Week 49: Family Recipe

For generations of my Williams family line one of the most loved foods has been homemade noodles.  Noodles could be paired with beef or chicken, but either way they were delicious.  I grew up watching my mom make noodles, just like she had watched her mom and grandma make them.  Once I got married I asked for the recipe, but it turns out there wasn't ever one written down.  Instead, the noodles were made by example, by watching, and by learning just how the dough should feel when it was just right for rolling out.  

Well, I'm  a recipe follower.  I needed more specific directions before I'd try them on my own. So one day as my mom made noodles I wrote down as closely as I could what was happening so once she wasn't there I'd have a record of the process.  It's still not precise, but I do have a starting point.

Meem's Noodles

                            -About 2 cups of flour

                            -4 whole eggs, beaten with a fork

                            Gradually add flour to the eggs until it forms a ball you can handle

                            that's not too sticky.  Place the ball on a floured board or counter and

                            roll out thin.  Let the rolled dough dry for about two hours, then cut

                            it into fourths and stack the pieces.  Slice into pieces about 3" long and

                            however width you want them.  Toss the noodles with more flour and

                            spread out to dry further before cooking in broth.

As a little kid, my favorite way that Mom served them is when she would open a can of beef that my grandpa had given us from one of his cows, mix it with beef broth, and simmer until the beef was tender.  Then it was time to get the mixture to a stronger simmer and to add the noodles a few at a time, stirring to make sure they didn't clump together.  The noodles would absorb some of the beef broth and thicken the mixture a little.  They were best served along with mashed potatoes and a vegetable.  I know, that's a lot of carbs on one plate.  But there was something magical about noodles and beef and mashed potatoes all mooshed together on my plate that made me eat and eat until I couldn't take another bite. 

Mom was cleaning up here after noodle making in this shot taken at my house in Texas in 2012.  We had a mini-reunion for Mom with her brothers Bob and Leo; their wives Pat and Bev; my Aunt Kay (widow of Mom's brother Joe); my dad and my sister Janet; and my cousin Bobbie Jo and her husband Jeff.  This day Mom made noodles for us just like Grandma would have.  We had lots of laughs and fun that week hearing the stories that Mom, Bob, and Leo told us about their lives and sharing some of the foods they grew up with.  

Now, just eleven years later, Uncle Bob is gone.  Aunt Bev is gone.  Dad is gone. Aunt Kay is in assisted living.  Uncle Leo is in assisted living, debilitated by lung cancer.  Mom is in assisted living hampered by memory loss.  I'm so glad we had that week together while they were all healthy and able to travel because the memories I have will always be in my heart.  

At the Dallas Arboretum

Bob, Pat, Mom, Janet, Dad, Kay, Leo

Aunt Bev and Uncle Leo

Aunt Pat and Uncle Bob

Aunt Kay, Mom, Aunt Bev

Uncle Leo, Dad, Janet

Week 48: Troublemaker

 

Depression has been a troublemaker in the generations directly before and after mine.  I started wondering how common depression might be in the general population.

From what I can find, it seems that about 1 out every 10 people in the United States will experience major depressive disorder sometime in their life and for some reason, twice as many women as men are affected.  I wondered what part genes might play in causing depression.  

In an article titled "Depression and Genetics" on a Stanford University website, I learned that scientists study patterns of illness in families to estimate what percentage of their cause is due to genes.  One method used is to find pairs of twins to see how common it might be for just one of the pair to have depressive disorder versus both of the pair to be affected.  Studies have found that anxiety and depression are partly hereditary since identical twins (who share 100% of their genes) are more likely to have both disorders when compared to pairs of fraternal twins (who share 50% of their genes).  As of now, no single gene has been identified as the cause.  It may be that combinations of different genes inherited from parents that affect a person's chance of being depressed.  Even if genetics are partly the cause, there are other factors like environment, lifestyle, and personal experiences to be considered.

