Low Sodium Spaghetti Sauce

I did it!
 Like a cook, a grandma, a normal person....I made dinner for my family! Most of you know I don't do kitchen stuff....nor do I care to. I buy fruit and veggies, beans and nuts. All pretty much hand to mouth. But finding my husband's recipe for his 'famous spaghetti' made my mouth water. He'd written two pages of detailed instructions for our kids years ago, So I had the specifics. And I actually felt like trying! Off I went to shop. I made a few changes by getting low sodium products when I could. Here's a pictorial if you're in the market for a comfy winter meal.

 STEP 1     
2 pounds ground chuck; it's leaner and has little grease
 Break up the meat into chunks; then stir and  mash with a fork to brown it
1 finely chopped onion. Stir onion in as meat is browning.
Keep on low heat...simmer or warm settings.

STEP 2                   
2 cans of diced or whole tomatoes.
1 can of tomato paste or tomato soup                            
Instead of rinsing cans, fill with 1/3 water and add
to the mixture; preserving the tomato flavoring. 

 STEP 3                        
Now is the time to add salt, pepper, oregano and
some garlic salt if you prefer. I used lite salt.
Sprinkle oregano generously
to cover whole pan and stir it in. Cook for 2-3 hours.
Stir occasionally and lower heat if it gets too dry.
You can add 1/2 cup water if needed to keep it saucy.


STEP 4                          

 About a half hour before dinner, preheat oven to 350 and prepare the garlic bread. See how I sliced this Italian bread...not quite to the bottom. You want it to fan or accordion out. Add butter and garlic                                         to taste. Wrap in aluminum foil 
                                      and warm for 15 minutes.

Thin or extra thin spaghetti is usually less starchy.
I couldn't find low sodium in the thin; only other varieties.
For 2-3 people, an 8 ounce package will do.
For 4 or more, use one or two 16 ounce packages
Break into boiling water; then time it 6-7 minutes after
the reboil. Pull out a strand to test for doneness.
Strain, open the wine and enjoy!

It turned out perfect! My kids added extra salt for their taste buds; but otherwise gave me high praise and took the left overs home! 

Recalling Old Cars; Life From the Driver's Seat

At 16, getting your driver's license is a big deal! Full of confidence and excitement, my son got in the driver's seat, I sat in back and the road test lady settled into the passenger seat of my 82 Cavalier. She closed the door, he started the engine, but ooops...the door wouldn't close! She pulled hard a couple times, my teen got out, came around and gave it a slam. Wouldn't latch. Our anxiety rising, I kept saying "this never happened before!" and "he's been waiting weeks for this appointment!"

She said if we could get it fixed and come right back, she'd still take him. The mechanic at the nearby Shell station used a screw driver to quickly pop the latch out, but had no clue why it happened. ""Never seen this before" he muttered. Back we went and there she was...still inside the door and smiling as she saw us return. Relieved but still nervous, we took our assigned seats and off he drove! He passed the test and got his license; but oh, what a funny tale to tell; especially when his sister went for her test a few years later.  I had that car for 12 years and that latch never stuck before or after that moment...what are the chances!

In 50 years of driving, I've called eight cars my own. Eight cars where I watched life unfold from behind the steering wheel. I learned to drive in high school, but getting my license didn't mean I was actually a driver. My parents didn't think I was ready...just because I knocked the fence over backing down the driveway. No worries; the bus stop was nearby to get me to work, and soon I was off to college for four years where I mostly walked. Boys had cars and that's what mattered!

When my husband and I married, he had a 65 Malibu convertible to honeymoon in. We headed east to the Atlantic seaboard in breezy sunshine. Six months later in the middle of Michigan winter, I began my first teaching job and had to drive. At age 22, I relearned quickly how to navigate our burgundy "summer" car. It wasn't easy getting through unplowed back roads and having to back up and out of ditches that kept getting in my way. I got the hang of it eventually; always grateful for strangers who'd say leave it and drive me to school on those days when the tires and ditches didn't cooperate. There were no worries; it's what folks did in those days.

