The Mystery of the "E"

     Skeletons. Closets. Farmersville, TX.  This tiny farming community became home to great-great grandfather Jay Horn and wife Samuel Eliza Lansford (Rike)Horn.  Genealogy records indicate they called her "Sammie."  She was the wife of Lewis Rike, brother of GW Rike, son of Robert A. Rike.  GW Rike, RA Rike, and Jay Horn, Sr. owned the first herds of cattle brought to the Farmersville area.  Lewis died young and three years later, Sammie married Jay Horn.  My grandfather, Claude Garland Horn(e), was one of their children.

     Claude set out for Camden, Arkansas (why, I do not know), arriving there in 1906.  His brother Samuel Lansford Horn (Sam) came with him.  Claude was 21 and Sam was 17.  Both became prominent businessmen in Camden.  Claude won the prize, however, marrying the youngest of the Gordon Girls and the last to marry, my grandmother, Mildred. The mystery remains:  why did Claude add the "e" to the spelling of Horn?
      A family split makes for a good story, but that does not seem the case, as my mother tagged around with, idolized, and absolutely adored Uncle Sam's daughter, Mildred, named for her mother.  Beautiful and popular Mildred died at age 19 or 20 from measles' complications. Her brothers Sammy and Billy Horn lived, worked, and raised children in Camden, but the women and girls did not socialize much at all. The men (Daddy, my Uncle Gordon, Sammy, Billy, and their other-cousin John Ritchie) enjoyed hunting, fishing, and camping trips. (According to legend, they did some hunting and fishing on their drinking trips.) I remember Susan (Mibby-Sue/ Mildred Susan) and DJ (Dorothy Jane/ Janie) slightly. Trying to form a relationship, even on Facebook, can be a challenge.  Who has ownership of all the photos of Grandaddy's side of the family? Where are the photos of Uncle Sam's family members?
     Family Mysteries are good fodder for writing, but could be solved if all the cousins could manage to join forces, share memories, and ultimately uncover the photos. Maybe we could solve the Mystery of the "E."

"Morning Rainfall" with Musical Musings

Rumble. Rumble again.
         Blink.  Blink again. 

Recognition and realization.

Rain, soft and steady, sheeting sanctuary windows.
Tug upon the covers.  Snuggle into the burrow.  Sigh. 
Sigh again. Soft and warm.
Safe. Peace. 
Symphony of rainfall. Sleep again and Smile.

Musical musings: Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head; Singing in the Rain; Rainy Night in Georgia; Rhythm of the Rain.

Birthday Pleasure: Delicious Pink Frosting

                Step back in time…way, way back to the era of a little girl’s birthday. I was transported there this morning as I visited with a Rector neighbor.  She had baked her grandchildren’s favorite cake to take to the family dinner tonight, and was busy whipping up the frosting.  As I watched and we conversed, I noted her steps and she shared that the recipe was one she’d always had within her family. When I saw the beater raised from the mixing bowl, I knew it was my family’s recipe also.  I had never made the icing myself, and I only recall one specific time when Mother, herself, made it.  For my birthday – perhaps age 3 – because I recall that we were in the kitchen of our little house on Crestwood.
                     

The cake did not matter as much as the frosting.  Our family’s basic recipe involved simple syrup and 4 egg whites plus 1 T sugar beaten into peaks by an experienced hand with a faultless rhythm.  The red handled “egg-beater” was used with skill to create stiff peaks within a Wesson Oil gray crock boasting a blue band and blue lettering.  Once the simple syrup (1 cup water, 1 cup sugar cooked to the string stage) was added in, a stand mixer could be used to create the fluffy, stiff-peaked frosting.  Add a teeny-tiny dot of red food coloring, and voila’!  Pink Icing!  

                      Want to lick the beaters?

Just Peachy

                 While the phrase, “everything’s just peachy” can be a facetious  remark in an off-handed slap to the day being a bit less than hoped, allow me to comment that, indeed, all is “just peachy.”

               We have Peaches!  It’s July, right?  Late in their arrival by a few weeks, the orchards have been suddenly laden with peaches in various stages.  Some ripe, some firm, we purchased a bushel of each. 

               What can beat fresh peaches over vanilla…frozen yogurt?  And, I cannot allow a summer to go by without my famous peach cobbler.  Not the dump it all in a casserole with something from the bottom coming to the top, but my fabulously foot-stomping, slap-yo-mama delicious, family peach cobbler.  It’s prepared first and foremost in the peach cobbler pyrex dish.  Just the right amount (or more) of the secret ingredient is added to the sliced syrupy peaches before pouring them into the prepared crust in the prepared dish and placing the divine creation into the prepared oven.

             Peaches in the morning, peaches in the evening, peaches at suppertime!