~Oliver Lane, Breaking Beans, Making Biscuits, equals Picnic on the Patio for One~

This week I had the pleasure of spending time with Oliver Trent Lane, our grandson #2. We shared a meal at Olive Garden, took in the  Disney movie 'Tommorrowland', shopped for some totally cool, beachwear, then home we came for a' spend the night', (Oliver has always called staying at our house 'spend the nights', and I just love that about him) Next morning we dined at the new' Flapjack Pancake House' in Powell and then came home and did some much needed pruning in the back yard. As I was watching Ollie work he reminded so much of his Big Daddy, Curtis Lane, and his Great Uncle Jim Johnson. He is not one of those guys that jumps right into work, he studies it, analyzes the project begins, and if that does not work he steps back recalculates and begins again. I have always laughingly said that Ollie spends more time thinking on how to get out of work then actually working, but I now realize he just wants to go about it in a clear and concise manner, which as an employer I appreciate, saves me, time and money (:=). It was fun working side by side in the yard. It gave me an opportunity to share some ideas, and stories. 

As Oliver was straightening  up my firewood stand which is close to the back door, we had to trim the bush that is there to make room. Oliver said "Memommie what is that bush?" "It smells really good!"  So I told him the story of  his Granny Johnson, our Mom, Muriel Rose Engle Johnson  and 'The Bubby Bush'.  When we bought our house in 1980 our yard was landscaped with many very nice trees and shrubs,  We moved in in February and in late May the bush close to the back door starting blooming with bright shiny leaves and these very aromatic purple star like blooms. Mom and Dad had come over and was going out back to check out Curt's garden which at that time was very large and spread out!  My Mom stopped as she was going out the door beside the bush and snatched one of the blooms off of the bush rubbed it between her hands and took a big whiff, she laughed out loud and was beaming as she said" oh my gosh you have a Bubby Bush!"  Curt, Dad and I looked at each other and said 'What?", she went on to explain that as a child up in Woodbine, Kentucky, one of her simple pleasures was to go into the woods close to their cabin in the early summer and get the 'Bubbies off of the bush fill her pockets full of them and play with and smell them as she went about her day.  She also laughed as she told on herself "of sticking one of them up in her nose and it got stuck and someone in her family got the chore of getting it out!"  So every year when it blooms out I get sweet memories of Mom as a young girl and the sweet delight of discovering that we had a bush in our yard that she shared of her days growing up.  The actual name of the Bush is Sweet shrub', Calycanthus floridus, or 'sweet bubby'.

'Sweet Bubby'

Bubby
















Summertime, brings with it so many tasty fresh vegetables. Today I starting thinking about my Grandmother's and the wonderful meals that they would make in the summertime that were simple, fresh, and ones that required very little cooking in the heat of the day.  Windows would be open, usually propped up with a stick, and were designed in such a way that cross ventilation would pass through the house to bring as much breeze as possible.  Most of the cooking was done early in the morning, and set aside on the stove covered with a plate, or in the fridge until later.  I remember when I was a married woman, sitting on the porch, with my Grandma Johnson(Dad's Mom), and breaking beans, her bean of choice was 'White Half Runner', not too full, not to thin, she was very picky about her food, whether she grew it in her yard, and especially if she was paying dearly for it at the market. I found it was not easy to shop with her at 'The White Store' or shop for her! Whew, I got many a scolding because the chicken I had purchased for her was too old, too skinny or too fat for roasting. She really was particular about her chuck roast!

Today I got some white half runner beans, sat on my porch, broke them and then cooked them in water, with some salted lean meat, until all most all of the juice was cooked down, tossed in a teaspoon of sugar stirred them up and set them aside for later. Grandma always put a teaspoon of sugar in everything she cooked, and believe me when I say there was never anything left on the plate for scraps for the dog.

Another sweet memory I have of  Mommie Engle ( Mom's Mom) sitting on the porch of her 3 room cabin and churning milk, for buttermilk and making butter, she let me churn  for awhile and then I got to run my finger over the top to taste the butter, it was delicious, then she would take it out, put it in a bowl and take it to the well house that the cool mountain stream ran through in the hillside and it would keep it cool, nice and fresh.

I decided I would make old time slaw grated fine with cabbage, carrot, mayo, apple cider vinegar and a teaspoon of sugar, salt and pepper to taste, it turned out quite well. Sliced some tomato's, cucumber, radish as a accompaniment and added a sliced cantaloupe for desert. Fried some chicken tenderloins, made some biscuits and the cool summertime meal is ready with a cool glass of sweet tea with a twist of lime for flavor. 