Three years later, pregnant with our firstborn, I got a blue 69 Malibu...my very own first car!
Winter driving was still a bitch, and still being back in those good ol' days...there were no child safety seats.
After maternity leave, I had a 3-month-old in a flimsy, plastic carrier on the front seat next to me each day. I can still see it...Spike, the town mechanic, magically appearing through several feet of snow as I sat stuck in a big drift. He grabbed my baby, helped me up into his tow truck and placed the carrier on my lap. Just imagine.....no way to call for help, no phone to let the principal know I was running late, but also...no stress. It was the way of life. He drove me to the babysitter's house, then to school and my second grade classroom.

My husband bought a bright yellow 71 Gremlin...but we eventually switched cars and the Gremlin became mine....probably because I thought it boosted my cool factor! It was a zippy little car with bucket seats in front; lap belts but no kid car seats.
One day I was driving along I-94 with my mom, the two of us talking away; and this little toddler is poking his head between the seats, reaching up front, bouncing around on the back seat. But we knew what to do if I had to stop suddenly....throw your arm back and across the passenger! Remember that? I still do it today with my teen granddaughters in the car!

Our daughter's arrival meant needing more space, so we added two more rooms to our house and bought a larger car. Good thing it was a station wagon; this big, blue 77 Volare moved us to Kentucky in the winter of 78....right through the middle of a record-breaking blizzard. My husband started a new job, but instead of teaching, I volunteered in my kids' school and became a Cub Scout leader; filling my car with rowdy little boys to attend parades, firehouse tours and fall festivals. Within eleven months, another job opportunity arose and off we went again, moving to Massachusetts!
I transitioned easily into substituting and switched volunteering roles....becoming a Brownie leader this time. My trusty wagon went through snow like a charm, filled with hockey equipment one day, bunches of giggling, uniformed girls the next. Both my son and daughter started hockey at age five; I was used to wrestling on their gear, lacing skates and waiting by the gate to wipe noses. Station wagons knew hockey, just like today's SUV's!

Once a week after school, I'd open the back and eight, nine or ten little Brownies would jump in for our meeting at a local church. There were seat belts, but they wanted to sit circle style in the way back. Makes me shudder remembering this: slipping and sliding as I drove the snowy, woodsy road to the church....shouting for them to hang on....and they're laughing all the way! Good Lord! Well, yes, God did keep them safe. Those were the days, huh? I let them swing on clotheslines, have stick fights; let my own kids play two, three streets away for hours at a time. I was never worried or fearful; neighborhood moms watched over kids playing in their yard. I miss those relaxed and trusting times...miss the me from those days.

When my two started junior and high school, learning-to-drive-time was right around the corner. Going car shopping with teens weighing in can make or break the deal. Decision made, we blew kisses at the Volare and welcomed the adorable two-toned green Cavalier into our lives. Mom's new car was a hit! Always wanting friends along, we now made sure everyone buckled up. This limited them to one friend each or one kid and three friends. In the fall of 85, we made another big move; back home to Michigan! Our son had a learner's permit and was chomping at the bit to get his license as soon as he turned 16. (See opening paragraph!)

  By now I was driving on highways to my job and many times across the state to conferences and meetings; just me and my Cavalier. I lived in this car for over a decade; chalking up as many memories as miles. My Dad often worried about me traveling alone. When he learned I was heading to Georgia one summer to visit my sister, he made me a passenger....oh that I could find that old picture. He stuffed some old clothes with newspaper, a paper bag head with yarn hair and a baseball hat pulled low. Through the middle was a pole or stick I recall, and he'd attached a pipe or cigar. He had a name, but it escapes me now. We had to sit there while Daddy checked from all angles to make sure 'it' had a life-like profile. Honest to God....I drove down I-75 feeling silly but safe!

