dianahooley Current Events

Never Call Aunt Ruth a Turkey Bag

Anyone else considering a short-cut Thanksgiving?  You know, having a turkey burrito or better yet, reserving a table at the Golden Corral buffet?  It’s the go-to for Thanksgiving has-beens.  If kids look at Thanksgiving as just a big nasty vegetable meal, some adults see it as a big nasty day of food prep—for the chronically unprepared.  As I age I feel myself slipping into that category.

But this doesn’t have to be another Thanksgiving you nod off chatting with Aunt Ruth because you were up at dawn stuffing the turkey.  Make your Thanksgiving dinner preparations easy.  For example, you can save time and energy using turkey bags.

I’m very thankful for turkey bags (also thankful no one has ever called me that). 

Turkey roasting bags help you cook your bird fast. They’re especially great if your frozen turkey isn’t quite thawed.  Let’s face it: better your turkey cooked—than your goose.

Several notable women have also helped to lighten my load and shorten prep time for Thanksgiving.  One of my most admired is Mrs. Rhodes.  Mrs. Rhodes has amazing rolls (not to be confused with anatomical features).  You can find Mrs. Rhodes Dinner Rolls in the freezer case.  Along with Mrs. Rhodes, I greatly esteem that French woman…a scientist…first name Marie—oh yes, Marie Callender.  In her lab, Marie discovered the correct chemical formulation for great pies.Actually, Marie put me out of the pie-making business and allowed me to do other businesses like, well, reading novels and having manicures.  A few in my family have complained though.  They miss mom’s tough pie crust (the mafia could have used my crust to break some teeth).

Rather than succumb to guilt, I figured out how to deftly lift a frozen Marie Callender pie out of its factory made tin plate, and sit it in my own glass pie plate—making it look as if I’d made the pie myself.

TIP:  Marie Callender’s frozen pies are not an exact fit in normal pie plates, but if you let the pie thaw a little, you can spread the dough and filling out with your palms. One important thing to remember:  when the compliments come about your delicious pie, just smile. There’s no reason to be dishonest.

I’m also thankful this Thanksgiving for packaged dry gravy mix, Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup, and Schillers seasoning salt.  Say what you will, you purists, those of you who never, ever venture into the inner aisles of the grocery store where all the bad processed carbs lay.  You may be willing to chop till you drop, or veg till you’re a drudge, but some of us want to enjoy Thanksgiving.

Ultimately though, it’s not what you eat, but what you do on Thanksgiving that makes the day special.  Do talk, and do laugh, and do love.  And, if that doesn’t work—do nothing.  That’s my goal now:  restful Thanksgiving followed by a peaceful Christmas.  Enough said.

 

Image Credit:    Diana Hooley           Image Credit:   Marie Callender Pie 

dianahooley Uncategorized

Driving Miss Nina

(What’s the age people quit driving?  How do you get loved one to give up the keys?)

Mom was eating a personal-pan-pizza I bought her for lunch when she made her big announcement.  She said she wasn’t going to drive much anymore—if at all.

I glanced across to my sister Lainey, who was eating lunch with us, but she kept her eyes focused on mom. I was surprised by mom’s announcement, but I shouldn’t have been.  The Insurance Institute for Highway Safety says that fatal crashes begin peaking at age 85, and mom was 86.

My mother has been a chauffeur and driver for as long as I’ve known her.

I remember being a little girl in the 1960’s and driving with mom in the front seat of the Chevy.  Seat belts weren’t mandatory back then, so when mom made a sudden stop, she threw her arm protectively across my chest to keep me from bonking my head on the dashboard.  In my lifetime, my mother has picked me up from junior high sleep-overs, high school choir practice, and the residence hall at college.  When I was about 19 mom taught me how to drive, and her days of hauling her oldest daughter places, finally came to an end.  But mom still ferried other people.  Even as an older woman she’s been the driver for many of her friends.  She’s taken Ellie and Dorothy to church, to doctor appointments, or just to get groceries.

“I know you had that little fender-bumper at the Albertson’s parking lot last week mom, but it doesn’t mean you have to quit…” my sister began.

Mom waved her hand at Lainey. “No-no, it’s time.  I don’t want to hurt anyone on the road, much less get myself killed.”

I know some seniors struggle to leave their driving days behind, but mom isn’t one of them.

