Grandma Myrtle's "Famous" Pumpkin Pie

Oh yes, Pumpkin Pie. An autumn tradition for so many families. Even today, when I have a pie baking in the oven, the aroma wafting through the house floods my mind with memories of holidays past. I remember my Grandma baking several pies each Thanksgiving and her Pumpkin Pie was always my favorite. Just like so many of the dishes she made, I have no idea where the original recipe came from. She was a notorious newspaper and magazine recipe clipper. I have two file boxes filled with recipes that she had clipped and saved. Many of them tattered, the colors faded with age. Many have handwritten notes in the margins, which makes them that much more special. For all I know, this recipe for her "Famous" Pumpkin Pie could have come off of a can of pureed pumpkin that you can purchase in the grocery store. I don't think that makes her recipe any less special though. It would be just like her to tell everyone it was a special recipe, one that she created. And because it tasted so good, everyone would believe her. She used the same recipe for as long as I can remember, and I'm sure even before I was born. Grandma didn't have a large kitchen. Her house was built in the late 40's and the kitchens were not part of a "great room", like they are today. It was it's own room, separate from the dining room. Even with limited space, she managed to prepare meals for holidays with no problem. From a very young age, I remember being fascinated with watching her prepare food, especially large meals. She was so organized. She would write out a list of the dishes she would be cooking, and another list for items she needed to buy. Before heading to the store, she would check her cupboards for items on the list. Why buy something you already have on hand? I must have paid closer attention than I thought, because I'm finding myself doing the same thing.
I loved experiencing the Fall season while living at Grandma and Grandpa's house. Helping Grandpa Zim rake leaves and put them in the metal trash cans. Hearing Grandma say "Put your sweater on, you'll catch a chill." Fall meals were some of my favorites. She always made more soups and stews in the Fall. I loved when she'd make Chicken and Dumplings. I asked her for the recipe when I had grown up and had my family to cook for. She replied, "Oh, that? I don't have a recipe for that. I just throw a smidgen of this and a tidbit of that in the pot." I can tell you that I was a little frustrated that she couldn't just hand me a recipe to copy. I was a young woman, not experienced enough to successfully throw anything together without ending up with a complete disaster. She had been cooking for 60 plus years by that time and was an expert at knowing what ingredients to add, how long to cook it and what seasonings to add. I, on the other hand, needed much guidance. Especially when it came to her treasured Chicken and Dumplings. My first attempt at dumplings was not good. Not good at all. Looking back, I feel rather ridiculous. I can see what I did wrong. They turned out like big balls of uncooked dough that were warm on the outside and mushy and sticky on the inside. I mustered up the courage to call my Grandma and tell her about my horrible dumplings. After a little giggle, she assured me that she also had many cooking disasters. I can't think of a single one. Maybe she hid them well. She always appeared to have it all together, so competent and in control of her kitchen. I can't even picture her making a mistake. I'm sure I'll think of one...no one is perfect, right? Except Grandma's. Most Grandma's are perfect. Hmm. I'll  share her "Famous" Pumpkin Pie with you while I try to remember any cooking disasters to come out of her kitchen. I may be thinking for a while.

Grandma Myrtle's "Famous" Pumpkin Pie

2 eggs, slightly beaten
1 cup pureed pumpkin, or plain canned pumpkin
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp flour
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups evaporated milk
1 pie crust, homemade or refrigerated pie crust

Preheat oven to 375 degress F

Mix all ingredients with mixer until well blended. Pour into pie shell. Cover edges of pie crust to keep from browning.
Bake for 70 minutes.
Makes one unbelievably delicious pumpkin pie.
Enjoy!!!
Bake for 70 minutes. 

