My favorite (but not perfect) sled

When I was young, our backyard sloped onto a steep hill that ran between 16A Street and 17th St.  In the summer, the meadow at the bottom of the hill was a perfect place to pick wild flowers -- lady slippers and shooting stars. On some summer nights, I could see fire flies in the meadow.  If I would wait until dark, and creep out with a glass canning jar, I might catch one.

The slope of the hill was good for sledding in the winter. I don’t know how many iterations of sleds we had, with nine children living in that house.  The three-seater top-of-the-line wooden toboggan would hold three of us if the first person tucked their feet under the curved top, and the next two people wrapped their legs around the person in front of them so that their dragging legs didn’t slow down the sped of the sled.

The adult who was tucking in the feet of the sledders would also give the sled its initial rush of speed until gravity and the slick bottom of the sled took over.

I thought the toboggan was heavy. Pulling it back up the hill seemed like a monumental task. Probably the combined effect of pulling each foot out of the calf- deep snow and the effort of resisting the slide backward as I climbed the hill was the real problem and not the weight of the toboggan sliding on the top of the snow.

There were no brakes on the sled.  On miracle runs we would glide smoothly to a stop. But if the path down the hill was not carefully chosen by the driver, the bumps along the way would send one of the rider's legs that were now coming loose on the toboggan out into the snow. The sled would come to an instant stop. All would careen off  with a lurch sideways and then a face plant into the snow. Luckily no breaks occurred when we were using that run.

My all-time favourite sled is a piece of cardboard. On our way to elementary school there was a steeper hill and the downward flight on a large piece of heavy cardboard made it worthwhile to drag  the cardboard, blocks through the neighbourhood to get to the preferred destination. With care, a piece of cardboard like that might last two or three days. The final shredding of the bottom of this fast snow vehicle, leaving not even a small place to sit on anymore, brought great sadness.   A good piece of cardboard is not easy to find.

Later the world invented crazy carpets -- light weight, slick -- all of the qualities of a heavy weight cardboard.  I give today's crazy carpet a two thumbs up for those who have no access to heavy duty packing cardboard.

Arta

New Year´s Day Dinner in the 1940´s

When I was growing up, a big turkey dinner was the New Year´s Day meal. A new thirty pound turkey and its trimmings, already enjoyed a week earlier on Christmas Day, would be on the table again, everything from whole cranberries in a sweet red sauce to bowls of hot dressing that had just been extracted from the cavity of the bird. Gravy boats were passed around the table and poured liberally into wells prepared in the middle of creamy mashed potatoes. I liked the sides of my well to be high enough to contain all of the gravy.

My mother had a dining room set that was used once a week for Sunday dinner when I was growing up. That would have been the table that we ate on. I know the lines of it well, having dusted the cross bar under the table as well as its ornate table legs many times as a child.

The linens were kept in the drawers of the side buffet. The doilies were in a drawer kept between two large pieces of carbboard, covered with a pink fabric onto which a woman in a flowing dress had been cross-stitched. There was a pad and then a table cloth added to the top of the table, for what is a meal without a spill, and that pad kept some of the dampness of of the beautiful wood underneath.

The silverware for 12 was in a large case in the buffet and there was something special about putting away the long-handled spoons that had smaller bowls on the ends, ones that held much less than a teaspoon at the end of them. Those spoons must have been used for the dessert which on Christmas Day and New Year´s Day would have been Christmas pudding. The brown sugar sauce that was poured over the white sauce was my favorite part of the dessert, and by me, the only part that was consumed. The white sauce, made from mixing icing sugar into butter sat on top of the pudding.

I like Chriswtmas pudding now, although I like it two or three hours after Christmas dinner is over. Half way through a big meal like this, my mother would say, ¨Oh, I forgot the sweet potatoes. They are still in the oven,¨ and she would grab a hot pad and rush for them. They were then presented at the table, added to plates that already needed sideboards.

Today, bon appetit to all.

Arta