Birthday Cakes

Birthday Cakes

5 " x 8.5"

Watercolors

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"What kind of birthday cake do you want this year?" Mama called out from the kitchen as I walked into the living room.

"I don't know," I mumbled. I hadn't thought about a cake. She always just made a cake and surprised me. I hadn't had a choice before.

I had already had chocolate, and plain cake with white icing, coconut, something with pecans, a marble cake, and others that I couldn't remember. I tried to think of something that would be really different. Something that would be such a challenge to make that she might even have to buy it from the bakery, or have one of the ladies in town who made cakes for people, make one for her. I knew Daddy wasn't going to pay for something like that, so, it might end up that I wouldn't even have a birthday cake, unless I stuck with something that my mother could do.

I guess that I was young enough to not realize that my mother could do anything! She could.

I tried to think of what other kids had at their parties, and of their favorite colors, and things that they might like. At school, Kathryn had told us that she liked blue ink instead of black and our English teacher had said that we could use blue or black ink in our fountain pens. So, we went to the drugstore and the variety store, and bought bottles of blue ink. That was the cool color, now. At least, that's as cool as they would let us get.

"A blue cake! I want a blue cake for my birthday!" If blue ink was cool, a blue cake would be cool, too. Of course, I didn't think that it would be possible for my mother to make a blue cake at home.

It was only a few days to my birthday, shortly after Christmas and on the heels of the new year! I always heard that I wouldn't have many presents because it was so close to Christmas and New Years. Or that I couldn't have a party because everyone would be broke after Christmas, or they were tired of the many holiday parties. But, it turned out to be just something to throw me off the track of the party already planned. Some days, right up to the day of the party, I would be told that there wasn't going to be a birthday party that year. And, then, the day of the party, I would be told to dress up, and Mama would fix my hair. She would bake my cake, fix the table, and have Bertie help her clean house for days before the big event.

This particular year, I wondered if I would have a cake-if Mama had been able to meet the challenge I threw out, or would I just have another chocolate or white cake.

I stood in the little dining area, dressed in my party dress, with my sash hanging in the back, beginining to untie by itself. I looked at the table and wondered if anyone besides my great-aunts and grandmother would come to my party.

I was anxious and kept asking, "What if no one comes?"

"They will be here! Now quit worrying and keep out of the way while we are getting ready!" Mama and Bertie were going back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen, and I kept standing right in the doorway.

"You did it! You made a blue cake!" I shouted.

Mama brought in great-grandma's blue plate with the roses and green rim on it, filled with a beautiful blue cake, with blue icing. This would be the hit of all the birthday parties, I believed.

Bertie followed Mama with another cake on a pink Fiesta Ware plate. This one was even taller. It was a fresh banana layer cake. I've never seen anyone make a cake as wonderful as those fresh banana layer cakes that my mother made. I suspect that they were a plain cake, with some bananas mashed into the mix and the frosting. Then, between layers and on top, Mama would carefully place sliced bananas. I don't know how she kept the bananas from turning brown. I know that we didn't have things like lemon juice to squeeze over the bananas and keep them fresh. Still, those cakes were good for several days.

The front door opened and guests started arriving, carrying coats and packages. Of course, it had to be cold on my birthday almost every year. That eliminated going outside to play games. Soon the house was full of noisey children and chattering ladies.

Organized games like Pin The Tail On The Donkey and Post Office or Spin The Bottle, soon turned into running around the house, hiding in various places, and squealing as we tickled each other or pulled some children out of their hiding places under the beds.

When it was time to calm down, and bows and curls in the hair were drooping, and neat party outfits were hanging like play clothes, we were called to gather at the white dining table, with its curved, black-edged corners. Presents were opened. Happy Birthday was sung. Candles were lighted on the blue cake, then blown out as a wish was made. The cakes were sliced and served to guests.

Tired, disheveled children made their way out of the front door and down the little hill to the street. Grownups lingered over their punch and coffee, as Mama and Bertie started to clean up the mess. Now Mama would have to start cooking supper. Daddy would soon come home and want his food.