Autumn Potato Gratin

Years ago, we had dinner with friends and they prepared the best tasting potato casserole. I asked for the recipe and have been preparing it for special occasions and most holidays ever since. (I promise to post the recipe here at some point)
 This year, since Thanksgiving would be celebrated with just my husband and myself, I decided to try something new. I really like Rachel Ray's recipes and I found this dish on www.foodnetwork.com. It's incredibly creamy, cheesy and rich. And well worth the extra calories. This is definitely a special occasion dish. Although it is simple to prepare, and incredibly delicious, it's the sort of dish that merits only being made for special days. Another plus, I grew some herbs over the summer and brought them in for the winter. I had four large pots with beautiful herbs happily growing in them, sitting in my kitchen window, waiting to be used. This recipe calls for sage, thyme and rosemary. All three were right here, fresh and ready. Of course, we had plenty of leftovers and I'm happy to report that they heat up well and the consistency and flavors stay the same. I hope you enjoy making this.

Autumn Potato Gratin

8 servings

4 lbs mixed baby potatoes, such as Red Bliss. Peruvian Purples, and Fingerlings
2 cups heavy cream, plus some to cover
4 tbs butter (1/2 stick)
2 sprigs each fresh thyme, sage, and rosemary
2 garlic cloves, cracked
Salt and pepper
1/2 cup grated Parmesan

Directions:
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

Halve the potatoes and toss them into a large baking dish and season with salt and pepper.

Meanwhile, put the cream, butter, herbs, and garlic in a small saucepan and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Cook for about 5 minutes, to infuse the cream with flavor. Season with salt and pepper.

Pour the hot cream mixture through a strainer over the potatoes, (discard the herbs and garlic), if there is not enough cream to go 3/4 of the way up the potatoes then pour some additional cream on top to make up the difference. Sprinkle the Parmesan evenly over the top. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until the potatoes are cooked through and the top begins to brown. Cover and keep warm until ready to serve.

It's Elf Season!

 Today is a big day. For the last several years, I have been Santa's Elf. Today is our first appearance of the month. We spoke on the phone yesterday, and reminded one another of how important this is to so many children, and parents. Santa (Rick) and I were friends before we began this adventure. We make appearances all over this little town, the DHS Foster Family Christmas Party, both of the local assisted living facilities, the library, a local toy shop, we even make visits to the courthouse, city hall and the police station. Rick is retired law enforcement and feels that it is important to visit the employees to express our thanks for all of hard work. Even something as simple as a candy cane and a smile can make such a difference. Today, we are a part of the annual Festival of Trees Family Day and our local Kiwanis Club is offering photos with Santa. I wrote the following story, Elf Magic, two years ago, after a day of posing for photos and visiting with children. I hope that you can feel the magic of this season.

Elf Magic

by Marna Fahrney on Wednesday, 08 December 2010 

I woke up with butterflies, filled with excitement. As I ate breakfast, I recalled the conversation that Rick (Santa) and I had the week before. He called to remind me that on this day, we were to leave all troubles, worries and personal issues aside and become Santa and his Elf. This day was important. This day was magical, spiritual. He then told me that we would be remembered for a lifetime in some of these children's hearts. What a wonderful man he is, to take on the task of becoming Santa with such respect and responsibility.

I had laid out my Elf Costume the night before. Jingly hat, Red knickers, Elf Booties, all in red and green, of course. I braided my hair, added sparkly eyeshadow and glitter to my everyday make up, because everyone knows that Elves sparkle. Still feeling butterflies, I gathered the rest of my things and headed into town. Stopping at the store for a few 'extras', I noticed the peculiar looks from adults. I guess it takes the mind and heart of a child to truly understand the enchantment of an Elf.

The snow was gently falling which added even more of a sense of wonder to the day. I knew that I was ready for whatever was in store.

Our photographer specializes in families and children and we knew that she was going to capture some amazing memories today. The Santa Photo staff, members of our local Kiwanis Club were setting up and preparing for the arrival of the many children, eager to tell Santa what they wanted. Order forms, check, printers and paper, check, photographer, check, Santa and his Elf, check....5,4,3,2,1....GO!

