Pumpkins

Pumpkin Memories

October 29, 2022

Pumpkins


We love pumpkins.  You cut off the bottom, scoop out everything inside and scrape all the yummy meat out (save it for roasted seeds and pumpkin pie!), decorate it with a silly face, and put a candle inside – now it’s an amazing nightlight that smells oh-so-good!

The first pumpkin I opened up with Grandma Jeanette; she was teaching me how to make her pumpkin pie.  My Daddy had told us long ago that the reason for the perfect pale color in most commercial pumpkin pies was due to the company using a hard squash instead of pumpkin.  Pumpkin cooks darker than winter squash.  Grandma Jeanette used everything.  I loved learning things from her because I can’t stand waste.  She came from the generation and grew up using everything!  Nothing was ever thrown away.  I loved that.  

Anyway, back to the pumpkin.  She opened it from the top with a big knife.  I was expecting puree like when you open a “pumpkin pack” tin can.  Nope.  Stringy spongy looking guts with spots of seeds reminded me of thick orange spiderwebs.  Grandma Jeanette took all that stuff and scraped with her big metal spoon until the wall was very thin.  Stringy stuff and tiny shavings that looked like slivers went into a big pot with a little bacon grease in the bottom.  She had a really cool method of basically pulling on the strings and all the seeds practically fell onto a pan on the counter.  She picked a few out.  (I have never been able to duplicate that easy seed removal and wondered later if she picked a specific type of pumpkin!) Seeds got tossed around in an oil and spice mixture and roasted in the oven.  The big chunks of hard pumpkin wall (not the actual skin, just the “wall” scrapings from inside) got chopped into smaller hunks and tossed in the pot with the strings and shavings.  Water added to the pot.  It was covered and cooked in a pressure cooker for however long we were sitting and chatting on the couch while the seeds roasted.  

When the lid came off, the strings and hunks had blended into a watery orange soup.  Grandma churned that around with her blender (it got handed down to me years later and had been manufactured in the 40s!) until it was smooth and now it looked like a darker cousin of the canned pumpkin I was so used to seeing.  

Now that was pumpkin pack!  

When Grandma Jeanette did it with me that year, she made all of it into pies for Thanksgiving and Christmas as family and friends always gathered at her house.  She froze the ones to save for Christmas.  I loved the heavenly smell!  She taught me some tricks about the pastry dough.  She sometimes short-cutted by buying premade dough, which she would prick with a fork, paint with butter and sprinkle with a bit of sugar on the edges to give it a “homemade” taste.  For my scratch recipe, she showed me how to layer and roll so it would be flakey.  Cold butter shaved into the mix.  Don’t overmix.  Don’t over roll.  NEVER freeze your scratch pastry.  Always bake the whole pie and then freeze – but it’s always best fresh.  It’s super fast and easy to make anyway, so I LOVE making pastry dough from scratch.

This is why I am transported into happy memories when I see a pumpkin.  I remember bumping around the kitchen with little Christina, Becky, and assorted cousins in and out of the house as we laughed and I listened to Grandma Jeanette’s stories.  

When I cut a pumpkin, I make pumpkin pack, but I don’t bake 12 to 16 pies the same day.  I use the canning pot and tools (all hand-me-downs from Grandma Jeannette, we still reuse some of her jars as well) to can the pumpkin pack for later pies.  1 pint makes one deep-dish pumpkin pie.  1 quart makes 2 deep dishes or 3 flat pies.  I love the whole process!  My plan each holiday season always includes a pumpkin and pumpkin pack and from-scratch pastry to make pumpkin pies.  I tell the stories of Grandma Jeanette and Christina, Becky, and the cousins bringing critters (lizards, toads, etc) into the kitchen and being told how cool they were before being shooed “back where they belong” to “take them home to their families,” yes, that’s why I say that about insects and critters my children capture.  I tell stories of our family because it feels so natural to do that while I’m canning.  Grandma Jeanette taught me to can.  She gave me our tiny library of books and pamphlets about canning, storing Florida produce, and food safety (old publications that came from St Johns County, University of Florida, and Ball, Inc with dates ranging from 1928 to 1965).  

Louis carves the pumpkin shell with the girls.  They love it!  If you open from the bottom, you can replace the candle easier and you can sprinkle cinnamon on the top (while the pumpkin is upside down and let it sit to sink in) and it will stick and make the house smell so good!

Pumpkins make me think of family.  Pumpkins make me smile because of the memories I have and the memories I hope I create for my family.  What food makes you think of happy memories?

Type at you next time!

