Deanne Fitzpatrick » Diary, Featured » some things do matter
some things do matter
Dear Diary, One night my husband came home from his childhood home with these beautiful tools. They had been his mothers, and now that she had left this world, they were ours.
He brought them home like the artifacts they were, solid remembrances of a life time of lebanese cooking. The cousa digger, that hollowed out pale green squash that were to be filled with rice. The mamoul shaper, that made the easter pastry filled with nuts or dates, that were dusted with powdered sugar for celebration.
We say that things don’t matter. We toss that phrase around like it’s the truth, but some things do matter because, the thing itself, is a reminder of what mattered, what blessed us, who loved us, who made us tea when we were tired, combed our babies hair, fed us, and loved us, and taught us that we are here to be good to each other.
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When I was a kid I didn’t believe there was such a thing a Greek Orthodox people from the Middle East. I remember wanting to meet others! And finally I do, sort of. Very cool and thanks for posting those photos.
Deanne, those are so beautiful. I can almost feel the warmth of the wood right thru the photos. And to have the memories of the hands that worked with them, makes them priceless.
Yes they were greek orthodox, her father was a minister
Diane,
My mother has the same bread stamp – the square stamp with the Greek version of the name of god. Were/are they Christian Lebanese? My father’s family were Syrian Christians and in an exodus due to religious fighting, left for Greece at the turn of the century. They spoke Arabic, Greek and Turkish and the cultural mix of foods was always delicious!
I have so many memories of my mother baking bread for church and making sure the stamp was clear and perfect in the middle.She doesn’t bake as much anymore but she still has all her stamps.
My Dad died on Nov. 30th (my birthday, by the way) at 86 yrs., and we didn’t have a big job cleaning out his room at the nursing home where he’d been living for the past three years. One thing remained. When he first moved there, he went to phsiotherapy (after a broken hip) every day. Sometimes it was in the morning, and sometimes it was in the afternoon depending on how he felt. He’d also been mentoring a number of international students from Laurentian University close to his residence. He was in a wheelchair, but he was completely ‘compos mentos’. The staff made a sign that said, “Robert is in the Gym”, so that he could hang it on the door in case he got visitors when he went to physio, so they would know where to find him. The last thing I did when we moved his personal effects from his room after he passed was to hang that sign, “Robert is in the Gym”. I may have to hook that. Just because.
so happy I did, remember be mighty not musty
This morning as soon as my feet hit the floor my brain started racing with a whole lot of Christmas tasks on my ‘to do’ list. My ‘must’and ‘have to’ list. And this even though our holiday season is supposed to very low key… I started by searching for a recipe in a file on my computer, then of course had to check the email and there was your newletter post about might and must…exactly the words I needed to hear and words that made my brain stop and slow down. Christmas should be want to not have to or must do. You are right on the money there Deanne as usual. Its uncanny how often your writing touches on my life on the opposite side of the country from where you are. Thanks for starting my day off in a better way!
I agree with Nancy. Wow and thank you.
wow – thank you
We have so many things of my mother in law, Kay’s. The cupboards in Maine are filled with her dishes. As we were cleaning out her house I wondered why Tom kept them, storing them in the attic here at the house in Massachusetts, because to me they were just more stuff we would eventually have to get rid of. His vision was greater than mine. When we bought the summer place in Maine I unpacked all of them. I stand at the sink up there washing her dishes and I have such fond memories, a lot of them of eating at her house off those same dishes. It’s not that I’ve forgotten her, but I have to admit that using her dishes makes me think of her more often. Like you, I feel lucky to have had such a loving person as a mother-in-law and grandmother to our children.