We saw the usual type of child, excited to spend a few minutes with jolly ol' St. Nick, and of course, the little ones that would scream at the very sight of him. A few even remembered me from last year, which of course, confirmed the actual existence of Elves in their minds. As the children stood in line, I approached them and bent down, so that I was at their level. The smile in my heart spread to my face and I asked if they were ready to see Santa. Some of the children said that they were scared and did their best to hide behind the legs of any nearby adult. I gently peered around the adult and told them that I had something special that would take away all of their scared feelings. I pulled out a small jar of Magic Elf Dust from my pocket and opened the lid. Asking them to hold out their hands, I sprinkled the sparkly magic onto their heads and let it fall onto their hands. I wanted to know if they felt scared now, they shook their heads and we grasped hands and walked slowly over to where Santa sat in his large chair. The magic was working...we could all feel it. The pictures were the proof and the looks on the children's faces was the icing on the cake.Some of the children brought gifts to Santa, one that stands out was a small bag of carrots for the Reindeer. A few brought special artwork that they had created just for Santa, a few had written out their lists and one even brought a melted piece of candy that looked partially eaten. I told them all that I would place them in Santa's Big Gift Box so that he could take them back to the North Pole.

While children were in the room, I never saw Rick break from the character of Santa. He really was Santa, a real snowy white beard, wire rimmed glasses, sparkle in his eye, a voice that enchanted even the adults. During one of the slow moments, I stood back and pondered the thought of an average wife and mother, becoming an Elf for a day. How often does this really happen? How lucky was I, that I could give a gift such as this to all of these children? Children from all types of families. Rich, poor, those from religious homes and those that knew nothing of the traditional meaning of Christmas. I gave the same attention to all of the children because they each deserved my best.

Generally, when toddlers come to see Santa, they are excited and when asked what they would like for Christmas, they respond with a list of their favorite toys. A small boy, about 3 years old, approached with a middle aged woman. We did what we normally do; Santa greeted him, I helped to position him on Santa's lap and then the question of what he wanted was asked. We were not prepared for his response. With a quiet voice he stated that he wanted his adoption to be finished so that he could have a mom and dad. Silence. Rick and I shot a glance at one another, realizing the enormity of what had just been said. Holding back the tears until the little boy and his guardian left the room, we then held up the line of children so that we could break down. With that one little boy, the entire meaning behind what we were there to do, came into focus. I wept. I couldn't stop. Rick and I just sat and cried. What are we supposed to do with a wish like that? If Elf Magic did exist, I was heaping it onto this little child, engaging the powers of Santa, all of the Elves and each of the Reindeer to make this Christmas wish come true. How insignificant are all of our problems and complaints in comparison to what this 3 year old wished for Christmas? We were in awe. I cannot recall a time in my entire life where I felt so small and powerless. Being a mother as well as an Elf, I just wanted to hug, nurture, and care for this little boy. How in the world could I get through the rest of the day?

Somehow, we managed to pull ourselves together and continue on. We talked with big kids, who of course, thought that they were much too old to visit Santa, much less sit on his lap! At the slightest doubt of Santa's existence, out came the Magic Elf Dust...sprinkling the wonderful sparkles onto older children always resulted in giggles and a look of embarrassment. I could tell that there was now a question in their minds...just maybe, there really was a Santa? An older girl, that I remembered from the year before came in with her mother. I guessed her age to be 13 or 14 but she was obviously mentally delayed and was more like a child of 6 or 7. She remembered me also. Since there were no other children in line, Santa and I spent a little more time with her. She wanted a baby doll and stuffed dog for Christmas. She liked my striped socks and my hat with jingle bells. She knew this was the real Santa because of his beard. As she got up to leave, I asked her if she wanted to know what extra special thing I brought with me. I stood next to her and we looked eye to eye. She was entranced and ready to see what I had. As I pulled the Magic Elf Dust out of my pocket, her eyes lit up, her smile broadened and she began to giggle. I sprinkled the sparkly dust all over her and as her mother stood by, I again, felt the magic of the moment. Not surprisingly, tears started to form in the corners of my eyes. Keep it together for a few more minutes, I told myself. As she closely inspected the fallen glitter that was now covering her hands, her mother pulled me aside and told me how much I had meant to her daughter over the last year. She talked about 'The Elf' for an entire year. And here I was again, to confirm in her mind, the reality of Elf Magic. This 'job' of being the Elf was so much more than just a volunteer position for the day. This was an honor, a privilege, something that I could do to 'pay it forward'. Those that know me, know that I am a huge supporter of volunteering. It seems that each time I give of myself, be it time, talent, work of some kind...I am always left with the feeling that I was given far more that what I offered to start with. I believe that true magic happened in that little room that day. I saw it, I felt it and I have no doubts that Elf Magic was present through each moment.

