Joy Neal Kidney's Blog, page 58

Grandma Ruby Neal’s Christmas Kuchen Bread

 

Anna Agatha (Ohrt) Blohm, who came from Pellworm, Schleswig-Holstein, Germany, when she was about 3 years old.

From the memoirs of Ruby (Blohm) Neal: “My mother was an excellent cook and one of the breads that we enjoyed was ‘kuchen.’ It was a German bread and she made it with bread dough, only making it will more sugar and shortening. The loaves were made flat with butter, sugar, and cinnamon on top.

“Mother used to let us break off corners before it cooled. A neighbor boy said he always knew when it was time to come over, as he could smell it.

“I always wondered how to spell it until it was made more common, using an egg. I thought ‘kuchen’ was a broken pronunciation of a German word.”

That’s about a close to the recipe as we’re going to get. Here’s one to try from the internet.

I associate both Grandma’s suet pudding and kuchen bread with Christmastime, although the suet pudding was served after the Christmas feast. Did the kuchen bread arrive before Christmas?

There are eight “Neal cousins” in the photo. Front: Gloria Neal, Dixie Thomas, Sandra Grant, ____, Patty Wells, Kenny Shepherd, Glen Heckman. Back: Bruce Atherton, Vincent Wells, me, Susan Shepherd, Judy Neal, Bonnie Johnson, Bob Cook, Jane Neal

One time when I was in high school, at least 16-years-old and driving, Grandpa delivered loaves to each “Neal family” at choir practice at church. All five families lived in the Dexter area and our Aunt Nadine was the choir director. Grandpa liked to count how many grandchildren were in the choir on Sundays.

We lived four miles south of town and were to take the kuchen bread home. Gloria is two years younger so I drove. The sack of homemade bread smelled so wonderful that Gloria opened it to discover two smallish loaves. They weren’t baked in bread pans, but were shaped on baking sheets.

I wonder who made the decision. Neither of us owns up to it. Gloria tore off a chunk for both of us. We each had another. And another.

Well, by the time we got home, one loaf of kuchen bread was tucked away. In our tummies. At least we saved the other loaf for our folks.

No wonder Grandma’s neighbor boy could smell when it was time to pay her family a visit.

 

 

The Old Thriftway Store at Perry, Iowa

1943

In December 1943, Clabe and Leora Wilson were struggling to get all the work done on the farm near Minburn, Iowa, where they were tenant farmers. Since their youngest son, Junior, had joined the Army Air Force two months earlier, all five sons were serving in WWII.

Leora had located a five-star service flag to hang in their farmhouse window.

On Leora’s December 4 birthday, a telegram had arrived announcing that their middle son, Dale, a copilot on a B-25 in New Guinea, had been missing in action since November 27.

Still unaware of the news about Dale, Junior wrote home from College Detachment at Stillwater, Oklahoma.

       “Mom and Dad,

“Got the pictures from home. Joe makes me want to reach right out and pet him! The one of Dad holding the gun with Spats and Joe [the Wilsons’ pet dogs] makes me think of home. A picture is better than a letter itself.

“I am bunking with a farmer who had a John Deere. We do a lot of talking on the subject. 

“Stillwater is about the size of Perry. We went to a wild-west show. Boy, these old Oklahomans sure like the shooting and the flying dust. I will have to admit that I do too!

“Oklahoma A&M stands for Agricultural and Mechanical. We passed some hog pens the other day and the guys held their noses. I just laughed and said it reminded me of home! Ha!

“I got your present. I’m telling you, the figs and nuts really tasted good, although they were devoured in about 15 minutes! It reminded me of the good old times when we went to Perry and invaded the Thriftway store. No doubt that’s where you got them.

“How’s it going on the farm? Boy, how I would like to be there on the bottom today. Might get in on a little pheasant or fox hunting if I were back. You know, I could even stand the hog dust, too! Ha!

       “Take Care and Merry Christmas, Junior”

This is interesting because not too many weeks earlier, Junior had bemoaned that it looked like he’d be a farmer for the duration.

