Pay it forward...

And the winners are:

Linda Starr
Jennie
Bonber - Bonnie Williams Bertolino
Kobby (Katherine)

Linda I have all I need for you.  I will send yours out tomorrow.  Jennie I need for you to pick a color.  Bonnie, I need your address.  I have the color for the hat band.  Kobby you can drive out and pick yours up.

Thanks for playing along everyone.  Now, pay it forward.  You should create a post and then make something for five new people.  Keep the kindness going folks.

Please send contact information to: lwilliams315@gmail.com

The Theme for the Weekend has been...

suicide. O.K. All together now: eeew.  Yeah, I know.  I feel the same way.  It all started with a random reference in a book to a man who I knew 30+ years ago who had committed suicide at the ripe old age of 26.  I blogged about it and later was having a conversation with my sister about it.  She told me about the brother of a friend who, years ago, committed suicide on the day of the brother's wedding. How is THAT for spectacularly selfish?  We also discussed the death-by-his-own-hand of Robert Ramage, a charming Scotsman with a delightful accent who had worked with our father in the newspaper business.  Dad's accurate assessment of the act (especially since Ramage had left behind a wife and children) was "selfish bastard".  I have to admit I agree with him. 

So, my sister and I had our conversation about suicide. (And many other things since her husband had time to go to a fish fry, eat, socialize and return before we got off the phone. I have a knack for keeping people on the phone.  Reach out and touch someone indeed.)

About two hours later the phone rang.  From the area code I could see it was a call from WVA.  I have a dear friend, Gladys, who just moved to the Mountain State a month ago so I presumed it was she.  Sure enough it was.  She told me that a mutual friend of ours whom we had worked with in the Neurosurgery Department at Harborview Hospital back in the 90's had committed suicide by jumping off of the Admiral Way Bridge in West Seattle on Tuesday.  Boy, was that a surprise.  I didn't know Sheila as well as Gladys had, but we had been on a friendly basis and I liked her. She was a spitfire with a quick laugh and smile and a joking manner.  Who knew what was brewing in her head to make her do something like that? Gladys had lived in Durham not too long ago and Sheila and another friend from the Neurosurgery Department had traveled out to visit.  They were gracious enough to make the trip up to visit us in Charlottesville. Sheila was the same old friendly, happy-go-lucky gal whom I had known in Seattle.  Apparently shortly after they returned from that trip Sheila started hanging out with an older man and cut off a lot of her ties to old friends.

Gladys told me lots of folks from the old Department (Sheila had moved to a different Dept at Harborview by this time) had tried to get in touch with her over the years.  Apparently there had been rumors.  Drugs, money problems...that kind of thing.  Of course that's all pure speculation at this point.  It's folks who cared, but couldn't get through to her who are trying to justify this horrid act in their own minds.  Can't blame them.  I do know some of these people and I know they would have helped Sheila if she had let them.  So, I am saddened by the news.  I do know that it is a supremely selfish act. I am sorry for Sheila and her family. I am sorry that her brother had to go to the police station to file a missing person's report only to be led to the morgue to identify her body.  I am sad for all the patients, co-workers and friends who won't have Sheila around to share a joke or a Seattle sunset.  I am sad for all the folks who may have seen her jump from the bridge and whose lives will be a little darker for that vision. 

In case anyone reading this doesn't get it, suicide is selfish.  It is a horrible way to leave your friends, co-workers, family and even random strangers on the street who have to deal with the aftermath.  There is no money problem so big, no addiction so great, no angst so deeply felt that it cannot be overcome if you just get the right kind of help.  I'm not saying that you need to just pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again like the old song says.  I'm saying there are good, honest, caring professional people out there who can help you no matter how bad you think things are.  I think folks who end up committing suicide are living inside their heads too much.  They're blinding them selves to the efforts of family and friends who are reaching out to help them.  I have no idea why. I just know that there are lots of solutions out there no matter the problem.  So, this is my PSA for the week.  If you're considering suicide seek help.  Call a hotline, visit your minister, pray, go see a friend, reach out and touch someone.  Just don't go jumping off of bridges.  Leaving behind a legacy of pain, guilt and anger is not the way to go out.  Just don't do it.

