Christmas Past and Heavenly Snow

 A lofty snow came early to Arkansas, mid December, as we lay dreaming in our beds. We yawned, looked out the window, and saw 10-inches of snow-covered ice.

I love waking up to snow that wasn't there when I went to bed. In Arkansas, we dream of a white Christmas with fingers crossed, so I am always ecstatic when snow graces our lives before Dec. 25th.
Snowbound and off school, the grandchildren went sledding and built snowmen and ginger bread houses.

However, we were as happy to see the snow melt as to see it fall. Cabin fever hits within days of being trapped in the house, whether you're building ginger bread houses or not.

We're known as ridge-runners in the Ozarks because our country roads follow the mountain ridges and veer up and down and sideways at 45-degree angles. When the roads are ice or snow covered, it means tough sledding in an auto and we end up in ditches or snowbound for days.

Within the last 10 years or so, giant Caterpillar road equipment has leveled somewhat the mountain passes and constructed beautiful, four-lane highways. We now drive through the mountain ridges rather than around them, leaving the nickname ridge-runners in the rear view mirror. Nevertheless, the mountainous highways are still formidable when it snows.

During my childhood in Wisconsin, there was never a doubt as to whether we would have snow on Christmas but rather how much and how deep and whether the snow would be good packing snow for snow men or dry snow for sledding.

I don't remember being snowbound in Wisconsin. We just strapped snow chains on our tires and were ready to go. We built snowmen and snow slides and skated down the creeks and through ponds. We built igloos and snow forts; played duck-duck-goose in the snow and fell over backwards in knee deep snow to make snow angels. We had boots, mittens, scarves, ear muffs and long johns, all those things you don't need for Arkansas winters.

During my childhood in  Badger, Wis., the city elders flooded the fields next to our town hall building and made a huge skating pond for Badger's 300 or so residents. I skated daily.

I was so enamored with ice skating as a child that I dreampt of becoming a professional ice skater. My idol, Sonja Henning. I practiced my twirls and swan dives and when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I wanted to be a figure skater.

My dad and uncles went ice fishing, driving their truck on top of frozen lakes - cutting holes through the ice and popping up their ice fishing gear. Officially, my dad's profession was listed as an ice man on my baby brother David's birth certificate.

Yes, Dad was an ice man in Randolph, Wis., because back in the 40s in rural Wisconsin, we had ice boxes and not refrigerators. Those were the days ....

Christmas in Badger, Wisc.: David with his Hopalong Cassidy doll, John with his guns and holsters, ready for a cross-handed quick draw, Jeannette, left,  in her cashmere sweater, and me in a newly coiffed hairdo for Christmas, thanks to the neighborhood barber. The little beaded moccasin pin I'm wearing was always one of my favorite things and a gift from my parents. The moccasins and pillow were made of red, white, and black beads by the Indians at nearby Wisconsin Dells.

Life in the Fast Lane!

My dad, John Dewey Braaksma Sr.; brother, John Dewey Braaksma Jr.; big sis, Jeannette; and me

Hubby, Darrell, remembers the wall paper on his nursery room: it was chickens and they gave him nightmares. He remembers his Teddy Bear and lots more. I remember nothing of my toddler years.
My earliest memory is grade school, which leaves me wishing I knew more about this family photo with Dad, baby brother John Jr. - always called "Butch" -  big sis, Jean, and me.
I don't think we ever left Wisconsin when I was a child, so I'm sure the photo was taken in the Dairy State. As far as when, there are no leaves anywhere and we were wearing sweaters and jackets, so I am thinking this photo was taken spring or fall 1947.
I love that Dad is sporting a tie and Jean's wearing riding britches. I'm looking like I have some attitude, and Butch has that toddler grin from his new-found skill of walking.
Since I look about three years old, I am thinking Mom was possibly behind the camera and no doubt soon to give birth to my brother David, who was born in December of 1947.
I wish I could hop in a Delorean and zoom back in time because it would be fun to hang out with my family again!

Aunt Ann Meekma, the Braaksma Martha Stewart of Wedding Cakes

Wedding cake is a Braaksma family tradition. Growing up, I loved when Mom and Dad attended a wedding because it meant waking up to wedding cake on my pillow. 

My parents always flew solo to weddings. My brothers and I stayed home and, fortunately, stayed out of mischief. I always thought the reason they didn't take us is that family wedding celebrations involved a keg of beer. Wild guess. Not sure.

