Honoring and Remembering the Ties That Bind this September…
When I think of my grandfather, my “Angrad”, the phrase that immediately comes to mind is “the ties that bind”. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I don’t remember much of my childhood, but I do carry and cherish vivid memories of interactions with him.
Summertime trips to the coast with this avid fisherman spring to mind.
Trips in a motorhome to Port Aransas to spend a week at the beach. My sister and I hunting for coquinas (for broth) and horseback riding along the shoreline (I remember my horse was named Chicken-Hawk). He’d always patiently re-rig our poles on fishing excursions, and delighted at any fish we’d land, no matter how tiny.
I also remember little summer jobs he’d give me in his gunsmithing shop. Data entry with job tickets in an old DOS program on an ancient desktop that ran Win ’95. I remember seeing his interactions with his clientele, and it felt like he knew everybody personally. He treated everyone like he or she was someone worth knowing.
Angrad was so personable. Respectable. Genteel.
Ties That Used to Bind
This month marks 6 years since his passing. He was born and died in the month of September. I never don’t miss him. Angrad was absolutely a tie that bound our family together, for better or worse. I think he was an anchor for all of us.
In truth, if he were still alive, I probably wouldn’t have been able to sever the “ties that bind” me to my parents. That’s why I mentioned “for better or worse”. No Contact is healthiest for me and my family, but I would’ve hated the pain it would’ve caused him.
He wanted peace for his family. He’d get so exasperated during times of conflict and negativity. At least, that’s the memory of him that I carry in my heart. He was kind, patient, gentle. Imperfect, of course, but loving, peaceful, and always incredibly generous.
Poignant Perspective
One memory that is particularly moving for me…
It was one of the rare occasions from when I was younger that involved someone sincerely speaking positivity into my life. It stands out to me so clearly because of the depth of sincerity and because it was from him.
I was probably in college by this point. Maybe even in nursing school. During one of my visits to spend time with my grandparents, he told me that he didn’t have to worry about me. That anytime I’ve ever set my mind to do something, I always commit and see it through. That I’ll be okay.
Instead of negative-framing about my “stubbornness streak”, his perspective was one of faith and optimism for my future. That I have the capacity to be determined and committed and pursue security and success. I hold onto his belief and confidence in me, and I’ll always hold onto the memory of him speaking that into my life.
Wistful Wishes
I wish he could’ve met Nathan. He would have absolutely taken such delight from meeting his three great-grandkids, Coen, Orson, and Nova. Remembering his laugh, how he’d drop ice cubes down the back of mine and my sister’s shirts as a harmless prank, the funny voices he’d use just to make us giggle. I know my children would be so mesmerized by him.
I’ve even found myself teaching Orson and Nova to say “Abracadabra” to open the garage door after neighborhood walks. When I’d spend the night as a kid, and it was time to close the garage for the night, we’d walk out, he’d have me say the secret word, and stealthily hit the button on the wall behind me. It. was. magic.
I wish he were still around to teach the babies how to fish like he taught me and my sister. Practically before we could walk. I wish we could still all take our summertime vacations together to the home my grandparents had in Port O’Connor, to go out on their boat to fish Espiritu Santo Bay and to swim at “Tessa’s Beach” near Bird Island.
To hear Angrad’s glee at Orson pulling up his first little piggy perch or for him to pass my “Hardhead Queen” title onto Nova when it seems like that’s all she’s pulling in…
Like the “Ties That Bind” Hymn…
The phrase “ties that bind” is a nod to an old hymn written by John Fawcett: “Blest Be the Tie That Binds”. Therein lies a verse that goes:
“When we asunder part/It gives us inward pain/But we shall still be joined in heart/And hope to meet again.”
I struggle to think of a more appropriate sentiment. As much as I miss him, as sad as I am that he hasn’t met my husband or my children, I believe I’ll get to see him again in heaven. Free of the physical pain he was in at the end. Restored. Liberated from the sadness that familial dysfunction brings. At peace. Maybe with a fishing pole in hand…
Sweet September Tributes
Angrad was born on September 14th, died September 4th, so when September comes around, he tends to be on my mind. This September, I decided to honor his memory by introducing my family to some sweet treats that remind me of him.
I made three things that stir up my nostalgia. Peanut Butter/Banana/Mayo sandwiches (I turned them into yummy paninis), Scuppernong wine jelly, and my own personal twist on a Pineapple Upside-Down cake (which was his traditional birthday cake every year). Stay tuned for THAT recipe.