I placed my presents on the baby grand piano and stared at the gifts, while the grownups talked. I looked out the window, wishing that a few of my friends could have stayed to play longer. I would have to take my new doll or clothes or whatever I wanted to share, over to Edie's house the next day.

Another year older, but celebrating wasn't over yet. Daddy's birthday would be the next week. On Sunday, we would share a family birthday dinner that featured red roast and red gravy. For Daddy, they would have fried oysters and oyster stew. These dinners were held with different families, depending on who felt like cooking.

It has been kind of nice to be an Almost New Years Baby. I never had to go to school on my birthday. They always had a holiday, just for me! By then, people had a little time to recover from Christmas and New Years Eve.

Still, birthdays were always kind of disappointing. It's sort of like when we asked my aunt what she got for Christmas when she was growing up. She couldn't remember. Then we asked what she wanted, but didn't get for Christmas. She just grinned. I knew what it was. A diamond ring! (She had her chances, but her mother always destroyed her chances.) She said that she finally just gave up on a guy giving her a diamond ring, and bought one for herself.

It wasn't really a ring that was missing, for me. It was being with someone special, getting a spectacular present, or having some romance in the day. Just like Christmas, New Years Eve, and every other holiday that could have been romantic.

It was always a little lonely, too, when friends went home. The party was over and the birthday cake was gone. Even that pretty blue cake and the banana layer cake.

I couldn't have the big party for the big _0 birthday. It could have been a milestone birthday with something memorable like that blue cake, but, instead, it was another day. I washed and ironed, watched Gene Autrey on tv. Since I wasn't having a party, or a beautiful cake like I remembered, I decided to paint those cakes from a long ago party. For supper, my daughter barbequed, and we had ice cream for dessert. This was the big celebration.

I guess that I have the greatest gift, though. And that is that I am still here!

Be sure to check out the links on my sidebar. I have added a new one for My Vision Test. Those who are concerned about your vision, might take a look at that. I'll have more on that and the creator of the test on my blog, hopefully tomorrow.