While I was there, life took another sharp turn, sprinkled in some good timing and opportunities and before long, I'd settled in the Atlanta area. Our son stayed behind to continue college, our daughter switched high schools, I began teaching again and my husband landed an editing job in Aruba!
I didn't mind sharing the Cavalier with my daughter; she made the basketball team and drove to practices and games. Some days she'd take me to school and have the car, other days I'd drop her off at her school. It was winter of 93 when we noticed it was not doing well. We nursed it along and whined about our cold feet....what was wrong with the heater? A boyfriend discovered the problem....a hole in the floorboard....a really big hole where you could watch the pavement fly by! My colleagues called it the Jesus car....as in Jesus take the wheel! I 'fixed' it with a sheet of plywood and carpet samples. We were back in business for awhile, but more needed doing which meant more money needed spending.

Coached from afar by my husband and son, my daughter and I drove to a used car dealer feeling both sad and apprehensive. We were quietly remembering how much a part of our lives this little green car had been....and now we'd probably be telling it goodbye.
We were clueless at first, but with my penchant for asking soooo many questions and her gift of math and finance, we finally made a deal. Feeling brave and proud, I drove us home in a big white boat of a car, a 91 Lumina.  I'm sure we both had tears as we waved to our abandoned Cavalier.

The Lumina kept me warm and I felt confident on the road. With both my kids in Michigan colleges, I could drive back and forth to visit them feeling safe and secure. During a visit to my parents over Christmas break, I mentioned hearing rattling, ticking noises to my dad. Out the door he went, quickly followed by my husband and son; eager to get under the hood and figure it out. My mom said "they won't come in till they find something.....like we don't come back from shopping till we find something!" My Dad worked in the auto industry all his life. In Motor City where 'Buy American' reigned. My next car meant facing him with something else.

Time moves more quickly as we grow along; the kids grown, just the two of us again. My job required a daily 20-30 minute drive each way and I needed something more dependable. I wanted something sporty. Hello 99 Mitsubishi Montero Sport! Perfect for keeping me safe and silly. But I worried about my Dad...what would he think? Have I let him down: disrespected his passion and profession? My son assured me grandpa wouldn't mind, that he knew things were changing. He was right. Dad looked it over; inside and out and underneath, took pictures and drove it around the block. "It suits you,"  he said hugging me. Even at age 55, I welcomed his acceptance.

The back soon held a car seat for my baby granddaughter and a booster seat for her big sister.
Precious Cargo. Oh, the flashbacks to my years as a new mom....driving a baby and her big brother with no restraints, except my arm.
Grandmothering requires one to be mature, wise and responsible. I was ready, willing and able...or so I thought. Doing errands with the 18-month-old one day, I decided to get my car cleaned and drove into the car wash. No sooner had it started when baby girl started screaming and crying and reaching for me. I did the greatest Houdini act ever; jumping over the seats to grab her up and hold her tight till it was over. I wasn't limber, agile or athletic. There's not much room between the head rests and the roof...somehow I did it. That dark tunnel with long-armed, swishy monsters roaring and spitting at us had to be traumatizing. I told her mommy and daddy in tears, sure I'd never be trusted with my grandbabies again. We joke about it now,  but I still see her face whenever my car goes through the Ladies Day wash!

There was still another car waiting for me. It was another January when we browsed the local Honda lot, "just looking." I fell in love with a 2007 Honda Pilot and a few hours later we both waved goodbye to the Mitsubishi. I felt the power of the truck-like vehicle beneath me, the confidence of sitting as high as the sky and the enormous size as I saw the third row from my rear view mirror.
I loved being able to offer my teaching pals a ride; lots of room for everyone. But not for long; a year later the back seat held three car seats. Getting them anchored, then harnessing and buckling two babies facing backward with their big brother in between was practically a full day job! Safety has come a long way since my firstborn. With practice and better timing, Grandpa and I eventually managed to get them in and out gracefully in less than five minutes! Now they're all in booster seats and can buckle their own safety belts. My driving memories now include little voices behind me singing, reciting the alphabet, naming the constellations. Drive-thru windows and a handy basket of books or toys to quickly grab. Pulling over and getting out to retrieve a pacifier or sippy cup.