~Nancy Tart

Encouragers: The Challenger of Norms

Encouragers: The Challenger of Norms

October 6, 2022

I’m praying for her family.  I’m praying for strength, wisdom, and peace in her heart.  This woman is the Challenger of Norms.  She has encouraged me over many years.  When my daughters ask if I have a best friend, this woman comes to mind.  She has allowed me to speak openly.  We can talk honestly with each other about our respective challenges, joys, disappointments, fears, mountain highs, and valley lows without judging each other. 

She was the friend who taught me it was safe to be vulnerable to another adult (other than my husband).  She taught me I can be real about the challenges I face with the life I chose.  Often we feel trapped in the life we chose, especially if our choice is considered “unconventional” or “unrealistic” in today’s world.  This is because the world tries to isolate us into tiny corners.  Public schooled here.  Homeschooled there.Medical challenges in your children here.Healthy children there.Stay-at-home-moms here.Working moms there.Struggling business owner families here.Lower class, middle class, upper middle class, lower middle class… Etc. Society tries to put us all into tiny boxes and keep us isolated there. 

This was not how God intended!  We are intended to work together!  Younger are to learn from elders, we are to speak truth and encouragement into the lives of others, we are to build each other up and edify.  You can’t do that if you feel trapped into silence because someone’s response to you saying you feel stressed, please pray for me ends up being “you shouldn’t have done xyz” instead of just saying “yes” or praying right there.  I always heard “your troubles are just because you have too many kids” – um… no.  Our financial troubles came from poor decisions (paying off credit cards instead of house), medical unknowns (my crazy hospital issue), or issues beyond our control (losing jobs due to forced government shutdown debacle, someone using a car without permission and wrecking two others, someone rear-ending and totaling a car that is too old for us to get a replacement, etc)

The Challenger of Norms taught me to embrace the life I chose and enjoy each stage of it unapologetically.  I have taken that to heart.  She has managed to keep joy and purpose even in the face of debilitating medical issues facing her precious children.  Once I mentioned how I felt bad speaking about how I was challenged when she faces so much.  She told me only she walks her journey just as only I walk mine.  That I’ve heard in my heart for over a decade.  I have to lean on others who are choosing joy in order to encourage me to choose joy in my challenges. 

We can discuss homeschooling options and challenges without comparing our children one to another because both of us understand that each child has their own unique challenges and strengths.  We can discuss our challenges and encourage each other in mothering without judging.  We can share our challenges and strengths in our respective marriages and understand that neither of us are alone in our respective struggles.  We can boast on our men and laugh at their craziness and somehow that actually makes me feel more thankful for the blessings we both have. 

She taught me that dropping in unannounced was totally acceptable for friends.  We could show up at each others’ homes and just jump into whatever was going on – from parties to cleaning to pool parties to bonfires to just chatting about everything while our toddlers to teens entertain each other and our babies fall asleep.  My home is now always open and I don’t really care what it looks like (Louis and the girls generally keep it in “mostly acceptable” condition anyway).  We have games and fun every Sunday as that is officially our “family day” that we try to keep open.  I hope to build relationships with my children, their friends, and families of their friends so that friends and family feel comfortable just showing up at my house if they ever need it or want it.

What I really learned from my friend is to live life as I want to, as God leads me, and let everyone else think and say whatever they want without really caring.  Oh, I listen, but when it’s something that directly challenges the lifestyle God has given me – my amazing husband, our wonderful children, our happy amazing life – I smile, nod politely, and let it in one ear and out the other.  I am who I am. 

Sometimes we just need someone to affirm we are human just like everyone else and someone who will tell us the truth while allowing us to speak our emotions openly.  We know the truth.  I am loved.  I am chosen.  I am blessed!  Sometimes we need to speak our emotions out loud to get them in line with our truths – and that, it when we find out where true friends are.  Those who listen, agree they are human just like we are, and speak encouragement into our lives.

I am so thankful that God allowed me to overcome my insane fear of talking to adults just in time to make an amazing friend who, together with her awesome family, has blessed me and my family in more ways than I can possibly ever list. 

Be that friend to someone today.  Listen.  Be human.  Speak truth in love.

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

Dating Decisions (Part 1)

Part 1 of Dating Decisions – dissecting real life and true love

September 16, 2020

Dating Decisions (Part 1)

WHOA! What is meant by this title?

Nothing. It’s a history story. Ancient history if you ask my children. I am a writer of stories; why would it surprise you that I would pull stories from my teenage decisions? No crazy thoughts. Take a deep breath, empty your presuppositions, and read: you may learn a little about the psychology behind decision making.