PBBM Panini
I remember during those motorhome trips when my Granddad would pull out the white bread, mayonnaise, bananas, and JIF peanut butter. If you’ve never had a sandwich like this, it sounds wild. In truth, the balanced combo of flavors is pretty on point.
It was one of those poverty foods borne out of the Great Depression, when bread was cheap enough and meat too expensive. In terms of sandwiches, it packs a pretty nutritionally-dense punch. Perfect for growing kids burning off a lot of energy in the sand and surf. Or, alternatively, to bypass my toddlers’ diminished appetites when fighting a cold.
I won’t claim it’s the healthiest sandwich by any means, but it is loaded with carbs, fats, and protein. And if you don’t go the overly-processed route, you can rest easy. It’s a great calorie-bolus every once in a while.
I opted for whole wheat bread, instead of the stick-to-the-roof-of-your-mouth, sugar-packed white bread, and all-natural Laura Scudder’s crunchy PB for Orson and Nova’s paninis. I spread a thin layer of salted butter on the outside of each piece of bread. Then, I pressed it using our Green Pan Elite Multi-Grill. The result was sweet, slightly savory, gooey perfection.
Scuppernong Wine Jelly
I don’t remember the exact context of my first Scuppernong wine sip, but I do know it was at my grandparents’ house. And I remember the flavor just embedding itself in my mind…
Scuppernong grapes are a type of famous Muscadine mostly grown in the Southeastern region of the U.S. The only Scuppernong wine I can find local is from Duplin wineries based out of the Carolinas and Florida.
I’ve inquired about it at Spec’s, and they couldn’t help me. But during my recent excursions to Total Wine & More (for my Whipshots article), I came across the last bottle they had in stock of Scuppernong wine. Scuppernong Blush wine from Duplin. To be fair, it’s a light blend, but still Scuppernong-heavy, so I figured it would be good enough to scratch that nostalgic itch.
Nathan and I cracked it open, took a sip…
We’re big on bourbon-barrel aged red blends and full-bodied reds. We prefer spicier, oaky wines to sweeter, fruit-forward options. But from time to time, I find myself fixating on a nostalgic taste, and have to know if it’s as good as memory tells me.
For a rose wine, Scuppernong Blush is flavorful, but it is set-your-teeth-on-edge SWEET. Which I can totally see why I was so taken in by that taste when I was younger.
My first wine preferences were always sweet whites like Rieslings, and when I dipped my toe into reds, I started the transition with light-bodied Pinot Noirs. Now, I love a heavy Malbec, Tempranillo, even a nice, velvety, weighty Cabernet Sauvignon. Every now and then, I can even enjoy a beautifully buttery Chardonnay (like Napa Valley Quilt Chardonnay–thank you for the introduction, Gruene’s Last Call).
We took a sip of Scuppernong Blush, funneled our wine glass contents back into the bottle, and within a couple days, I had made 3 pints of some of the most delicious homemade Scuppernong wine jelly. I wouldn’t buy it for drinking, but this jelly could stand on its own as a dessert.
Recipe coming soon.
Pineapple Upside Down Cake
Be sure to stay tuned for this recipe as well.
Though I know, looking at these pictures, it looks overdone as hell. Fair, in my uneven, bane-of-baking oven, it got a tad “touched” on the outermost portion of my cake. However, the overall texture and flavor? Sublime.
I remember so many of my Angrad’s birthdays being celebrated with this cake. Granted, I’m fairly certain it always incorporated a store-bought cake mix. No shame in it. As members of the “Greatest Generation”, while exceptionally generous, my grandparents were always pretty frugal in many ways.
I wanted to do this cake up right for the occasion. I toasted up another big batch of sugar for granulated caramel. Bought some spiced rum and “top-shelf” canned pineapple. Made a big, beautiful bundt with pound cake consistency. And happened to layer the fruit in such a way that I had a riotous laughing fit when it released from the pan.
What a happy(?) little upside down cake this was! And so delightfully delicious…
And what a wonderful way to remember the sweet, loving, joyful man that my grandfather was. By baking a posthumous birthday cake that inadvertently brought a smile to my face and laughter to my heart.
By remembering these “ties that bind” memories that show some glimmer of positivity in my past and remind me of hope and faith for my future. That remind me to be so immensely grateful for my present, all that I have, the ways that I’ve been blessed. Even though I still wish you were here.
Happy birthday, Grandad “Angrad”. And thank you for the memories…
Abracadabra!