Happy Birthday Lee

Happy Birthday Lee.  Your style, wit, charm and grace are missed.  Love you lots, Les

A Literary Lagniappe

I love a good story; one that is well told with a good turn of phrase. Consequently, I was delighted to discover Andre DuBus, III recently. I picked up a copy of Townie – A Memoir. I wasn’t far into the book before I was doing a Google search on his name. I discovered that he is a cousin of James Lee Burke, one of my favorite writers. In fact, the extended DuBus/Burke family is chock full of talented writers I was happy to learn.

But this was not the lagniappe of which I speak. As I was far along in the story, DuBus was lamenting that he wished he could write like Breece D’J Pancake, a writer whose prose was, in DuBus’ words, honest. I could scarcely believe this reference to a name from my past. I knew Breece. In fact I went out with Breece once in college.

My fourth year at UVA (senior year at any other University), I was roommates with an English major, Greer Trotter Warren. Greer was quite a character with an outgoing personality and a unique perspective on life. One night early in the fall semester, Greer had a friend stop by. This was a pleasant tall blonde man who was a friend from the English Department at UVA. This was Breece.

I think it was a Thursday which was the night that normally kicked off the weekend at UVA. Greer and I were hanging out…not doing much of anything when Breece dropped in to say hello. Greer introduced us and the three of us sat chatting. Then Breece decided that we needed to come out to the country to his apartment – an efficiency attached to a larger home in the toney Farmington Country Club grounds – because he had a fabulous new recording of Gregorian Chants to listen to. Was this code for etchings I wondered?

So, we all piled into Breece’s car and off we went to Farmington. His room wasn’t large at all. It basically had a bed and desk with a bathroom off one end and a charming little cooking/kitchen unit in the corner. He also had, outside of his front door, a mini-keg. Seriously, he was the only man I ever knew who kept his own keg. Sure enough, Breece put on his recording of Gregorian Chants (REALLY!) and Greer sat on the bed and said she felt like a slice of sugar cured ham. O.K. it was kind of an odd evening. Then after a bit Breece pulled out a handgun and showed it to us. Creeped me out because I have a serious aversion to guns. I have a negative physiological reaction to guns and I certainly don’t like to handle them. I was ready to leave and said so and Breece piled us into the car and off we went, back to the apartment.

I didn’t think much about it, and got on with the business of being a student. Early in the following semester I got a call from Breece and he asked me out. It was the weekend of January 28th, 1977. The date has stuck with me because that was the weekend that Freddy Prinze committed suicide by shooting himself in the head. We talked about that in the car on the way to the bar (to drink beer, naturally). I remember distinctly Breece saying he would never do that because he knew a guy in his hometown who had done that and had botched the job. The resulting permanent mental handicap left this guy doing nothing more than sweeping the city streets. Breece said he could never do that, would never end up being like that.

So, we passed a pleasant evening, drinking beer and chatting. He told me about having done some traveling and how he got free breakfast by showing his driver’s license. He’d go to a diner and make a bet with the waitress about his last name. Sure enough, once he produced the license he’d be rewarded with a free breakfast. Who had a last name of “pancake”? All in all it was a pleasant evening. It was a one time deal. He was nice and I like to think I’m a nice person but there was no chemistry.

I didn’t think any more about Breece – or Greer for that matter. She had taken off second semester to go travel in Europe. Greer’s and my relationship was one based in necessity. She was a friend of a friend who had needed a room for a semester while she saved money to travel on. I had needed a roommate for at least part of the year, so it was a fit for both of us. We all went on our merry ways.

