Remembering Fluffy, the Family's White Cat

We had a big fat fluffy white cat named appropriately, “Fluffy.” This is the only pet I remember us having, except for the canaries Daddy had in later years. We had Fluffy for many years, but one day he was suddenly just gone. Mom told us he was sick and old and went off into the woods to die. I always believed this story. Years later however, Virginia McFarland confided that Fluffy had distemper and had to be put away. Daddy tried to shoot him but couldn’t do it. Finally, Dale came over and did it. At the same time Virginia told me the above story, she also told me another “Fluffy” story. One day she and Mom were sitting in the kitchen at our house having a cup of coffee together when they heard a tinkling sound. Over in the corner of the room was a little potty-chair and there was Fluffy sitting on the potty “tinkling” just like us little kids did.

COME AND GET IT!

The family sat down for meals at a rectangular table with three leaves. Daddy made a wooden bench to use at the end of the table. Bernie and Bob were probably the first ones to use the bench, but I only remember me sitting on it with Dee and Diana. Mom was at the head of the table and Daddy was to her right. The youngest child was to her left so she could help them. We always had big meals with dessert immediately after. There were two big plates of sliced bread, one at each end of the table. In retrospect, I realize that we had good well-balanced meals, but probably not enough for seconds, so the bread helped fill us up. Every supper ended with a rich dessert without thought to calories or cholesterol. There were pies, cookies, cream puffs, jelly-rolls, and cakes of all kinds. Everything was made from scratch. When I was in junior high I came home from school and made a two-egg cake almost everyday. I had the recipe memorized. We each had a piece for supper and the rest was saved to put in our lunches for school the next day.

SOME OF MOM’S OTHER FOODS I REMEMBER

Graham cracker cookies made with chocolate frosting between them. Homemade minced ham. This was made with bologna, not ham, and very popular during World War II. Fried cornmeal mush. Mom stood over the stove for hours frying this in two large black skillets. Homemade donuts covered with sugar. Mom cut the centers out with her thimble. Homemade cocoa fudge and popcorn balls. Friday night treats. Hot cocoa and peanut butter sandwiches. These sandwiches were made with one piece of bread, spread with peanut butter and folded over. Then we dunked them into the hot cocoa. It was a fine art getting them to your mouth without having them fall apart first. We were taught how to do this by Mom’s brother, our uncle Lloyd. White bread broken into a bowl, sprinkled with sugar and covered with milk. This was a favorite bed time snack. Leftover pie dough. When Mom baked pies there was usually some dough left over from the crust. She’d roll it out, brush it with butter, sprinkle on sugar and cinnamon, cut it into bite-sized pieces, and pop it into the oven with the pies. I always thought this leftover dough delicacy was far superior to the pies themselves. Popsicles made from Kool-Aid. We poured the liquid into ice cube trays and stuck toothpicks in to hold onto when we ate them. Fried bologna sandwiches. Salmon patties and fried potatoes. Sometimes Mom made a cream sauce with peas that we poured over the salmon patties. Goulash with warm homemade bread. Pork roast with sauerkraut. Mom always made mashed potatoes with this meal so the sauerkraut could go on top of them. Homemade chicken and noodles. Once again, mashed potatoes with the noodles on top. Mom’s noodles were the best. Daddy would pay us ten cents to eat a piece of liver. I never did. I don’t care for liver to this day. I sure wanted the dimes, but couldn’t force myself to eat even a little bit. The first oleomargarine came in a heavy, clear plastic bag that had a red button in the center. The button was pressed and an orangish-red dye was dispensed. The bag was kneaded until all the margarine was a pretty yellow color. When we first moved to 39th Street, Mom raised chickens, Bob had a pig, and Grandpa Williams raised rabbits. I remember Mom catching a chicken and chopping off its head on a stump with a hatchet. I watched in terror as it flopped around in the yard, blood everywhere. After the chicken was killed, it was dunked into hot water to make plucking off the feathers easier. After feasting on one of Mom’s fabulous chicken dinners, we fought over whose turn it was to get the wishbone. We had wiener roasts with toasted marshmallows in the backyard. Daddy would build the bonfire and cut down tree branches to hold the wieners to roast. He sharpened the ends of the branches with his pocketknife. We never ate in a restaurant. In fact, we were rarely asked to anyone’s house for a meal. Who would cook for ten extra people? But once Ruth and Tom Johnson invited us over for Sunday dinner. She made a ham with all the trimmings. I remember it clearly because she made ham gravy, which Mom never did. We ate in their dining room and it seemed very special.