Categories
Writing

2000 Family Reunion

Nadolski Reunion 1946

Mother sent this email on Aug. 13, 2000, after a family reunion in Davenport, Iowa.

The Nadolski family reunion was held on the 12th of August, 2000 at Fejervary Park in Davenport, Iowa. The reason that park was chosen is that in the old days we often had family picnics there and when they where alive, Catherine and Frank Nadolski held court, she in her dark flowered dress with a lacy collar and he in his dark pants, white shirt and suspenders. They sat in a prominent position, where they could see everything that was going on.

Grandpa would take his cane and hook a child around the waist, or sometimes the neck, and pull them toward him so that he could ask them questions and, I presume, when you gave the right answer to his question he sometimes gave you a nickel. Of course, a nickel meant much more then than it does now.

You could get an ice cream cone for a nickel or a candy bar. Grandma sat in her place and rarely smiled and didn’t ever have a conversation with me, or any other kid that I saw. Their daughters and their daughter’s families would provide the food and take the opportunity to have a good time together.

The kids all loved it. It was a fine park with swings and slides and Indian Rock to climb on and we had the best time. The food was always the best.

Traditional Polish foods as well as plenty of potato salad, deviled eggs, hot dogs and cakes and pies and my personal favorite, bologna with mustard on white bakery bread. I don’t think any of the families where rich, certainly we weren’t, but the pleasure of the moment and the memories of those simpler times in our lives is priceless beyond all wealth. When ‘family’ was not only a bunch of people with a genetic link, but a group of people with a palpable connection. Not only that, we could see our connection right there in Fej park; she in her long dress and he with his cane. They where and are our connection. The genes that live in all of us and show up in so many faces. The driving force that impacted on the way each of us have lived our lives.

It was with those memories and the warm heart they produced that I attended the first ever family reunion that I know of. I had looked forward to this occasion for the better part of this year and I will tell you that it did not disappoint. God gave us a glorious day. It was an unusual August day for Iowa. Usually it is very hot and humid in Iowa in August, very often with temperature in the 100s and humid as a swamp, but we really lucked out, or maybe it was a little Divine influence with so many Nadolskis up there.

I went to the park early so that I could really spend the whole day there and it was a lovely setting and so peaceful in the morning. Lots of trees around and plenty of room for the kids to run around and still be seen by their parents. I stayed and visited for a while with Marge and Bob and Sue Ellen and her daughters and then I had to run home and get the rest of my stuff and when I came back to the park, the people started to arrive. This was the best part. Seeing the people come. Many familiar faces and some that I had never seen before. There where people there from the families of Aunt Tillie, my mother Mae, Aunt Pauline, Aunt Barbara, Aunt Eleanor, Aunt Johnnie, Uncle Harry, and Aunt Marie.

It was lovely to see all the cousins come. Their families with them. I don’t think I ever saw so many smiling faces. Cousins who lived far apart getting to know each other again. Sisters and brothers talking, head to head about the old times. Cousins who never knew each other finding out that they had a common bond, like my kids talking to one of their cousins whom they had never met who told them ‘I loved Aunt Mae’ and my kids and Katie’s kids finding out that they weren’t the only ones who knew or loved their remarkable grandmother. The laughing about old times and the tears when the memories became so painful. One of the most prevalent common bonds among us was that we had all lost someone who was a Nadolski. Those moments when the memory of those members of our family who have gone forever brought a lump to the throat and took us back to when they where here. Oh how those sisters and Harry would have loved being there. Can’t you just see the wide smiles and joy in their eyes. Shirley said that they where sitting in the rafters of the shelter, looking down and smiling at us and I believe she was right.

I know that like all of you, I would give anything to have 5 more minutes with my mother. I know in my heart I can’t, but it is gatherings like these that help keep her and all of them alive.

Soon there where more people than I could count. 128 signed the book, but I know there where about 200 there. It was just great. Kids running around having a ball. Groups of grownups who just all looked like each other.