For the Love of Con

“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened.”

                                                             ~Anatole France

Something amazing happens to us as humans when we open our hearts to an animal. It could be a cat, or a dog. A bird, fish or reptile. For many it is a horse or other farm animal. The type of pet that you love and care for is not as important as the process of falling in utter and complete love with your pet. Animals that capture our souls are unique and unbelievably special. This week, one of my best friends had to say good bye to her special boy. He crossed over the Rainbow Bridge after a battle with congestive heart failure. Con was the most majestic Irish Wolfhound. He was born on St. Patrick's Day. Kate first met Con when he was five months old. His owners brought a group of their Irish Wolfhounds to our local Highland Games as a sort of exhibit. The group of puppies were being walked across the grassy field when Kate's grandson, Tristan, at only 18 months old, stopped and watched the procession. It must have been a sight for a toddler to witness...even at 5 months old, Irish Wolfhounds are large dogs. Con stopped when his eyes gazed upon Tristan. They connected in that moment. Almost as if they knew they needed one another. Something magical happened as the two stared at one another. A bonding between a little boy and a dog. Kate, being unbelievably perceptive, sensed this and decided almost instantly that she wanted Con. He had a gentleness about him that made his size seem less intimidating. He really was gigantic.Being so large did not keep him from loving and nuzzling Kate's little grandson. They were buddies, Con and Tristan. I'm sure if Con had lived longer, he and Tristan would have had many adventures.Con loved to sit on the couch, rump up on the seat and front legs on the floor. It was probably a pretty comfortable place to sit for a 140 lb dog. Whenever Kate would stand still, Con would lean up against her. I'm sure there were times that she had to brace herself to keep from falling over. We all knew how special this dog was. His calm and loving demeanor were unmistakable. Kisses from Con were something I always looked forward to. Big, slurpy, wet doggie kisses.
Con was only three. Much too young. It feels like we didn't get enough time with him. But sometimes, rather than question why, or exclaim that life isn't fair, it's easier to appreciate the time you had and know that you gave your treasured pet the best possible life. We all knew that Con was sick. We could see him slowly declining over the summer. Kate's son in law dug a grave over a month ago. You can prepare. You can know, in your mind that the end is near but when it finally happens, you find that no amount of preparation can soften the blow to your soul. Kate loved this dog. She bonded with him before she brought him home. Anyone that met Con was immediately captivated by his presence. If it's possible for a dog to have charm, then Con was given a double dose. Have you ever seen a dog smile? Isn't that the most incredible thing? Con seemed to always be smiling.
When I found out that Con had passed, I knew that Kate was saddened beyond belief. It seems that one of the ways that I comfort my loved ones is through food. Food is comforting. And in my mind, food equals love. Especially when you prepare it with good intentions and sweet thoughts. I set out to make a double recipe of a batch of Oatmeal Raisin Cinnamon Cookies. I've taken cookies to her office before so it wouldn't necessarily be unusual for cookies to magically show up again. Having to work the day after your beloved dog passes away has to be difficult. And cookies and a big comforting hug would at least make it more bearable for her. I've always believed that the little things, the gestures of love, kindness and encouragement were more important than an entire book of lofty intentions.

