Tag Archives: Mom

Praise

I was praised for having a “good” blog by two fellow writers today, two people who are very important to me.

And I want to pass along this praise to another, the only grandparent I ever remembered, who died in 1984,  my maternal grandfather. Papa knew that we had a cliff less than 20′ from the front door when we were kids.

The last thing my parents wanted was for us to go down the 150′ cliff using a rope. The boys next door used the rope by our house. We were forbidden from doing so for about six days after moving in.

But Papa spent several months a year with us and even with one leg, he scrambled down the 12 feet to the rope that went about 75 feet down. It was frayed and he was worried about our safety, knowing that we would only use the trail to pick wild strawberries and blueberries on our land.

He bought thick natural rope and tied it (he used to build bridges) so we would have hand-holds up and down. It went down about 100′ and we slid through the rest of it, the ground could at least hold ferns, down to the creek.

We used to call him the “Summer Santa” because he got us roller skates and other things, but this rope will forever be in my mind as I age because it meant freedom and trust and my ability to jump off a cliff and be OK.

The other part to this, which happened just a couple of months after my mother died, is that now friend Juni Fisher sang her Whippoorwill song for my husband’s grandma’s surprise party and I cried throughout. Her mother whistled to bring her home. Mine beeped the horn of the old station wagon they gave me as a college graduation present, three times meant get 150′ up here and wash up before dinner is on the table and your father gets home.

No matter what happens, it all comes down to the ones you love, family and friends. I always told clients to draw a series of concentric circles, and these are in the center and remain so for me, including my husband’s family, of course, they’ve been very good to us.

I don’t need to bungee jump or fly out of a plane, I jumped off a cliff and am still here 40 years later. When a challenge confronts us or we have to move for a job, I remember that time when my parents let me grow up, take risks and become a responsible adult. Oh, I won’t do the cliff thingie again, Dee

Cancer and Pain

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/04/health/policy/04medicare.html?partner=rss&emc=rss

The NY Times talks about Medicare fraud and doctor-shopping by senior citizens.  Much of that is because they are in pain and their doctors don’t know how to relieve that pain or refuse to acknowledge it.

We’re very lucky that my mother’s pain doctor ran the hospice across the street, so she knew she was in good hands when she decided to go to hospice.

Yes, I studied geriatrics a bit in college but most doctors think pain, especially espressed from a female patient, is invalid.  If women in pain talk about it and men in pain mask it, how is a doctor to know?

I do know that the last two weeks of my mother’s life were relatively comfortable and she had all her family around.  Her doctor said she was a fighter, and that he wish he’d known her better before her decline.

For me, keep me pain-free and allow me to spend precious moments with family and friends.  May more doctors learn this art and science.  Respectfully, Dee

I got to the B’s

My mother died 2 1/2 years ago. A year and a half ago I got a package from my youngest sister. First let me tell you that three boxes were sent to me the day before we moved away and they were placed into storage, unopened, where they sit today.

To say that my relationship with my mother was rocky would be an understatement. She always treated us kids well and I appreciated and learned much when she took an interest, in the 1980′s in food, when a family friend gave her a subscription to Gourmet. Gone were the cream of mushroom canned soups. It was a new world, for me, anyway.

The package from my youngest sister has sat there, along with a small check from my mother’s estate that I will not cash and hope my sister has used wisely, for well over a year. Tonight I tore it open, and it contains 3×5 card recipes from a plastic box my mother had for eons. When I got to the B’s her BBQ Beef (a recipe I’ve wanted in order to transform it) was in my handwriting. I teared up and put the lot back in the envelope to tackle tomorrow. Apparently my sister is still missing a lot of recipes mom wrote on thin paper in green typewriter ink, probably on her classic IBM Selectric they bought used. I might actually have her infamous birthday cake recipe in storage, Viennese Chocolate Pecan Torte. It’s something I should have because we get at least 2# of fresh pecans shelled and picked by my mother- and father-in-law each year.

The torte is a decadent pecan cake, with milk chocolate ganache and a dark chocolate frosting on top. It was a birthday treat for all and I thought my sisters, the bakers, knew how to do it. I may have that recipe in the vault in air-conditioned storage but that will remain to be seen.