These cars...fifty years of life from the driver's seat and I've loved every one of them.

 Looking at old albums, recalling stories and my son and daughter sharing their memories makes me realize how perfect each car was for that period of our lives. Each car served a purpose and met our needs. About a month after I bought the Pilot; I answered the phone and heard our two year old grandson say, "mama has two babies in her belly!"  .

Widowed and relocated back to Michigan, there's comfort in driving this old pal. We've both had tune ups and are in great shape for our age and mileage! I drove it from Georgia...alone. But as the commercial says, my dad and my husband were with me. My kids too...tracking my phone to see my progress. I knew the way, but decided. to wander some blue highways and ride down memory lane a bit. "Mom, where are you?" came the calls.  Roles change as time flows.
My Pilot has new tires and I'm driving in snow again! I'm managing slippery roads better. Fifty years have grown me up and eight cars have given me confidence and skill; whether driving busy freeways or twisty backroads...just like life.

Happy Birthday in Heaven

Happy Birthday in Heaven, Sweetheart.                                              January, 2016
The kids and I are doing okay.

This past year has been a really big deal...I sold our house! I did it, honey...I got what you'd always hoped for; and walked away with 18 years worth of memories in my heart as well! The new family loved the deck and garden wall you built, and wanted the den shelves, your big desk and the outdoor furniture!
Guess what else? Treg and Cara left Ventura! Quit their jobs, put the girls and pets in the Volvo and road tripped across the country last summer seeing all kinds of amazing places. We're all back home in Michigan now , babe....back where our story began. They found jobs they love; jobs with benefits, great pay...and yes...another company car! They have a darling house in Vicksburg and I found a cozy condo in Portage that's perfect for me. I sub at the nearby school; you know I love learning and being challenged with new things!

The Littles are growing up, Grandpa.  11 and 8 now...all doing really well in school. JC Elementary was named a National School of Excellence last year.....I've worked there and can vouch for the amazing staff and enriching environment in that building!
They are happy to have their other grandparents nearby to help out and to spoil them like you and I did for so many years! Drew is maturing...he'll begin middle school this fall! His athletic ability just keeps maturing too....and not far behind is Laney! Lane is a hustler and anticipates every move just like Drew. You would love watching the boys together now....brothers teaching and leaning on each other. It's more Paige and the boys now, rather than Drew and the twins. Little Miss Chevious is still a sweetheart, but feisty and bossy like our growing up Pumpkin days!

Tracy and John gave me their blessing when I left the first of August; then took the whole week of Thanksgiving to drive up here so I could have everyone together for the holiday. Right on cue, the skies sent eight inches of perfect snow just as they arrived!
It was the first time we've all been together since summer 2011 at the lake house...that grand strand of lawn and beach front where all five played chase on the grass and splashed all day in another Crooked Lake, improving their swimming, driving the boat, learning to fish! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for planning that vacation, sweetheart.The impact it had on our lives was tremendous.

McKenzie is excelling in her senior year and Kayleigh is a freshman....already securing first chair in the chamber orchestra with her viola! She has a gift for music....and loves to write like you did. Best of all is her sweet, caring soul...our mini-Sonshine boy; half sensitive, half sass!
McKenz applied to Western which pleases me so much...you too, I know! But she's leaning toward a year or so at KVCC first to become a paramedic! Remember how we'd burst with pride but wring our hands every time her dad answered a call to help people in distress? Now our girl is following in his footsteps! And guess what?....she LOVES old cars! She is still very much Grandpa's girl! Three years of German and speaking fluently!  And she wants to pursue art and design like you encouraged her to do.