At that time, we lived in Badger, Wis., and family weddings were in Randolph or other Wisconsin nearby hot spot.

On those celebrated occasions, Mom would bring home a slice of wedding cake for each of us children. My brothers and I would be in bed, asleep, by the time they returned home. When I woke up, voilá, wedding cake on my pillow, wrapped in a fancy napkin with silver edging and the names of the bride and groom in silver with little silver wedding bells!

The cake always seemed familiar - layers of white cake, frosted with sugary, white frosting, and decorated with little pearl and silver, filigree balls. Most likely, because of waking up to wedding cake, my favorite cake to this day is white cake with yummy vanilla flavoring.

It was my lucky day when I discovered the source of that mysterious wedding cake. It was revealed to me during a summer stay at the Meekma's, Sam and Ann, my uncle and aunt. I was an honored summer guest at their dairy farm in Randolph.

On the fateful day, Aunt Ann was rushing around, shooing me and my cousins out the door and into the car for something important. Time was at its essence as it always is on the farm because there is so much to do with the cows, chickens and pigs, but this time was different. I sensed it immediately. We were not on farm time but on clock time, hurrying to meet a deadline.

I was trailing Aunt Ann around the house like a puppy, caught up in the excitement of the adventure, when all of a sudden as we were nearing the door she stopped in her tracks, turned, and exclaimed, "My gosh. I almost forgot!"

She rushed to the basement over to a huge freezer against the wall. It was a chest freezer, hinged at the back, that opened like a giant flip-top, frozen treasure chest. Aunt Ann chucked open the lid, dove both arms down into the freezer, and popped back up holding a tiered wedding cake that looked like a pyramid of frosted heaven.

I was in awe! I had never seen anything like it. Instantly, Ann became my super-woman. She had magically baked and decorated a wedding cake for some lucky bride and tucked it away in the freezer like hidden gold, on the eve of the wedding day. It was as if she were the cake fairy. I never saw her bake it or decorate it. It simply magically appeared in her freezer.

When I looked at that tower of glistening white fluff with little pearls and silver balls, I knew I had found treasure and the source of those luscious slices of wedding cake that appeared on my pillow when my parents returned from a wedding in Randolph. Aunt Ann was the Braaksma Martha Stewart of wedding cakes.

Some day, I am going to bake and decorate a cake as close to the ones I remember, wrap a slice in a fancy paper napkin, and slowly eat it with a glass of milk. Sweet memories.

Reunions in the spirit of Minnie and Dewey, Dutch settlers in Wisconsin

I remember Grandma Minnie's red cabbage, Aunt Ann's pickles and now in the same legendary spirit, Cousin Doris's pickle. A complete meal can be made from home-canned pickles, Wisconsin cheese slices on freshly baked rolls, and beer.

As a child, my most memorable family reunion with Grandpa and Grandma Braaksma was near a lake or pond in Wisconsin. Grandpa was fishing and hollered out that he needed us to catch grasshoppers for bait. The fun began. We were hopping all over, on a grasshopper safari, catching grasshoppers as fast as we could. I felt like I was doing something of utmost importance for my beloved grandfather.

Suddenly, there was a great commotion - lots of laughing. Uncle Don and his friends had arrived with a watermelon in tow. They were quite pleased with themselves. They explained how they had drilled holes in the watermelon and soaked it in rum the night before. Now the golden moment had arrived when they would stick straws through the holes and sip the rum from the watermelon. Nothing for us youngsters, but it was fun being part of a family who knew how to make the most of their time together.

In 2008, cousins Dorris and Steve re-lit the family reunion torch and hosted a reunion in Nashville.
Click for photos of the 2008 Dewey-Minnie Braaksma Reunion in Nashville.

In 2010, a second reunion was held in Wisconsin at Doris's home.

Click for photos from the 2010 reunion.

Our third reunion has come and gone. In 2013, we hosted a family reunion in Branson, Mo. It was as much fun being with everyone as ever.
Click for photos from the 2013 reunion.

Grandma Minnie, and How I Was Christened Patricia Ann

Grandma Minnie, Dad and me

Me at six months

As a child I let it be known to my mother that I thought my name was rather plain and I didn’t like it. I was always called “Pat” and not “Patricia” or "Trish" or "Trisha." Why wasn’t I one of those lucky girls with a pretty name?

