Once, the Fourth of July was grand

By Carol Weimer
Canastota Corner

Whatever happened to the Fourth of July?

Once that day that brought out the patriotic spirit in so many. We can remember parades and flags flying just about everywhere.

It was a holiday for everyone to take notice of and why it was being celebrated. It was drummed into our heads as children why we were to be proud to be born in America.

It wasn’t just another summer holiday. It was a time for a family get-together, not just immediate family, but a reunion of all the family. A huge picnic dinner followed games with prizes awarded. It was a time for the red, white, and blue paper streamers over the tables, little ribbons for the girls’ hair and tack pins for the men to wear on their collars.

Everyone enjoyed the day, and the anticipation of the evening fireworks. The men in the family collected a wide variety of fireworks to make the spectacular display.

But we go to parks, lakes, shopping malls and other places to see the grand displays. And, then get tied up in traffic to coming home. You sit in your cars and don’t have the old-fashioned camaraderie of your friends and relatives in your backyard after all the oohs and aahs were over.

World War II came along and, with gas rationing and the men in the service, the picnics and fireworks were on a smaller scale or ended altogether.

The patriotism was still there and families had smaller picnics and smaller fireworks displays. Then New York state banned home fireworks because of accidents.

Flags still fly and we realize why we celebrate the Fourth.

When we had our 200th birthday, the patriotic spark was rekindled and bells rang, grand displays of fireworks were held all over the country and the spirit made the public take off again and there was a renewing of our birthright.

But we have sort of regressed again.

Aside from a few large fireworks displays, there is little said of our country’s birthday.

Have you asked a little child why we celebrate this day?

Why not start a trend and serve a birthday cake decorated with red, white and blue frosting with one huge candle in the middle?

There are many decorations available.

Certainly that draw in the children, who’d wonder whose birthday you were celebrating.

Some still celebrate Independence Day in the good old fashioned way. We have noticed families who’ve kept their traditions alive.

If you care to watch fireworks, you so not have to leave your yard.

Turn on the TV and watch the National Symphony Orchestra on the West Lawn of the U.S. Capitol in Washington, D.C.

You will enjoy great music, fireworks and the sound of the cannon firing off the gun salute.

It gives me goose bumps each year as I watch it on the PBS station.

Tasty, pungent horseradish

By Carol Weimer
Canastota Corner

Do you like horseradish?

The pungent condiment really spices up your food.

If you use too much, it seeps up your nose and brings tears to your eyes.

Horseradish is a member of the mustard family, and is categorized as an herb.

Grow it yourself in an out-of-the-way spot in your yard.

It’s best confined to a raised bed if possible, because it can becomes very invasive. The one- to three-feet-tall plants will come up every year for your use.

The plant is practically disease-free.

A specific flea beetle may eat a few holes or white rust may appear in the leaves enormous leaves, but very seldom is any treatment necessary.

The Horseradish plant is known to deter the potato bug, so plant a few roots in the corners of your potato patch.

Rich in vitamin C, it was grown for medicinal purposes long before it was popular as a food item.

A massage oil can be concocted to relieve muscular aches and pains and to help break up congestion, by steeping a small amount of freshly grated root in some cold-pressed oil such as wheat germ, sesame or olive oil.

My dad always had several horseradish plants in a far corner of our “north-forty” patch.

It was the duty of the women to grind it and bottle it with white vinegar.

Dad would dig the roots, wash them clean and then it was our turn to complete the process. When we were grinding it, the tears would run down our cheeks; we always tried to do it out-of-doors, where the fresh air would soothe our burning eyes. It was a wonderful spring tonic that we used year-‘round.

You can make your own cocktail sauce by mixing several spoonfuls of horseradish with catsup and whatever other ingredients you want.

Mixing ground horseradish with vinegar and a dash of salt for a pungent taste or mix with stewed apple to make a sharp but sweet sauce for duck and goose.

Add yogurt, mayonnaise, and a splash of lemon, lime and grapefruit juices to some grated horseradish, mix well and serve with beef or fish.

We grew our horseradish for the root, but used the leaves in sauerkraut crock. Large grape or horseradish leaves are important to make good kraut.

Today, I buy creamy horseradish sauce at the supermarket to put on coleslaw, hot dogs, fish and sometimes baked chicken.

Horseradish is just one of many foods that can supplement your food budget.

While horseradish has to be planted originally, dandelions come up by themselves every year.

