All alone in the moonlight I can smile at the old days I was beautiful then I remember the time I knew what happiness was Let the memory live again
Cats Musical, music by Andrew Lloyd Webber, lyrics by Trevor Nunn who built the lyrics from T. S. Eliot’s street-level nocturnes, 1981
A teddy bear, a used-to-be pink pony, a purple rabbit and a plaid dog. old, well loved, now in a box . . . forgotten
Memories, . . . whisps of mist swirl around my head . . . best friends lined up on a bed, bear chasing rabbit, dog chasing bear, pony chasing dog.
All held tight in sleep so long ago.
Memories are fragments of electric impulses in my brain producing images of days long passed running in fields, swings, thunderstorms pain, hospitals, surgery, alone
I wonder how I survived to make newer, younger memories that push old ones out
Silly cards and pictures, picnics, bicycles trips, mountain passes, English Pubs and Roman walls.
Memories, a ring of promise, a ring of love wedding night held close, and love in long gazes.
Memory of beloved lost staring at the empty place a ghost image forms my heart longs for a voice missed I listen for the memory
Time passes so fast and memories, it’s all I have left, all that holds me together.
The Egyptians understood immortality. it is memory, remembering, the joy, surprises, celebrations, Yes, even the pain, failures and struggles, when we stop remembering immortality ends.
All memories comprise a life, in this case my life, who I am Yet when I am gone . . . Those memories will be gone.
Where do they go, those memories those electric pulses that form sounds, images, memory? Maybe just maybe I will find out.
I know it’s July 4th 2026 but I was just asked for my Brandied Dried Fruit recipe and couldn’t resist posting something now. I usually make this in September to prepare for holiday baking, but I must admit to using the leftovers long after they are over. You see I freeze the leftovers and then use it to make my husband’s favorite muffins and oatmeal cookies.
I have been making this for 70 years or so, (yes, I’m old) and it is a tradition for making my fruit bread and Christmas Stollen.
Growing up on a farm we used the fruits from our orchard and those planted along the hedgerows. Mom would dry them just for this, our house smelled so good as the fruit dried, first strawberries, then cherries (sour and sweet), peaches, plums, blackberries, raspberries, blueberries, apples and pears. In just about that order. All summer the house smelled so sweet. We kids were kept busy picking, sorting, and washing fruit. (We ate as much as we picked, too.) Mom would add raisins and currents and started adding dried oranges and lemons when I was a teenager. She never added the pineapple, as that was too expensive and apricots didn’t grow in Ohio.
Mom had a huge jar with a wide mouth that she saved just for this and started the mixture with the first of the dried strawberries putting a layer in the bottom and adding brandy. My dad liked brandy and often bought Christian Brothers Brandy so that is what she used. She would add the next layer of dried fruit when it was ready, adding a bit of brandy each time and mixing the fruit up, she just kept doing that all summer. By September she would finger tighten the jar lid and add a bit more brandy every week until she started baking in late October and November.
She made fruit breads and rolls then froze them until Christmas and New Year’s. They were so good. Whatever was left over she used for baking until it was all gone and then started over in June. Everyone knew when she opened that jar, the sweet smell of brandy and fruit filled the house. It is one of my favorite childhood memories.
I still make brandied fruit the way she did, but now I purchase dried fruit. I don’t usually start until September but maybe this year I will begin now and enjoy the scents of home this Christmas.
Here is my version of Mom’s recipe. I hope it inspires you to try it and make memories too.
Mom and Ruth’s Brandied Dried Fruit
I start in September for the holidays, but you can do this anytime.
I use only nuts and dried fruit, Do not Use Candied Fruit
Favorite mixture of cherries, cranberries, peaches, apricots, apples, blueberries, strawberries, pineapple, lemon peel and orange peel (I get these at Trader Joes), dates, and pears, figs, plums* (Not prunes), currents, and raisins.
I use very coarsely chopped pecans, walnuts, and hazelnuts. Chop just so they aren’t whole.
Chop large pieces of fruit into bite sized ones.
Use any combination of fruit you want.
Put them in a large bowl or big glass jar. Pour add about a cup of good brandy (I often use Grand Marnier) toss together well and every week add a bit more.
Cover bowl with plastic wrap or loosely top with jar lid.
Let it sit on the kitchen counter for as long as you like but let it sit at least a month. Scoop out what you need and recover.
After the holidays I will freeze the fruit in 1 cup bags and use it for baking until I start a new batch in September. It will continue to ripen in freezer.
Makes the best oatmeal cookies ever.
*You can buy “Traina Home Grown Jumbo California Sun Dried Angelino Plum Halves ” on Amazon if you don’t want to dry your own, which I have done.