1944

A year later, his parents had bought an acreage near Perry. Even when they lived at Minburn, they traded in Perry, probably because the Thriftway would buy Leora’s eggs and butter.

Dale Wilson was still MIA, and Danny Wilson was a P-38 fighter pilot who had been sent to Italy for combat. Junior had passed Primary and Basic Training to become a pilot, just about to leave for Advanced. He wrote home from Waco, Texas, in late 1944:

        “Dear Mom and Dad,

“I suppose you are having cool weather up there now. Probably some good coon-hunting weather. We had a pet coon on a long chain here at the base. We could pet him like a kitten. I don’t think I’ll kill any more of them. 

“I’m in Waco for more Basic Training. The gym is right across the road. They have brand new barbells. By Christmas, I’ll be in Advanced Training in fighters. They want the younger boys in the fighters since they can stand more strain and their reflexes are faster. 

“Are you having fun fixing up your new home? I’m sending home more money. Maybe it will help buy a bucket of coal or a big box of bran from the Thriftway. 

“Junior”

The Perry Thriftway Store. The cars look like the photo is from about WWII.

Just a couple of mentions of Perry’s Thriftway store, thanks to some old letters.

Leora’s Letters: The Story of Love and Loss for an Iowa Family During World War II

The Local New Horizons Band

My husband Guy has played trumpet since 2010 with the Des Moines New Horizons Band, which is in its 18th year and meets at Rieman Music.

The concept, which has member groups in six countries, was the idea of Dr. Roy Ernst from Eastman School of Music in Rochester, NY. The first group, designed to serve senior citizens, was started in 1991. There are nine New Horizons Bands in Iowa.

There are no tryouts or auditions, with “your best is good enough” the idea. Some players are band directors and music teachers, some are beginners. Des Moines band includes retired doctors, a pharmacist, a nurse, a pastor or two, and at least one retired air traffic controller. They come from as far away as Ames. The suggested minimum age of 50 for players changes with each group.

Guy, a retired air traffic controller, plays his flugelhorn. He hadn’t played his trumpet since his freshman year in college.

Ron Rieckmann, a retired band director, directs the Des Moines group. New Horizons gives concerts each spring, usually for retirement homes, and Christmas concerts–until these Covid years.

Last Sunday they played their first concert in two years for the Perry Fine Arts Series in Perry, Iowa.

Their Christmas music was enhanced by Santa hats, reindeer antlers, and Director Rieckman’s festive Christmas-lights jacket.

Two New Stories from Gracie Press, Gracie being a Charming Chicken

PeeP! Book One in the “Once Through a Garden Gate” Series

You can learn a lot from a little flock of chickens, such as you are more than good enough. John Spiers weaves gentle wisdom through his stories, watching his chickens enough to tell them apart and give them names, which takes time. He learns some Chicken language, and they learn to understand the big Gardener.

We meet Gracie, who has a lump on her side, we get in on a Worm Olympics, chicken ballet (with a guest dancer), learn that words can be hurtful, and that chickens can be contemplative. I look forward to sharing John Spiers’s delightful flock of winsome chickens with my granddaughter!

BwOwK!Book Two in the “Once Through a Garden Gate” SeriesDid you know that tan is the shortest and least glamorous color name? And that chickens know things? So do wrens. This is a charming book about a flock of winsome chickens and their wise human friend.But it about so much more than a story about chickens. It’s also about friendship and creativity, leadership and love. It even has a Sewer Rat who knows some French words!What a delightful book for an adult to share with a child. The stories will lead you to discuss interesting things, because that’s what friends do, chicken or otherwise.

Author and Illustrator John Spiers

John Spiers is a writer, artist, and “dad” to a small flock of chickens who live in the center of his backyard garden.

While he often produced small writing and drawing project over the years, he never found his creative niche until he decided to raise some baby chicks. They became the characters in his stories and the subjects of his drawings. Now they are his friends, and he spends time with them each evening under the shade of the camellias bordering his backyard garden.

