Lost in a book

I’ve rediscovered my love of reading.  Once again, I feel like that little kid sitting on the floor of her pink bedroom.   My long and sometimes ashy brown legs would be stretched way out against the light green carpet.   I was lost in a book.

I remember this intensely pleasurable reading taking place during the summer of my childhood.  My mother, a school teacher, would be home with us during the long summer months.  As soon as we mentioned that we were bored, Ma would say Bored?  Ok.  Go get your things.  We’re going to the library.  Her tone suggested that we were in some sort of trouble.  I loved to read so I was always a little confused by this parental display.  She piled her 3 kids into the back of the green Chevy Nova and off we went. 

The authors of my childhood were Beverly Cleary, Maya Angelou and Judy Blume.  Not too long after that I discovered James Baldwin.  I don’t remember my mother scrutinizing my stack of books which is why I could slip in James Baldwin at a fairly young age.  At that time children were really children.  This was before cable and the only source of corruption was the Brady Bunch, Threes Company and Fat Albert.  Even if my mother saw me reading James Baldwin she probably thought I was trying to learn about my black history.   

Somewhere along the way I lost my love of reading.  It probably started with all of the volumes of required reading for college and graduate school.  This was followed by jobs that required more reading.  When I got home in the evenings, the last thing I wanted to do was deal with more words.   But I kept reading anyway.  There were moments that I enjoyed but it felt a lot like laundry.  The main difference is that I could remember a time when I loved reading and that memory buoyed me along from book to book. 

It made no sense for me to approach a book like a kid trying to get through a plate full of peas. So I stopped trying.  I would read what I wanted and when I wanted.  I would read an article here and a blog there.  Sometimes I would read parts of books with no goal of completion.  This went on for a few years. 

Last May, I was with my walking buddy Arlene and we decided to visit a new library we noticed passed on our way to Arabia Mountain.  We casually walked around the library marveling at the architecture.  Eventually we got to the books to check out their selection.  Suddenly I had this urge to read which took me by surprise.   I ended up choosing Jonah’s Gourd Vine by Zorah Neale Hurston which was first published in 1934.  I loved the wonderfully flawed main character of preacher John Pearson.  The dialect was challenging and delightful.

I then turned to my own bookshelf for the next selection, Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin.   I savored every word.  When I finished the last chapter, I declared once again that Baldwin is the best.  Now, I’m reading Anne Lamott’s book – Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life.  She has some very practical suggestions that I find quite helpful.  I’m amused by her use of lavish sarcasm.

I continue to read as I can.  I take my time.   I lay across my bed with only a night lamp on and sometimes I burn a candle.  And the sensation is the same as it was a long, long time ago.   

Rediscovering Reading at the Stonecrest Library, Lithonia, GA

Raisin Bread French Toast

The weekend forecast was dismal.  In spite of it, I went out on Friday night to Jazz at the High Museum.  I had a really good time.  And when you've had a great time on a Friday night the best thing to follow up is a delicious breakfast the next morning.  On my way home, I stopped by the 24 hr. Kroger and picked up a few items to make french toast the next day.  I've made french toast with all kinds of bread including regular white or wheat bread.  I've also made it with challah bread.  I wondered what it would taste like if I made it with raisin bread.  I selected the cheapest raisin bread that I could find in the store with the lowest amount of calories and fat.  I found the Kroger brand which was $2.39.  The comparable name brand was about $3.99.

 

 

The weather, as predicted by the weather folks continued to be rainy and gloomy.  It was perfect for staying inside the house and fixing one of my favorite breakfast meals.   That would be followed by leisurely walking around in my pjs, drinking coffee and doing a little this and that.

Nothing but clouds in the sky...

I've been making french toast since I was a kid living at home with my parents.  I don't remember ever seeing a recipe.  I just remember always making it.  It's kind of like my father going into the kitchen and making some bread pudding or rice pudding.  One time I asked him how he made it and did he use a recipe and he said just put in some eggs, milk, sugar, vanilla, cinnamon and raisins.  Oh...ok.  For me, I'm going to need a recipe for that one although it is very similar to making french toast.   

This particular morning, I used two eggs and 1% milk which is what I keep in the house.  I usually add vanilla to the egg mixture and cinnamon.  On this day, I left out the vanilla flavoring because I figured that it wasn't needed since I was using the raisin bread.  Later that day, I discovered another cooking show, The Pioneer Woman, and Ree makes her french toast with egg yolks and half n half. 

I prefer fruit and yogurt on top of my french toast instead of syrup.  My favorite combination is apples, bananas and strawberries.  I prefer vanilla yogurt although this time I used a tablespoon or two of honey flavored greek yogurt. 