I carried (toted) it all out to the back patio and had a picnic for one with 'Mother Nature' sharing her glory, a cool breeze blowing, birds chirping and tweeting back and forth, sweet smell from the 'Bubby Bush' and the chocolate mint by the patio.  An early evening spent recalling three special women in our life, our Mom, Muriel, Grandma, Corina Johnson, and Mommy Engle, Sarah Bessie.  I am grateful to them for passing on to me the ability to find  the strength, to persevere, and to face each new day with a joyful heart.  I am thankful that I am able to pass on these characteristics, and their earthy wisdom to our children and our grandchildren.  We all need food for nourishment, and knowledge and the heritage of our ancestors to understand where we came from. I have found that most foods we truly enjoy we associate with people, places and memories in our lives. Thanks for reading and God Bless...LSJL

Oldie but goodie of Oliver and Memommie awards day 5th grade

Picnic for one

cool refreshing summertime meal
white half runner beans slaw, chicken, biscuit, tomato's, cucumbers, radishes, cantaloupe, sweet tea with a lime twist
 

Chocolate mint

patio fence

A  lovely cloud for company


 
Then followed that beautiful season... Summer....
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape
Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

 

 

 

...Swing Me High, Swing Me High, Swing Me High As The Applesauce Tree...

"God has given each of you a gift from his great variety of spiritual gifts. Use them well to serve one another." 1 Peter 4:10 (NIV)

 

This story was written in honor of Hunter Reed Lane by his Memommie, Linda Johnson Lane as a remembrance gift for his High School Graduation.  The Dulcimer was made especially for Hunter Reed Lane many years ago by his Big Daddy, Curtis Andrew Lane, who, though no longer with us, has left his spirit within all who knew him. Big Daddy was a man who was given many creative abilities and heavenly gifts.  With every ounce of his being he relished using his gifts of music, through singing, playing instruments, making instruments, writing songs, drawing, designing, carving to name a few. Many people were on the receiving end of his talented abilities in wood and they are a lasting tribute and reminder of his talent he so gladly shared with others.

 

 

 

Curt and I have been blessed with four grandchildren. Two grandsons, Hunter and Oliver, as well as two granddaughters, Sophia Rose, and Lydia Mae. 

We have a swing in our back yard that Curt made for our children Chris and Amy, when they were young.  It was made with tall timbers with climbing bars on one side of it, with a basketball court on one side, and on the other side and down a ways he planted an a few apple tree's.  As will happen, our children grew up and moved away. The play area in the backyard stood silent for many years, while the Apple tree's grew taller and provided us with a plentiful bounty, for eating, cooking and making applesauce.

When the LORD shared with us our first grandson we were overwhelmed with joy and made plans for the times when he would be with us.  I found a baby swing, Curt refurbished the timbers and chains, he trimmed back the limbs of the apple tree, in preparation for Hunter’s visit to our home.  Every time he would come we would spend time out back, playing, getting candy out of the garden, ‘Big Daddy’s sugar snap peas,  cherry tomato's and his seedless blackberries off of the trellis in the back of the yard. 

When Hunter was small he was somewhat timid and shy about swinging, it was a little intimidating to a little fella, but soon he began to love swinging and he would ask to be pushed higher and higher. 

He loved my homemade applesauce and he knew that the apples came from the apple tree next to the swing, so we started calling it the ‘Applesauce Tree’.  He would say “Memommie swing me high, swing me high, as high as the ‘Applesauce Tree’," and I did. When Hunter would come for a visit, depending on his size, we would change to bigger swings to accommodate his growth. All of our grandchildren have enjoyed  this treasured handmade swing.

 We had a large tornado that come through Broadacres and a strong gust of wind up rooted the ‘Applesauce Tree’.  It was a sad day. While Curt was preparing to take care of the remains of the tree he looked at it and decided that he could probably save the trunk and get enough wood to make Hunter a small dulcimer with horses and his name on it, as a remembrance of his childhood time spent at his Big Daddy and Memommie’s home. Hoping that it would help him to recall the joyful hours of swinging on a family treasure made by his Big Daddy for his beloved children and grandchildren. As well as remembering the apple tree that provided tasty fruit, shade and great joy for a little red-headed boy who loved to shout ‘Swing me high, swing me high, as high as the applesauce tree!'

Hunter has had his especially made dulcimer for many years now.  He is a grown man who has now graduated from high school. He will soon be heading off to college to pursue his dreams of playing college football on a scholarship, earned in high school. It will be used as a stepping stone to his future plans, as a recourse to help him get a college degree. As of this writing his long term goals are to become a farmer, he hopes to pursue a degree in agriculture.

Perhaps one day he will make a swing set for his child and plant an apple tree close by. Perhaps he will marry a woman who will make applesauce from the fruit. Perhaps he will develop a love for wood, crafting beautiful gifts, and instruments. Perhaps he will want to use the tools quietly waiting in Big Daddy's shed out back, waiting to be put to good use once again. Perhaps he will, when he finishes his life journey, and this story as well as the memories that go with it, will continue and become a legend for the generations to come.


