“Keep some souvenirs of your past, or how will you ever prove it wasn’t all a dream?”
I woke up to the sound of rain. The house was chilly. I put on socks and a sweatshirt, major pieces of my winter ensemble. It will stay rainy and chilly all day. I have no plans to go out. I do have a book to read and a Snicker’s bar to enjoy. That seems like paradise to me.
When I was a kid, a day like today would have kept me home, my usual Saturday adventures on hold; instead, I’d have spend the morning in front of the TV and the afternoon with a book. I might have even napped. It always seems as if a rainy day is a great nap day.
When I was young, the only time I ever gave thought to the future was when someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I had a stock answer, a teacher. I didn’t know if that was really what I wanted, but it was as good an answer as any.
The other night I had peppers and eggs for dinner. My mother used to make it all the time. It was my favorite beach food. She always packed it in Tupperware by itself and brought rolls so we could make a sandwich of it. The first time I made it myself it didn’t taste right. My mother told me her secret: she added a touch of tomato sauce so I did. It tasted exactly as I remembered.
Even though my life was sort of regimented when I was a kid, I was seldom bored. Something new happened every day or something old was still fun.
In my house, in every room, are memories of where I’ve traveled. I have a few small wooden animals I lugged from Venezuela to Rio. I have a green woven cloth with a stitched nativity on it. That came from a market in Peru. One oval basket came from Columbia. I have tassels hanging on my fireplace screen. They are from Morocco as is the earthenware tagine in the dining room. I had a cooking lesson in Marrakech using one exactly like it. In every room is something from Ghana. In the dining room is a basket from Bolga I brought back in 1971. Another one, holding my metal chess set from Ouagadougou, is in the living room. Newer baskets from my three trips back to Ghana are everywhere. Painted pictures from Sirigu Women Organization for Poetry and Art (SWOPA), a village close to Bolga, are framed and hung in the living room. One is a lizard, the other a small girl. There are wooden figures on shelves, carved pieces on tables and painted pictures on the walls. A wool blanket I used on my bed mostly in December on chilly nights during the harmattan is on my couch. A pile of fabric is folded and on a table shelf. All of these souvenirs remind me of where I’ve been while the ones from Ghana remind me of where a piece of my heart lies.
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September 23, 2023 at 6:38 pm
Hi Kat,
Well today was not anything like autumn here, the sky was mostly sunny with a high temperature of 99°. Of, course any rain missed us completely. My daughter and wife went into the pool, but it was too chilly for me.
Like you I never thought about being a grownup unless someone asked me the same question. My answer, after the age of seven, was a pilot.
Unfortunately, my mother passed away when I was thirteen and I can’t remember anything that she cooked. However, after moving back to NYC, I remember my aunt’s cooking vividly. She was a fabulous cook. One dish that she made that I recall most fondly was sweet and sour stuffed cabbage. I can’t even begin to figure out how she prepared them. I do recall that the recipe was long and complicated and took her a long preparation time which I could never repeat. Whenever, I eat in a deli or an ethnic restaurant I order the stuffed cabbage. So far I have always been disappointed by the dish compared to my aunt’s.
September 23, 2023 at 7:57 pm
Hi Bob,
It has been raining all day, and it has also been chilly. We never even reached 99 once during the summer. Right now every day is in the 60’s and every night in the 50’s, perfect fall weather.
We both ended up where we said we’d be though I didn’t expect to teach. It was when I was in the Peace Corps that I realized I loved to teach. It was the best choice.
I love Golumpki which is Polish stuffed cabbage. My college roommate was Polish, and she’d bring back Polish dishes her mother made when she went home. I have made German sweet and sour cabbage, but I don’t know if it is the same as the dish your aunt made. I just remember it took a long time to cook, and my guests loved it. The Irish in me loves the cabbage in a boiled dinner.
September 23, 2023 at 8:28 pm
My mother’s family came from Ukraine which is close to Poland. She also used to make sweat and sour lamb tongues in the same sauce as she used for the stuffed cabbage. After my aunt passed away, my cousin who is her son, had a few of her cabbage rolls in the freezer. He told me that when he ate those last ones he cried.
September 23, 2023 at 9:00 pm
This struck my heart. I had a container of pea soup in my freezer, the last my mother had made before she died. I didn’t eat it for quite a while. I just couldn’t. It was like saying good-bye to my mother again.
September 23, 2023 at 11:09 pm
Correction: The official high temperature today was 101°. It set a record as the latest date of triple digit temperatures.
September 24, 2023 at 12:10 am
That is frightful!!