Mom was always great at handling my complaints. She told me how lucky I was to have my name. As she explained it to me, Dad was overseas in the Army and Grandma Minnie was at her bedside when I was born. Mom described Minnie as very persuasive, which I knew to be true.

Minnie was insisting that Mom name me in part for the Queen of Holland (Wilhelmina Helena Pauline Maria, Queen regnant of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, 1890-1948) and wanted me named “Wilhelmina Henrietta Braaksma.”

Mom said that “Patricia Ann” was the first name that popped into her mind and at that critical moment, she said to Minnie, “I’m calling her “Patricia Ann.” End of story.

“Now aren’t you glad,” Mom said to me, sure she had done the right thing. However, after hearing that story, I was always wistful of the name that might have been, “Wilhelmina Henrietta Braaksma."

Mom, Dad and me, Madison, Wis.

Grandpa Dewey, Dad (John Dewey) and me, Madison, Wis.

Dime Store photo of mom and dad, dad on furlough and mom pregnant with me.

Family Lore: I learned to walk in Minnie and Dewey’s tavern, thanks to the floor-level stainless coolers. I would walk, grabbing the handles as I pulled myself along, handle to handle, starstruck by my reflection in the stainless doors.

Minnie and Dewey were amazing grandparents, but they fell short in the eyes of the Dutch Anglican church when they bought a tavern and were excommunicated from the church.

I was Minnie's second granddaughter and the daughter of John Dewey Braaksma Sr., Minnie's oldest son. The first granddaughter was Alice Faye, daughter of Sam and Ann (Braaksma) Meekma. Alice Faye, according to Mom’s Family Lore, was named after movie legend Alice Faye.

Alice Faye Meekma

Alice Faye was a year older than me and of course, I loved being her playmate. Alice was the cousin I spent the most time with because when I visited Uncle Sam and Aunt Ann summers on their farm in Randolph, WI, Aunt Ann gave Alice watch over me. I tagged along on her many farm chores – calling the cows, feeding the chickens, slopping the hogs, playing in the barn, milking the cows, shucking corn – oh, those were the days.

I love this photo of Alice wearing her gold locket and bracelet. Mom noted on this photo that Alice Faye was wearing my blue jumper, but I remember all of the dresses Aunt Ann had sewn for Alice and how I got to wear those dresses when I went to church with the Meekma's.
It's apparent as you look into her eyes that Alice Faye's confident nature made her a great playmate. She was brave and adventurous. She had piano lessons, played trumpet in the high school band.
She went on to graduate from college, married a wonderful man, raised a beautiful, young family and then suddenly, she had an aneurysm and was gone.  She died on my birthday in 1984. Just thinking back on that dreadful day when we heard the news, I was at a loss then and am at a loss now, sure we were meant to grow old together and missing my friend.

Welcome to Wisconsin, the Dairy State

July 2010: I headed to Wisconsin for the Minnie-Dewey family reunion after having moved away in the 50's, the hay-day of the Milwaukee Braves and the time before Cheese Head hats.
I was set to see cherished things from my childhood, farms, corn, silos, pigs, farmers in overalls, cheese and cows everywhere.
Well, I didn't see a single pair of overalls. My next disappointment was the absence of cows and the never ending cornfields. It was July, prime growing season for corn in Wisconsin.
And I don’t know where Wisconsin is hiding its cows. It is the Dairy State.
The state is so famous for its dairy industry that when I was a teen, Walt Disney packed up his Mouseketeers and brought them all the way from California to Wisconsin to film Adventures in Dairyland. What a show that was!
Those were the good old days. Milk and butter were sacred. I remember the family scandal when Mom started buying oleo, a predecessor of margarine. It was an underground movement in Wisconsin, especially since we lived in a farming community. The neighbors smuggled bags of oleo in from Illinois, and we kept it in the basement.

The white, gooey oleo came in a plastic bag that had a big blob of red in the middle. My job was to knead the bag until it magically turned to yellow as the dye from the blob in the middle permeated the white oleo.
It was quite an adventure. When it arrived, in a hushed voice Mom would lead me downstairs to the basement to knead the bags. No one was to know we had oleo in the house.
Suddenly, Mom was my hero. She seemed so entrepreneurial to buck the establishment so that she could economize for the family.
___
Today, energy farms and windmills dot the Wisconsin landscape, but I was hoping to see the dairy farms and cows from my yesteryear's.