Hunter and his Applewood Dulcimer made by Big Daddy Lane

"Swing me high, swing me high, swing me high as the 'Applesauce Tree', Memommie"...



Hunter loved horses so Big Daddy put Horses on his Dulcimer along with his name





'Big Daddy Lane Creations', his ' Little Shop out Back'
'A Music Maker and Piddler of Sorts'

Big Daddy, Hunter and Memommie happy times at Shatley Springs, North Carolina

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We all have memories and treasures that we hold dear to our hearts. They are in our safe place, they belong to us, we carry them with us, they ground us, secure us, they entwine around us and make us who we are and what we are about.  What I have found is that there is a story that follows a memory, a journey that begins and continues to travel on after we have left this earthly plain.  My hope in presenting these stories and memories is that all of you will write, share, and honor your memories and pass them on, they are important to future generations. 

 

We are The Memory Keeper’s

“Mary kept all these things in her heart and thought about them often.”(NLT)Luke 2:19
The ability to remember is a beautiful gift when it's positively embraced. Mary recognized that keeping the Lord's blessings near to her heart and remembering them produces beautiful memories. These memories are sweet and can carry us forward through difficult times. As this verse says, keep your blessings in your heart and think about them often.


Many of you may be wondering why I chose this topic to share, I have come to realize as I have gotten older and watched many members of my family and friends pass over, that we who are remaining, are their legacy. We are the keepers of what will be remembered, making sure, special worldly items that are now treasures , as well as the stories and memories that are related to them, are passed down to future generations. I now am the matriarch of our family. I feel somewhat overwhelmed and humbled to even write those words, my age in numbers are not overly large, but circumstances of life has made it so.

When we were growing up our nuclear family consisted of our Dad, Mom, Myself, and three younger brothers. My Dad’s profession was serving his country. Beginning when he was 16 he signed up with his Mother’s permission, and soon he was in the Navy on a battleship, manning a gun in the Pacific Ocean for the duration of WWII. It was a harrowing experience and one he did not discuss until he was in his late 60’s, when the memories engulfed him and brought back what he had chosen to forget. After the war he met and married our Mom and had me soon afterwards. He then returned to the military this time in the service of The United States Air Force, where he served for 20 plus years.  Our family lived in many states in the United States as well as a 3 year tour in England. Since our nuclear family was living away, we did not get to spend much time with our grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins who for the most part lived in Tennessee and Kentucky.

After I was married, my husband Curt and I moved to Tennessee, and it was at that time that we were finally able to establish relationships with family in the area while learning about our family genealogy and heritage.

There are a few personal family treasures and memories that have passed down to me that I consider treasured possessions and one of those I will share with you today on Corrina Mae Wallace Johnson’s birthday. She was born on May 6, 1902 to James Brice, and Rosa Lee Apperson Wallace. She had 10 siblings, 6 brothers and 4 sisters. She was the third oldest child and was the first daughter. She married Henry Sherman Johnson and they had six sons, Carl Lee, Byron, George, Roy Paul, Sherman (died at birth), and Ronald. They gave them 18 grandchildren. Since her passing there have been many great grandchildren, and great-great grandchildren that have become a part of the family genealogy. What I will share is only a small part of my personal memories, it does not begin to encompass the stories of her life, I regret that I do not know more.  Unfortunately most of those who could have shared more are no longer with us. By sharing this small memory perhaps it will encourage those who read this to write down, some of your special memories find and share pictures, about those you love and care about to record them for future generations and pass them along to your family.  
Happy Birthday ‘Grandma’ Johnson today would have been your 113^th birthday!  Today we your family remember and celebrate your life. 

   Corrina Mae Wallace Johnson

   May 6, 1902- August 20, 1976

~Grandma's Apron~ 

One of my plain and simple treasures is my paternal grandmother’s apron. There are several reasons behind my affinity for her apron.  She passed away four days before our daughter Amy Lane Germano, who was two weeks late in arriving, was born, but both she and my maternal grandmother (Bessie Sarah Terrell Engle) (September 1,1899 –October 10, 1985) in Woodbine, Kentucky, had said our child would be born on the full moon in August and of course they were right. 

After she had passed my Dad and his brothers were sorting through her things and my Dad asked "What would I like as a keepsake?", I said I would like to have one of her aprons. I was blessed and got two!  They are worn stained and perfectly encompass my memories of my ‘Grandma’.  Grandma was a very large woman, with ‘Angel Wings’ under arms. I too have been given those same attributes, so I am reminded daily of her!  When I was small my Mom and I stayed with my grandparents and Uncle Ronnie, while my Dad was in California finding us a place to live.  I remember sitting close to her and asking her about the skin under arms, she told me they were her ‘Angel Wings’, It was my first memory of sharing a conversation with her. 