People laughing and crying; renewing friendships and just getting to know each other. The universal fun of watching children play; seeing a grandma and grandpa with fear in their eyes looking for a misplaced child; women talking about absent children and grandchildren; husband and wives just smiling with warm eyes at their spouses having such a happy time with their cousins; soon to be Grandma, patting the pregnant belly of a daughter-in-law; hugs and kisses from distant cousins; groups loading up a car and making a potty run; kids trying to toast marshmallows on a fire that wasn’t there; Dad’s watching the kids while Mom got caught up on the gossip; the food line with so much amazing food (one thing for sure, we all know how to cook); kids amazed that they can have as much ice cream as they want; everyone there because on Saturday, August 12, 2000 this was the place they wanted to be.

The most heart rendering moment was when a young man talked to my sister and said that he belong to the family, but he wasn’t sure how. He thought he was a descendant of Aunt Eleanor. That was so sad to me that someone wasn’t sure where they fit in the family and, paradoxically, so joyous because he had sought out his family and found them.

I also want to talk about a generation that is rapidly disappearing. It is my generation. When Uncle Floyd died recently, we lost the last one of that generation. We are now the older generation. We lost so many of our generation in the past few years and we are dwindling down to fewer than I can believe. So I want to talk about those of us who are first cousins who where there. Kenny and Marge who are the last two of Aunt Barbara’s children; LeRoy who is Aunt Johnnie’s son; Midge and Jimmy who are Aunt Eleanor’s children; Jan who is Uncle Harry’s daughter; Shirley and Winifred (Tiny) who are Aunt Pauline’s daughters; Larry who is Aunt Marie’s son; and Catherine and Lorraine who are your Aunt Mae’s daughters. When grandpa died in 1951, he had more than 80 direct descendants, most of whom where first cousins and there just aren’t enough of us left. It is good to know that many of us get together from time to time and we enjoy each other’s company but I sure would like to see more of my extended family. A lot of what keeps us from seeing family is just pure and simple geography. I have stayed in Davenport but it seems as though no one else did. Midge, Jimmy and I are the only ones left in Davenport. Hard to believe.

To those of you who couldn’t be there, we missed you. To those of you who were there, we where delighted to see you. To all of you, always remember that ‘we are family’ and the family is everything.

Your Cousin,
Lorraine A Deaton

Categories
Writing

Holiday Greetings

Holiday Scones

Thank you for reading,  following, liking and commenting on my posts. You helped make 2019 a record year for this place in cyberspace.

The holiday season began in our house with yesterday’s thirty-seventh wedding anniversary. We’ll make a pot of chili with cornbread for Christmas eve, then settle into the rest of the seasonal slowdown: noting my birthday a few days later, then arrival of the new year.

Whatever end of year holidays have become they also are  caesura in a life clinging to hope. There is a lot on the docket for next year. For now, it’s the in-between time and that’s good enough.

Best wishes for a peaceful season and a happy New Year from this writer in Iowa.

Categories
Living in Society

Impeachment and Me

U.S. Capitol, Washington, D.C.

For the third time in my lifetime the U.S. House of Representatives advanced articles of impeachment of a president. The full House debate and vote on them is scheduled today.

It didn’t take Jeane Dixon to determine the Trump presidency would end up here.

I’m part of a small number of Democrats willing to give him a chance to govern after the election. Beginning with his inaugural address he lost me. His vision of the United States is so much different from mine… and wrong. His presidency has been more that of conservative and right wing groups backing him than his. Trump has proven to be a vessel for everything libertarians and conservatives have wanted since the Franklin Delano Roosevelt administration.

Yesterday the conservative Heritage Foundation offered talking points:

These articles of impeachment are a part of a politically motivated process, speculative testimony, and no accusation of criminal action. It is absurd that House Democrats are trying to overturn the will of the American people and undo the 2016 election.