The kids are doing fine. Happy and healthy and making memories of their own. Tracy and John took their kids to Disneyworld last spring! Treg and Cara and the girls are embracing winter; ice skating, snowmen, boots and parkas! Makes you smile knowing how smoothly they've moved from barefoot on their backyard beach to cornfields and wooded acres behind their house now!

I am doing okay....still working on the eating/cooking thing. I eat healthy.....farm to table mostly. Little work but good results.....but lazy anyway you look at it, I know. But get this...I'm going to attempt your Famous Spaghetti this weekend for Treg and Cara and the girls!
 I have my bike here...riding's not the same without you and Palm trees....but I ride anyway because it feels good and connects me with your voice and smile in the wind...better than those pennies I found everywhere that first year, honey.

One last thing, Jimbo. I've seen many Gazette folks since you left and I love hearing the old stories; hearing them miss you like I do. My condo is just down the road from George! He's been a great help; recommending a realtor to us, as well as dentists and doctors in the area. He's invited Treg....who still calls him Coach...to play poker with the guys, and he'll be by someday to fix the old sailboat riggings. This year is KVCC's 50th Anniversary, and Tom is in charge of pulling it all together as he does so well. I messed up by not keeping the bound edition....so sorry. You kept everything from way back to the way back....and I always wanted to get rid of things. Well, I did. The move made me do it. Even Tom said, "Jesus, Joan" if it makes you feel any better!

We've been welcomed back in the family folds too.....first in Detroit with the Carswell/Bickley clan; then with all the Michigan Stommens coming together at Jake's house in Mattawan! Mike and Phil and Jeff....oh man, I lost it. Those three little boys at our wedding all grown up reminded me of how you looked and talked and loved life....I cried.

Miss you so much, miss you at night.  Miss having coffee with you when daylight comes. Miss you growing along with me, miss you loving me.
Thank you for growing me up. I never acted like it, but it shows now I think. Thank you for equipping me to carry on; for building the foundation that made us us. And now, my darling...thank you for watching over and keeping the kids safe and healthy.

Paige says you are "a writer in the sky"....oh how God appreciates having you and your way with words!

                                    Love you forever

A Nudge From Above to Give Again

Thanks to all the toy collections around town and the Facebook power of Elizabeth Gilbert; I was moved to help raise money to aid the refugees through her organization, The Compassion Collective. Suddenly, I stopped feeling sorry for myself....this third Christmas without my husband. Here's why.

He surprised us every Christmas with thoughtful, unexpected gifts...perfectly suited to our needs or desires. But like many men, he was hard to buy for. He didn't want anything; quietly tolerating the usual new shirt, book, and kitchen gadgets each year. His Christmas Morning magic was watching the rest of us open and exclaim over our presents! I never realized how much pleasure he got sharing and giving until I clicked submit and realized how often he'd done this.

 He always did it and did it well! He gave to friends who were raising money by riding, running or triathloning for leukemia, heart disease and diabetes research. He donated annually to Western Michigan University, the Salvation Army and Empty Stocking Fund, and to local police, firemen and school fundraisers.

One of his favorite things this time of year was Toys for Tots. He'd watch for coupons and comb clearance racks for decent toys and games...."not junk." He'd buy bags full at the after-Christmas sales for the following year. He loved showing me what he'd picked out for boys, for girls, for various ages. A few times I raided these bags needing a last minute something for the grandkids.

Now I'm taking over his joy in helping others....his generosity and care in making a difference for  those less fortunate. I haven't got his passion yet, but I know he'd be proud that I stepped up and contributed to the most pressing world need right now...helping the refugees.
We were both history majors with a strong sense of family. His dad was an immigrant welcomed to a new country as soon as he stepped foot on Ellis Island; my dad was hidden by French townspeople for 70 days during WWII. Whenever I'd complain about hurting our budget, he'd say "it's what we do, Joan....give back, pay forward."