Oatmeal Raisin Cinnamon Cookies (also known as Hugs in Cookie Form)

2/3 cup granulated sugar
2/3 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup real butter
1/2 cup shortening
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 large eggs
3 cups old fashioned oats
1 cup all purpose flour
1 cup raisins

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees
2. Beat all ingredients except oats,flour and raisins in large bowl with electric mixer on medium speed. Stir in oats, flour and raisins.
3. Drop dough by rounded tablespoonfuls about 2 inches apart onto ungreased cookie sheet. ( I always use parchment paper)
4. Bake 9-11 minutes or until light brown. ( 10 minutes seemed to be the perfect amount of time, at least for my oven)
5. Immediately remove from cookie sheet to wire rack.

I made a double recipe. While there are 10 people working in Kate's office, one batch should have been enough. But, as with everything I do, I go all out. I generally seem to cook and bake as if I'm feeding a group of 20. I guess I'd rather have more than enough than to have someone go hungry. I'm wondering if there are any cookies left. I noticed that Kate ate three of them, just while we were visiting. Ooops. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone.
While baking cookies seems to be a simple thing to do to help someone through their grief, I think the gesture behind it is what really counts. Close friends just seem to understand that. I didn't know how else to comfort her and reassure her that I care. Cooking is just what I do. It's part of who I am. I cook when I'm happy. I cook when I'm sad. I cook for other people, to show them how much they mean to me. I cook to celebrate, to entertain and to love. And on a side note, since I did make a double batch, I knew I'd have enough to take a small bag to another friend that I simply adore. She is my official taste-tester. I simply love taking her little portions of cookies or cake. And sometimes, I end up dropping by with a plate of happiness, just when she needs a little pick me up.I don't believe that there are any coincidences in life. You meet the people that are meant to be in your life, for one reason or another. And Kate is like a sister to me. My official taste tester, Tami, is such a sweetheart. I truly love my friends, through all of their ups and downs. True friends just have a knack of knowing when you need a hug. It just so happens that sometimes those hugs come in the form of Oatmeal Cookies.
Peace and Love,
Marna
Rest in Peace Sweet Con...you were loved and treasured.

Living in the Moment

 Rock Creek Recipes is back! I have been away far too long. I've missed the process of writing and sharing.. What a busy summer it's been around here. We've crammed as many small trips and adventures into the weekends as humanly possible. Sometimes it felt like we were in a whirlwind. Was it worth it? You bet. Life goes by too fast. I have no intention of sitting in a chair and watching it go by. While I enjoy quiet, relaxed days, I also love being busy and active. Life needs balance. And looking back on the past several months, I'm sure we could have taken things at a slower pace but in doing that, we would not have been able to experience as much as we did. Living here, we know that we have a limited amount of time for summer related outdoor activities, we realize that fall and winter are a slower, more relaxed time of year while spring and summer are filled with activity! And I do mean filled!

 I started out the spring with taking numerous walks in the area that we live. I took a lot of photos because I wanted to give you all an idea of the beauty that surrounds us.These grand trees are less than half a mile from home. When I walk down the road, I'm always captivated by their presence. I can't quite explain it. We drive by them everyday, almost without noticing. But when I walk past, I always slow down and gaze at them. I take in their beauty, their calming presence. It is almost as if they are beckoning to me, to stop, to take notice, to appreciate, to breathe.

 Spring is a gorgeous season here. Everything new, fresh, coming to life after a snowy winter. I eagerly anticipate the ground thawing, the leaves returning to the lilacs, the tiny buds of flowers forming then blooming practically overnight. As I watch the transformation of our yard, from a frozen, white landscape to a lush, green oasis, I do my best to live in the moment. To truly appreciate the changing of the seasons, the fragility of life, and the air that I breathe. It seems that this place brings about awareness and appreciation. I was raised to be an outdoor type of girl. We camped and hiked, fished, picnicked, and often ate our summer dinners on the patio. I guess it's only natural that I would continue to have that desire, to be out in nature.