Once upon a time, (No, this is not a fairy tale… it is my truth tale.), I was just understanding love. Real love. I was curious about my parents and other couples around me and in my church. My mom and dad had at this point been married for 13 years. I was 11. I considered them ancient. Now I am older than my mother then and close to my dad’s age at the time – wow, I’ve reached the 11-year-old’s idea of ancient! One of my daddy’s mentors had been married to his wife for over thirty years. My daddy’s parents had been married for over 40 years when my grandmother died and granddaddy didn’t remarry. My mother’s parents had been divorced before my mom met my daddy and two of her siblings had been married and divorced. I had been sitting at a concert at a church with mostly teenagers where the girl asked, “raise your hand if your parents have been divorced.” Everyone in my row raised their hands. Most of the auditorium raised their hands. I had watched “The Parent Trap” from the sixties, but in that movie the parents got back together and all was well. I started to understand that divorce was the norm for most of the children I met. My family, with their short 13 years together, was already 7 years beyond the “normal” for divorce; according to research in the “Focus on the Family” newsletter my daddy received. I began to understand that most of the problems facing my peers were related to their broken families. I realized that my mother broke the chain and her baby sister was breaking the chain. I wanted to be like the couple in one of my churches who stood up on the day they honored families and claimed 73 years of marriage.

Research started.

I read marriage and family books (my daddy had two bookshelves full of them in his office to start my journey). I analyzed relationships in movies, in books, and in history and began to learn how to predict problems based on family stability. Stories of great hardships with intact, supportive families morphed into strong, successful, loving children. What was the binding tie?

In every personal interview I did over the next six years (and beyond, but I’m telling the story of teenage me) the common thread for successful marriage was that both loved Jesus, both were willing to love the other without expecting anything in return, and both went into their relationship committed to making it last. Repair it rather than throw it away. I already had a waste-not-want-not mentality. This matched.

Along came 12. The first boy asked me out. I thought he was sweet. He liked to carry my books from Sunday School for me. He was nice to his baby sister. I found myself already studying potential mates. I was scared of that. I told him I couldn’t date until I was 16. That became my pre-programmed response to all of the offers in the next 4 years.

I was already journaling. I told God I was going to be 18 before I dated. I told Him I wanted Him to be in control. I told Him I wanted to focus on being the best big sister and daughter I could. So began my journey of discovering and morphing myself into what I thought God wanted.

At 16, my Daddy started getting worried. My 14-year-old sister was already dating and my 12-year-old brother liked to whistle at girls. I was deep into studying. I took time to develop relationships with all of my siblings as they allowed. It wasn’t that I wasn’t “interested” in boys. I plain and simple told my daddy once, “I’m not old enough to do anything about it, so why would I play with someone’s heart?” (As a teen, I thought he was shocked with my logic, but now as an adult I wonder if he was also scared of what I meant by that.)

And that was the first dating decision I realized I had made.

…continued next time!

~Nancy Tart

The Big Wave

What can football have to do with a discussion about Roman-era cultures?

September 8, 2018

The Big Wave

Football season started…

Yes, we watch lots of college football and I have one daughter determined to be a Gator cheerleader for at least one season.

Becky and I are watching Ben-Hur and we start talking about Biblical families and eventually trace back to the origin of the Ishmaelites and Israelites.  Sheik Ilderim is one of Becky’s favorite characters in Ben-Hur and she’s making the case that his culture appears to follow nomadic Jewish teachings.  (This was another hypothetical history, culture, and religion play debate.  I love to make their brains work by asking questions and playing “defense attorney” when they choose to lay a case for something.)

During this discussion, Becky says “well, Ishmaelites are technically all family; sons of Ishmael like Israelites are all sons of Israel.”

I said, you could go to say we are all descendents of  Noah.  She replies with “Adam,” pauses, “oh, yeah, Noah and his family were the only ones living after the big wave.”

And I, with my over-active imagination, get a hilarious mental picture:

I see cartoon water as “wavelets” all lining up and “doing the wave” around the Earth like football fans around a stadium.  Little wavelets rise up on top of each other like cheerleaders in a pyramid as they shout, “we’ve got to cover all those mountains!” There’s a dolphin with flippers up shouting, “roller coaster!”  A few hammerhead sharks try to ride the wave (my Daddy tells a story of surfing into the Savannah River & seeing hammerhead sharks surfing next to him).

I will never think of the Great Flood without hearing Becky’s voice say “big wave” and seeing that mental picture.  (Used to be, when I heard “Noah” and “ark,” my brain replayed the 50s cartoon Noah where everyone is singing and this line always sings through my mind: “I’m Mother Noah, Captain Noah’s wife, I wear the pants aboard this boat, you bet your life.”)  I like the wave-surfing sharks and roller coaster loving dolphin picture better.

Sometimes the over-active imagination of a writer is a strange thing…

Thanks for reading!

Type at you later…

~Nancy Tart

 

Follow me!

Get my latest posts delivered to your email: