important to making the country and our world a better place.

MY "TAKE AWAY"
I guess I digressed again, but I found a wonderful “take away” from our parade. In those two hours I watched the heart and soul of America go by. There was no sense of division and hate but one of unity and pride of our town, our people and our nation.  Those were good seeds sown at the parade and we need to embrace the spirit of that unity. Unity in diversity, a magnificent concept.

I hope you enjoyed this blog and find a “take away” too.  For me, Labor Day was a great day.  Everyone brought a favorite dish and we had an incredible afternoon trying to eat the delicious offerings, playing games and visiting under the Maples.  I must say our group knows how to cook and bake and my heart is warmed by the memories of the day. God bless one and all who read this blog and God bless America.

ALENE - Under the Mapes Series

Foreword

I have several very dear friends who have put up with me for thirty to forty years or more and this tribute in no way diminishes the love and respect I have for the part they have played in my life. The encouragement that they have given me through the years in both tough times and good times cannot be measured in words so I will not try. My undying love to each of you.

Prelude

Friends are like-minded. They share with one another from the heart. Friends know each other well and promote each others welfare. Friends do not gossip or spread tales about you but keep your secrets and dreams close to their hearts. 

Alene

When you talk about jewels of great price and lights that shine brightly dispelling darkness and bringing clarity, Alene, was a person in my life I thought of just that way.  I only knew her about the last ten years before she passed, at 93, into eternal life which I am sure she is enjoying immensely.

When we first met I was president of the General Federation of Women’s Clubs in Lowell.  Alene had been a member of the GFWC since her youth and she was now back from many years retirement in Florida. Since the GFWC year ended July 1 and our club didn’t have summer meetings, we were celebrating our year-end banquet in May at what was then Nellie Jayne’s Cafe.  One of our older members invited Alene, as a guest, to join us. I fell in love with her immediately.  She had the kindest blue eyes I’d ever seen and you could sense her gentle soul. I was able to talk with her for a little while then but I didn’t see her again until September.

I will never forget, everyone was gathering for the first meeting of the season and Alene came in.  I saw her at the back and watched as she walked slowly but straight towards me watching me every moment until she stood before me. She had such love in her eyes it immediately warmed my heart. I looked her back in the eyes and said, “We are going to be very good friends.”  She nodded her head and replied, “Yes, we are. Very good friends.” Don’t ask me why we had such a strong connection so quickly but we did and it was real. I spent the next ten years seeing her often, considering work and family.  We were both prayer warriors and we lifted each other and numerous others in prayer and shared scripture often.

Proverbs 29:17 says, “Iron sharpeneth iron; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of a friend.” I always felt Alene and I did just that.  We sharpened each other with our collective wisdom from life’s journey and our knowledge of scripture. We were both better people from having met.

Alene was one of only a few people I shared my dream of buying an old Victorian house and creating a restaurant with other than my daughter and our immediate families. Long story on how it finally happened but it did in early 2006.  Alene had been one of my firmest supporters, cheering me on, praying for me without ceasing, and offering major encouragement as my daughter, Beth, and I moved forward to achieve the goal.

I’m not sure anyone was more excited than Alene when we opened.  She stopped by often and offered words of encouragement and praise and then one day it happened. The dishwasher was ill and we were busy.  Dishes were piling up in bus tubs everywhere. The sink and dirty dish counter were stacked and the cooks and waitresses were too busy to do anything other than hope they didn’t run out of dishes or silverware. 

Someone said, “You got company,” and I looked over at the door to see none other than Alene standing there.  She was dressed neat as a pin, her makeup was flawless and her hair perfectly coiffured.  She was sporting her sassy, black cane with its ornate handle and made quite a picture.  "My friend, what are you up to?" I asked her.  Not bashful at all she said, "I am here to work. You need a dishwasher today and I am it."  That indeed was “it” and only the beginning.  During the next nine months, before the fire in December, she helped hostess, washed dishes, folded napkins and did whatever else she could do to help. Not every day but as often as she wanted.

Some folks thought I shouldn’t let her work because she was too old. Some probably thought I was mistreating her but they didn’t know my feisty friend.  They didn’t understand her spirit and her drive and her deep desire to feel useful. The closest we ever came to having words was when I told her she should sit down and rest. She told me, gently but firmly, she would rest when she felt the need. I needn’t worry.  The years had been good to her and, although she moved slowly, she moved with grace and blessed everyone she met with her gentle spirit, genuine kindness and wisdom. She left a bit of each of those spirits in the mansion every time she was there.

