Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah...

Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh,

Here I am at Camp Grenada

Camp is very entertaining

and they say we'll have some fun if it stops raining.

Allan Sherman's hilarious ode to Summer Camp, is based on a real life letter from camp written by his young son Robbie Sherman.  The camp - Camp Champlain - was in upstate New York.  It was owned by the uncle of writer, Paul Lieberman, who remembers the kid they called, "Sherman".

"Sherman had never been to camp before he arrived at my uncle's on Lake Champlain.  He was the smallest boy in the cabin but made his presence known by reading us the letters he was sending his parents, telling them how miserable he was:  'I wish you were here and I was there'.  'The counselor plays the trumpet in the middle of the night and won't let me sleep'.  That sort of stuff."  

I went hiking with Joe Spivy

He developed poison ivy

You remember Leonard Skinner

He got ptomaine poisoning last night after dinner.

"But the letters didn't work.  Sherman remained at the camp, and remained miserable, right up until the lunch hour when he took matters into his own hands."

"We were at one of the long tables in the barn-like mess hall.  He was sitting on my left.  Another boy was on my right. They began arguing.  About what I can't recall.  But, as I said, I'll never forget the dull butter knife, and it may well have been the thick handle that hit the boy.  But he fell backward nonetheless and started wailing.  I grabbed Sherman in a headlock and probably started pounding on him.  Of that I'm not certain - but the headlock definitely.  And the next day he was gone. They'd kicked him out."  

By contrast, my Dad's 1939 postcard home to his parents is uplifting!  He was having a "swell time" at Summer camp. They used words like that.  On the back of the postcard, in my Grandfather's handwriting, is the place name, Whytecliffe, the beautiful West Vancouver park, my Dad would later take our family to for Summer evening picnics of cold chicken and potato salad.  

Having learned that he may have an opportunity to travel to Hawaii with the Sea Scouts, he could hardly wait to write his parents, who only lived across the water, and an Inter-urban ride away from the camp. His spelling of Honolulu makes me laugh every time. 

That Dad would have chosen this particular postcard to send home, is no surprise.  Siwash Rock, with its Douglas Fir tree, is legendary in Vancouver.  The volcanic basalt stack is a landmark in Stanley Park, which this week (a few weeks ahead of the park's 127th birthday) was named the top park in the entire world.  

Brantford, Ontario-born Canadian poet, and daughter of a Six Nations Chief, Emily Pauline Johnson's ashes are, at her request, buried under a boulder within sight of Siwash Rock.  She moved from Ontario to British Columbia, where she died of breast cancer at the age of 51. 

Siwash Rock held a strong connection with her.  She wrote about it in her book, Legends of Vancouver. The people of the Squamish First Nation say that thousands of years ago, a young Chief, named Skalsh married a Northcoast woman.  The night before the birth of their first child, they purified themselves in the Narrows of Burrard Inlet. While his wife crept back into the forest, Skalsh continued to purify himself for his family.  Gods paddling in a canoe that would lose its special powers if it touched human beings, ordered him out of the water, but he refused.  For his commitment to family, the moment Skalsh stood up on the shoreline, the Gods immortalized him in stone: a symbol of "clean fatherhood".  Just the legend that may have been passed down to generation after generation of kids at camp.

With Summer racing to an end, and those camps about to close for the year, I am reminded of Johnson's poem, The Song My Paddle Sings, and her words, "August is laughing across the sky".

The photographs of these clouds and the weathered, wind swept Muskoka Pine (at the top of the page), were taken from the deck of a Muskoka steamship returning to Gravenhurst.  The lone pine reminds me of Siwash Rock.  Two different trees, both standing tall through the violent storms of two millennia.  The tree atop Siwash Rock (actually trees, but they're so closely intertwined they appear as one) withstood hurricanes, which felled giant Cedars in Stanley Park.

Camp Champlain, the real life Camp Granada is no longer standing.  It is now a hotel, known as the Normandie Beach Resort.

Oh, and if you're wondering what ever happened to the real life boy who hated Summer camp, writer Paul Lieberman, who sat beside him that fateful lunch hour, tracked him down for an article published August 16, 2003 in the Los Angeles Times.

Robert Sherman could not remember many of the events of that Summer long ago.  "Not to look for sympathy, but just as a comment on memory - I had four just-outside-of-the-brain tumors removed, two in 1973 and two in 1983, and I have a bunch of memory gaps."  Sherman, weathered the storms. He had a boyhood interest in electronics, and started a series of entertainment websites including Quiz-land.com.  He made a nice living doing what he enjoyed.  He even sent his daughter to a day camp! 

P.S. (Summer Camp letters often end with a P.S.)  The Muskoka Pine is now available on Society6 as a phone skin or cover for your kid's iphone..."Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah..."

Muskoka Pine photograph copyright:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Inc.

Summer Clouds photograph copyright:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Inc.
Lyrics to Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah (A Letter from Camp) by Allan Sherman, Wikipedia
Legends of Vancouver, E. Pauline Johnson (1911)
The Song My Paddle Sings, Flint and Feather: The Complete Poems, by E. Pauline Johnson (1912)

The Boy in Camp Granada, by Paul Lieberman, LA Times August 16, 2003

Widow's Endorphins: Salsa

Widow's Endorphins: Salsa: Fresh Salsa is one of the pleasures of Summer.  Salsa is both Spanish and Italian for sauce.  It is delicious as a taco dip, or as a c...

