ice cream

Today was one of those rare days in Washington...hot and sunny with no breeze in sight!
and did we take the time to enjoy it...you bet we did!

And how did we celebrate?!...by doing nothing in particular, but enjoying it!

So when I came across this picture from way back when...I couldn't help but remember....

...just how much celebration can be in the ordinary, nothing really special, but OH! what a great idea...kind of moments that make up our day....and have made them up for years, if only we take the time to look....like this day

...it was nobody's birthday....not a banquet in sight, and no red letters on the calendar...not anything more than a quiet night at home, a bowl of ice cream with dad...and some film in the camera!

Ah, this is how memories are made...one scoop at a time!....ice cream anyone?

USAT

The engraving stands for:
United States Army Transport

Pretty simple isn't it?....nothing grand, or fancy, and yet somehow it has survived.

It very well began it's life with our family in Anchorage, Alaska shortly after Mom & Dad were married in 1949. From there the boxes were crated and moved to the Presido in San Francisco, California...then to Ft. Mead, Maryland....on to an international move to Munich, Germany, back to the states with a year at Ft. Belviour, Virginia...and on to what would become our final military post.

As we packed up the station wagon, and hooked up the trailer for our cross country move back one more time to the Presidio in San Francisco, California, in all the packing and unpacking, it was still there.

There were treasured dolls, bikes, games, and books, that did not survive my childhood or make the final weight limits for the military move. Those treasures were left behind and given to friends, such was~and possibly, still is~life as a military family.

When Dad retired from the US Army and we packed for the last time to move, for one last time...we were finally civilians...on our own now...free to go when and where we pleased, when we unpacked in Puyallup, Washington...it was there.

Sometime later, after the we kids were grown and gone from our childhood home, Mom and Dad "downsized"...and the fork became mine. Mom brought it over to me one day and handed it to me, unceremoniously simple. She simply stated, "It's yours now."

I don't really know if there were ever any other USAT forks. I asked mom once, and she had sort of lost track if there had been...I guess in the raising of a family, forks aren't high on a priority list :)

There were a couple of other pieces of "mess hall" silverware that survived the journey...there is a serving spoon, as well as a teaspoon in my kitchen drawer, but neither of those pieces held the charm for me, like this particular fork.

There are other forks in my kitchen...forks that match a pattern of silverware lined neatly in a tray in the kitchen drawer, forks from my my mother's silver set that graces our table on special occasion meals. There are plastic forks, and mismatched forks, but this is MY fork :)

This is the fork I reach for, look for and search for, when a recipe calls for me to "stir in with a fork" any number of ingredients. This is the fork I use when I am making the crust for pumpkin pie, tea rings for Christmas, or scones on any given Saturday. On any ordinary day, for any ordinary purpose, any number of forks will do.

Whether the kitchen is a hive of activity, or I am the solitary chef...the stage for celebrating has been set. This is the fork that declares by my using it, "This occasion is a Celebration!"

Yes, THIS is the fork I reach for...look for..and will actually search for. This is the fork of my childhood.

Some day I will tell you about my favorite plate :)

Tiny Treasure

My mother was a registered nurse. For my childhood years she was "mom". Tending to her five young charges at home kept her busy enough...sewing, cooking, and stretching dad's paycheck was more than enough to fill her days.

When I was in high school my mother went back to employed work as a Nurse, a position that was complete with uniform and name badge...and a paycheck ~ which, in the early days went for household bills and in later years was generally used to purchase yards (and yards) of fabric.

It was not one of the bright and shiny nursing homes in the city, in fact, it was probably one of the oldest facilities in town. It began it's life as the city hospital and was "repurposed" when the new hospital in town was built on the hill. My mother thrived there :)

My sister's first job was as a nurses aid with mom~she went on to become a registered nurse. My first job was as the weekend dishwasher when I was in college~I did not go on to become a chef! Still we all saw something special about being in that small "family" of care givers.

My mother loved the residents in that rickety old facility...she loved singing her quirky little songs with them, telling them silly stories, and caring for them with dignity in the final days of their life. She would visit with family members and give them the confidence that their loved ones were not abandoned there, and they would call her their "angel." It was a good place to be.

My mother did many things very well. One of those things was to gently remind her resident friends of the changing seasons by changing the pin she wore on her uniform lapel. It's a simple thing really, but when you no longer mark off the days by appointments on the calendar, and one season runs lazily into the next, what sweeter way to make note of the passing of time.

My mother wore many pins, none of great worth, but all of great value. She wore pins that signaled the beginning of the Western Washington Fair, a daffodil for the spring, a smiley face for the summer, but among all her adornments...a red sleigh for Christmas and a plastic shamrock St. Paddy's Day pin were her favorites.

If pins could talk, and sometimes, through the magic of the day, I think they just could ~ this one would tell of the smiles that were seen as mom sang her Irish tunes through the halls of the nursing home. For the residents that have gone home before, and for this daughter that longs for those yesterdays, that tiny treasure remembers her well!