After the fire, in December 2006, she remained a dear friend but didn’t really work much when we reopened. Ten months had passed and I think age was beginning to catch her just a bit so I would take her some of her favorite foods from the mansion and we would visit over a cup of tea. She loved to get out and do things so when I would have to go somewhere I’d invite her.  She usually went along and we had a great visit along the way and I believe it made her feel useful and cared about. I remember her telling me when we first started visiting together that we had to work double time because she didn’t have many years left and there was so much she knew God meant for us to do together. I felt the same way.  She was back in Indiana for a purpose and we had met for a reason. We were kindred spirits and God had put us together to encourage and help each other. I still thank God for this woman’s presence in my life.  She was a wonderful role model and a loyal friend.

We talked often about our families and we prayed often for my children and grandchildren.  Alene was my Christian prayer confidant.  She knew concerns and needs no one else did and, unlike some, she never judged the circumstances but acknowledged them and prayed for change that we knew needed to happen. She used to tell me that she was so grateful for our friendship and that I was an amazing friend but honestly, she was the amazing one. She’s been gone for years now but never in my memory.  I can still see her smiling face, loving blue eyes and gorgeous white hair.   I carry a bit of her with me everyday.  This tribute is to her because she often tread the path under the maples, because she was part of it, and because she always encouraged my writing as well as my dream of owning the house under the maples. It makes me smile to think of her and to realize some of her sweet spirit remains there still.

Proverbs 18:24
A man who has friends must show himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.

John 15:12-15 
This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.

Proverbs 13:20
He that walketh with wise men shall be wise.

Under the Maples Monologue

Cornerstone Mansion Restaurant Fall 2010 and the two Maples

The decision was made on October 16 to close the doors of Cornerstone Mansion Restaurant on December 23 of 2011. The restaurant had flourished in a beautiful old historic home in Lowell, Indiana for six life-changing years.  People came and went depositing a little of their spirit along the way.  By the time the restaurant closed, I knew there were many stories to be told about Cornerstone's history making years as well as stories that would relate to times past. The home is 147 years old this year and I remember how people used to come to eat and admire her beauty and many would wistfully comment, "If walls could talk." It seemed to me that they did and I sat each day and listened to the walls share their stories of times past while I watched new stories unfold before my eyes.  

From early spring to late fall I often sat on the front porch under the maples and absorbed the day into my being and heard the whispers of all the yesterdays and saw the smiling faces of the day, although some faces were obviously dealing with overwhelming issues and struggling to be positive while grabbing a few moments of joy as they dined at the mansion.  

The mansion, that I fondly call the “grand old lady,” is quite elegant with her 10 foot ceilings and tall narrow windows that rest a foot from the floor. The trim is original and features a ten inch high baseboard, a stately walnut staircase and a walnut dining room floor. This coupled with three fireplaces give the home an aura that speaks of warmth, family and love. She sits on the corner of Commercial and Fremont and you cannot miss the two majestic maples that virtually dominate the front yard.  Their living presence adds vibrancy and life to this magnificent old landmark built in 1870, just five years after the Civil War.  In the summer, these giant Maples provide much needed shade for the southern exposure and in the fall the leaves are a brilliant yellow-gold reminiscent of sunshine or golden jewels. Even in the night, in the moonlight, they glow with lustrous iridescence and will take your breath away. One look at these trees and you know that they have spent a multitude of days on this corner plot and hold many secrets in their boughs. 

While these Maples cradle the front of the house, the Maple on the East is like the point man for the rear of the home.  This is a very different variety Maple and has dark green leaves with burnt burgundy undertones.  It is smaller and slow growing but still a beauty in every way.   The richness of the burgundy provides a much needed relief to the green of summer and adds a daring splash of rich color to summer hues. The West side is fortunate to have one of these Maples in the courtyard. None of the above diminish the backyard’s lot line with its majestic pines that stand like faithful sentries beside a magnificent old magnolia tree.

Choosing a name is never easy, but it was "Under the Maples" where people walked and talked. It was "Under the Maples" where they entered and exited leaving just a breath of their spirit so here is where the stories will unfold.

Stories I share that concern the mansion will also carry a tagline, Under the Maples Series. I have three blogs already on the site that would qualify for being part of the Under the Maples series.  They are, The Bunnies of Cornerstone Mansion, Have You Walked a Mile in Their Moccasins, and the third is really more of a personal narrative of who I am and how it all started called, If Only Walls Could Talk.    

I intend to do other writing as well including a series called, Random Thoughts and Musings.   All will be compliments of yours truly, the someone who spent years listening, learning and being inspired, Under the Maples.

