Noting Nothing Special

Many bits and pieces of memories crowd close this morning with no special theme or idea, so I will share whatever comes to mind. Things like the old coal furnace in my parent’s house, the warmth and the smell of smoke that escaped from the opened door as someone tossed in a shovelful or two of coal. It could have been my dad, Carl or my mom Sybil, or it could have been one of us kids as we grew older.

Money was tight and my dad was frugal. There were times my dad would take a pick, shovel, and a couple of buckets across Route 711 to an exposed vein of coal and collect some of the black fuel. The vein was about 24 inches high and nearly 5 feet wide. Most of the times dad bought and had coal delivered, but before the coal could be delivered in the fall of when the bin in the spring was running low, dad would add some of the free coal to his hoard.

I made some jelly yesterday and that reminded me of the wild strawberries or Concord grapes we would pick and Mom would make into jelly. Mom would cook and stir the gooey concoction until it thickened. She would ladle in into all sizes and shapes of jars that she’d collected and sterilized in hot soapy water. When the jars of jam had cooled a bit, she would pour a layer of melted wax over the top of the jelly to seal and preserve it to eat later.

I prepared some beets that were given to me yesterday. I pickled them to freeze instead of canning them like my mom and my wife Cindy would do. I ate several cooked beets with butter and salt as a reward.

The rest of the day, I vacuumed, dusted, and emptied the kitty litter. When I’m not out and about helping others, I lead a very uninteresting life. I have been rereading the stories in my “Tommy Two Shoes” series, trying to recapture the character of Tommy and work on more mysteries. I’m not John Steinbeck, but I enjoyed many of the storylines and phrases that I wrote.