One other interesting piece of information is one my Mom shared with me after our grandson Hunter was beginning to call us our grandparent names.  Curt was already known as 'Big Daddy', and we thought Hunter would call me 'Big Mama', but he just plain would not say it no matter how many times we told him. One day when he was staying with us he looked at me straight in the eye, pointed his little finger at me and said "You Memommie". So of course I said well okay then.  Later that day Mom and Dad had come over for a visit and Hunter called me Memommie, Mom looked at me in astonishment and said when we had stayed with Grandma and Grandpa  in Clinton, I too had starting calling 'Grandma' Memommie!  That was the first time I had ever heard  that story. I guess it jarred her memory when Hunter said it.  It was many years before I saw Grandma again, and I then began calling her 'Grandma'

Grandma was blessed with a beautiful olive complexion and was ‘quite a looker in her day’, as they use to say. The memories of ‘Grandma’, for me are fractured.  We would come for visits in between tours of duty, and during those times I remember sleeping in a three quarter bed with my Grandma in a small room right off the kitchen. 

             She would rise around 4:30 in the morning, and I would watch her from the warm confines of the bed as she shuffled around preparing for the day. After washing up she would dress and pin on her clean apron, then begin getting the old iron wood cook stove going.  As I would watch I would marvel at how effortlessly she went about her tasks. 

It wasn’t long before the warmth from the stove would make its way through the small 5 room house, and delicious, enticing smells would waft over me making me anticipate the homemade biscuits, sausage and gravy that would soon be on the table.

After I was married and we moved to Tennessee I came to appreciate my Grandma’s abilities of living life simply and unencumbered, whether it be gardening, passing time rocking on her front porch or cooking, she could make a little dab of this and that into a feast in a very short while.  I can say I have never enjoyed leftovers, especially mine, but her leftovers were just as good if not better than the first serving.  Eating at her table after church on Sunday was a feast not to missed.  Curt thought her cornbread was the best, mine never came close to hers!

For many years I kept her aprons in my small kitchen drawer that I opened daily.  It always gave me a private pleasure as I would see them, they were reassuring and offered stability and confidence in knowing as I went about my day that she was there shuffling around guiding my hands as I poured, whipped, and fried on my electric stove .  I will leave this story with these aprons for my children and my grandchildren, so that they might understand that they were special to me and why. I found this poem that describes very well the many uses our Grandma’s used their aprons for.

Grandma's Apron
Handmade, fancy, with rick rack trim,
stained, well used and tied around her waist

Grandma's Apron
Stained, worn, mended, she would pin this on at the top on to her dress,
 then tie the strings around her waist. She made both of these,
I have quilt squares she had cut out with the material from both of these special keepsakes




Grandma in her 'Sunday Best Apron' and her 'Angel Wings'
Picture shared by Grand Daughter Jeanie Johnson Vivyan

Grandma’s Apron

Tina Trivett

The strings were tied, it was freshly washed, and maybe even pressed. 
For Grandma, it was every day to choose one when she dressed. 
The simple apron that it was,
you would never think about;
the things she used it for that made it look worn out.
She may have used it to hold some wildflowers that she'd found.
Or to hide a crying child's face when a stranger came around.
Imagine all the little tears that were wiped with just that cloth.
Or it became a potholder to serve some chicken broth.
She probably carried kindling to stoke the kitchen fire.
To hold a load of laundry, or to wipe the clothesline wire.
When canning all her vegetables, it was used to wipe her brow.
You never know, she might have used it to shoo flies from the cow.
She might have carried eggs in from the chicken coop outside.
Whatever chore she used it for, she did them all with pride.
When Grandma went to heaven, God said she now could rest.
I'm sure the apron that she chose, was her Sunday best.

We all have memories and treasures that we hold dear to our hearts. They are in our safe place, they belong to us, we carry them with us, they ground us, secure us, they entwine around us and make us who we are and what we are about.  What I have found is that there is a story that follows a memory, a journey that begins and continues to travel on after we have left this earthly plain. I will leave you with this quote my hope in sharing this little bit of family history and memories that all of you will write, share, and honor your memories and pass them on, they are important to future generations. 

"A memory is a photograph taken by the heart to make a special moment last forever."

I took this photo at the Pepper Place Farmer's Market in Alabama
several years ago.  I call it 'Grandma'
a stone sculpture that captured my memories and essence of
Grandma in her apron and amongst the plants and flowers that she dearly loved
Corrina Mae Wallace Johnson