Erin Morgenstern wrote in her book, The Night Circus, “Someone needs to tell those tales. When the battles are fought and won and lost, when the pirates find their treasures and the dragons eat their foes for breakfast with a nice cup of Lapsang souchong, someone needs to tell their bits of overlapping narrative. There's magic in that. It's in the listener, and for each and every ear it will be different, and it will affect them in ways they can never predict. From the mundane to the profound. You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone's soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words.”  Could anyone who writes a blog, a short story or a book want for more? My sincere hope is at some point one of my blogs feeds your spirit and brings some revelation to you and, in the meantime, may they always provide you an ever so pleasant moment of reflection and peace. God speed to all who read these blogs.

Blogging Again!

I haven’t blogged for a long time. There are many and varied reasons but I just can’t seem to follow through with any one story.  I have a myriad of blogs with two or three paragraphs but they are totally unfinished thoughts. I do know why.  Much of my personal attention has been drawn to the presidential race, the elections and the state of our nation now.  I still don’t know how much I want to write about it but years ago I wrote an article that was printed that is as true today as it was then.  Then my grandson was about eight.  Today he is 29 years old.  Nothing has changed regarding the relevance of this story.  The problem is indeed worse not better.  This is a sad testimony to our nation.  Something is terribly wrong!  I hope the story below gives you pause and an opportunity to contemplate its truths.

BEWARE OF THE FREE LUNCH!
Recently I pulled my hardbound copy of “The Eagle Story” from my shelf to share with my grandson.  It is a beautiful book filled with drawings of this majestic bird and it tells the reader how perceptive the eagle is and how he cherishes his family and his freedom.

It also tells how cunning men are able to trap this elusive bird.  Of course, eagles are protected birds and can only be trapped for zoos or government approved reasons. However, they can be trapped!

Eagles love fish and in the story the clever trapper lays fish out on a rock near the water’s edge where the eagle normally fishes for food. He was leery of the fish just lying on the rock but after perching high in a tree and carefully checking everything out and after waiting for hours for something unusual to happen, the eagle soared down coming closer and closer until he finally landed on the rock with the fish.  Everything still looked very peaceful and in good order so, after many wary moments, he settled down to eat his ‘free lunch.’

This scenario went on for days with only mild changes in the landscape happening at any one time.  Finally the trapper knew that the eagle was enjoying his ‘free lunch’ and it was time to set the trap.  He put a big net high above the rock the eagle always sat on while eating. His hope was to get the eagle used to the net being there.

The eagle was really suspicious of that net! So much so that he did not bother with the free lunch the next day. However, he did come back the following day, and the net hadn’t been moved at all. Most importantly the fish was there and it was free.  The eagle didn’t have to hunt or work for the meal.  So down he flew and again had a ‘free lunch.’ The strange net overhead appeared to be no problem. The trap was perfect!  The following day the eagle flew in without hesitation and settled down to eat when suddenly the net came down around the eagle.  He fought and fought but could not break free.  He would never be free again.  He was going to a zoo where he’d never fly high and soar through the sky again.  He was trapped.  The ‘free lunch’ had run out!  Now he would pay dearly for everything given to him.  He would pay with his freedom.  His hopes and plans of soaring gracefully along the currents, enjoying his family and his world were now dashed to bits. A sad ending indeed for this strong, proud, and beautiful bird.

I sat and thought about the book I had just shared with my grandson and I realized that welfare is exactly like the eagle story.

It’s a big net that has been set to trap its recipients and make them beholden to a zookeeper for food and shelter. No wonder some of the government projects look like prisons.  They are! They imprison the mind and emotions, the heart and spirit of the people.  It fosters weakness and strips them of their hope for a better life.  Life remains unchanged for those caught up in this cycle.  They can never fly free or meet their real potential.

What a disgrace that we have allowed a system like this to exist in America and it happened because many believe big government knows more about what is best for the people than the people do themselves and they have no qualms using the poor for their personal gain.

I used to wonder why nothing every changed but now I know it is because they wished to keep them trapped in the existing system for their vote. Well, there is no ‘free lunch,’ and these captives pay a terrible price to remain in high crime, low income housing with all hopes and dreams dashed to pieces.

There is no doubt it is time for real change.  Phony, crippling “compassion” is very misguiding and many good people are caught up in believing it is the only way.  They mistake compassion for enabling the destruction of the human spirit.  We need to do better than that. The answer is the same as it has always been, give them a hand up, not a hand out!                
                    THE END!

An old Chinese Buddhist saying.
“Give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day; teach a man to fish, and he'll feed himself for the rest of his life.”



 




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