And there-in lies my peace. Paying forward what someone, somewhere did for our families once upon a time....do onto others. Miss you, sweetheart. Thank you for reminding me to carry on. 

Thanks for the Memories

April, 1965. It was my 21st Birthday and I couldn't wait to join my college newspaper pals at the bar just off campus. Our editor bowed out, saying he'd rather see the basketball game.....but he'd take a rain check. Fast forward a few weeks and yes! he invited me for a drink at the Colony Room attached to Wayside Lanes. Here they served drinks on white table cloths; not the usual grab-your-own-beer in the bowling alley.
Thus was our first date....leading to marriage the following summer. But this is about Wayside. 

Re-imagined, renovated and enlarged through the years, Wayside West closed it's doors forever October 25, 2015.
Wayside has been a Kalamazoo icon; run by the same family for over 50 years. Sure, there are negative comments and naysayers that say good riddance. But rather than focus on the whys; most folks over the age of 45 recall it with fond memories and nostalgia. At least that was the scene as the countdown began last Sunday. Still within walking distance of Western Michigan University, there wasn't a young college kid anywhere. Only couples my age, groups of guys my son's age. All were telling their story.

In the late 70's/early 80's, Wayside became all shiny, flashy neon....billing itself as a Dance Club with live bands, Barcaloungers, a pool room, video games and eventually; big screen TVs.
We hired babysitters, met our pals and danced the night away. It was a younger crowd...but we all kept going anyway.
We moved away a couple times, but visits back to see family and friends included lunch, dinner or a drink at Wayside.

By the 90's, it lost it's dance magic, but morphed into a sports bar with TV's everywhere and smaller, intimate sitting areas for singles. Great food was always a given through the years. Hot sub sandwiches, pizza, French dip and more recently, smaller portioned appetizers to share.
It became the lunch time hangout for area fire and police officers; earning Wayside the nickname, Station 8. This was a place where they knew your name. The long time owners and wait staff became family. Both our kids were in college by now and yep....they hung out here too! Everyone called it 'their place.' All you had to say was "I'll be in town, let's meet!" No need to say where. 

As the years went by, society became trend conscious and breweries and ale houses quickly rose, Wayside reinvented itself once again with 64 Taps on the marquee.  There were daily specials on tap and crowds continued to gather for big game weekends; but the venue was not only aging, it had become too big for today's population who prefer cozy pub crawls and brewery visits.

Retired but still coming back to Kalamazoo several times a year, we'd make a point to eat here. Drink....not so much. Even in the middle of the day, middle of winter, there'd still be familiar faces.When my husband passed away a few years ago, we held a service here in town. Afterward, we honored him by going to Wayside with our extended family. So many of us; we took over the top floor!

My son and his family moved back to Kalamazoo this summer, and I followed soon after. Since he and his wife had their first date here also, Wayside became our go-to celebration place. We cheered our arrivals when we got to town!  We celebrated each of us getting a job! When they closed on their new house, we were here. When I finally settled in my new home....off to Wayside. And then suddenly....with only 24 hours notice to both the public and staff....the doors were closing for good! Sold to a developer who will likely raze the building and lease space in a new one.

Sad time for us older folks.....how can a building cause grief? How can there be so many memories in one place? We'll always have these memories...they're in our hearts. 
But it was a painful weekend as we paid our respects both days. I had a Margarita at 2:00 in the afternoon and chomped down pizza as I shared stories with the fellow next to me at the bar. He said. "so sad, I've been coming here for 42 years!" to which I replied, "I've been coming for 50!  " Well, you're older than I am" he said as we laughed through our tears. My son was right there with me, reminiscing and telling me tales from his days on campus I'd never heard before! My daughter sent texts remembering her Wayside happy hours; pleased that we were here to say goodbye.

It felt good to be a part of the closing. It was comforting....having that last drink. Hearing other people share their memories and funny stories. There was a connection, a feeling that we'd been part of something wonderful. We truly had....Cheers!