In the spring of 1979, I was working as a substitute teacher and living in an apartment in Charlottesville. I came home from school one day and picked up the paper and to my dismay saw an obituary for Breece Pancake. I was stunned. I immediately called Greer and asked what she knew. She, too, was shocked and said, “I’ll call you right back” and hung up. Greer was well connected in the English Department and she knew how to get information. I thought surely this was a mistake, but how could it be a mistake. It wasn’t like this guy’s name was Joe Smith. Breece Pancake is a pretty unique name. Greer called back and confirmed that it was Breece. I couldn’t believe it when she told me he had committed suicide by shooting himself in the head with a gun. How could that be, especially after the conversation we had that night of our one date. Greer said he had been given a choice assignment in the Graduate English Department and that he was dating someone he really cared for. By all accounts his life was going well, things were good.

I have often thought of Breece in the thirty plus years since that day when I found out about his suicide. So, I was intrigued at DuBus’ reference to him. I knew he was a graduate student in the English Department which meant he was probably working on his PhD. Naturally that would indicate that he had done some writing, but I was never aware of the kind of writing or if he had been successful. So I was off to Google again, to do another search. How surprised and please I was to find that he was a good writer and in fact has been recognized as one of the best to come out of West Virginia. A volume of his short stories was published posthumously in 1983 and was reissued in 2002. I am pleased for his family and his girlfriend who loved him; glad that they have a tangible representation of his talent; his greatness at his craft. I am sad, though, about the choice he made and the fact that by taking his life he prevented the rest of us from enjoying all that he had to offer.

So, that was my lagniappe, my unexpected gift. I will order a copy of his work and will read it. I am sure it will be good. I suspect it will make me a bit melancholy for a nice man who shared a couple of evenings with me many moons ago.

Pay it forward Hawaiian style.

The attractive and alluring Lisa Luther.

Waaaaaay back in December I participated in my sister's pay-it-forward competition on her blog.  Much to my surprise I won!  (She SWEARS it was legit, that Mark picked the names.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)  Anyhow, it's now my turn to pay it forward. 

Now, paying it forward for Meredith is a great deal for the lucky recipient because she's a talented potter and she is able to "pay out" some of the much desired fruits of her labor...i.e. some very nice pottery.  I'm not so talented, but I can do some crafty things.   

One of those crafty items is a Hawaiian lei hat band.  I learned to crochet these from my friend Betty.  Betty once lived in Hawaii and she learned from a native on Oahu.  These can be used as hat bands, as leis or as headdresses.  Some creative types have even been known to use them as boas for sock monkeys.  The sky's the limit!  (I hear the escaped Boa from the Bronx reptile exhibit even longs for one...especially on cold nights!)

Anyhooo if you're interested in being the proud recipient of a hand crocheted Hawaiian lei hat band leave a message in the comments.  (Hat not included....you'll have to supply your own.) Let me know what colors you might prefer and I'll pick THE MOST BEAUTIFUL ONE just for you!!

Comments will close on 4/4/11 and I will post the names of the four lucky winners on 4/5/11.  Good luck!

Shades of orange and green

Turquoise, blue, black and white combos



Lots of purple/blue combinations

  

Lee's Tiles

 Lee may be gone but her art lives on.  If you're interested in buying a guaranteed one-of-a-kind tile hand made by Lee Lewis they're available through Whynot Pottery.  Please peruse the listing below and email Meredith (Meredith@whynotpottery.com) or me (Leswill@hotmail.com) if you want to purchase one.  They will be priced as follows: small $24, medium $36 and large $42.  Taxes, shipping and handling are an additional fee.  All proceeds will go to Lee's estate. (Click on the pictures to see an enlarged view.)

1. Large $42 (ignore the sticker on the tile)




9. Large $42

 

10. Medium $36



12. Medium $36



14. Large $42

15. Large $42

16. Medium $36

17. Large $42



Happy Birthday to you...

Happy Birthday big bro.  I don't care where you are you will always be 5 years and 3 days older than I am.  Take care of Lee.

Love you,

Les

Three is too few...