Whatever the cause, depression is a tough disorder.  In my maternal line alone there have been:

• three out of four of my mom and her siblings
• two out of three of me and my siblings
• three out of three of my children

Luckily for my generation, my offspring, and for some in the previous generation, there have been anti-depressants (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors or SSRIs) to help. During the 18th and 19th centuries, common treatments were diet changes, enemas, water immersion, and even a spinning stool to put the brain back into a correct position.  In the 20th century, electroconvulsive therapy was sometimes applied to the scalp to induce a seizure as treatment.  Finally, in the 1950s doctors noticed that a tuberculosis medication seemed to be effective in treating some depression patients.  In the 1980s and 90s SSRIs began to be developed.  

There's no way for me to tell from looking at my family tree to tell which of my early ancestors may have had depression disorder, but it must have been immensely difficult to live with those feelings without having effective treatment or understanding of them.   

Week 47: This Ancestor Stayed Home

                                         

At the foot of a massive tree in the Pleasant Grove Cemetery in Warsaw, Indiana, there's a headstone gradually being hidden by its trunk.  My 2x great-granduncle Abraham Scott is buried there.  I've thought about two decisions that he made in his life and have wondered what made him make those choices.  In both cases, he stayed home when others of his family left for the frontier or for war.  What caused him to stay behind?

Abraham was born on 7 Jun 1830 in Lexington Township, Stark County, Ohio, the first born child of  Caleb Scott and his second wife, Mary Ivins.  According to the Biographical and Historical Record of Kosciusko County 1887, Abraham was apprenticed to learn the trades of stonecutting, stonemasonry, and bricklaying when he was 18 years old.  For the next fifteen years he practiced the trade in both Stark and Columbiana Counties in Ohio and was one of the masons who built the first brick building in Alliance, Ohio.

In 1850, just two years after his apprenticeship began, the rest of Abraham's family left Ohio, headed west to the newer state of Indiana.  Abraham said good bye to his 51 year old father and 41 year-old mother. He said good bye to his siblings:  Samuel (18), Emeline (16), William (14), Caleb Shreve (12), Isaac (10), Joseph (8), Mary Jane (7), Joshua (5), Amasa (2), and newborn Nancy Ellen.  It must have been a lonely feeling to see the wagons leave, not knowing if he'd ever see his family again.  Why did he stay?  By the mid-1800s apprenticeships had changed from the formal system followed in England and the American colonies.  Very few young men were bound by formal contracts to live under the rule of the master tradesman and instead were paid for their work as they learned the trade.  Did Abraham love the trade and want to continue learning more about it?   I wonder.

On 28 Oct 1852, 22-year old Abraham married Mary Catherine Hilton Hoils, a widow with three children.  Catherine, as she was known, was four-and-a half years older than he was and had three children by her first husband.  Over the next ten years Abraham and Catherine lived in Stark County and grew their family with three sons--Caleb Frank in 1853, William in 1856, and James Marion in 1862.  Sadly, William died at age 5, just thirteen months before James Marion was born.

In 1862, soon after James was born, Abraham and Catherine left Ohio and followed the road to Kosciusko County, Indiana, where Abraham's family had settled twelve years earlier .  In 1863 he and Catherine purchased 155 acres of heavily timbered land in Washington Township of Kosciusko County near the settlement of Packerton.  Abraham built a rudimentary log cabin (that must have felt strange for a trained mason) and began the work of clearing the land for planting with only a team of oxen. 

During the same two years that Abraham moved and began clearing his new land in Indiana, others men in Indiana were leaving to join the Union army.  Six of his brothers made that decision and headed off to the war.  But 32-year old Abraham chose to stay home in Indiana with his wife and five children.  Four of his brothers who left were young single men; was widowed, with a young daughter; and one was newly married.  Did Abraham feel that he had too many responsibilities at home?  Did he think it was a war for younger men?  I wonder.

