© Catherine Haslag
© Catherine Haslag
© Catherine Haslag
© Catherine HaslagA Simple Moment
My grandpa and I (age 2) eating lunch in the kitchen.
My grandfather died 2 months before my 13th birthday. Other family members died previously, but my grandpa’s death was the first big death I was old enough to remember in any kind of significant way. I had the wind knocked out of me in a way I hadn’t experienced before.
It started Labor Day weekend. My mom was in D.C. on a business trip, so I stayed at my grandparent’s house that week while she was away. Grandpa started to feel ill over the weekend. He didn’t want to go to the hospital. My uncles finally convinced him to see a doctor on Tuesday if he wasn’t feeling better. He was admitted to the hospital on Tuesday and died Thursday morning before I got on the bus to school. I found out about 10a when my Uncle Willie called the school. He picked me up 20 minutes later. I can still remember the silence of the truck ride back to what just that morning had been grandma AND grandpa’s house.
That night, my grandma stayed in bed. She had just lost her husband of 47 years. My uncles were gone, probably making funeral arrangements. My job for the evening: answer the door when people came to pay their condolences, receive any food they brought, and Tetris it into one of the refrigerators in the house. (I grew up in a very small town and EVERYONE feeds you when there is a death.)
My grandpa loved to pull us behind his mower – be it on a toboggan or in a wagon.
My grandparent’s neighbor, Barb, brought over a breakfast casserole. We went into the kitchen to add the casserole to the already bulging contents of the green fridge. After closing the fridge door, I looked at her. We probably stood there for only 10 or 15 seconds, but it felt like so much longer. Neither of us spoke yet we shared volumes. We stood there in our silence, looking at each other. I felt like she knew everything I was feeling. That she got me in that moment, understood the weight of my grief, and made a space for it. It was a gift. We shared a teary hug and then she went home.
I don’t remember anything else regarding what people brought or even who visited my grandparent’s house that night, but I remember every second of that brief exchange with Barb 27 years later. I doubt Barb remembers it or has given it a second thought, but this moment touched me deeply. I felt like someone really saw me in my grief in that moment and it was everything to me. We offer these moments to people without even realizing the gift we have given them.
The gift of a simple moment too deep for time.
© Catherine HaslagNativity
My grandma always displayed a nativity at Christmas time. She used a simple nativity with painted clay statues when I was growing up. I loved to play with this nativity, especially the tiny sheep and baby Jesus because they were the smallest pieces of the nativity and I thought they were the cutest ones too.
The nativity my Grandma put up every year at Christmas time.
I regularly arranged the pieces of my grandma’s nativity so they were inside the barn. Grandma always placed just Jesus, Mary and Joseph inside the barn, leaving the shepherds, wise men, and livestock to stand outside the barn. This was December! It was cold outside and I thought everyone should be inside the barn, where it was warm, so I would always re-arrange grandma’s nativity so everyone fit inside the barn. I wanted everyone to be warm.
This did not please my grandma. She didn’t like it when I rearranged her nativity and would tell me to stop it if she found me cramming everyone into the barn. One day, she expressed her frustration to my mother and asked her why I keep putting all of the figures inside the barn. My mom suggested grandma ask me, so she did. I explained that it’s cold outside, so they should all be inside the barn where it’s warm. I don’t remember my grandma correcting me when I rearranged her nativity after that. How can you argue with that kind of kid logic?
When my grandma passed away in 2014, I asked for her nativity. A few years later, I acquired the barn she set the figurines in as well. I set her nativity up every year at Christmastime. I don’t cram the figures into the barn-like I used to, but I do tend to arrange them close to the entrance of the barn. I also leave the wise men a distance from the barn since they don’t reach the Christ Child until Epiphany (January 6). I don’t believe in the divinity of Jesus, so my friends often ask why I display a nativity. I smile and tell them this story.
They all understand in the end.
Floor Furnace
In the fall of 2009, I was in the middle of a divorce. My 4.5-year marriage had been failing for longer than it had worked. It became apparent to me that this relationship wasn’t what I needed. A friend of mine owned a small rental house that was empty. She lent me the key so I could have a place to go to get away from my soon-to-be-ex-husband and the house we owned while the legal system caught up with what my heart already knew – that the relationship was over.
This is very much like the floor furnace I describe in my blog. Unfortunately, I do not have a photo of that actual floor furnace to share. (image obtained from Pinterest)
This rental house, a small 2-bedroom, 1-bath bungalow, had a floor furnace in the dining room that heated the house. That floor furnace would become my touchstone over the next year.
It is where I sat when I called my mom and told her I was divorcing my husband.
It is where, wrapped in a blanket, I sat and cried about the loss of the life I had known and tried to figure out what I wanted to do next.
It is where I stood each winter morning in my robe to warm myself after I moved into the bungalow and finalized my divorce.
It is where I conducted many hours of conversations with my very patient girlfriends as they helped me navigate the emotional labor of ending a marriage and moving forward with my life.
Its creaks and clicks became the soundtrack of my life while I surveyed the world and planned my next steps as a single woman.
Like a light bulb to a new-born chick, it provided me with physical warmth during an emotionally trying and cold period in my life.
