Maybe What They Say is True...

"When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years." ~Mark Twain

Father's Day is right around the corner.

My father is a man to look up to, literally, as he's probably about 6'3" maybe even 6'3 1/2". That's like Magnum-tall. He's an imposing figure. I think that's a good thing for a little girl, to look up to her daddy & feel secure. I just knew that if need be, my dad could beat up your dad. He probably wouldn't. Why should there be a need for that? But I was sure he could & that was what was important, because one look at him, & everybody else was sure too.

My dad seemed very serious when I was a kid- it seemed he had a 1/2 scowl on his face all the time. I think now some of that was probably due to the chaos of having 4 children running around in 4 different directions, but some of it also may have been due to the concentration he had to put into hearing us. It went like this:

me: Dad? Can I go over to Lisa's to play?
pause
me: Dad? Did you hear me? Dad?! Dad! DAD! DAD!!!
Dad: (Startled, he booms) What?!!
me: (run off crying because he yelled at me) Nevermind. I'll find Mom.

My dad wasn't the pull-my-finger jokester dad. (Lisa's was.) He was a prankster though. He used to take us to the movies, especially on hot summer days. He still laughs about taking my little brother to see Raiders of the Lost Ark. At the end- I don't want to spoil it for you if you haven't seen this 30 year old movie--- at the end, when Indy is tied to the stake & the Nazis open the Ark of the Covenant, he cautions, "Don't look at it!" So as all the Nazis look, they start melting. My father turns to my little brother, who is 4 or 5 years old, & says, "Your ears are melting! You looked!" And of course my brother believed him for 60 seconds.

My dad was the dad who took us to Zip's after church on Sundays where we could make our own sundaes. He was the one who put a pool in our back yard & made sure we could swim & threw us high into the air as we screamed with joy so we could make a big splash. He was the one who carried us to bed when we fell asleep (or pretended to have done so) in front of the TV. He was the one who bought the junk food. And despite working 16 hours a day, he did manage to make it to most of the various sporting events & school productions we had going on. And he shared with us the thrill of rollercoasters!

I think my dad could fix anything. He tiled showers & built walls & hung kitchen cabinets, installed carpet, vinyl & laminate floors, put up a pool, built a swingset, wired a lamp, changed major appliances, patched many a hole that had been kicked through a wall or door...the mysteries of home repair seemed no mystery to him.

My dad was a little old-fashioned. And by a little, I mean a lot. I always saw it as pretty darned sexist. But I'll tell you, he has learned. Nobody can fault a man for wanting to provide for his family, but he (still) doesn't like my mother out alone after dark, even if only at the grocery store. I suppose it's sweet in a way...

We went on family vacations every year, & we travelled across the state a few times a year too to visit family. These trips were long & full of discussion. Religion, Politics, Money, Morality, Crime & Punishment were all topics of conversation.

These are good memories. Not only did they instill in us the values he wanted us to have, but they taught us analytical thinking & the strength & courage to question, even if we were questioning authority. Of course, he didn't like it when it was him, but I do think he was proud when we stuck to our beliefs & made a decent case for it, for certainly we were more liberal-minded than he was when we were still in school.

We'd sing along to the radio & he only knew the refrain & would make up the rest. He'd tell a joke & just as often as not, forget the punchline when he got there. I have inherited both of these traits.

They say for good or bad, girls grow up to marry men like their fathers...

When I met my husband, we dated every other day for the first week, then were seeing each other daily from thereafter. My father asked me who was this man I was seeing so much of, he must be something because I don't like anyone enough to spend that much time with them! Observant too.



watching Cinderellabration at Disney



Which brings me to the fabulous father my husband turned out to be... In my 7th month of pregnancy, we travelled to NY state to visit my brother's family. They'd just had a new baby. I knew once ours came, we wouldn't be making many visits. My husband had next to zero experience with children, but my older nephews took to him right away- Uncle John, see my fort? Uncle John, wanna play?



But the most awkward award goes to the moment when my sister in law put the new baby in his arms & said we'd be right back. She was going to show me something. I don't remember what it was, but I do remember that my husband was absolutely frozen stiff, still holding the baby in exactly the same way as he'd been deposited.

swinging both girls





He was much more at ease with ours. When I asked him about this, he said something to the effect of being less worried about what would happen if he dropped ours. ?! What? Yes, something like that. I assured him it would be far more detrimental to his person if he harmed MY baby, even accidentally. He never did of course.

He gave her the first tub bath. And after awhile, he became the parent in charge of bathing. That lasted until our kids were bathing themselves. Tub time stressed me out.



At a local amusement park



He rides bikes with them, takes them to sporting practices & music lessons. He helps with homework. He has taught them some basic cooking procedures, plays games, plays catch, takes them to those horrible places known as arcades (in the 80s.) At times it seems as if his patience is infinite. As I type, he is teaching the older one how to mow the lawn on the tractor. The younger one is begging to wash the car. After the lawn, dearie. 

 And though they have paid attention to us debate politics, religion, money & so forth, they aren't quite old enough to want to join in.  He plays pranks along with the bathroom humor.


mapping the corn maze



 So did I marry a version of my dad? He has dark hair like my dad did when he was younger. They both have pretty blue eyes & broad shoulders. They both have fair, freckled skin that burns in the sun. Dimples. Both very handsome with high IQs. They both have a strong work ethic & a huge commitment to their families.
 
With big shoes to fill, he's doing pretty well. While he's not quite as tall as my dad, at just about 6', our daughters have enough to look up to both literally & figuratively.

Baby, We're Cooking Now

My husband & I met in July & went on our first date in January of the following year. By April, he was set to move away to attend cooking school. He'd already taken classes here & there & found he enjoyed it. He often says he had to learn to cook. His survival depended on it. And he became very skilled.