Sunday Get Away

Last Sunday I headed to Rome, Georgia for a reprieve and to visit Moriah.  Moriah is a sophomore in college.  When I was in my twenties, I lived with her family for about a year.  Moriah has two older sibblings and one younger sibbling.  I've known all of them since their birth.  When I was twentysomething, it never occured to me that one day I'd be visiting these same babies at college. 

I got in my car and headed north of Atlanta.  It was a beautiful and outstanding day.  I recently purchased a Garmin GPS unit because I was sick and tired of getting lost when I ventured into unknown territories. I put in the address of my location and merrily and trustingly went on my way.

Garmin told me to get off at exit 285 (I-75 North).  I went down some long and winding roads.  It was quite scenic.  Was Garmin leading me in the right direction?   Why didn't the exit sign say Rome? 

Once I saw cotton fields I knew I was going in the wrong direction.  I called Moriah.  She said, Oh Lord, Miss Karen!  I don't know where you are but we always take exit 290.   So I got back onto I-75 heading north.  I didn't need to buy a GPS unit to get lost. 

I made it to my destination.  Moriah jumped into the car and we went to get some food.  When I asked Moriah about restaurants she said, Now Miss Karen, I know you like to do the local thing but there aren't any good local restaurants in Rome.  So we ate at Chilli's and it was good.  We then headed to downtown Rome.  I wanted to check out The Old Town Clock. 

I hoped that we would be able to walk up to the top and view the city below but the doors were padlocked.

The Old Town Clock is on the National Register of Historic Places.

We hung around and took pictures.  Moriah...

 

 Me, AKA Miss Karen...



 The Fall leaves...

We left the clock, drove around and stopped here and there.  I took too many pictures to share.  Sometimes, when I paused to take another picture, Moriah said, OhLordMissKaren!  Moriah had my mouth watering about a downtown local bakery which we discovered was closed on Sundays.  From there we went to Jandy's for frozen yogurt.  That place was fun and delicious.  We also visited Berry College located on 26,000 acres - where there were many bicycles and few cars and the shiny black cattle looked relaxed and happy. 

We made it back to Moriah's campus and hung out for awhile.  I met her friends, roomate and suitemates.  She lovingly introduced me as her godmother.  I consider godchildren to be those that God has placed in your life that you are to watch over, support, pray for, mentor, guide, love and assist as they grow and develop.  I'm fortunate to be considered in that way.  We talked about everything, something and nothing.  It was a perfect day. 

TGIF (Thank God It's Fall)

Fall is my favorite season. I like everything about the Fall. The colors, the coolness and the start of the holiday season. My favorite holiday, Thanksgiving, is in the Fall. It is the one holiday where nobody really wants anything from anybody other than their love, friendship and maybe their food.

I enjoy walking in the Fall. I like the chill in the air and the crunchy sound of leaves beneath my feet. There’s this wonderful woodsy smell in the air that shows up in the Fall. I expect the alluring sweetness of the Spring vegetation. Yet, I’m still surprised that its Fall decay also provides a welcoming and pleasant aroma.

I cannot endure to waste anything as precious as autumn sunshine by staying in the house. So I spend almost all the daylight hours in the open air. - Nathaniel Hawthorne 

One of my favorite walking places is Arabia Mountain. I mean walking in a Henry David Thoreau kind of way. The trail goes on forever behind neighborhoods, into woods, alongside streams and amidst wildflowers. I’ve gone there with my walking buddy Arlene. We talk, we walk and pause to admire a flower, leaf or tree. I’m not one to walk trails alone mostly for safety reasons.  Besides, I tend to get creeped out rather easily. Alone, any of nature’s sounds trigger a sensation that something is after me -  like a Freddy Krueger or a crazed wild boar frothing at the mouth.

An early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day. - Henry David Thoreau 

I like the sense of transition that Fall brings. As children, my mother would send us on several trips to the basement to retrieve our Fall and Winter clothing. My mother would also take down her light and summery yellow and white kitchen curtains. I remember watching their whimsical movements against the air when the windows were open. In the Fall, their brown and white replacements were sturdy and protective against that same air.  In my own way, I do the same. I move clothes from one bedroom to another. I place a Fall wreath on the front door and just below, two planters full of mums.

Autumn - the reprieve from Summer. - Mike Garofalo

I like that things are coming to a close. I’m grateful for the seasons of life. We need things to begin. We need things to end.  And Fall is that reminder.  Thank God for the Fall.

Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile. - William Cullen Bryant 

Arabia Mountain Trail - Fall 2010

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. - Stanley Horowitz 

Some Things Never Die

Devin Zimmerman

Guest Blogger

Growing up, we were NASCAR fans. Diehard NASCAR friends. My dad had a network of 30 or so friends from across the Southeast who would all meet up and go to the races together. It was more like a family reunion every Spring and Fall when the loud group of rascals would roll into Douglasville with their pickup trucks, motorcycles and minivans. 

Living in Atlanta, the Zimmermans always had the privilege of hosting all the rowdy friends the night before the races at Atlanta Motor Speedway. The house would be packed and the garage would be rockin' when country came to town in anticipation of the 500 miles of asphalt-grinding excitement that would come the next day. Aviators were out in full swing and everyone wore the logos and sponsors of their favorite NASCAR drivers on those great Sunday mornings. 

My step mom and I always donned the task of preparing breakfast for our friends. Being a personal chef, my step mom was always the master of preparing in advance, thus breakfast was always on par for the hungry NASCAR fans and most of the time, some, if not all, was prepared the night before. My favorite (and the simplest) recipe is Stuffed French Toast.

When I moved to school and became a University of Georgia bulldog, I took on the same task - breakfast before home games. Every Saturday morning before we all made the 2-mile trek to Sanford Stadium to cheer on our dawgs, breakfast was at Devin's! All the neighbors, friends and family in town would come over to apartment 304 for morning mimosas (or Bud Light, if you're really classy) and the freshest prepared breakfast. The biggest hit of my college career and the football season of 2009 - Stuffed French Toast. 

So as the tradition continues, the recipe lives on. And while I mourn the death of my father, it brings great joy to me that I can give to my best friends what was given to his before the races. It's the simple things that we must all appreciate - like family recipes and loved ones.  Recently, I shared the recipe with my office. Some things never die. 

I hope you enjoy this simple recipe for your next big breakfast. In the words of the great Darryl Waltrip and as my Daddy and all his friends would say before each race - BOOGITY BOOGITY BOOGITY BOYS! Let's Go Racing!

Stuffed French Toast

1 loaf of homestyle white bread, unsliced

3 fresh peaches

2 packages cream cheese

2 cups milk

6 eggs

cinnamon

confectioners sugar

maple syrup

vanilla

Slice bread into 2-inch slices. Cut a small pocket into each piece. Soften cream cheese in microwave and add 1/2 cup confectioners sugar and 1 tsp vanilla extract. Stuff cream cheese mixture into the pocket-incisions in the bread. Be generous! Insert 1-2 slices of peaches into each piece of bread. Lay all pieces into a greased 9 x 13'' baking dish. Speckle tops with cinnamon and a coating of confectioners sugar. Mix eggs and milk in a bowl and pour generously over bread in baking dish. Cover and cool in refrigerator overnight.

In the morning, bake your Stuffed French Toast on 350 degrees for 40-45 minutes. Egg mixture will be fully cooked when ready. Sprinkle another coat of confectioners sugar and serve with your favorite maple syrup!  Enjoy!

 

Devin Z, as I call her, is a colleague and friend.  She easily falls into the category of real cool chick.  The two pans of stuffed french toast that she brought into the office were simply divine!   You can follow Devin Z on twitter @DevinZ - Karen



Betty Crocker's New Picture Cook Book

Sometime last year, my mother came for a visit and brought me her Betty Crocker New Picture Cook Book. This was the cookbook that we used growing up. We, refers to the female members of our household which was me and my mother. I don’t ever remember my father or my brothers picking up Betty Crocker. They could have cared less about that cookbook. Of course they cared greatly about the benefits of our use of it. My mother is a very good cook so it primarily functioned as a reference book in the same way a writer would use a dictionary or thesaurus. She was more than a proficient cook but from time to time had to look something up or was in search of a new recipe, especially side dishes. Karen…hand me that Betty Crocker. I used it a lot when baking cookies except for chocolate chip and oatmeal since recipes were always on the packaging.

Mom's Betty Crocker New Picture Cook Book was published in 1961. It is the third printing of the first edition. I’m not sure exactly what that means since the first Betty Crocker Picture Cookbook came out in 1950. The cook book poignantly captures a generation seemingly from a long time ago. People presented themselves more formally back then as aprons were worn in the kitchen by women in skirts and tables were set for dinner. Betty was actually a popular name.

