The Breakdown

Lois had always taken good care of herself and was proud of her appearance, to the point where she let herself get a bit underweight at times. After two kids, though, the weight started piling on and she couldn’t get it off.

Bill reassured her that he loved her and would always love her no matter her weight. It just wasn’t important to him, but most of all, he just wanted her to be happy. 

But, gaining all that weight made her unhappy, so she went to her doctor for help. He put her on diet pills, or what we know today as speed.

The pills gave her bouncing-off-the-walls energy, but after they wore off, she became anxious and depressed. The longer she took them, the worse it got, so one day she stopped taking them. Cold turkey.  

A few days later, Bill came home to find his wife in tears and the kids upset and worried about mommy. Mommy had been crying most of the day and couldn’t stop.

He rushed her to the doctor who decreed that she’d had a nervous breakdown from stopping the diet pills (no shit!) and finished up their visit by prescribing more pills. Antidepressants. She took them for a little while but those pills made her feel like a zombie, so she quit taking them too.

And guess what? After a few days without all those pills she was fine.

But, in the back of Bill’s mind lurked the shadow of the diet pills, and so he worried about her. That’s why he always made light of his troubles. He figured she had enough on her hands without worrying about him too.

Goodnight Sweetheart

The rest of the letter from June 6, 1962

Fairbanks, Alaska 

Meals are high but we found a couple of places where you can get good meals for $1.75.  Rent is also pretty steep.  This Boatel where we’re staying said they’d let us stay for $75 a month.  They generally get that for one person but gave us the same price for 2.

How is everybody there, all are well, I hope.

Tell everybody I said “Hello” and give them my love.  If anything happens let me know.

Pass the news along as to how I’m doing and will write to the rest of the folks soon. 

By the way I’ll only get paid every 2 wks. But will send some money home then.  I think we could both probably use some.

It’s awful hard getting around without a car but have been doing alright so far.  Got a little better than 2 miles to go to work but have had good luck getting a ride so far.

Am going to try and get the film mailed before the end of the week.  Hope they turn out good.

Will close for now and hit the sack.

Goodnight sweetheart and don’t worry about me.

All my Love,

Bill

P.S. Rec’d your letter and was sure glad to get it.  Hope Tiki gets well.  By the way she hasn’t had any distemper shots.

Love, Bill

Note: Dad was still a bit depressed, even after getting a job. He knew by then, that this was going to be a lot harder than he had originally thought and he was already missing his family terribly after being gone for only one month. 

I wish I could reach back in time, give my young father a hug, and tell him not to worry, let him know it would all work out.

Every Recipe Contains a Memory

In an earlier post I wrote about Mom’s brown recipe box. It got misplaced during her move into Palmer and she fretted for all the years she lived there and right up until her death about that recipe box. We looked high and low in her new house, but never found it.

We used to kid her about how attached she was to that old recipe box. She’d just smile. A few weeks or a month later, she’d ask one of us to look again.

It wasn’t until after she died that we found it packed in a box marked “Slide Projector and Slides.”

Oh, we’d all looked in that stupid box numerous times, you know, opened it and looked inside. But the recipe box was all the way on the bottom, hidden under 50 years’ worth of slides and a big old honkin’ carousel slide projector. The writing on the box was in the hand of our dear Unkie Roland (Fall). One last “Unkie” joke on us.

I couldn’t bear to look inside for a long, long time, but when I did, I realized why that box was so precious to Mom. It contained recipes she gathered from her sisters, her mom, and from friends. Each and every recipe contained a memory and losing them was like losing a piece of whomever had given it to her.

I get it now.

This one is from her sister Florence Edinger. Our beautiful aunt who taught Mom how to bake.

Grannies Oatmeal Peanut Butter Cookies

½ C shortening

¾ C brown sugar

¾ C white sugar

2 eggs

1 tsp. vanilla

1 C peanut butter

1 ¼ C flour

2 tsp. baking soda

1 ¾ C oatmeal

Cream together shortening & sugars. Mix the eggs, vanilla & peanut butter and add to the shortening/sugar mix. Add flour, baking soda & oatmeal. Mix well & drop by spoonful (your choice of size ~ Mom made big cookies), and bake for 15 – 18 minutes at 350 degrees.

Remember to add a pinch of love, and enjoy!