One octogenarian neighbor refused to give up his keys even though he sometimes fought to stay awake at the wheel.  His wife decided she needed to drive with him, and tap his knee to keep him awake.  Another good friend was shocked when she heard the state of Idaho had issued a driver’s license to her 93 year-old father-in-law—especially since he was losing both his hearing and sight.  Then there was Fan.  She was a great-great aunt and a shirttail relative.  I sat in my car at a traffic light one day and watched Fan slowly make a left-hand turn from the right-hand lane.  Adding insult to injury, Fan then drove down a one-way street, the wrong way.  I honked along with everyone else, but Fan passed us all, head held high.

The American Auto Association said that almost 90 percent of seniors they surveyed thought giving up driving would be a big problem for them.

Sometimes concerned family members find creative ways to keep their loved ones off the road.  Families have anonymously reported grandpa to the DMV, knowing this would force him to retake the driver’s test.  Others have asked friends to “borrow” their grandmother’s car and “forget” to bring it home.  Another oft-used ploy is to accidentally hide or lose the car keys of an older driver.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” mom tried to assure my sister and me.  “I’m fine.  I’ve got several people lined up to drive me where I need to go.”

“Mom,” I told her, “I’m really proud of you for doing this.  I know it’s not easy.  And yet, you decided to make this choice on your own.”

I really was pleased with mom for acting so responsibly.  But at the same time, I knew giving up driving was a milestone, a marker that most people face only near the end of their life.  And so, a little voice inside of me, the child of the mother I love, anxiously whispered, “Stay with me mom.  It’s not time to go yet.”

 

Click here for more Diana Hooley posts on Life Passages.

Image Credit:   Driving Miss Daisy     Image Credit:  Driver and Dog

 

 

 

dianahooley Out West

I heard the boom of a shotgun…

(Is hunting still a popular sport?  Why do we like the sport?  How do gun rights advocates complicate the sport of hunting?)

A penguin was standing on the welcome mat when I opened my front door.  It was Halloween, and I had a fistful of miniature Snicker bars and Reese Cups to give away.   But Halloween wasn’t the only thing on this trick-or-treater’s mind.

“Hey,” said a boy that looked about 11-years-old in a penguin costume. “Um…did you know there’s a deer in your field?”

“What?” I peered above his head and beyond him to the field beside our house.  “Yep, there’s a deer there all right.  They like to browse along the fields and river. Would you like some candy?”

“Well, if I take your candy would you let me shoot your deer?  See, it’s the last day of deer season and I haven’t got my deer yet.”

I placed a few pieces of candy in Mr. Penguin’s hand and called to my husband over my shoulder.  He’s the one who manages hunting on our property.  As I walked back down the hallway I thought about how hunting remains a rite of passage for many young men here in the rural west.  But the world is changing.  Could hunters and fall hunting ever become obsolete?

There are, after all, some good reasons not to hunt.  For one thing, despite recent research that says it’s okay to eat as much meat as you want, most nutritionists have been warning us for years to limit our consumption of red meat.  Some animal rights activists have eliminated meat entirely from their diet to protest the hunting and killing of animals.  Their main argument, and it’s a good one, is that animals are sentient, living creatures too.  Besides, they say, what chance do animals in the wild have against high-powered rifles with big scopes.

Others talk about the abundance of meat and protein sources already available in the supermarket.  Hunting is not necessary in modern times.  An elderly friend of mine would disagree with this line of thinking.  She told me once, “Growing up in the backwoods, we shot game to keep our bellies full.  All my brothers had shotguns.”  Then she looked up at me archly and said, “I sure hope you’re not one of these gun control nuts.”

Which brings me to another issue hunters contend with:  the political confusion surrounding owning guns.

Many sportsmen who own rifles and shotguns still believe in reasonable gun control legislation.

For militant gun rights advocates though, owning weapons is much more than sport.  For them, guns are power and independence.  Any threat to their owning whatever weapon they choose, including assault rifles used for killing other human beings, feels like a personal attack.

Yet given all these reasons not to hunt, every fall I see ample evidence in our river valley of people enjoying the sport of hunting. Outside my bay window this morning I heard the boom-boom of a shotgun shooting from somewhere among the islands on the river.  A duck hunter must be hoping for a holiday goose.  Off the far island I spot his silhouette.  He’s standing in the water wearing wader boots.  Suddenly he lifts his arm and signals his dog swimming toward him.  It’s an autumn tableau, beautiful and old as the changing seasons.

 

Image Credit:  Diana Hooley        Image Credit:  Diana Hooley      Image Credit:  Duck Hunter

Click here for more posts by Diana Hooley on Out West.