His stories occur in the intersection where the world of people meets the world of chickens. It is an intersection where the unexpected can happen. Chickens can talk with people who truly love them. They can also dance ballet and even put on backyard comedy shows.

His work seeks to share the same joy he feels with his chickens along with bits of timeless “chicken wisdom” about life which he has learned from them.

—–More delightful Gracie Press books from earlier this year.

Radio City Rockette Julie Branam

Julie Branam grew up just a few block from where we live in central Iowa. Her parents grew up near Earlham, Iowa.

Her mother, Sandy, isn’t much older than I am. I remember Sandy as a girl when Dad ran some cattle at the Compton place. Ivan Compton was Sandy’s dad. Mr. Compton as one of our friendly school bus drivers at Earlham. He also became Julie Branam’s grandfather.

Julie loved ballet, dancing with the Des Moines Ballet Company. She first saw the Rockettes in New York City with the director of the ballet company, and decided she would like to make dance a career. Wow, could she! It took a while, but she not only became a dancer during the 1980s with the world-famous Radio City Rockettes, she is now the director and choreographer of this iconic New York-based dance troupe.

 

I was surprised that the Rockettes began in the 1920s. Originally, a Rockette had to be between 5’2″and 5’6 ½”, but today, she is between 5’6″and 5’10 ½” and has to be proficient in tap, modern, jazz and ballet. Starting with just 16 women, over the years the troupe grew to a line of 36 dancers. Here’s a great history of the Rockettes.

The spring of 1962, the graduating seniors at Earlham High School took a class trip to New York City and Washington, DC. Yes, we got to see the Rockettes perform!

This is a delightful short video of Rockette Julie Branam.

A short one about the Wooden Soldiers.

 

 

 

 

Sarah Burning by Tim Ritter, Plus a TV Interview about the Fire that Defined His Family

After Sarah Burning arrived, I couldn’t put it down. It’s a recently-published family story that needed telling and sharing. It must have been challenging to experience the scenes while writing them. The reader is drawn into the fire, the disaster, the day-by-dayness of the aftermath.

Sarah herself, the author’s grandmother, was such an amazing woman, hopeful and resilient in spite of her tough journey, even enduring clinical trials to help advance burn treatments. A riveting and incredible story.

 

Author Tim Ritter was born in Springfield, Missouri, the third of four children in a blue collar family. He dreamed of being a writer when he was nine years old, realizing that expressing myself on paper was as much a part of him as his swollen tonsils. Over the years the desire to write has yielded poems, stage productions, books, technical articles, speeches and my own comic strip. Tim has become a highly sought featured speaker, with many entertaining and informative presentations.

Here’s a recent Ozarks Live interview of Tim about the fire.

Tim Ritter resides near Fair Grove, Missouri, with his wife Lisa on their wooded property which they affectionately (and laughingly) call Frog Acres. Here’s his website.

—–

I’ve also appreciated his book of poems, Soul Sketches,  an eclectic gathering of memories and passions. From the amusing “Candelabras and Scarlet Tights” to lying in the dirt with his son as Civil War reenactors for a film in “State Blood and French Fries,” it’s a fascinating collection.

My favorite is the surprising and transcendent “Joseph’s Prayer.” A laudable collection.

Sarah Burning by Tim Ritter

After Sarah Burning arrived, I couldn’t put it down. It’s a recently-published family story that needed telling and sharing. It must have been challenging to experience the scenes while writing them. The reader is drawn into the fire, the disaster, the day-by-dayness of the aftermath.

Sarah herself, the author’s grandmother, was such an amazing woman, hopeful and resilient in spite of her tough journey, even enduring clinical trials to help advance burn treatments. A riveting and incredible story.

 

Author Tim Ritter was born in Springfield, Missouri, the third of four children in a blue collar family. He dreamed of being a writer when he was nine years old, realizing that expressing myself on paper was as much a part of him as his swollen tonsils. Over the years the desire to write has yielded poems, stage productions, books, technical articles, speeches and my own comic strip. Tim has become a highly sought featured speaker, with many entertaining and informative presentations.