On the first page the Betty Crocker New Picture Cook Book there is an announcement about a new kind of flour called “Instantized Flour”. It then goes on to tell how to use instantized flour and the advantages of its use. You gotta love these four advantages:
1. It pours like salt; it’s easy to measure.
2. It feels clean. It’s dust free.
3. It disperses instantly in liquids to smooth the way for lump-proof mixing.
4. It does not pack down, so measurements are always uniform
The cookbook has been held together for several years by an irregular-sized blue rubber band. When my mother brought it to me she thought I might have some ideas about putting it back together again. Maybe I could have it re bound or take each page and put it in a plastic cover and then into a notebook. I did none of those things. I have shown it to a few friends and periodically look through it. I really have no intention of disturbing it in any way or doing anything to try to preserve it. It mostly sits on the top of my counter in view. I like it there.

Daddy's Ambrosia

Daddy’s Ambrosia

6 oranges
8 ounce can of crushed pineapple
1 banana, diced
1 apple, diced
¼ cup of shredded coconut
Sweeten to taste

Yummy ambrosia. I’ve seen a variety of recipes of ambrosia but this one represents my family’s tradition. Every Christmas my father makes ambrosia. It is the only time of the year that he makes it. We would often eat it following Christmas dinner with a piece of home-made pound cake. Ambrosia is light, healthy and could be served year round. It is a great complement to any meal. In the morning, have it with a toasted bagel or scone. It could be a light snack or dessert.

Juice the oranges. In this case, I cut the six oranges in half and used a manual juicer. For this recipe, keep the juice along with the pulp. Pour into a larger bowl. Add the remaining ingredients and stir. This recipe can be sweetened with either sugar or artificial sweetener. I added 4 small packets of Sweet N Low. You may choose not to sweeten it at all.

A Tribute to My Father
I did not know how much you loved me until recently. When I was much younger I expected your love to come in the form of hugs, kisses and tenderness. This was not your way, nor was it your father’s way. I thought if it wasn’t the Cleaver’s or Cosby’s love, then there was no love. And sometimes mothers, because of the challenges that they face with the fathers add more complexities, impediments and smoke screens. And while little girls need the affection of their fathers, they also need a whole lot more. For so long I was asleep but now I am awake. Now it is quite clear to me. Love is provided in many different ways.

You loved me when you came home every night of my life. I remember lying in my bed and hearing the quick heavy steps in the kitchen and hallway. There was never a concern of where you were, what you were doing and who you were with because you were working. You had your government job by day and your tax business by night. I did not ever worry about the basics. There were also piano lessons, sports and camp – all requiring an investment of time and money. Even with that we were given a weekly allowance after completing our chores. You provided a stable home thus a firm foundation.

I remember when you taught me to ride a bike. You propelled me forward and yelled Pedal, pedal, pedal! I swerved and wobbled along the street trying to understand the relationship between pedaling and steering my new bike. Later, you taught me to drive a car and yelled Stay in your lane! Learning to ride a bike was much more fun.

You loved me when you required that I be educated. How many times did you tell me and my brothers about the importance of education? Girl…guess what? I walked 5 miles to school. You told me that grandpa wanted both of his girls to be educated, just in case they ended up marrying somebody sorry. That was a pretty strong conviction to have for girls born in the 30’s and 40’s.

You loved me by sharing stories about our history. You were born in 1934 in North Augusta, South Carolina. It was not the best time but it was your time. When a teen, you had to deny that you were in school so that you could get summer jobs. They wouldn’t hire you if they thought you were smart and trying to get an education. No suh…I don’t go to no school. And guess what girl? At the end of the summer we quit those jobs. Oh yeah…oh yeah! Then, you laugh hysterically. Later, you took your education, went to the bus station and got a one-way ticket to New York. The decision of how far north to go was based on what you had in your pocket that day. You did not allow your history to be a problem for me.

You also talked about Big Ma’s (your grandmother) house and how everybody would gather there together on Sundays. Everybody may have gone to different churches that morning but on Sunday afternoon you met at Big Ma’s house. During the week, your parents and 7 siblings ate off the land and didn’t eat meat every day. Dinner might have been some field peas and tomatoes. Nawww girl….we didn’t eat meat every day. No, no…nawwwwww. You told me about pound cakes that could stand up because that’s how big and dense they were. Even today when you mention these pound cakes you take off laughing. From time to time you ask me if I remember going down to the country. Coming from Maryland, visiting North Augusta was the country. But while there, I remember going down long dirt roads that never seemed to end, a car without air conditioning, and hot vinyl seats that my brown legs stuck to in the dead of summer. So yes, I remember. You always ask me if I remember something…probably so I won’t forget. Isn’t this also love?

And throughout my life you have loved me through jobs, relocations and apartments. You ask me about bosses, friends and places I have long forgotten. I remember when I called to tell you that I bought my first home. I never heard such excitement from you. Girl, that was the best thing you could have done for yourself! Over the years, you have loved me in so many different ways. It doesn’t really matter if I was paying attention or not. I was still being loved.