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Vision-Eyes Closed

Eyes Closed
Image size 8" x 11"
Paper size 9" x 12"
watercolors
In case you missed the answer at the end of yesterday's post, the title of the movie that I was watching was "Judgement at Neuremburg" starring Spencer Tracy, Marlene Dietrich, Richard Widmark, William Shatner, Judy Garland, Montgomery Clift, and others. The name of the actor I was showing was Richard Widmark, as he was talking to a witness on the stand. The courtroom audience was behind him. The painting showed the light rays I see coming from the tv set in a dark room, my foot hanging from the edge of the bed, and, on the screen, there was Widmark, with his face distorted and discolored from my AMD in one eye. Through my eyes-the way that I see things.
I got tired of trying to straighten out all these distortions and see what was going on correctly. So, I closed my eyes, hoping to sleep. "No rest for the weary," as the old saying goes.
With my eyes closed, this is what I continued seeing-the design in the painting above. White rays shot out, almost in a cross design, in the dark, from a center of yellow light. Purple surrounded the circle of light and that was outlined with a transparent green color. Short spikes of light blue shot out of the circle into the rays.
I opened my eyes to watch more tv. The design with my eyes closed was worse than watching distorted tv. It's a good thing that they have good movies on all night, now.
I thought that I might as well get up and do something. I could work on the computer, or paint something. But, I knew that I needed to have my feet up. My eyes were tired, but I couldn't sleep with all the designs going on . I should sleep, but that meant hours of tossing and turning, and trying to get the designs and distortions to go away. If I turned the tv off, there would still be distortions to contend with, in the dark, in lights outside, even in the stars and moon.
I had read that, sometimes, with Macular Degeneration and related problems, that the foggy, purple or dark spot just won't go away, even when the eyes are closed, making it difficult to sleep. I hoped that I wasn't going to have this spot before me all the time. So far, it just happens sometimes. At least that spot is not usually the same. The shape and colors change. More abstract designs.
I added a fun little "test" for you to try on my sidebar. I got this from Dianne McGhee, who does creative things with stained glass. Look under "What Color Are You?" and try the quiz. Just click on the link below it to take the quiz. I thought mine fit, although blue isn't my favorite color at this time. I do use a lot of Indigo Blue and the blue shade of Cerulean Blue, though. For some reason, when I added it, part of it is hidden under the border of my page. I don't know how to fix that. The same thing happened to my subscription button. The links do work, though.
I also added a link to a singer who uses her first name. She uses an 'i' while I use an 'e' in my name. You can hear her sing by clicking on the Youtube link on her page. Click on Cecilia under Interesting Sites.
Also under Interesting Sites, I have added a site called "Melody Lane", where they have old songs, to enjoy as you go down Memory Lane. I believe that you have to join that one, but it looked interesting.
I guess that I have watched so many Gene Autrey movies during the western channels' 100th birthday anniversary for Gene, that I'm really thinking about those old songs. I've just been singing along with Gene and Smiley Burnette, the Sons of the Pioneers, and all the crew since last week. I may go through withdrawel when they finish this series as I've had it going night and day, since it started.
Those of you who know me, and who read my blog, know that my hero was Tim Holt. Gene wasn't my favorite, but I still love those old westerns. I don't like many of the newer ones. The old ones seemed more real, the way that cowboys and the west should be. I wasn't a big fan of country music, either, but these were more swing and folk songs, even church songs. I sing along a little bit, then don't know the words for a while, so, at those forgotten parts, I have to just hum or put in "dum de dum" or something of that sort. I just do this around the house, since my voice is so croaky. Worse than Smiley with all his high and low ranges. My voice hasn't been the same since thryroid surgery a few years back.
I was remembering a time when I was probably 3 or 4 and was playing at my grandmother's house under the china berry tree. I wanted to make mud pies while Grandma was cooking. I wandered over to Uncle Rudloph's house across the pasture, where his wife, Pearl, was feeding chickens. I told Pearl my plight and we went in the house, where she checked her cooking on the wood stove in the kitchen.
I sure did want to make mudpies, but Grandma was busy and I didn't have any jar lids or anything to make my pies in. Pearl took me into her living room. We stood beside a table with a light bulb hanging from a single wire hanging over it.
Pearl opened a cabinet beside the stairs. There were no banisters or any kind of railing, just bare steps leading to the second floor. The cabinet was dark wood with cut out scroll work on the front. Behind the cut out area, there was a deep red fabric. The cabinet opened from the top, and looked like a 1960s stereo, except for the decorations on the front. Inside, there was a record player that played 78s. I was fascinated and had not seen anything like it, for this was only the early 1940s. There were no stereos, yet.
Pearl brought out albums and stacks of records and put them on the table. Gene Autrey and Tex Ritter were just some of the recording artists. There were also a few operas and symphonies. I knew the Gene Autrey records from the Saturday picture shows at the Eloia.
"Here, you can take these, " she said as she stacked a big pile of records and albums in front of me.