I am the youngest of five children.  I have always been and as far as I am concerned I always will be. This is true in spite of the sneaky, evil conniving disease that has taken my oldest brother and sister from me.  Three just doesn't seem enough.  It was bad enough when Jay succumbed in October after a valiant struggle with cancer.  It was a further horror when Lee was diagnosed with metastatic melanoma in January.  Hadn't we just done this?  Wasn't the sacrifice of our oldest brother enough?  How greedy is the cancer monster after all?  We needed time to heal after saying good bye to the oldest child, the fair haired boy...the smart, funny and irreverent senior member of the frantic five.  To have Lee taken from us so soon and so suddenly was adding insult to injury.  How cruel can this evil beast be?

So, we are reeling.  My mother, 82 a rubbin' 83 as my dear departed cousin Lonnie would say, is stoically soldiering on.  Her mind still sharp even if her body is abandoning her at this stage, I know she feels this deeply and painfully.  Oh, she loves us all, but your two first born...not to mention surviving your children.  That has to be a special kind of hell on earth.  I know that we siblings are feeling it and I'm quite certain she is too, although she chooses not to wail, gnash teeth and rant.  Just as well, I'm reserving those behaviors for myself. 

Jay: the oldest and the smartest.  Oh, he would tell you he was the smartest, no holds barred with that guy.  He was always very capable and confident.  And yes he really was quite smart...it was not just bravado.  He had the gray matter and moxie to back it up.  When we first moved to Norfolk and lived in a nice comfortable blue collar neighborhood we would occasionally encounter a bully on the block.  If they teased any of the rest of us, Mr. Smart Guy would first try to reason with them.  If what he was saying went over their heads or they just persisted in being a-holes he would resort to fisticuffs and beat the crap out of them.  He was nothing if not protective of his younger siblings.

Lee was the classy one, the artist.  She dressed to the nines and had style and grace.  She loved and created beautiful things with soothing colors.  We used to love playing the game, MasterMind with her because her color combinations were easy to guess.  She would never use any colors that were not complementary.  When you eliminate half the pallete then it's just a matter of order.  As she grew older and her artistic talents blossomed she was the one who did the decorating for family events.  When my parents had big dinner parties and Thanksgiving buffets it was up to Lee to arrange the flowers and create the elaborate tablescapes for the buffet.  She had flair. She had style.

Jay went on to become a lawyer.  After a brief stint with a large firm in D.C. this guy who liked nature and fishing and such ended up moving to SW Virginia to set up practice with an old law school buddy.  It was the perfect fit for a guy who enjoyed being a big fish in a small pond.  He was also nothing more than a good old boy at heart.  He was never happier than when he was hanging with the locals and picking their brains and sharing information on where the best fishing holes were or how to fix a bad socket.  He just liked people and he liked regular people.  He didn't really go for high fallutin'.

Lee got her degree in fine arts but ended up being side tracked for many years by the banquet and catering business for a large hotel. She did well there but eventually tired of depending on flaky 20 year olds.  They often neglected to show up to staff the banquets and weddings, resulting in her having to cover for them by waiting tables and bartending...whatever needed doing and whenever it needed to be done.  She worked days, evenings and weekends and it finally wore her down.  It was not necessarily the gal who asked her for a corkscrew to open a bottle of champagne...it was a legion of sweet young things who didn't have the sense not to put a sharp object in a pressurized bottle that lead to her finally saying adios to a job that had gotten to be too much.  After all she had made a conscious decision not to have children.  Goodness knows she didn't want to raise anyone else's.  She was fortunate enough to fall into the faux finishing business and was finally able to make a living doing the art she loved.  She was good at it.

So, now they're gone and we are a smaller family and lesser people for it.  I loved these two.  They were fun, interesting and funny.  Life will not be the same without them.  Hold the ones you love and let them know you love them. Life really is too darned short.

Add a little red sunshine to your winter blues...we be jammin'

Oh, winter...deadly, dreary winter.  It's wearing long and hard on many folks this February of 2011...the longest "shortest" month of the year.  What to do when it will be months and seems like years until you get to see green grass and lots of sunshine?  Make some in your kitchen.