At our first few dinners at his parents' house, I found a common theme. The food usually had one hot component, one warm & one cold...whether it was meant to be or not. His mother can't seem to time a meal to be ready all at the same time. I also noticed that unless the vegetable of the night was a salad, they were smothered in a cheese sauce. I once asked him what she had against butter & salt. (Apparently, she stopped using both with any noticeable flavor when his father was put on a restricted diet. I'm not sure how a Velveeta cheese sauce makes a healthier option, but that's where it started.)

Years ago, my mother in law asked me if I'd like her to bring over some chili they'd had the night before & I said sure. It took me almost an hour to season it properly & simmer the flavor into it. I asked my husband about it & he said that waving the salt & pepper over the pot constitutes seasoning & that anything else is just too spicy. I must have nearly killed her with my potato soup. I said it looked like tomato sauce with beef & beans. I had to add onion, garlic, chili powder, cumin, salt, cayenne. You know, the flavors that turn tomato soup into chili. I won't say everything she makes is bad. That wouldn't be true. I have many of her recipes that I do enjoy. But she made up a 'family favorites' recipe book for everyone one Christmas, & there was an entry there that made me shudder.

My husband spoke of it with disgust. I thought he was exaggerating, until I read what it was. This is worse than the liver I was forced to eat. It had to be worse than the sweet & sour pork I hated (really, I had something similar not so long ago & it isn't as bad as I remember, but I still hate peas.) It must somehow be a comfort food for my children's grandmother because it was attributed to her mother. Sorry, Selma, it will not be passed down in this family. My children have tried it (at her house) & complained the way my husband does about it. He says school paste is infinitely better. Creamed Tuna. To this day, he will not eat a tuna casserole & I make a good one. He won't eat warm tuna in any recipe. He loves tuna salad, but he has been ruined for it any other way. The extent of the recipe is milk, flour, tuna...served over white bread or toast. EEEW. Salt & pepper are listed as optional. People make jokes about creamed chipped beef, but I'm sure that is like the nectar of the gods in comparison. I'm sure that the fact that she uses skim milk & no cream whatsoever makes it even more distasteful.

His sister has had us over for dinner many times, & she, like my husband, is a great cook. I've never had a bad meal at her house. In fact, I have her recipe for turkey burgers & they are delicious. I've made them for company & been given raves. I don't take the credit though. I say where I learned to make them. 

I personally learned to cook the old-fashioned way....by hanging out in the kitchen, watching my mother, getting in her way, sneaking tastes, & asking if it was done yet. I discovered when I needed to cook my own meals that I knew how to make things for which I'd never read a recipe. I made my first stuffed chicken with mashed potatoes & gravy in college & it came out great. I may have called Mom a few times to ask what else or how long, but even now, if I call to ask how to make something, the answer is usually just "some of this & a little of that...Taste it." It took me years to remember how to boil an egg -I called her every time- but honestly, it only because I only did them once a year or so for egg salad. (My husband does the Easter eggs.) She makes a yummy noodle side dish that it took me years to figure out even though I knew what was in them...my downfall, too little salt. I knew she used garlic salt & I used garlic powder, but I had no idea how much salt was necessary to match her flavor. Egads. I don't make them very often. They're sinful!! Where my mother in law often lacks flavor, my mother takes up the slack. There's butter, maybe even bacon fat, & salt enough for everyone! Of course, my kids never come home complaining of a dinner they've eaten there.

Apparently, a lot of my friends' moms shooed them out of the kitchen when they were kids. I taught one of my friend's how to fry an egg. Seriously. She was basting it or something (I didn't really get the whole process of splashing the oil on top of it & using a lid...just gently turn it over. And please, for the love of God, cook it. Runny whites gross me out.) Many years later, I also taught her how to make spaghetti sauce. Not from scratch, I don't care to blanch & skin all those tomatoes, but they didn't have jars of sauce back then gasp! We had to season tomato sauce &/or paste ourselves.

At Disney World in the Nestle's Kitchen at Epcot

My kids are learning the way I learned. They hang out in the kitchen with my husband &/or me & watch, & we'll give them tasks to help, & eventually they can try it. We like cooking together. If our kitchen had the space, we'd all be in there together every night. As it is, my husband & I take turns, & the kids join us as they please.

My older child has made simple meals from start to finish all on her own. She scrambles eggs. She can make simple pasta dishes. She likes to make hor d'œuvres & dips. My younger child most enjoys baking. We make easy breads & muffins together. She likes to crack the eggs & do the measuring. They love helping their daddy make fresh pizza dough & then having make-your-own-pizza-night.

We read recipes together & try to find new things to make. They have their favorite chefs on Food Network. My older child thinks she does an impeccable Paula Deen. My younger one likes to watch Aarti Party. (We've never had Indian food, but I think she likes the cheerful set & Aarti's accent.) We keep trying to perfect the stirfry. It sounds so much simpler than it is. We experiment with different seasonings & spices. I think they have fairly adventurous palettes. I like that. I was such a finicky eater when I was a kid, but I'll give myself credit for one thing. I liked my vegetables far more than my kids do. I was picky about which ones were cooked in what manner (one of my sisters in law teased that she would cross-stitch my Vegetable Rules) but there are only a few I don't like. Sorry peas & okra, you have no place at my table.

One thing I know, it's that it's hard to tell the difference between my potato salad, pasta salad, macaroni salad, chicken noodle soup, vegetable beef soup, ham & bean soup & my mom's (hey, maybe that's why I love soup so much.)...which is pretty much just like Grandma's from what I remember. The potato salad for sure. And except for the vegetable soup, my kids are loving them too. They are summer & winter comfort foods. That's the way to pass it on.