The first automobile I remember was our 1920-something Essex. I remember it as a big car. I guess when you are five years old all cars looked big. It had four doors. Doesn't that make it a big car? I thought it was in league with the Cadillac. I was wrong. According to my research the Essex was considered “a small car and affordably priced.” It boasted piano-hinged doors which were exceptionally strong. By 1929, the Essex was third in sales behind Ford and Chevrolet. Wow! And I thought it was a gunboat of a car. Our Essex was black in color. Weren't all cars black back then?

Do you like pancakes in the wintertime? I like pancakes anytime. But I am particular about my pancakes. Do I have a pancake story for you? You betcha!

When I was first married, pancakes for breakfast was the usual fare. I didn't use a mix. My pancakes were the real thing – from scratch. I thought they were pretty good. My husband thought so, too, but to spoil the complement he would add, “I sure do miss Mother's pancakes and milk gravy.” I heard about her fabulous pancakes and milk gravy over and over and over again.

Do you save seeds? From the time of Noah and before, people have saved seeds. They saved seeds, swapped seeds, inherited seeds, sold seeds and, yes, maybe even stole seeds. We still do. The rage today is over heritage tomatoes. Those seeds had to be kept year after year for them to still be around today.

I remember when we saved tomato and cucumber seeds. We avoided the hybrid ones They wouldn't reproduce true to form. It was like saving hollyhock or petunia flower seeds. After a couple of years, their flowers turned to a washed out pink shade.

Do you want a quick and easy dish for supper tonight? Here is one for you: “Corned Beef Hash.” Don't turn up your nose yet. It can be delicious, not like that awful canned stuff you tried years ago. But don't buy the corned beef brisket, either, that you see advertised at umpteen dollars a pound at the grocery store. It is not only expensive but it takes forever to cook. There is a better way.

I have a memoir teacher – I will pass She has me read my memoir Aloud, before the class. Shows me how to write a story true, With homework only I can do; A story from my past.

Monday is wash day. Everybody knows that. It always has been. I remember, when I was little during the Great Depression of the 30's, what it was like for Mother. Dad didn't help. After all, it was woman's work. I was too young to help, but I did watch. This is what I remember.

I found a poem in an old book written about something else. The poem supported the woman's right to vote, I think. Although the word wasn't mentioned, suffragette came to mind. I wasn't sure how to spell it so I looked it up. My dictionary said the word “suffrage” came partly from a word meaning “intercessory prayer” and partly from one meaning “to vote.” Does that mean that when a woman votes she is exercising intercessory prayer? That's funny. Let me tell you why.

“Yours till Niagara Falls” or is it “Yours till the Statue of Liberty sits down?” Maybe it's “Yours till the United States drinks Canada Dry.” Could it be “Yours till they feed the corn on your toes to the calves of your legs?” No, that doesn't sound very nice. I know. It's “Yours till the barn dances and the fire escapes.”

Whenever Mother and Dad had an argument, usually in bed at night, Mother had a litany of offenses Dad had been guilty of in the past. She never forgave him and she certainly never forgot. First on the list was when Dad punched Mother's brother, Uncle Johnny, in the nose and knocked him down. The second offense was the one I will now describe. Dad was officially listed as AWOL at the end of World War l. That sounds worse than what it was. I will explain.

Back in the 30's and the 40's small carnivals cross-crossed the country. It was before television and the Internet. Amusements were simpler back in the day. I'm not talking about the circus, just a carnival with some rides and a midway. They are gone forever.

I remember them. Dad allowed us one ride, a walk through the midway and a hot dog. What sights! What sounds! What smells! That was what childhood memories were made of. We went once.