Time passes so quickly. From little child to an old woman seems like days not years. Memories slip across my consciousness like an ice cube across a wood floor. Those memories are just as hard to capture as picking up that ice cube.
I do remember one afternoon when I was ten or eleven. It was a hot summer afternoon, and I went looking for a quiet place to read my newest library book. Well not so much quiet as a place where my little sister wouldn’t find me.
I rolled my book up in an old blanket along with a mason jar of water and probably fruit from one of our trees. I climbed up into our hayloft and decided that would work. I “encouraged” our collie, Rex, to climb up with me and the two of us laid down with a bale of hay behind us. The horses and milk cow were out in the pasture, so the barn was very quiet and still. The only sounds were the cooing of pigeons, and some chatter from the Barn Owl who was complaining we had disturbed her sleep.
I had been reading for a while, when I heard the largest clap of thunder ever. Not only did I hear the boom, but I also felt it in my breastbone and the barn shook with the sound. When it started to rain, I heard hooves and watched as the cow and horses charge into the loafing area. All of them, that is, except our little black Shetland pony. He was standing in the middle of the pasture, stamping his feet and screaming at the coming storm. When the next boom sounded, along with the sky opening, he decided discretion was the better part of valor and came stampeding into the barn where he pushed himself into the middle of the horses. I laughed until I was totally out of breath. `
Mom called my name, and I responded that I was in the barn and wouldn’t come out until the rain subsided. Rex and I again sat down to read and listen to rain on the barn roof.
Have you ever been in a barn or shed with a tin roof in the rain? The sound of rain on a tin roof is one of the most amazing sounds you will ever hear. The type and quality of sound depends on how hard the rain is coming down.
A gentle slow rain often sounds like dancing feet across the roof. The rain that day was a real gully washer and sounded like an army quickly marching across the roof. Yet at the same time it was comforting. In the warm loft was the sound of animals eating hay and milling around each other. There was also the smell of wet animals and the sweet smell of the recently baled hay. That leads me to the one important consequence of being in a warm barn with animals on a rainy afternoon and that is the probability of being lulled to sleep is probably around 99.9%, which was what I did.
I was awakened by my father calling me to help feed the critters and milk the cow. I slept through the storm and most of the rain and only read a small portion of my book. I rolled up my book and snack and handed it down to dad, he carried Rex down the ladder on his shoulder. The horses and pony had already gone into their stalls and the cow into the milking stanchion. I was in a bit of a haze as I carried feed to each of them and cleaned up the loafing area. The reason I remember this so well is I felt disconnected from all that was around me. Listening to the rain and animals had opened something inside. My sleep included dreams of faraway places, and people I did not know. There were images of books and of me standing and speaking in front of an audience. But like most dreams nothing made sense, and I really don’t have a clear memory of the dreams. But somehow in my young girl’s mind I knew that something spoke to me, that everything I saw, heard and smelled that afternoon was important for who I was to become.
Looking back from where I am now, I understand to a very small degree, some of that feeling. I have become someone who speaks out and I have seen some faraway places. But interpreting dreams is iffy at best and somewhat dangerous in so many ways. That is especially so for a set of dreams so long ago. Yet I have had a few visions since then, and while I wouldn’t bet my life on them, I still get the feeling they mean something, and I am not paying enough attention.
Some would tell me dreams are just bad bits of the evening porridge, and it is best to just ignore them. But now I’m old woman and not a little girl anymore. I have had many life experiences that have changed my view of the mystery called life. So, I am a little less willing to push aside what others say is meaningless. What matters to me are the insights or pleasures I receive from, a dream, a walk in the woods, an article or a book or, a stage production. There is always a possibility the experiences of unique moments in my 78 years of life will open a door of understanding or a new way to view an issue or the world. If such moments bring only a moment of joy or happiness, then all was worth it.
That memory of a long-ago rainy afternoon still makes me smile and dreams or no dreams, the memory teaches me the importance of taking the time to stop and enjoy what is in front of me.
She was a grand old pine She, I always thought of her as She, would whisper and sing songs of water, earth, sun, wind, and welcome how I loved her voice
She was our playmate as we sat under the canopy, lazing on hot summer days swinging on the old board swing twisting, then releasing gazing up into the branches dizzy, whorls of green light
It was game, who would get sick first.
Games were played beneath her branches houses made of her sticks and needles She was always home base
Nighttime she rapped on my window rain sang through her arms of green and brown snow held her branches down creating a cave beneath to shelter in
Pine tree-friend you sang me to sleep danced with me in the wind shielded me from hot summer sun protected me from rain and snow
Birthdays make me reflective and as I get older the more
reflection I seem to need. I just had my birthday and I have been contemplating
memories of the last 72 years. I find it
hard to believe that I’m in my 70th decade and it is even harder to
believe I survived all those years.