My thought was to do a book of favorite family recipes. We all depend on those taste and scent memories to bring us home. I’ll let you know when I get beyond the B’s. Cheers, Dee

Can You Top This?

Today my dear friend of 35 years lost his mom, as I did two years ago. We’re that age, being at the end of the boomers, where we may not be fully grown yet but our parents are dying.

We don’t talk about keggers anymore (at least I don’t) but my mother lasted two weeks in hospice and his lasted three. I don’t know if that’s better or worse because everyone is different and their conditions differ as well. Let’s hope the suffering was kept at a minimum for the patients, and the families.

At this age and with time after a parent’s death the “kids” are able to explain a good or bad hospice experience. I feel like just yesterday I was fearless, fit and fabulous. Now I’ve taken on a volunteer commitment that requires physical activity like kneeling on concrete floors and it reminds me that I’m aging too.

So when you’re feeling down, no matter the cause, think about the good stuff, listen to Jerry Jeff Walker’s London Homesick Blues and go home with the armadillo. With utmost respect, Dee

O Canada

Our home and native land….

Yes, my mother came from Canada and had a Green Card here for 50 years. She’s gone now but family abides in Canada and nearby and everyone loves the Olympics. We happen to be living where the 2002 Olympics resided and are keeping our eyes out on Vancouver.

Apparently Lindsey Vonn is a neighbor of ours who is using cheese (topfer) to help heal her shin. Let’s hope Lindsey and our other neighbor Shaun White do well in the Olympics.

My godfather/Uncle Don had the honor of carrying the Olympic Torch prior to the Calgary Games. I salute all the athletes, thank Canada and Vancouver for hosting the Games, and wish everyone the best. OK, I’m from the USA so will shout a little bit louder there.

As a nation, we’ve spent a lot of time walling off one neighbor, Mexico. We’ve ignored our Northern neighbor, Canada, for far too long. It’s as if we’re such good friends that we forget about Canada because it doesn’t pose a threat to our borders.

We’ve been engaged to Canada for many years. While I don’t have inside info on what Canadians think of the US right now I believe we pay Canada no mind. It seems we like to be involved with Iraq and Afghanistan but ignore our kindly neighbors to the North.

For me, I hope the weather allows for a good and fair Olympics. Kudos for taking on this monumental challenge and we look forward to visiting Vancouver and sacred places nearby where my mother has been memorialized in future years. Cheers, Dee

Dear Mom

It’s been over a year now, another new year. My blog didn’t start until June of last year so you didn’t know about it. A couple of nights in the hotel after spending the day at your room in hospice I wrote a post.

What’s interesting is that on the “favorites” your name is always up there in bold. That’s because I talk about how you taught me to cook and I share some of your family recipes and ideas for others. So “mom” usually pops up on a post somewhere. Go figure.

Wherever you are, I hope you’re content. We’ve moved further West and are living our lives and trying to keep up with family. It’s been difficult not having a day off this year to visit our or Jim’s side or just take a weekend off. You are missed. Love, Dee

Nanny’s

Our family Thanksgiving was immediate family. When I met the man who was to become my husband, I girded myself for a long weekend with his parents, and Thanksgiving with fifty of his relatives. It was a life-changing weekend and we eloped two months later.

Now, Jim’s job prevents him from taking even one day off during November/December and he’ll miss his annual joyous union with his parents, brother, grandmother, aunts, uncles and cousins. I should have titled this “Over The River, and Through the Woods…” but this would be my eighth year there. We’ll miss all the folks who get together only once a year. It’s some consolation that Jim’s mother has a new computer with video capabilities so we can have a video conference after dinner.

There may be near sixty this year. More babies were born. A dear one was lost. This is the closest to a grandmother I’ve ever had. You should see the spread. Of course there are turkey and ham but the sides are very southern and that tends to sweet, not what this Yankee initially expected. I never tried to bring a dessert because all the other ladies do so and dessert is a sumptuous feat in and of itself! As my husband is not very adept at culinary traditions (forget female hierarchy) he always told me to bring nothing.

Now I’m known for teaching teenagers how to cook, the day after Thanksgiving, and also for my spinach balls, spiced almonds and cashews, and boursin. I’ve already given spinach balls to my newest married cousin Brenda. We’ll really miss that big hug from Nanny when we walk in the door, plus conversations with family we haven’t seen in a year: Zoe’s hip surgeon Val the Vet; brother John and Patti and their children; Sharon and Mary and their kids; Scott and Jen and two babies, one we’ve never met; and on and on. And Gina’s going to be there this year. We’ve both been rooting for Gina for years, and she’s successful and living on the West Coast.