Here’s a recent Ozarks Live interview of Tim about the fire.

Tim Ritter resides near Fair Grove, Missouri, with his wife Lisa on their wooded property which they affectionately (and laughingly) call Frog Acres. Here’s his website.

—–

I’ve also appreciated his book of poems, Soul Sketches,  an eclectic gathering of memories and passions. From the amusing “Candelabras and Scarlet Tights” to lying in the dirt with his son as Civil War reenactors for a film in “State Blood and French Fries,” it’s a fascinating collection.

My favorite is the surprising and transcendent “Joseph’s Prayer.” A laudable collection.

The Attack on Pearl Harbor, Territory of Hawaii, 80 Years Ago

Pearl Harbor, Territory of Hawaii

December 7, 1941. In a gold waitress uniform, Doris Wilson served Sunday dinner to the after-church crowd at McDonald’s Drug store in Perry, Iowa. A hint of Evening in Paris perfume permeated the store, where it was also sold. Doris worked at the soda fountain there, but after church on Sundays, she was kept busy in the restaurant section.

Doris Wilson at the soda fountain section, McDonald’s Drug Store, Perry, Iowa, 1940s

Sammy Kaye’s Sunday Serenade provided background music over WHO Radio. A news bulletin interrupted the music: The Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor.

The restaurant grew quiet. “The Japs? Why would they bomb Pearl Harbor?” someone asked.

“Does this mean we’re at war?”

“Where is Pearl Harbor anyway?” asked another.

“Hawaii,” Doris said. “I’m afraid this does mean war. And my brothers are all the wrong ages.”

“How many brothers do you have?”

“Five. Donald is already in the Navy. His ship was stationed in Pearl Harbor a few months ago. He said we shouldn’t trust the Japanese, and he was right.”

Thank God Donald had jumped ship a couple of weeks earlier to return to the Minburn farm to see the family. With war breaking out for real, who knew when they’d all be together again?

And thank God Danny was too young to be drafted, and Junior was still in high school at Washington Township School. But Delbert would probably be recalled by the Navy, and Dale had already registered for the draft. Donald wasn’t safe in the Atlantic either. Doris feared for all five brothers.

The family photograph taken at Edmonson’s Photo in Perry while Donald was home, eighty years ago, was the last one ever taken. It was the last time the whole family was together. Soon, Delbert was back in the Navy, and Dale joined the US Army Air Force as a cadet.

Last photo of the Wilson family, November 1941, Perry, Iowa: Seated: Clabe and Leora. Standing: Danny, Darlene (Wilson) Scar, Donald, Junior (still in high school), Delbert, Doris, Dale

In just a few months, Donald Wilson, on the crew of the famous USS Yorktown, would be in major battles with the Japanese in the Pacific, barely escaping with his life.

One by one the Wilson brothers volunteered until all five had left the Minburn farm to serve in the war.

President Roosevelt had made a prophecy back in 1936, “There is a mysterious cycle in human events. To some generations much is given. Of other generations much is expected. This generation of Americans has a rendezvous with destiny.”

He was right. And so was Doris’s premonition.

That generation of the Wilsons, having endured poverty during the worldwide Depression, was destined to suffer the anguish of losing three brothers during a world war.

 —–

Leora’s Letters: The Story of Love and Loss for an Iowa Family During World War II is the family’s WWII story, and also the story behind the five Wilson brothers who are featured on the Dallas County Freedom Rock at Minburn, Iowa.

The Left-Handed Girl

“I was a Lefty”

Old-time writing paper from the 1920s, creases from being folded to take home. A traced star at the top, neatly colored yellow. Her name in the upper left, in cursive writing: Doris Wilson.

I see the stars in the sky./ They twinkle twinkle in the night./ Once a bright shining stars [sic] was seen/ It led the wis [sic] men to the stable./ They found the little Christ Child./ This was our first Christmas.