"But, won't you miss them? Won't Uncle Rudolph be mad?" I didn't want to take them, ruin them, then have an angry adult after me later.
"Nah," she said. "Those are old. We won't miss them. We usually listen to the radio, anyway. It's too much trouble to have to keep cranking that old record player, so we don't use it anymore. Besides, you need some dishes for your mudpies." She put some of the records back inside the cabinet and pulled the string on the light bulb. The light went on, then off, and she urged me toward the back door.
"You just go on back to Hermena's and make your mudpies, and don't worry about it. I've got to cook dinner, now."
I went down the steps slowly, thinking that she would change her mind and ask for the records back. I shuffled my feet through the dirt where the chickens were pecking, crossed the alley where an ancient plow was parked by a tree, and balanced the records over my head while I went through rows of corn, climbed through a barbed wire fence that separated the field from Grandma's driveway. I opened the gate to the white picket fence of the back yard, and looked back at Pearl's house to see if she was following me, wanting her records back. She wasn't there. I stepped on the concrete sidewalk, passed my aunt's collection of petrified rocks, the old cistern where Grandma had planted Cannas, and settled into my place under the wide windows of Grandma's kitchen, shaded by the China Berry tree. There was water in a faucet that stood up from the ground, lots of dirt to dig in, as long as I didn't dig where Grandma had flowers, or in her Victory Garden behind the clothesline. And, I sure didn't want to go in the back yard area where the chickens were without Grandpa or Grandma with me.
As I made my mudpies, diligently, I decided to use only one record for a dish, and made several pies on one dish. I thought that those records were too much of a treasure to ruin with mudpies. The dirt might wash off, but what would that do to the record.
One day, Grandpa was working with cows in one of the back yards, and he had to go to the toolshed. I was following him. As he went in the shed, I was looking around at some things that had been tossed out of the storage shed beside the tool shed. Buried in the mud was something metal. I dug it out and found a mud-covered, little wood stove, similar to Pearl's.
"Grandpa, can I have this?"
"Ask your grandmother," he answered from the tool shed.
I took it to the kitchen window. "Grandma, can I have this?"
"Sure you can. That's an old toy stove that a little girl gave me when I was a little girl. We used to cook on it. You can really build a fire in it and cook things. But, you will have to clean it up." She went back to the sink.
I took the stove to the faucet and washed the mud off, then left it to dry on the sidewalk. Then, when I visited, I played like I was cooking on the stove. Mudpies weren't all that great, now that I had something to cook real food on. Of course, I couldn't play with matches to light it, and the bottom of the oven was rusted almost away. But it had places to put your pies to cool, a tank for hot water, and holes with covers where you could cook food.
Eventually, I took the stove home and my sister and friends and I would put it on the front porch. My friend, Edie, had some little metal dishes and we put two plates inside the oven to make a floor for the wood. A melted candle held it together for years. We gathered sticks to make a fire in the stove. Then we cut up a potato for french fries, or got little bits of food to make soup with. It really worked! We had sturdy metal cooking utensils then, and dishes that were also sturdy. That was some good food that we cooked as little kids. It sure tasted better than mud pies and the soup we made from weeds and things that grew wild in the lot between our houses. (Of course, everyone had to eat some of what the group cooked, mudpie and soup wise. I wouldn't. Everyone knew I was a picky eater. Daddy told me that some of those weeds were poisonous so don't eat our creations. I didn't. I would run home, instead.)
I still have that little stove. At one time, I put an artificial ivy in it. The inside of the oven, the two plates, rusted away years ago. To keep it from rusting further, I painted it white. I've looked for information on that little stove. Possibly, it was actually a salesman's sample. I still think it would be fun to cook on!
Funny what Gene Autrey's songs led me to think about! "Back In The Saddle Again", "You Are My Sunshine", "Tweedleo Twill", "When It's Roundup Time In Texas", "Sioux City Sue", "Mexicali Rose", "That Silver Haired Daddy Of Mine"and all those good old songs. "When It's Roundup Time In Texas" is another story.
My favorite of his movies was the one in 1936 when it was the State of Texas Centennial. That movie was filmed at what is now the Texas State Fairgrounds in Dallas. I love those wonderful old Art Deco buildings, the way that I remember the fairgrounds. It was so interesting to see how it looked. And, so far, I haven't seen that movie in all the selections they have shown. It may have been on the other channel while I was watching something else. Incidentally, the State Fair of Texas is going on now.
Another one in this series that I liked was the one that he made just before going into service in WWII. That one is appropriate today.
I feel like I am thoroughly saturated with Gene Autrey movies. The stories and songs are all running together. I wish they would do that for Tim Holt movies. I could really watch those 24 hours a day, every day! It is nice to be able to count on seeing a good old western instead of things that you couldn't pay me to watch. I am amazed that they rate some of these movies as Parental Guidance. Those are wonderful old shows that had high morals and guided generations of youngsters as they grew up. We could use more of the Cowboy Code these days. I'm glad that they are giving "The Code" in between movies.
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