This being the era of global food where you can get EVERYTHING any month of the year, it's not too hard to do.  (Does anyone remember when fruits and veggies were actually SEASONAL in the grocery store?  Made them all the more special when the fruit was in-season.)  Anyway, since you can get anything at any time run out and buy yourself some strawberries...as many as your budget will allow.  Then let's get jammin'.

You will need fresh strawberries, sugar, a pan, a thermometer and some patience.

Wash and hull the strawberries.  Cut them however you like.  I generally just cut them in half.  Some folks mash them.  Do whatever floats your boat.

Measure the amount of strawberries.  Pour them in a pan. Use a decent pan with a good bottom that distributes the heat more evenly. 

Add sugar.  I had just over two cups of strawberries and I added a cup and a half of sugar.  Many recipes call for a 1:1 ratio of strawberries to sugar, but I like to reduce the sugar a little.  Google a recipe if you like and follow that if you want, but whatever you do GET COOKING!

Stir strawberries and sugar on low until the sugar melts.  Turn the heat up to a roiling boil.  Just remember to stir to keep the mixture from burning.  Get out your thermometer and attach it to the side of the pan and keep an eye on it.  The heat range for good jelly is between 180 and 220 degrees.  Test periodically for jelling. 

Place three plates in a freezer... after about 10 minutes of boiling place a tsp of the liquid of the jam onto the cold plate. Return to freezer for a minute. Run your finger through the jam on the plate... if it doesn't try to run back together (if you can make a line through it with your finger) it's ready.



I love these "working" glasses.  They come with their own top and can be used for drinks or food storage.  Versatile!



If you're going to eat the strawberry jam right away then you don't need to do the sterile canning thing. You can just put it in a clean container and start noshing that winter sunshine! Enjoy.

Eh? What's that you say?  You don't have anything to put under that jam??  Well, I trotted out an oldie but goodie from the 70's last weekend.  Easy no-knead whole wheat bread.  Here's the recipe.  Give it a try...it's yummy.

Ingredients:

1.5 cups whole wheat flour

1/4 cup sugar

1 TB salt

2 Pkg active dry yeast

1 cup water

1 cup milk

1/4 cup cooking oil

1 egg

2.5 - 3 cups all purpose or unbleached flour

Combine whole wheat flour, sugar, salt and yeast in a mixing bowl.  Set aside.  Pour water, milk and cooking oil into a pan.  Heat on stove until 120 to 130 degrees. 

Add beaten egg and warm mixture to the flour mixture.  Blend at low speed until moistened, then beat at 2 minutes at medium speed.  By hand stir in 2.5 - 3 cups unbleached or all purpose flour to form a stiff batter (Batter will follow spoon. I confess I used my Kitchen Aid with the dough hook and it worked just fine.)  Cover batter and let rise in warm place (80 - 85 degrees) until light and doubled - about 50 minutes.

About 5 - 10 minutes before you need to process the batter preheat oven to 375 (350 for glass pans) and generously grease one 9 X 5 or two 8 X 4 inch loaf pans. 

Stir down batter.  Spoon into greased pan(s).  This batter does not rise a second time before baking.  Immediately place in oven.  Bake 9 X 5 pans at 375 for 45 to 50 minutes and 8 X 4 inch pans for 30 to 35 minutes - until loaf sounds hollow when lightly tapped.  Remove from pans immediately.  Cool on rack.  Brush top with melted butter if desired.

Lee

My sister, Meredith, has posted about our oldest sister, Lee, on her blog at Whynot Pottery.  That gives you about all the details you need about Lee's current situation and how Meredith and I both feel about it.  Meredith has done a very brave thing posting pictures of Lee because she has ALWAYS hated having her picture taken.  I have no clue why.  For me she was always the tall, gorgeous, elegant and talented older sister.  Blonde and green eyed, she didn't take after the Henderson side of the family.  We're all short with dark hair and eyes.  With naturally curly hair (you should have seen her 'fro in high school), she has always had a flair for stylish dressing and has never exited any abode looking less than her very best.  So, short, squat me who tends to the sweat pants and t-shirt style of dressing is still wondering why the heck she's not posing for every camera she sees.  Anyhow, at the risk of getting on her bad side I thought I'd add a few more pictures.  She lives in NC and I live in VA...she's gonna have to come get me if she wants to complain.