My response is there was no mandate for what has happened in our federal government, for what Republicans engineered. Saying the administration represents the “will of the people” is an inherent falsehood that contributes to a toxic political environment. I’m not sure what “undo the 2016 election” means but Nancy Pelosi would become president if Trump and Pence were removed from office. Trump has had almost three years in office and damage is done.

The House of Representatives drafted two articles of impeachment, one for the president’s abuse of power regarding Ukraine, and a second for obstruction of Congress, which arose after the impeachment hearings had begun. While the public doesn’t know everything about the Ukraine situation, the president prevented us from learning it by ordering his people to ignore subpoenas to testify. Trump is as crooked as a three-dollar bill and he got caught.

The current belief is the president will not be convicted during a trial in the U.S. Senate. Yesterday speculation arose that the House speaker would delay sending the impeachment articles to the Senate until there were assurances that the trial would include Democratic processes. I’m not holding my breath. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell may be repugnant but he knows how to count votes. All indications are he has enough to acquit the president should there be a trial.

The three presidents who had articles of impeachment drafted in my lifetime — Richard Nixon, Bill Clinton and Donald Trump — have not been my favorites. What makes the current president different is his intentional, lawless efforts to rend the fabric of society. The future under Republican governance looks dim and decent people would want no part of it.

Like the president, I don’t plan to listen to today’s debate.

Categories
Living in Society

December is Caucus Prep Time

Caucus-goer

As the sun rises on Big Grove Township an electric space heater keeps my writing room warm. It snowed overnight and I can’t be distracted by chills. I did chores and am ready to go.

The current president won the 2016 election by 46 votes in Big Grove precinct after Barack Obama won in 2008 and 2012. Despite the attention Iowa gets as first in the nation, the general election is more important here.

Of 1,431 registered voters, only 467 registered as Democrats. A more practical way to look at precinct politics is two out of three (66.7 percent) voters are not Democrats. While our county is strongly Democratic, our precinct is a swing district, regularly picking candidates based on factors other than party registration. This year local Republicans are expected to support Donald Trump for a second term, whereas Democrats have several major candidates and decisions to make. No preference voters will decide who wins in Nov. 3, 2020.

Between now and the caucuses I’m reaching out to Democrats. My purpose is to encourage caucus attendance and find volunteers. With the rule changes from the Democratic National Committee and Iowa Democratic Party, there is a lot of new stuff to learn. I attended training on how to run a precinct caucus last Saturday and will need help to check voters in and manage the gathering. I secured a voter list from the county auditor’s office to help find them.

The number of Democrats here shrunk by 20 percent since 2008, the last time we had so many candidates for president. I’m expecting 225 or so attendees in February, less than the 268 we had in 2008. That would be 48 percent turnout. There are a lot of new names on my list. In addition, about half of my volunteers from previous years either died or moved out of the precinct. I’ll need to get to know new people to recruit those I need.

With end of year holidays upon us the best use of today is to get organized so the final month can be spent pulling everything together.

Categories
Kitchen Garden

Saturday Luncheon – Red Beans and Rice

Red Beans and Rice

Preparing to cook red beans and rice has been a year-long process because most of the ingredients were produced in my garden or on farms where I work.

The garden produced red beans, okra, tomatoes and celery. Local farms produced onions, garlic and bell peppers. I also grew red pepper flakes and blended the powdered dry spices. Pantry staples of extra virgin olive oil, all purpose flour, and long grain brown rice were USDA organic but not produced in Iowa.

I invested several hours preparing a luncheon meal and time was worth it because of the flavor.

In the morning we discussed my 5-1/2 quart Dutch oven, the enamel of which is wearing off the inside. I’m don’t favor replacing it. Not because of the $350 price tag for a new one from Le Creuset. With a bit of cooking oil on the bottom to prevent rusting it will serve many more years. It is my go-to pan for making red beans and rice. It has been a reliable part of our kitchen.

Cooking is a ritual that evokes memory and skill in bringing a dish together. I soaked a cup of dried red beans in the Dutch oven overnight, then cooked them with half a diced red onion until tender but not mushy. I drained the beans and reserved the cooking liquid, letting them sit on the counter until ready to make the dish.

