A Wish that Worked Out

This time of year is a good time to remember traditions that remind us of generations who came before us. One of the best culture keepers in this region was an Ellis County historian named Lawrence Weigel. He visited my classes each year in the early 90s to share tales about Volga German customs involving Christ Kind, Belznickel, and New Year wϋnsching  (winching) traditions with high school freshmen. Nodding heads confirmed that some youngsters’ families still practiced these Old World activities. At the same time, puzzled faces and blank looks revealed that others were clueless about such customs. My own Volga German family didn’t pass on these stories so I was thrilled to learn them. Every January 1, I think of Mr. Weigel’s anecdotes about families calling on one another on the New Year to share wishes for health, long life, good luck, peace and health, and eternal happiness after death.

As only a beloved grandfather figure can, our lecturer described a festive day of visiting, feasting, and a bit of tippling. Part of this practice involved parents teaching youngsters to recite a wish that ran something like this passage I found online, “ Ich wϋnsche euch ein glϋckseliges Neues Jahr. Langes Leben. Gesϋndheit. Fried und Einigkeit. Und nach dem Tod, ewig Glϋckseligkeit.” As families traveled door-to-door or farm-to-farm, children lucky to be the first visitor or a beloved relative earned a coin for their efforts along with a handful of nuts or sweets. I’ve listened to more than one elder tell stories of reciting this rhyme to collect spending money. Recalling such memories always brought a sparkle to their eyes and a lilt to their voices.

According to Mr. Weigel, this occasion was also a day for young men old enough to marry to court available local maidens. If I recollect correctly, he explained the Romeos announced their arrival with a shotgun blast to the sky. I’m not sure how romantic that was, but young women possessing several color-coded ribbons eagerly awaited noisy suitors. I can imagine girls biting lips and pinching cheeks to increase their rosy tint on an already cold morning. I’m guessing a certain amount of shy smiling and foot shuffling took place as well since adults and younger siblings stood nearby to supervise the show. Girls would pin their good will tokens on callers’ lapels, saving a particular color for a special fellow. I’d love to hear one of these stories firsthand.

Storekeepers certainly would’ve encouraged this custom since so many families produced much of their only holiday food rather than buying it. Despite their customers’ self-sufficient natures, demand for ammo and fripperies at the local mercantile would’ve increased merchant bank deposits during days leading up to this holiday.

This time of year on social media, I see folks sending one another this New Year greeting. I hope area families continue to share customs that crossed the sea and traveled overland with their ancestors. These are little traditions, yet they remind us of brave forebearers who left the familiar to offer descendants a better life. Many of us can honestly say this centuries old good luck wish has worked out well.

An Unexpected Cooking Lesson

It’s curious how common items either go out of use or their intended purpose alters. One of those is the nutcracker. Most people nowadays think this term refers to a seasonal ballet where they might enjoy watching children or grandkids dressed up as old-fashioned ornamental German nutcrackers wearing military-style hats or as dainty sugarplum fairies. Others may store treasured family heirlooms until they retrieve them to decorate their tree. I recently had occasion to realize that actual nutcrackers frequently found in auction boxes serve a real purpose.

As a kid, my family bought whole nuts at Christmas time and offered them in a decorative bowl along with a metal pincer-style device and a silver pick for getting at hard to reach nutmeats. This practice continued a custom both my parents grew up with during the Depression. Their frugal families passed on a ritual long followed by their ancestors.

At our house, one of those traditions included filling Christmas stockings with an orange, an apple, and either some unshelled peanuts or whole nuts. Knowing many generations practiced this holiday tradition reminds me of a time when fresh fruits and nuts were luxuries one enjoyed only on special occasions. Despite knowing I’d see nuts every holiday that required a special opener, I never considered the nutcracker tool an essential kitchen utensil until I recently received a 5 lb. bag of fresh pecans.

An Oklahoma friend lives near the many groves in Eastern Oklahoma and shared his bounty. When I first saw lumpy grocery sack, I imagined it full of ready to eat pecans. When I opened this treasure trove, I realized my mistake. This freshly picked harvest had gone through a mechanical cracker to make it easier to extract the tasty center. However, I had to peel away shattered outer husks and separate the two pecans halves each shell once protected.  

It didn’t take long to understand why nuts are holiday treats and why some people esteem pies, cakes, cookies, candies, and butters made with them. As a person who considers walnuts, pecans, peanuts, cashews, and almonds edible only when served by themselves but not in baked goods, I missed this message growing up.

After I spent a couple of hours freeing nutmeats from shells, I understand why I find nutcrackers at almost every auction I attend. They were essential in old time kitchens. Cooks didn’t go to the store to buy a sack of already shelled nuts. They roamed creek banks to harvest nature’s encased proteins and then spent hours extracting meats from hulls. Knowing how my grandmas made use of everything, I’m sure they saved the inedible material to create fabric dyes or enrich garden soils.

This lesson humbled me. I’ve enjoyed preparing family recipes from scratch for decades. I never considered how I take for granted buying already-ground flour or churned butter quarters at the market. This nutty experience reminded me that not-so-distant family cooks would consider such easy access to ingredients an extravagance.

What To Do with a Left Over Easter Lily…

Thinking about Easter brings to mind loss, hope, resurrection, sunshine, courting birds, greening yards, bunnies, colored eggs, and lilies. Yes, lilies. Each year, members of our church celebrate the lives of loved ones who’ve passed on with a parade of towering white Easter blooms. I love to walk into the sanctuary that first Sunday the white blossoms outline our altar. My nose picks up their sweet scent, and I think about how the first historical evidence of this flower was imprinted on a Cretan vase over 2500 years ago.

Just seeing the ladder of leaves that lead to the balloon-like blooms shouts Easter to me. When the florist wraps deep purple foil around the pot and ties on a fluffy, white bow, I’m transported across time to my first memories of this special holiday. I think of lacy dresses, shiny white patent leather shoes, basket- shaped little bonnets that I only wore one time a year. I recall soaring hymns like “The Old Rugged Cross,” “He’s Alive,” and “ In the Garden.” I can almost feel the warmth of my mom’s or  grandma’s bodies as I recall times I stood singing those songs next to these much loved women. My mouth waters at the recollection of ham dinners followed by homemade chocolate and lemon meringue pies. 

Now, those trumpet-shaped flowers are reminders of too many loved ones who’ve wrapped up their business on earth. Despite this overpowering sense of loss, I’m glad that our church family shares these recollections of good times and happy hearts. Here’s the dilemma. After Easter each year, each of us is supposed to take our plant home. 

That’s good for a week or two. Often times, ours is still blooming so we enjoy setting it in the window. Once the flowers dry up and fall off, it’s time to make some decisions. In our case, that means it goes to the lily bed out back.

The woman who lived here before us started the tradition with a leftover Easter bloom. Since we moved in, the plot has grown. Right now, it’s manageable and hasn’t taken over the rose garden. Looking ahead, I see issues.

Lilies spread, and if I keep adding to this bed each year, I’m going to end up with a yard full of plants that bloom only once a year. Granted, they are lovely at that moment, and the scent is heavenly, but afterwards, they are leggy, green plants.

I guess I need to keep in mind these are symbols of the resurrection, and they’re easy to grow. I can’t say that about everything in my yard. Once established, they bloom later than the ones we place on the altar at church so I get to enjoy them a second time each season. One article I read suggested tossing them on the compost heap. It’s hard to do that when these will thrive, and I’ll enjoy even more fond memories of a favorite holiday.