  

When life gets a bit hectic, you can find my by the water. This is just a simple irrigation canal that runs through the corner of our front yard, from Rock Creek but hearing the water move across the rounded stones is so soothing and peaceful. I know that my grandparents would have loved it here. I can imagine my Grandma, barefoot, pants rolled up, wading into the cool water. It seemed that anywhere we traveled, if there was a body of water, she had her feet in it. I have at least a dozen photos of her standing at the edge of a creek or lake, toes dipped in and smiling. In my imagination, Grandpa is sitting by our little "creek", in the shade with his straw hat on, his hand gently petting our dog, Nalah, He had such a love and appreciation for all  animals. I can't remember a time when we didn't have at least one pet when I was growing up. He was always so sweet and kind to them. Yes, I think that they would have felt right at home here. After all, this place has the look and feel of so many of the places we camped over the years. And life goes on, they may not be here any longer, but they will forever remain in my heart and in my thoughts. They know how much I miss them. I try to not let sadness consume me, I try to live with joy, the way they would want me to. So I encourage you to get out in nature, feel the earth, feel the magic it has to offer. Live in the moment, take it all in. Life goes by too fast.

Strawberry Custard Torte

Strawberry Custard Torte

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A little slice of heaven....

 

 

One of my favorite things to do is to make dessert. And if I'm lucky, I'll make that dessert for friends. Rock Creek Hubby and I love to entertain. Looking back on our 20-plus years together, I think that we always have. We've hosted parties, holiday meals, game and movie nights, meetings. I remember cooking Thanksgiving dinner for close to 20 people once. I enjoy the process of cooking and preparing food but I also enjoy feeding my friends. Sharing food is a special thing. When you find friends that you enjoy spending time with, sharing a meal with them is even more special. And having the opportunity to cook for them? It's simply amazing.
This past Saturday we had a group of our friends over, to celebrate the 4th a little early. We have about four acres here and since we've worked so much in the yard this year, we figured that it was about time we enjoy the beautiful space we have here.
Luckily, I found out ahead of time that our friends don't care for chocolate and peanut butter, which was my original plan. I switched gears and opted for something light and cool. This torte was perfect. It reminded me a lot of Strawberry Shortcake. And I love the fact that the custard is homemade while the cake comes from a mix. I had a friend ask if it was possible to add a lemon flavor and I definitely think so, either use a lemon cake mix instead of the plain yellow or add lemon to the custard. I think that would be a delicious alternative. The entire Torte is served cold, which added so much to the flavor and texture. Perfect for a summer BBQ.

There are times that I worry about how my food is presented, especially when we have company. It seems that no matter how hard I try, I have such trouble getting my creations to look like the photos in my cookbooks. But then I remind myself that this is something I enjoy, a hobby and not how I make my living. I don't need to be obsessive or overly meticulous. This is supposed to be fun. So, if you notice the crumbs scattered about in the whipped topping of the Strawberry Torte, like I did, then you'll have to excuse me. I was enjoying the process of cooking so much that things got a little wild in the kitchen. My daughter shared a quote with me today and I think it fits perfectly, on many levels.    "Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon."  That describes me completely. 

Strawberry Custard Torte

1 package (18-1/4 oz) yellow cake mix
1/3 cup sugar
1 tbs cornstarch
1/8 tsp salt
1 cup milk
2 egg yolks, lightly beaten
1 tbs butter
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 carton (8 oz) frozen whipped topping, thawed
1 package (12 oz) frozen sweetened sliced strawberries, thawed and drained
Sliced fresh strawberries for garnish

