I've been reading Glad Farm, by Milford native Catherine Marenghi, a memoir of her childhood set in the late 50's and early 60's. I met the author at a local networking group, she was selling copies of her book, and as a huge sucker for local history, of course I bought one. It's an interesting read, and especially fascinating to envision the Milford of her childhood: a small town, very rural in character.
Notes From All Over
I'm not really a 'Big Gulp' type. My nearest gas station isn't a 7-11, and even if it were, I wouldn't be grabbing a 64 oz soda. Who is THAT thirsty?
I may need to re-think that.
With the turn of the season, our wine selections change, too. We'll always have some bodacious reds in stock, but what I really want right now is thirst-quenching wines, wines you can drink rather than sip. Gulpable wines.
Gulpable wines come in every color and style. But whether red, white,or rosé, still or sparkling, they have 2 things in common: low-ish alcohol and refreshing acidity.
Mother's Day originated in 1908 as a memorial service for the mother of one Anna Jarvis, a West Virginia woman who then campaigned to make the day a national holiday. She envisioned children honoring their mothers with 'thoughtful hand-written letters'. When Hallmark, etc turned it into a day to exchange greeting cards, bouquets of flowers, and candy, Ms Jarvis was NOT amused. In fact, she was arrested while protesting at a candy makers' convention.
'The first job I ever had, the summer I was fifteen, was checking feet at a public pool in Cleveland...I have never heard of foot checkers in any city besides Cleveland...and can only speculate that at one time there was an outbreak of athlete's foot on the shores of Lake Erie, and a crusading public health official, determined to stamp it out, hired all these people to check feet.'*
It's supposed to be Spring. Right? And yet, as I write this, the weather is doing a marvelous impression of the inside of a car wash. With a full-on monsoon outside my door, spring seems a little far away. But it's there...if you look for it. Pale green shooting up from the earth. Crocuses and daffodils blooming. Buds pushing on the trees. Wild geese calling overhead, on their way north for the summer.
My daughter just completed her class schedule for next semester, including an astronomy class which fulfills an earth sciences distribution requirement. She's not terribly excited about it, because she's not a science major, and the course has a reputation for difficulty.
Cilantro is a polarizing herb; people either love it or hate it. And the people who hate it really, truly HATE it. I know, because I'm one of them.
Or does it? For the first-grader waiting for the recess bell, time crawls like a tortoise. But confronted with the first birthday pics of a child you'd swear was born 2 weeks ago, you might feel time racing like the proverbial hare. Why, as we accumulate more of it, do we perceive time as ever more fleeting?
"Saturday began horribly. When the alarm went off, I thought: 'Ooh, I get to eat now!' But nooo...outside we go, and WHAT.IS.THIS??!!! It's cold, it's wet, it's getting all over my fur. And you expect me to WALK in this? I thought we were done with this white crap! I'm going to take as long as I can, just to protest! As soon as we're back inside, I give Mom a dirty look, run upstairs and launch myself onto the bed. 'Dad, can you BELIEVE this treatment? Mom tortured me! She made my feet cold and got all of my hairs wet, too'. I know-I'll rub it off on you.
No, not Spaghetti-o's. Although that IS a related story. In 1886, French immigrant Alphonse Biardot founded the Franco-American Food Company, aiming to introduce the foods of his homeland to an American audience in a convenient and cost-effective package: cans. His gambit paid off in a big way. In fact, Franco-American's canned soups and pastas were so successful that food giant Campbell's Foods bought out Biardot in 1915. The soups were soon re-labeled 'Campbell's', but they kept the Franco-American label on the pastas until the 1990's. Who could ever forget 'Uh-oh! Spaghetti-o's'?