While many homeowners who spend hours removing those pesky weeds don’t appreciate them, many other people await the warm weather so they can dig them, clean them and cook them up for a spring tonic and free food to serve the family.

Seasoned with butter, salt, pepper, garlic, olive oil and herbs, they make a tasty and healthy addition to the evening meal.

Fathers special people

By Carol Weimer

Canastota Corner

Sunday is Father’s Day; spend time thanking him for being your dad. Whether he is with you where you live, perhaps in another state… or is no longer with you it is time for recognition in some way or other.

Maybe you could go fishing with him. I teased my dad forever to take me; he finally gave in one Saturday afternoon on a really beautiful day, but it didn’t turn out well.

He took me to favorite spot, where he generally would catch a few, but I couldn’t I couldn’t keep my mouth closed. I did try to keep still, but there were too many distractions that I had to ask questions about. Anyone who knows me, knows that I’m a talker

We didn’t catch any fish that day; he finally gave up and we came home.

Dads like to teach you so many things that they think you should learn. Sometimes that’s good; and other times not so good if you don’t happen to be interested in what he thinks you should be.

But, you learn anyway to please him because that is what children are supposed to do. When you get old enough, you become his helper in putting up the summer furniture on the deck, patio or porch. You sometimes or all times mow the lawn, shovel snow, do other regular jobs each week that dad used to do.

A good dad comes to all of your sports games and tells you that you played well. He helps you build the model car for you to participate in your Scout troop’s race or he might help you build a soapbox car or car for you to race as a kid.

He tries to teach you to drive when you become old enough, and helps you with school projects.

If you had a paper route, he may have driven you around when it was pouring or snowing, because he cared about you even though he might not have said it very often.

Dad is the one who stays up late on Christmas Eve assembling toys to be under the tree the next morning. He is the one who might be spending a bit of time either in the basement or workshop around holiday time building something for you for your eyes to light up on Christmas morning.

Dads help you learn how to ride a two-wheel bike and later you go snowmobiling together as you grow older or if you ride four-wheelers you do that together.

When he sees you are all grown up… he can’t believe it… but he is the one that eventually “walks you down the aisle” when the time comes to hand you over to your spouse, who’s been instructed by your dad how to treat you.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

Life was good on Muckland

By Carol Weimer
Canastota Corner

I can’t let a summer go by each year without writing about our mucklands and all the good times we had, even though we didn’t know at the time they were good times.

The spring vacation in our schools was always set for planting time, because so many families made their living raising onions.

Otherwise, kids would be taken out of school to plant onions.

If you drove down Onion Town Road (now Warner’s Road), and many other, you would see lines of people on their hands and knees placing the plants in rows in the muck.

It was a way of life. While it was hard work, there were many happy times --times of togetherness -- families, friends, neighbors all gathering to work and enjoying the evenings together.

Sometimes the men would be working on the hand tools and the women would be preparing something for the lunches to be taken into the fields the next day.

But there was also time to sit and visit in the evening, too.

There wasn’t any electricity in the early days, but eventually Niagara Mohawk came along and modernized the mucklands.

Water came from a pump in the backyard and was carried into the house for use. But that water was nice and cold and welcome. Women did their washing in the yard next to the pump and the lines would be filled with the cleanest clothes. The women knew how to get laundry white without all the modern laundry products.

What was their secret? Perhaps it was the soap they made themselves. Also, the sun and even the grass had a lot to do with it. If you really want to bleach something, place it on the lawn in the bright sunlight.
If you take a ride down those roads today, there is something terribly sad about either these buildings ready to collapse or just seem to sit there with no purpose. They used to be such nice homes, barns, and storehouses.

Onion crates would be stacked in fields in pyramid fashion when it was coming harvest time and the onions would be topped and placed in the crates.

The crates would be drawn to the storehouse or up near the road, loaded onto trucks that all the villagers would watch going through the streets. The crates would go families’ warehouses in the village or to the train station on their way to buyers.

When the crops had all been harvested and the work was finished for the season, most of the village families moved back from their “summer homes” on the muck.

All of that life has now passed. Onions are still grown in a very few places in our community, but most of them are grown elsewhere. The summer homes, barns and storehouses are falling down or have been removed. The muck is mostly weeds, save for a small patch here at there someone roto-tills for a family vegetable garden.

The kids grew up, went to college and moved away. Hiring field workers wasn’t profitable for the small farmer, so they stopped growing onions. World War II took a lot of families off the farm, too.

Now it’s just all a memory and we buy our onions in the supermarket like everyone else.