This reminds me of one of my mother’s stories. The first graders in the Dexter, Iowa, school learned to write in their letters in cursive right away. The teacher asked whether anyone in the class could show them how to make the letter S. Doris raised her hand. “Yes, Doris. You have an “s” in your name. Please come up and write it on the blackboard.”

Doris nervously walked to the front and picked up the chalk–with her left hand. As soon as she started to write, several children in the class began to snicker. Was it was because she’d used the “wrong” hand? She was the only left-handed student in the class.

In those days, and even for several decades, schools tried to get left-handed students to change to using their right hands. Or they taught them to write with their left hand curved above the writing so that slant of their letters would match that in the penmanship books. Children were graded on their writing, which made for lots of beautiful and readable papers and letters.

Beautifully written papers were even posted in the classroom. My mother remembered one of hers honored that way, with a note added by Miss Overton, “Left handed.”

At home, the kids took turns working a hand grinder–maybe to grind meat or to make piccalilli from vegetables at the end of the garden growing season. Doris took a turn, starting out cranking with her right hand like the others. She soon switched to her left, announcing that she worked better when she used her “father hand.”

My 4-H Project

I never thought about left-handedness being different until Mom helped me with a 4-H project. Each year we had to give a talk to our local club, and also a demonstration. Leaflets gave ideas of topics, and one year I decided to give a demonstration on how to make slipper socks out of a pair of men’s Rockford socks, with the red heel and toe. You were to cut sturdy cardboard to fit in the socks, then stitch it in as a sole. (I never asked how you were supposed to launder them!)  I needed one pair to show the completed project, and another to demonstrate with.

I quickly learned how difficult it was to cut cardboard with scissors. Mom offered to help, but when she finished, he left hand was numb because scissors were built for right-handers. Later we found her left-handed scissors, the first she’d ever had.

Ironing wasn’t much of a problem. We just turned the ironing board around, or stood on the opposite side. It wasn’t until I got married that I discovered that I hung my clothes left-handed,  just like we did at home.

Mom Played Basketball

Being left-handed was an asset for my mother when she was in high school. She made the basketball team as a freshman. Why? Because she shot baskets with her older brothers.

And because, she admitted in her later years, “I was a lefty.”

Dexter freshman Doris Wilson The Des Moines Tribune, January 10, 1933 © USA TODAY NETWORK

 

Two New WWII Historical Novels

Where Shall I Flee?

Anne Clare

Lieutenant Jean Hoff of the U.S. Army Nurse Corps and infantryman Corporal George Novak have never met, but they have three things in common. They are both driven by a past they’d rather leave behind. They have both been sent to the embattled beachhead of Anzio, Italy. 1944.

And when they both wind up on the wrong side of the German lines, they must choose whether to resign themselves to captivity or risk a dangerous escape. The story follows their journey through the dangers of World War II Italy, where faith vies with fear and forgiveness may be necessary for survival.

What a suspenseful story, on several levels–physical, emotional, psychological! You tend to forget about nurses’ contributions to the war effort, this one in Italy. But her service was cut short when she’s the only woman caught with soldiers behind enemy lines. Day by day they face dangers while trying to return to the Americans. One of the German doctors is an especially interesting character, as is a scene where an unusual tea is served up. An absorbing WWII novel.

This awesome author-mom-teacher-musician also completed writing 50,000 last month for NaNoWriMo! She challenged her students to do the same, so an extra incentive. Wow!

Anne Clare’s Amazon Author Page. She also has a website.

Land That I Love

Gail Kittleson

Set in the German Hill Country of Texas during World War II, the book deals with love and loss, friendship and animosity, fathers and sons, and coping during times of war and peace. As the characters struggle with the problems of everyday life, they teach us that we survive hard times by being good neighbors despite our differences and that hatred can be conquered by love, understanding and forgiveness.

What a masterful story, rich in history (the war, but also Texas and the Hill Country), rich in exploring mental illness, the power of place, and rich in language.

Of all of Gail Kittleson’s several WWII historical novels, this one is my favorite.

Gail’s Amazon Author Page. Her Women of the Heartland series. Here’s Gail’s website.