Christmas Treat From The Old Days

Nobody loved molasses more than my grandfather. It would not surprise me to learn that he ate it in some form most ot the days of his life.

I remember seeing him in the kitchen hand-grinding salt pork for this -- one of his favorites for Christmas time. And I remember seeing the proud look on his face when the finished product was ready to go with his inevitable cups of tea. Hmmm. I must ask Mom if he ever drank coffee. If he did, I don't remember it.

If there were no molasses cookies, gingerbread, or other such baked goods, he was content to finish his meal with a thick slice of home baked bread dotted with hard butter from the refrigerator and topped with a very meticulous swirl of molasses always poured from the "molasses jug" in a circular pattern that began in the center of the bread and ended at the edges of the slice. That sight was always fascinating to me -- Gramp was precise in everything he did, including the way he poured his molasses. (Funny what one remembers, isn't it?)

On Building A Camp

Having a camp on Cary Lake will fulfill a dream of mine since the 1950s. This is on property given to us by Grammie Ruth -- a portion of the land that she bought for herself and her children in 1957 after our father died in a trucking accident. This piece of land represents memories that we want to share with you and it represents the memories that we hope you will build for children of the future. It represents the importance of family love and the Christian heritage that we want to leave for our children and grandchildren (for this will be a place dedicated to our Lord and His Gospel).

Here you see Grampie Wayne and Jonathan enjoying a break from felling, sawing, loading, and hauling trees to make a building plot overlooking the lake. We worked HARD and long hours, but we believe the time and effort will be worth it in the future. Right now where 60 foot hardwood trees and smaller flora once grew is a building with a metal roof and exterior sheathing. It has no windows yet. One door is installed and the other stands inside waiting for the time that the chipboard is removed from the opening and it can take its place on the west entrance. The camp stands in the parentheses that we know as the northern Maine winter. Where the warmth of a phenomenal fall and the rustle of leaves once set the stage for our work, we see ice,  snow, a few brave chickadees and barren hardwoods. It is a time to wait and rest.

We hope you plan to spend some vacation days and weekends at the camp -- and that you might even lend a hand or an idea to this place as it continues to take on a personality that reflects who we are.