Have you noticed memories are kind of weird? We never really
remember them as they were but as we want them to be. I also don’t remember
them in order and one memory seems to trigger another that may have happened
years before or years after. But, the
act of remembering is a re-membering of me.
It is a process to remind me from where I came and how each memory
created me. It is a little like a yearly
‘Examen.’ It isn’t just remembering but an accounting of my life. It is an opportunity to remember the good
times and the bad, to forgive others, and to be forgiven, and to offer myself
forgiveness.
I find God’s grace in memories, grace I hadn’t noticed when
I was living them. I sometimes discover angels who have been my guides or
protectors that I didn’t recognize when they entered and left my life. Each
grace and angel helped form me into the person I have become. Unfortunately, I
have also recognized a few individuals who lead me from my path, and I had to
struggle to return, often with the help of one of those angels. It is one of
God’s enduring graces that angels come when we need them and it’s usually when
we have gotten everything all wrong.
I have been rescued so many times that my guardian angel carries
an extra-large emergency kit. I am sure
she is grateful I haven’t needed to be rescued for a while. I started very
early with getting my self into trouble. I was 6 when I pulled a deep-fat fryer
down on top of me, resulting in 2nd and 3rd degree burns
over 75% of my body. My memory of the incident is I wasn’t alone, I was being
told I would be alright, and I was. An
angel in the shape of a plastic surgeon came and volunteered to perform all the
skin grafts, paying for the hospital himself, and not charging my parents. Without the skill of Dr. Meany, I would have
been severely crippled. I would have been unable to live a normal life. My
gratitude for the Doctors and nurses who worked so hard to save and heal me has
no bounds. To give back the gift given
to me I have tried to be present to those who have been burnt, giving them
comfort, and sitting and listening to their fears.
Passing on the gifts of grace has become part of who I am. I
have been on the verge of homelessness a couple of times in my life and each
time one of those angels was sent in to help. To pass on that gift I have
helped others who have been on that edge, never expecting I will be repaid but
always expecting that they will pass on their gift of grace. If everyone did that no one would ever be
homeless.
Those are nice memories, but I also have memories I am not
proud of. In my early 20’s I worked with
a woman who could be abrasive and, quite honestly, we didn’t just not get
along, we disliked each other intensely. I am ashamed to say that I started a
not so nice rumor about her. There was a small, very small, bit of truth to it but
essentially it was an exaggeration of the facts. I never apologized to her, in fact it wasn’t
long after it happened that I left for college. I regret that. I will never see
her again, I don’t even know if she is still alive. A few years ago, during a
ritual of forgiveness, I asked God to let her know, wherever she is, that I am truly
sorry. I also offered a prayer to forgive myself in order to let go of the feelings
of guilt, and, anger I had felt towards her. It took a while to feel within the
forgiveness I sought but eventually I did.
Memories are funny things, I don’t remember the same ones
every year but the ones I do seem to be the ones God wants me to remember. As I am 72 I have a lot of memories, I sincerely
hope I have enough time in the life left to me to ask for forgiveness, and to
express gratitude for those I haven’t remembered yet. Only time will tell.
Birthdays are not something I celebrate, but I find them useful. They offer a time to recognize grace, ask for forgiveness, and find peace in a life that has seen some rocky roads. I have no idea what memories I will form in the next years and I hope they will be good ones. I also hope they won’t be too embarrassing, but if they are, I know God and the angels will be nearby. After all my guardian angel has that huge emergency kit just waiting for me to mess up.
Be generous: invest in acts of charity. Don’t hoard your goods; spread them around. Be a blessing to others. This could be your last night. — Ecclesiastes 11:1a, 2, The Message
A recent meditation had the following journal question “If you knew you were dying what would you write or say to your children or grandchildren?” That question stopped me cold. What would I say to grandson and granddaughter, Liam and Amelia? How would I describe my love, and fears, for them? How would I tell them of my life lived with my own loves, fears, and regrets? What would I say, what would you say?
During this Easter season I have been writing about the ways we express our feelings of the resurrection, and the many ways we witness to others our faith in the resurrection. Sharing ourselves with the next generation is also a witness to our beliefs in the resurrection. The question above is an important one, challenging us to inspect our past and present lives and how that information could impact the lives that follow us. I thought long and hard about what I would, will, say to my grandchildren and all of it wasn’t bright flowers and sunshine.