Around 10 a.m. I started work.

I fried a couple of home made vegetarian burger patties from the freezer and set them aside to drain. (Andouille sausage would be more traditional).

Heating the dutch oven, I added two tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil and cooked a generous tablespoon of red pepper flakes. I diced half a large onion, red bell peppers, and celery stalks and sautéed them in the oil-pepper mixture with a little salt. Once they began to soften I added two cloves of minced garlic and added home made seasoning — think powdered garlic, curry powder, paprika, and powdered hot, red peppers. I added a few dashes of prepared hot sauce from the refrigerator and stirred until everything was incorporated.

Next came additions. I deglazed the pan with a pint of diced tomatoes. Next, a cup each of sliced okra and long grain, brown rice. I stirred in two tablespoons of all purpose flour, then the cooked beans, until everything was incorporated. I tried not to bust up the beans.

What liquid to use was an open question. This time my answer was two cups of the bean cooking liquid (that’s all there was) plus two cups of water. Other options I considered were canned tomato juice and home made vegetable broth. The flavor of the bean cooking liquid made it a good decision.

Stirring everything together, I brought it to a boil then turned the heat down to a simmer, cooking until the rice was done and most of the liquid had been absorbed. Toward the end of cooking I crumbled the burger patties and folded them into the mixture.

It was ready to eat at noon, making four to five portions.

We seek opportunity to follow our creative impulses and cooking is primal. It provides an opportunity to shed anxiety from quotidian affairs, if only for a few hours. A recipe makes the experience replicable but not really. Cooking is a story of how we sustain ourselves in a turbulent world.

Categories
Kitchen Garden

Into the 2020 Garden

Kale Coming Back to Life. Photo on Dec. 7, 2019.

Brown leaves droop over tall stalks in the frosted garden. In the center tiny new leaves appeared.

Kale plants are growing again.

Each year the best ideas from the garden follow me into the future. From the 1983 summer in Iowa City when we planted our first tomato seedlings until today, we’ve either had a garden or have been able to forage the lot where we lived. Gardening has been a continual presence, improving each year.

In the 2020 garden there will be patches of tomatoes: one for cherries and another for slicers and plums. 2019 was a banner year for tomato quantity and quality. We canned and froze a lot so the plot will be smaller. Best new tomatoes were Black Krim, Granadero, Speckled Roma, and Martha Washington. Seeds that didn’t produce well won’t be planted, including commercial varieties Beefsteak, Roma, Early Girl, Big Boy and Better Boy. I want to get better cages, but do not want to spend the money. The main innovation regarding tomatoes was installing a four-foot chicken wire fence elevated a foot off the ground. This barrier kept deer out of the tomato patch during the past two seasons, improving yield.

I’ve been able to produce cucumbers to meet household needs. My varieties were two types of pickling cucumbers, Marketmore and Tasty Jade. In 2018 I over-produced with two patches. In 2019 I hit it about right with one. Allowing them to grow on a welded wire fence kept ground-bound critters from taking a bite out of them. A backlog of jars of pickled cucumbers is in the pantry, so next year’s planting will be about the same.

Hot peppers grow well here. After experimenting with a number of varieties, I find the most used ones for fresh are Serrano and Jalapeno. After a couple of seasons of long, red hot peppers, I need only two plants of each variety to have enough for a year of kitchen use. I make a few Louisiana-style dishes and sprinkle dried red pepper flakes on pizza. The supply of powdered chili peppers won’t run out in my lifetime. My experiment with Guajillo peppers goes into year two. I dried some red and green ones and have yet to make chili sauce with them. More production is needed to make it a viable experiment. Dried New Mexico chilies are inexpensive at the grocery store, so I’m not sure it’s worth the work to grow and process my own. Before making a decision I need to grow a bunch of them. I plan to grow only Guajillo chilies this year.