Prepare and bake cake according to package directions, using two greased and floured 9 inch round baking pans. Cool for 10 minutes; remove from pans to wire racks to cool completely.
In a saucepan, combine the sugar, cornstarch and salt; gradually stir in milk until smooth. Bring to a boil over medium heat; cook and stir for 2 minutes or until thickened. Remove from the heat. Stir a small amount of hot filling into egg yolks; return all to pan, stirring constantly. Brind to a gentle boil; cook and stir for 2 minutes. Remove from the heat. Stir in butter and vanilla. Cover and refrigerate until chilled.
Place half of the whipped topping in a bowl; add strawberries. Split each cake into two horizontal layers; place one layer on a serving plate. Spread with half of the strawberry mixture. Top with a second layer; spread with custard. Add third layer; spread with remaining strawberry mixture. Top with remaining cake and whipped topping. Refrigerate overnight. Garnish with sliced fresh strawberries.
Yield 12 servings

A Nail Polish Destiny

I wrote the following story back in December. Tomorrow is Nail Day and I wanted to share this with all of you.

A Nail Polish Destiny

by Marna Fahrney on Sunday, 18 December 2011

Have you ever done something that felt like destiny, like you've either always done it or have done this particular thing in another time or place? As if it just fits and feels like home?  I can't recall exactly how I became the Nail Girl at Settler's Park, one of our local assisted living facilities. Almost an entire year ago I signed up to volunteer to read to the seniors every other week. And somehow, out of that, came an entire bag of nail polish, cotton balls, nail files, cuticle oil, and lots of music from the 40's and 50's.
Their activity room is located in a large open area just past the main entrance and directly in front of the dining room. There are two long tables lined up end to end with a couch behind them. Each week, when I arrive, nail bag slung over my shoulder, my ladies are lined up on one side of the table. I never would have thought that getting your nails done would be such a popular thing to do. What a warm greeting I receive when they notice me. I quickly get set up, knowing that I only have a couple of hours before they go to dinner and I don't want anyone to be left out. I have even filed and clipped nails on some of the gentlemen residents (which they thoroughly enjoy). They have all decided that their favorite part of the entire experience is the last step...lotion. I use cocoa butter lotion and massage it into their hands. Proof again that human touch is healing in many ways. I try not to rush this part because I know how they enjoy it. I only spend an average of six hours a month with these ladies. I wish I could be there more , it doesn't seem like enough, yet in that short amount of time, I feel like we've become such great friends.
We laugh together, about all sorts of silly things. We sing along with the songs that play on my radio. I have stations that I know they will enjoy, like Dean Martin, Perry Como, Loretta Lynn and their latest favorite, Doris Day. A few weeks ago, there were several conversations going on at the table while I was busy filing, clipping and painting nails  when Que Sera, Sera came on the radio. First it was one lady singing along. Then two, then the rest joined in on the chorus. A table of 16 women, most in the 70's or older, all singing,
"Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be."

I had tears in my eyes. Not because of our impromptu sing-a-long, we actually sounded quite good, but because I was realizing how precious this moment was. Each of these women has come from a different background, each has their own story, and each of them now live in this retirement facility. Even if they wouldn't have been friends in their younger years, they are finding common ground now, and seeming to enjoy the small, special things that life brings their way. There was such joy in that moment. I will never hear that song the same way again.

I hear such great stories in those few hours. Stories of young love, marriage, raising families, children and grandchildren. Some are still married, most are widows. But each and every one of them has a story to tell. And much love to give. We've laughed till our sides hurt, we've shed tears when one passes away, we've worried when another is not at the nail table due to illness. They have become a family, and I'm somehow included in that. How fortunate am I?
This started as a simple way to give back. I've always loved spending time with seniors. Growing up, I was incredibly close to all four of my grandparents. This is just an extension of my love for them. And now, after a year of twice a month nail visits, I have found friendship, love, affection and a deep appreciation for these beautiful women. I see past the wheelchairs, the walkers, the memory loss, limbs that don't move the way they used to. In my mind and heart, they are young women, falling in love, helping their children with homework, in their kitchens cooking meals, with endless supplies of energy, living life to the fullest. Age is only a number. Beauty is where you find it and I've found it here with my lovely friends. This is my destiny. I know when I walk through that door on Wednesday afternoons, that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.