What might say, well I would of course tell them I love them very much, how grateful I am for having them in my life, and I will miss them. I would ask for their forgiveness in my part for leaving them a world that is wounded and in pain, and a political system that doesn’t function. I would tell them that no matter what they do in life their parents and I would always love them from wherever we are. While their future is impacted by the world I leave behind it is still their future to make into what ever dream they reach for. Following those dreams may not be easy, or always fun, but are worth the effort if they truly believe in them. I would also tell them it is OK that they don’t believe in the Divine as I do, but, discovering their own pathway to something greater than themselves is important in finding their moral, loving, compassionate lives. I would want them to stand up against injustice even when it is hard to do so, to see the good in people and all creation even when the night is darkest. I want them to climb their most difficult mountains and to not be afraid of the challenges because I will be right there beside them cheering them on. I want my grandchildren to be fearless in the face adversity, to be strong when everyone else is weak, and to be gentle when touched by beauty.
What I want most for my beloved Liam and Amelia is to live a life that is not self-centered but other-centered. I want them to live a life that sees the best in the worst, the beauty in the ugly, and love in what is hatred. I can’t leave them with much but when I make my final passage from this world to the next I want them to know I cared about them, and want them to be the best at whatever they want to be.
So that is some of what I would tell my grandchildren, what would be in your letter to your children? We live in and uncertain world and we never know when our last day in this world will arrive. We all too often leave too much unsaid to those we love the most. So my journal question to you this week is: “If you knew you were dying what would you write or say to your children or grandchildren?”
May you find the words in your heart for those you leave behind.
Thirty years ago I was just coming home from a class when I heard of the explosion of the Challenger space shuttle on takeoff. Like so many others I was devastated by the loss of life and never knew how to respond to it. When the Columbia Shuttle exploded in 2003 I finally had a way to express my grief for all of the women and men in both shuttle disasters. So I offer this poem in memory of 14 brave astronauts.
Fourteen Stars
There are fourteen new stars in the sky tonight
Fourteen new stars whose hopes shown so bright
Fourteen new stars to give us great light
Fourteen new stars to guide us this night
Fourteen new stars in Gods heart … held tight
Genesis 12:1 Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.
Matthew 2:13a Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you;
The winter stretches across bare trees.
And in our book we close the chapter on creation
And turn to the Exodus, to the leaving,
To our new becoming.
The Mystery reveals itself in a different guise
Out of a burning
It says “I will be that I will be, this is my name,
I am everywhere, in all things, and I call you forward.
Now take off your shoes,
The ground you are standing on is holy.”
It is hard to hear and difficult to imagine
Something with us in the pain,
In the exposed rawness,
Something with us in the brokenness of life.
But the voice is persistent, it whispers, it shouts,
“I am all that is. Everywhere you are, there I am.
I am the oneness, the unity of all being
And we are in relationship.
And I call you forward.”
The very ground we stand upon is holy.
There is nothing outside the realm of God.
We live in relationship with everything.
This is our covenant—our agreement with the continual becoming:
To know that every moment is sacred.
To act with reverence for all.
And to listen for the whispered silence
That holds us and calls us forward
To be of use
Within the fragility of all life.*
*Picture and meditation by Rabbi Yael Levy, founder of “A Way In: Jewish Mindfulness Program,” January 22, 2016, Face Book Page
It seems since the beginning of time we are called to make journeys. Adam and Eve journeyed from The Garden, Abram and Sarai leave for a place known only to God, and Joseph takes his small family of Mary and Jesus on the dangerous roads to Egypt. We too make journeys. In my life time I have journeyed across this country moving from Ohio, to Texas, to Washington, to California, and back to Washington. I have hopes that I won’t have to move again but I never know when God will call me to a new place.
There is one journey I have yet to make. My father and mother have made it, I have had friends make it and my time will come I have no doubt in that. At some point in the future God will call me to make the last voyage in this life and cross to the next life. Now that is a BIG journey. No one has ever returned to tell us that it is safe journey without dangerous places. In a way we will be making a journey similar to Abram’s and Sarai’s in that only God knows our destination. And, we have no choice but to trust that God will find us a safe route.
Every living thing and creature in this universe will make the journey; fish or plant, dog or human, all of us will cross to a new life somewhere that only God can lead us. Like the Hebrews in the desert we will have to look for the pillar of smoke by day and the pillar of fire by night in order to find the right path.
Last week my beloved Chihuahua, Suzie, passed away. She let go of this life and followed a new caretaker. As I held her in my arms and felt her leave, I knew she was now in good hands. I miss her but like family, friends, and other companions I know someday we will meet and cross the bridge together. Until I too am called, I will hold the memory of Suzie, family, friends, and companions in my heart, which grows to accommodate all the memories of those I love.
Suzie
While I miss those who have gone ahead I am comforted by the peace that comes from knowing that I will join them someday and what a party we will have.
Peace and blessings to you all. May your memories fill you with joy and give you comfort.
My Mother 1988