Jay, Lee and Chris.  Meredith would've have been about 18 months.  I would have been 4 months.

 



Jay, Lee, Chris and Joel Haas.

 Daddy carving the pumpkin with his full complement of offspring in attendance.

 Christmas 1956.  I would've been 2, Meredith would have just turned 4, Chris would have been 5, Lee would have been 6 and Jay would have been 7.

Lee in their old rental house in Raleigh.  2003 or 2004

 Lee putting the finishing touches on Jay and Leslie's wedding cake.  2003

 Lee in mom's back room.  Christmas 2003

 

Christmas 2003

 At Celebration of Seagrove Potters 2009 with Meredith.

 At Celebration of Seagrove Potters 2009 with Meredith.

 Hanging some of her sheep tiles in the Why Not Pottery store.  November 2010.

On the porch at 727.  July 1994.

 On the porch at 727. July 1994.

With Meredith and me at Joel and Katie's wedding.  October 2009

Thank goodness I've replaced my lousy camera since then.

 With Tony at the wedding reception.

The three sisters.  Double double, toil and trouble...



Chicken Tortilla Soup

Last year I got a hankering for chicken tortilla soup.  Lacking a favorite recipe I took to the interweb and googled it.  I found multiple recipes, and finally settled on one.  I made minimal changes and this has turned into one of my favorites.  This is the perfect season for soup so read on.

Ingredients:

1 can diced tomatoes

1 can corn

1 can beans (I prefer black beans)

chicken broth - I use one of those 32 oz cartons

cooked chicken

diced onion

garlic

1/3 cup grits

1 can diced chiles

2 tsp chili powder

1 tsp oregano

grated cheese

tortilla chips

sliced avocado

sour cream (optional)

diced green onion

 Chop onion and garlic and saute in olive oil.

You may also use a couple of tsp of bottled grated garlic - whichever floats your boat.

Add the diced chiles.  The original recipe called for the small can of diced chiles.  I prefer the large can.  Just toss the whole thing in there, juice and all.

Ooops..forgot to include the spices in the picture of ingredients.  My darling daughter got this Chili at a spice shop near her apartment in (sadly) another city.  Sadly because my daughter is adorable AND the spice store smells divine. 

I like to add the spice to the sauted onion, garlic and chiles mixture.  I love the way the colors look in the pot.

While your mixture is cooking, open and drain all of the remaining canned items: beans, corn and tomatoes.  You can add the tomatoes without draining if you prefer.  Again, I like the blend of colors with all three ingredients in the colander.

Add your chicken to the mixture.  I vary the method I use for the chicken based on what I have on hand and what I'm going to use for that pot of soup.  If I have leftover chicken from another meal I'll use that.  Sometimes I chop a chicken breast into small piece and cook that up and toss it in the soup.  Or you can simmer some chicken in some of the broth, cool and shred it for the soup.  Then you can add the chicken stock into the soup so it doesn't go to waste.  If you choose this method, simmer the chicken on low so it doesn't become too rubbery.

To all this add 1/3 cup of grits.  The original recipe called for hominy.  Being a Southern girl I always have grits on hand, but rarely have hominy on hand, so I made the substitution.  One advantage is that this will thicken the soup making it more like a stew.  If you prefer the hominy, use a full cup.

Add the drained corn, beans and tomatoes.



Add the broth and let the soup simmer for a short time.  The grits will begin to absorb some of the liquid, so add more broth if you need to.  Stir periodically so the grits don't cook onto the bottom of the pot.

The finished product. Actually this soup is just a vehicle for all the fun stuff you can put in it.  Serve small bowls of tortillas, grated cheese, chopped or sliced avocado, and chopped green onions for the toppings.  If you like you can also add a dollop of sour cream.  There's plenty of winter left so get cooking!