I found okra easy to grow and a few plants produce enough for a year. This was my first year growing it and I’ll skip next year. There’s plenty in the freezer.

Next year I’m reducing kale varieties to two: Redbor and Winterbor from Johnny’s Selected Seeds. It is an endeavor to try something new and reduce the number of suppliers.

Success with onions has been marginal. I had no trouble producing spring onions, but the full-sized bulbs never materialized the way I wanted. I’ll try it again next year. I also plan to grow shallots from seed as an experiment. I bought an organic seed called Matador from Johnny’s Selected Seeds. Onions are almost daily fare in our kitchen so next year I hope to resolve some of the challenges I faced producing them. The shallots remind me of a local grower from France who produced them in abundance: I know they will grow in Iowa.

Beets produced better when I started them in soil blocks. I never have enough of them in the kitchen so I plan to grow lots. It’s time to go much bigger with beets by planting several long rows. The same applies to radishes.

There’s a lot to think about when planning next year’s garden. With the first seed order in the house, I can turn to other areas of planning.It’s taken years, but I’m finally feeling like a gardener.

Categories
Writing

A Sense of Self

Big Grove on Google Maps

My history begins with today’s vantage: looking backward in time from an unfinished writing space in our Big Grove Township home. Such perspective helps our story makes more sense than it did while living it.

I understand all of my writing — countless emails, letters, social media posts, and blog posts — is derived from experience residing in memory. Sometimes it is unique, sometimes not.

I look, as if in a deer stand along a familiar pathway, hoping to encounter a subject, without its being aware. Armed with my senses, and hope I will find uniqueness in quotidian moments, I endeavor to capture such fleeting essence.

In that light I write this autobiography.

It is unthinkable that we are here only to consume, grow and die. There is a greater purpose, and in writing, I hope to reveal it to those close to me, to any reader who finds these words, and importantly, to myself. I find purpose in every piece I write, just as in more practical work like planting a seed, driving a lift truck, making the bed, or speaking in public.

There is a necessary organizational component to writing a longer piece. We shouldn’t be consumed with organization. Like an underground coal miner we need a framework of timbers, buckets, picks and shovels, water pumps, labor, and air circulation to do the work. We also need freedom to follow the seam where it leads.

Sometimes a remembrance stands alone as a solitary and specific instance of creation. Yet most memories are part of a social context. Understanding social context can make the narrative ours with broader applicability.

My autobiography is not as much about me, as it is about the people places and processes of which I have been a part. My task is not to chronicle events and ideas that were my experience. It is to tell a story of a life beginning in the present. It will include characters, locations, processes and events. Writing is a way to learn how to do that. Autobiography seeks ways we are unique grounded in shared experiences. If it is that, a finished work is more likely to have relevancy.

Writing autobiography is an American thing. I studied at university under Albert E. Stone who edited J. Hector St. John de Crèvecoeur’s Letters from an American Farmer. We Americans, especially in this century, often seem completely self-absorbed. There is a native impulse to write or tell a single, brief narrative of our life when more accurately it is a combination of essential, defining moments and multiple, broader narratives. At the root of autobiography, we must answer the question Crèvecoeur did, “What then, is the American, this new man?”

I will follow an outline. It is important to note the perspective of the present necessitates blending memory and experience into a life story. Likewise, the process of writing is an interrogatory, the answers to which must come through structured thought and research. I seek to gain understanding of which I am not now possessed.

I have a pile of subject cards on my writing table. I envision a story board, with segments centered around organizing principles, such as the locale, ideas, processes, and characters that have helped define me. Just as artists create self-portraits, this autobiography would also be one in a series of them.

There is something about the idea of artistic creation. While process is important, imagination is too. As I endeavor to capture fleeting moments of insight about our lives in society I eschew automatic writing and everything that means. From my perch near the lake I hope to take flight from time to time and bring back essential materials to make an engaging story. Whatever I write will be my story, crafted by two working hands and centered on a vision of understanding I discovered early on.

Fingers crossed the narratives have broader appeal.