Salsa

Fresh Salsa is one of the pleasures of Summer.  Salsa is both Spanish and Italian for sauce.  It is delicious as a taco dip, or as a condiment served with roasted meat, poultry or fish.  If you are lucky enough to have an herb and vegetable garden (or, a really great neighbour with a garden), then homemade fresh Salsa is probably something you enjoy throughout the Summer.  

There are five basic ingredients in Salsa:  tomatoes, onion, jalapeno pepper, cilantro and lime juice.  I know, just as I define the list, you'll add and subtract from it!  That's the beauty of Salsa, there's room for experimentation.

Traditional Salsa  

3 Cups chopped fresh tomatoes

1/2 Cup finely diced green pepper

1/4 Cup finely diced red pepper

1/2 Cup finely diced onion

1/4 Cup chopped fresh cilantro

1 finely diced jalapeno pepper

2 Tbsp fresh lime juice

1 Tbsp olive oil (optional)

salt and cracked black pepper to taste

Combine all of the ingredients in a bowl, stirring well.  Cover and chill for at least one hour.  Serve with taco chips and avocado, or as a condiment with roast chicken, meat or fish.   

If you're like me, and all of the women in our family, you'll be changing the recipe as you read along. Substitute red onion, or even green onion for white onion.  What, no garlic?  Add garlic.  Don't have cilantro and lime?  Substitute with fresh parsley and lemon juice (not the same, but it works). Terrified of handling jalapeno chile peppers?  Many recipes come with a warning about using disposable gloves, washing hands with soap and hot water, and avoiding touching your eyes for most of the day.  Substitute with dried Chile peppers, or season with dried Chipotle pepper.  Hey, it's a Summer snack, not Christmas dinner!

For the non-conformists, there's a non-tomato version of Salsa you might enjoy...

Just Peachy Salsa

1 Cup chopped fresh peaches

1/2 Cup diced red bell pepper

1/2 Cup diced red onion

1/4 Cup chopped fresh cilantro

1 diced jalapeno pepper

2 Tbsp lime juice

salt and pepper to taste

Blanche the peaches with boiling water, so as to more easily remove the peel.  Chop the peaches, and combine all of the ingredients in a bowl.  Stir, and cover.  Refrigerate for at least one hour, so that the flavours blend.

This recipe too, has a variation:  substitute peaches with fresh nectarines.  Nectarines are much firmer than peaches, and dice easily.  Whereas peaches are best chopped.  You don't need to remove the skin from the nectarine, making this option a much easier one if you are in a hurry.

Photographs Copyright of :  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

Widow's Endorphins: Peaches and Cream

Widow's Endorphins: Peaches and Cream: Grandpa had a peach tree.  It was, and still is a rarity in Vancouver.  While Canadian peaches grow in abundance in both the hot, dry ...

Peaches and Cream

Grandpa had a peach tree.  It was, and still is a rarity in Vancouver.  While Canadian peaches grow in abundance in both the hot, dry Okanagan region of British Columbia, and in the hot, humid Niagara region of Ontario, it is unusual to have a peach tree in Vancouver.

My Grandparents had a large double lot with a white picket fence all around.  An enormous cherry tree presided over the backyard gardens...three different gardens.  One, closest to the kitchen door, produced corn, beans, peas, potatoes, carrots, lettuce, tomatoes and chives.  Another, produced strawberries, raspberries, sweetpeas, and gladiolus.  The peach tree grew in the rose garden.  It was always called, "Grandpa's tree", and he was proud of the bounty it produced.

 
Grandma's father was the Foreman on the rail line through Northern Ontario gold country, and her mother ran an ever moving boarding house for railway construction workers.  Grandma learned to cook and bake for crews of hungry men. When I was growing up, her Westcoast kitchen was Central Command for whatever was in season.

So, when the peaches on Grandpa's tree ripened, their house was filled with the sweet fragrance of peach pie, peach cobbler, and canned peaches.  The kernel found in the peach pit, would be added to the canned peaches, giving the syrup an almond flavour.  The Mason jars of canned peaches would be left standing on the kitchen table, until after their lids made the popping sound, signalling they'd been sealed.  The jars would then be brought down creaky cellar stairs to the pantry.  On dark Winter nights, Grandma would open a jar of Summer, and together they'd savour a simple dessert of peaches and thick cream.

After Grandpa died, the double lot was subdivided and sold.  The rose garden and peach tree were bulldozed to make way for someone's house.



Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.    

Widow's Endorphins: After the Storm

Widow's Endorphins: After the Storm: We had a frightening storm yesterday.  Ominous black clouds, and an eerie green glow appeared in the sky above Toronto.  Then came t...

After the Storm

We had a frightening storm yesterday.  Ominous black clouds, and an eerie green glow appeared in the sky above Toronto.  Then came torrential rains, thunder and lightening.  

  

Nature gives us lessons in life.  After every storm, the air is fresher, we breathe easier, and the sun shines.  Be strong, tomorrow is a brighter day!  These roses appear so fragile, yet they withstood the wind and rain, which destroyed trees. You are stronger than you know! 

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.