Over the course of the rest of his life Abraham transformed his acreage.  The Biographical and Historical Record of Kosciusko County 1887 gave this description of the farm:

"His present farm now consists of 155 acres of well-improved land, and his primitive log cabin and sheds have been replaced by one of the best residences in the county, his barns and outbuildings being correspondingly good."

Abraham and Catherine had two more children after moving to Indiana.  In 1865 daughter Ida May Scott was born and in 1869 son Isaac L. G. Scott was born.  Sadly, in 1872 young James Marion died of typhoid-pneumonia just a few months before his 10th birthday.  In 1879 Abraham and Catherine adopted their 5-year old niece Sarah Frush after Abraham's sister Nancy Ellen Scott Frush died. Abraham would live to see a third son die when Caleb Frank Scott passed away in June of 1898.

Six months later on 10 Dec 1898 Abraham himself died.  In various local newspapers he was described as a prominent farmer; and old and respected citizen; an upright citizen; and a man widely known for his honesty and Christian character.  It was mentioned that he had been ill for two years before his death and that "his death came as a merciful release from the suffering."  He was 68 years, 6 months, and 3 days at his passing.

Week 46: This Ancestor Went to Market

 

Mom and Dad in 1973 with their Lake Havasu tans

Why was there no apostrophe???

My dad, Donald Duane Scott, "brought the market" to thousands of customers over the years. Between 1970 and 1989 Dad owned Scotties Catering in Lake Havasu, Arizona, where he drove a mobile food truck that delivered breakfasts, lunches, and dinners to factory and construction workers and employees of small businesses. At first it was just Dad with one truck but over the years other drivers and trucks were added.  

Dad would wake up around 4 a.m. to get the ovens in the back of the trucks lit so they'd be hot when breakfast sandwiches, burritos, burgers, and hot dogs were loaded. The trucks would have been cleaned, restocked, and iced the evening before but in the morning more ice would be added on to refresh the layer covering the sodas and to keep the cold sandwiches that would be loaded cool. Melt-ables like candy bars were brought from cool storage out to the truck shelves.  Relishes were stocked to be ready for the burgers and hot dogs.  Coffee was brewed and poured into the urns. Cigarette stocks were checked.  Then it was time to get armed with the supplies to take the customers' money. Coins were carried in a changer and currency in a canvas belt worn the waist. The previous night the coins and currency had been counted and then a set amount reloaded.  By the time his truck was ready for the road he had worked several hours.

Dad was a well-known and respected figure in Lake Havasu. Before my first summer job of driving one of the trucks I rode along with him on his route for a few days to learn the job. I remember being amazed at how many people in town knew Dad by name, wanted to talk and joke with him when they made a purchase, and considered him a friend. He had a soft heart when someone was short on cash before payday and would extend credit if he knew them. His method for keeping track of charges was to write them on his hand (and sometimes up his arm) in ink so he could transfer it later to paper. Dad loved to trade jokes with his customers and some of his favorites sometimes got a handful of ice thrown at them--trust me, they liked it. For a good portion of the year Lake Havasu is a beastly hot place to work.  His truck had an air horn that blasted an "Ah-Oo-Ga" to let everyone know that Scottie was on the premises.

Scotties Catering was a family affair. My mom was the head cook and kitchen manager, overseeing the making of thousands of sandwiches, hard boiled eggs, and soups over the years. My sister excelled at wrapping hot dogs, driving trucks,  and later at baking banana bread and cookies.  So.  Many. Cookies.  My brother helped clean and service the trucks and occasionally drove a route. During summers after my first three years in college I drove a route.  

Drivers came and went over the 19 years, but Dad was the constant face of Scotties Catering. After several heart attacks it was time to hang up his changer for the last time and enjoy a retired life. Dad sold the business to a nice family who kept the logo so the Scotties trucks still ran for many years.  When Dad passed away in 2014 my sister located one of the Scotties trucks and had it parked outside the church at his funeral.