Categories
Writing

Wedding Announcement

Wedding Announcement in the Daily Times, May 23, 1951.

When researching our lives, official publications like my parents’ wedding announcement in the May 23, 1951 Daily Times are never completely accurate.

William used the Polish spelling of his last name, Dziabas, rather than the anglicized version, Jabus, Grandmother did. Why was he in Chicago and Mae in Davenport? Despite Mother writing about it in a partial memoir, we’ll never fully know.

The article omits Father’s step mother, who lived in Rock Island well into my lifetime. I corresponded with her by mail but we never met. She said her marriage to Grandfather was a “business arrangement” in a letter. The business was named the Deaton Diner and she kept his name until she died, burying Grandfather and two subsequent husbands in a row near her eventual grave. She was known by the sexton at the cemetery but not a significant part of my life.

Despite the partial picture official announcements present, they detail biographical information that might otherwise be lost.  Mother talked about graduating from Davenport High School and working for the phone company until her 90th birthday this year. The clipping is evidence. Our family visited Leon High School during a trip to Florida before Father died. I visited his alma mater while working in South Georgia for a logistics company. Father was a welder at George Evans Company according to the story. He seldom talked about his military service although an omitted fact — he was born in Virginia — was a primary influence when I was growing up.

As members of society we publish official notices to mark rites of passage. When I found this clipping by chance on the internet, it made my day. Official notices provide an opportunity to sand off the rough spots in our lives as we pass through milestones. As a biographer one has to ask whether to present the narrative as-is, or to embellish it with additional facts derived from experience outside its context. My answer is to present the artifact with sparing interpretation.

While presenting artifacts, I’m also weaving a narrative, something derived from both artifacts and experiences. The artifact never really stands alone. It becomes part of a narrative reduced to writing or told orally time and again until it becomes part of our world. Where such narratives will go remains uncertain. They have a basis in clippings like this wedding announcement.

Categories
Writing

One Chance to Remember

Mae

(Editor’s Note: I’m working on a longer, autobiographical piece this winter. From time to time I’ll post findings from our family archives. The following was dated Dec. 11, 2010).

If I get this one chance to remember my maternal grandmother, what would I say?

That she was part of our family since my earliest remembrances.

That she encouraged me as her aunt had not encouraged her, that horrible instance when playing the piano would never be possible.

That she worked as a seamstress into her 80s and worked hard in what we would call menial positions.

That she reaped the benefits of the social programs of FDR and because of them, was able to live on her own until finally she had to go to the Kahl home, a place she had worked earlier in her life, to be tended by the Catholic charities for whom she had also worked.

That she had suggestions for how to life my life, but they were neither mandates, nor things I would not do willingly.

That she had become a part of my life, incorporated into my being like mixing pancake batter.

That she would come to adore her great granddaughter and be the first to offer her a piece of meat at a family meal.

That she would be sorely missed when she died while we lived in the Calumet.

Categories
Living in Society

Will Trump Supporters Abide by 2020 Election Results?

Woman Writing Letter

I read with interest Monte Whitlock’s exhortation in the Dec. 2 Cedar Rapids Gazette that, “every American should vote Republican next election.”

Despite the author’s assertions, I decline to follow his advice. He presented no evidence of his claims, and as a life-long Democrat I need to see something before changing my views.

What interests me is that he even wrote to the newspaper. Views like his are found more frequently in the realm of talk radio and cable news shows. Public engagement is a good sign that all hope for our governance is not lost. I disagree with what Whitlock said but don’t argue with his right to hold opinions and write about them. I’m glad he wrote to a newspaper to get his views in the public domain.

Solon, from which the author hails, is a place with a strong Trump following. One can count at least five blue and white Trump banners flying in front of homes here. It seems a bit early for yard displays, but the fandom is evident.

The main question I have is will Trump supporters abide by the 2020 general election if Democrats win? I hope so.

~ Published Dec. 9, 2019 as a letter to the editor of the Cedar Rapids Gazette