Magnalite - Wagner Ware Memories

Recently during my therapeutic, kitchen cabinet refurbish a treasure was found. Overwhelmed with grief… the loss too painful, especially with her recipes which seem to be a connection to her soul, I just packed them away in corners and closets in my home. Not long ago with the purchase of a wonderful little cookbook cabinet that showed up just at the perfect time... I spent hours in conversation with mom while I sifted through loose clipped recipes.

A day with mom - Mom's Recipes

I rarely ever saw her use a cook book so this treasure was amazing to me. 
Shoved into a dark corner of a lower floor cabinet I found this large, vintage, Magnalite - Wagner Ware cooking pot. WoW! Gold!






Gingerly I retrieved the buried treasure. The lid was wrapped in a ‘required’ paper bag. I can still hear her voice on visits where she inevitably ALWAYS gave me goody bags to take home, “Here put it in a paper bag.” There was no sense refusing or arguing. Over the years I’d learned rebuffing her suggestion would be futile as whatever it was she was giving me to take home would always end up in a paper or plastic bag… in fact double bagged.  One to protect it and one to carry it in. I smile now feeling a fondness for mom’s idiosyncrasies, and long for another visit or moment in the kitchen with her. 

Tenderly and anxiously I removed the lid and as it lifts... time stops... another wonderful conversation with mom.... memories of the kitchen filled with delicious, heartfelt memories flood in.



I have a rather large collection of collectibles from the 1930s through the 70s, mostly from mom and dad and my childhood home. In the 80s and 90s I would find collectibles in thrift stores and garage sales and sell them at the local antique mall where I had a sellers spot, always keeping mom and dad's for myself. Now the favorite ones, and there are many, are on display in my home. They still bring me comfort… keep my parents, my childhood and a simpler, happier time close to my heart, connect me to my roots.

If you grew up in the baby boomer era... how many of these items do you remember from your childhood?

Not sure why but this memory sprang to mind today and wave of joy filled my heart. I will always hold dear the sound of my dad's belly laugh when his friend, Wally Schirra, stated from space that out the little round window of the space capsule, Gemini 7, he saw a mock UFO sighting, as in Santa Claus, and then played the first ever song from space, "Jingle Bells", on a harmonica he had smuggled on board. This of course immediately sent sales on Hohner Harmonicas 'skyrocketing'.

I'm still smiling hours later at the memory of dad's hearty chuckle and comment about his crazy friend. No one's laugh and voice compares to my dad's... but then maybe every little girl feels this way. For me Schirra was always the one astronaut who pushed the envelope just a little bit further than the rest, bucked up against the establishment and challenged all the rules. His 'break the rules' attitude is why beyond his good looks I had such a huge crush on him 'even into my late 20s. Where John Glenn was the super squeaky clean' astronaut who followed all the rules... Wally Schirra was the 'Bab Boy Space Rebel'. He was also even better looking and charismatic in person. This need to never give in and push the envelope beyond all proven limits is what made him great and inspirational and I always thought this quality along with the ability to hold his liquor and tell a good joke is what grafted a life long friendship between him and my dad. They remained great friends long after Mercury and NASA and it was wonderful seeing he'd not changed over the years as I sat across from him at my dad's retirement party in the 70s.

It was also Wally Schirra who defied the process of blowing the hatch of his capsule at sea and insisted instead to stay in the capsule until it was air lifted from the ocean water and deposited soundly on board the carrier's deck. This was to prove a point in defense of his friend and fellow astronaut, Gus Grissom. Gus' capsule had sunk after the hatch blew too soon. It was dad who made the nerve racking, final call after Gus was safely air lifted into the hovering heli to let the capsule, Freedom Bell 7, sink. It was rapidly filling with water and dangerously close to pulling the helicopter attempting to salvage it into the drink. Dad finally said, "Let it go" and then immediately ran to the Captain's bridge to survey the maps to see where it would land on the ocean floor. His heart sank right along with the casule as he and the captain realized it would be forever lost to the deepest area of the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Florida. Happily decades later with the same technology that found the Titanic it was also found. Dad found peace with making the call to allow it to sink as he knew all needed flight information had been relayed to Cape Canaveral and Gus was safe and sound.

It was dad who carried the weight and responsibility of making the call for both the letting go of Grissom's capsule to sink to the bottom of the ocean and then allowing Schirra to stay in his capsule until it was air lifted and deposited on board the carrier. The trust, friendship and camaraderie between Schirra and dad and also his buddy, Gus Grissom, as well as the other astronauts was very, very special. All were a very special breed of Space Pioneers. 

Great Time magazine article in memoriam of Wally Schirra:
When Wally Schirra Said, "Go to Hell"

Mom's Recipes

Can we just go back in time? What is happening in our country is abhorrent and I am grateful my parents are not alive to see all they fought for in WWII slowly being destroyed by the fascist, illegitimate regime that has taken over our country. Needing some salve for the heart and mind and wishing for a more peaceful time in history I decided to post this memory on my Moon Child blog. Hope it brings you a thimble of comfort.

Memories...

Bought a great little cookbook cabinet this week. Had searched for one for years and gave up... then this last week one just popped up and now it sits in my kitchen area. I'll be painting it soon and just ordered eclectic glass pulls for the doors. As I loaded my cookbooks into their new home I came across my mom's stacks and stacks of recipes. I knew they were there... just could not dive into that deep pool for all these years. I don't ever remember mom using an official cookbook. Yet she had stacks and stacks and stacks of pamphlets from the local butcher or grocery store and very cool hand clipped recipes from the newspaper ... as a result I spent the day traveling back in time.

Over 16 years since you've been gone mom. Just couldn't bring myself to read all your recipes and hand written notes until now. Maybe that's why this great little cookbook cabinet crossed my path. It was time... time to heal... time to feel close to you again. So nice to feel you here with me today... your presence... your smile... the scent of you... your patient love. There were many recipes from your friends too, who I remember from childhood. I could see you all visiting at coffee clutches and pot luck parties, balancing plates of food on your knees while you laughed, talked and polished off each others creations. Everyone always so willing to share their recipes, some arriving with prepared, manually typed, personalized, kitchen index cards. Most though are clipped from newspapers or are neatly hand written. Like a finger print on my heart there is something so special about coming across the handwriting of someone you love who is now gone from this earth.

Today it was the late 60s and early 70s and I sat with you, mom, once more in the turquoise kitchen of the vacation trailer at the river while you sipped your coffee and clipped recipes. I could smell and taste your yummy home cooked meals of love... some now still my 'go to' comfort foods. Was it the bountiful, wonderful smells and taste or the love you poured into each meal that made them each so scrumptious? Some recipes I read brought happy smiles and wonderment. Fruitcake? Sooooo many recipes for fruitcake and beer bread.

Fond memories flooded in of your care packages in the 80s filled with all sorts of sweet breads at Christmas time. Dad had passed on... you were filling your time staying busy doing holiday baking. Then arrived at my place with piles and piles of small and large loaves of cranberry-orange, banana, pumpkin and zucchini breads and, yes, fruitcake. Each carefully wrapped with tidy aluminum foil. Then when I shared them with friends they fell apart as I cut into them... crumbling completely... as you had forgotten to add the eggs. We laughed so much over that one. You were grieving... I got it. I remember saying, "That's ok... they have great flavor! I can think of something to do with the remainder." Then got creative... nothing gone to waste.

Thank you for always thinking of others. Yes... I miss you.... forever. Thank you for the treasured memories... salve for the heart. Thanks for spending the day with me. It was a very good day.