Someday I’ll tell you the story of the first Thanksgiving with Jim’s family. Not now. Cheers and Happy Thanksgiving, Dee

Farewell, Gourmet

As a “Gourmet Tastemaker” for the past few years I was shocked to see an email message stating that the magazine was kaput as of that moment. I had to check the news to make sure that Conde Nast had axed this historic (since 1941) magazine to cut costs.

One of my earliest cooking stories (surely on this blog) talks about my mother’s cooking going from Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup to souffles a la Gourmet, a lovely cheese souffle she served with a salad in the early 1970′s and my father said it was great, then asked where was dinner!

A dear family friend kept my mother in Gourmet subscriptions for years, and as we grew up we all cooked from them. My favorite cooking school teacher from 20 years ago, who worked closely with Simone “Simca” Beck of “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” worked there, at least until today.

Ruth Reichl, you will be missed and will land on your feet somewhere and so will your talented staff. You might tell them not to knock on the doors of Wall Street quite yet, even if they do have a Series 7 license (stockbroker).

This is a shock to all foodies and I wish you well. To better days ahead, Dee

Bully Pulpit

If I have one, I’ll use it. Ted Kennedy died of a brain tumor, a glioblastoma which carries a literal death sentence. My mother died ten months ago from complications of colon cancer. For the people who think “ObamaCare” involves “death panels” I’ll tell you something. My mother had several surgeries, one which caused irreparable damage because of a surgeon’s mistake. When the cancer recurred my sisters took her against her will in an ambulance, as she had not been able to eat or drink. and she went through a battery of tests.

In the end they said they could do more surgery and perhaps another colostomy and my mother said, in perfect lucidity, NO. No more tests, no more surgeries. The next day she was transferred across the street to a hospice that her pain doctor leads. For two weeks they took stellar care of her, encouraged us to be around and kept her comfortable. What was comfortable for her (talking or not talking) was not comfortable for us but this was about her. In the end my siblings agreed that against their wishes, if she wanted a chaplain to get a priest for last rites, it was up to her and I would organize it. She did and it was a moving moment for us all as we told her of our love for her.

When a terminally ill patient goes into palliative care that is hopefully the patient’s wish or that of his/her family or person designated in a living will. Our mother decided it was the end, that her body had its fill of disease and heartbreak. I would encourage people, especially those who have little family or who aren’t married, to have paperwork in order as soon as possible. I’m working on ours, even though we’ve been married forever, sorry nearly 7 years. We will both do our own papers and sign DNR’s because we don’t trust each other to let the other go. I know that in my heart.

We’ve had our own death panel and know that whatever healthcare system we’re a part of will not disregard our wishes. When Mom died the lead doctor said he never thought she would last two days, much less two weeks. And added that she was a tough lady and he wished he’d had the benefit of knowing her better. Sorry for the sadness, the one-year anniversary is coming up and I’m thinking of Mom a lot. In memoriam, Dee

Old Year, New Year

This month Jim and I will celebrate our sixth year of marriage. One could say that 9/11 brought us together because we had a chance meeting a few weeks after I was “trapped’ in Europe during the attack and could not get a flight home. We look forward to many more years together.

We lost a few celebrities this year, most recently Eartha Kitt, who was a terrific singer, actress and dancer. We also lost my mother three months ago, whose beauty rivaled Jacqueline Kennedy’s but was not born with the pedigree. Her brain is something I’d have liked to inherit. I got the literature but not the math. Our father strives to keep our family together and the first experiment will take place shortly as they’ve been apart over fifteen years.

This evening I watched President-Elect Obama alight from a government jet to transition to his new home in Washington. It was a poignant moment for an incoming President who has a lot on his plate. Four or eight years from now, his hair will undoubtably sport gray, as does mine. I hope as a voter and citizen that his security will be tight to protect him from any harm. The war, economic crisis and condition of many Americans demands action. Let’s hope our elected officials make the right decisions. I know this is a cooking blog, but I am a voter and stakeholder in the future of this nation. Dee