In January 2011, I left the floor furnace and moved out of that bungalow, headed on a northern migration. I had that furnace for just one year, but that was all I needed. I had developed a plan forward and it was time to move on, much like the chick that outgrows its need for warmth from the light bulb.
There are times when we will realize the smallest thing did so much for us – a moment of understanding silence, a book that touched us deeply, a hot cup of tea at just the right time. These are the simple things that make the hard times in life bearable. While things and moments are fleeting, their impact on us lasts a lifetime.
© Catherine Haslag
© Catherine HaslagGold Stars
A gratitude practice became a part of my life a handful of years ago. At the time I started this practice all I could see was everything that was “wrong” in the world. I was wasting so much energy on what didn’t appear to be “right” and was looking for a way to shift that energy into something productive. Someone suggested that I cultivate a gratitude practice to shift my attitude and view of life. They challenged me to see the flowers on the wallpaper rather than focus on the cracks in the plaster.
I am a researcher, so I started this work by reading a few books on gratitude (365 Thank Yous: The Year a Simple Act of Daily Gratitude Changed My Life and The Gratitude Diaries are two books I recommend on the subject). This led me to add some basic gratitude practices to my life. I started sending thank you notes on a regular basis to my friends and family (the Dollar Store has a good selection of Thank You cards that work perfectly for this). I sent thank-you notes for gifts, phone calls, kind words, friendship, and just to let others know that I thought they were awesome. I also wrote a few things I was thankful for each day in my journal. This helped me to spend time acknowledging the good things present in my everyday life.
As time went on, I started to see all the things there are to be thankful for, even on the crappiest of days. The hot cup of tea in the morning, the car that starts without issue, a clear, star-filled night sky, indoor plumbing on the coldest days during the Minnesota winter. I discovered that there is ALWAYS something to be thankful for and nothing was too small for gratitude. Over time, I realized it was the little things that could get me through the hardest of days.
My gratitude practice has grown over time. Early in the pandemic, a good friend of mine and I started ending our conversations by sharing “good things” in our lives. Hearing what she is thankful for has helped expand my view of all the things available to be grateful for in the world.
About halfway through lockdown in 2020, I decided to add something else tangible to my gratitude practice, so I brought the gold star back into my life. This was a simple, visible, and slightly quirky way for me to show gratitude to myself and those around me. It was also a way to spread a little childhood joy in the grind of adulthood.
Many of us may be most familiar with the use of gold stars in the classroom. Gold stars would come to us on the top of an assignment we completed well, on a chart posted in the front of the classroom for good behavior, or in a loose form so we could put it on the front of our notebook or wear it on our shirt and show everyone how awesome we are. As a child, we loved to get those gold stars. It told us we had done something good and someone noticed our efforts and work. It was gratitude in a tangible form.
The gold star provided me with something visible to brighten up the day and restore some innocence to the challenges of 2020. I started sending gold star emojis and animations to friends via text for a job well done. I found some puffy gold stars at JoAnn’s and used them to decorate the inside of thank you cards. I ordered gold star stickers to share and included a sheet of them for each person in every family to whom I sent Christmas cards. It was fun sharing this simple joy. I wanted others to know that I saw them, I saw the good they were doing, and I thought they were awesome. Some of my family and friends commented on how the gold stars made their day. They too were taken back to the joys of receiving a gold star from their teacher for a job well done. I hope they shared their gold stars with others and kept spreading the gratitude. I have decided to keep a supply of gold stars on hand and bestow them to people on a regular basis as a way to say “thank you.”
There is an old story told by many indigenous tribes in North America that talks of a grandfather telling his grandson that there are two wolves fighting inside each of us. One wolf is evil and one wolf is good. The grandson asked his grandfather which wolf will win this battle. The grandfather said, “The one that you feed.”
I chose to feed the good wolf with gratitude and it was so simple to do. It can be shared through a symbol like a gold star or a thank you note, but it can also appear in less tangible forms: a pat on the back, saying thank you, or a kind smile to a stranger while shopping. There is no limit to gratitude. It never runs out and it costs us nothing to share.
© Catherine HaslagFool’s Spring
This past week, we experienced several days of temperatures in the upper 40s to low 60s. The snow is mostly melted, leaving behind enough sand to build our own beach along the Cedar River and some very, very brown grass. People are out walking in shorts, some green things are starting to peek out from the ground in the flower bed along my house, and a few trees have buds swelling in expectation. I even saw a few bugs buzzing about, much to my dismay. The smell of spring is in the air…until Tuesday when winter returns with a rain/snow mix and temperatures start to drop into the 30s again.
This week of warm and melty weather is what many refer to as “Fool’s Spring,” a time of the year that feels like spring is just around the corner, but in reality, it’s just Mother Nature and Old Man Winter playing a joke on all of us. A few days of sun, a little warmth, and the phase-change of water lull us into a false sense that spring is nearly here…then winter returns and we are back to snow boots and icy roads.
View of the Coyote Point Trail at Whitewater State Park.
While Fool’s Spring is fleeting, it is especially necessary and celebrated by me this year. Winters in Minnesota are always hard. They can be brutally cold, grey, and snowy. Every time I leave my house I do my best impersonation of the little brother from A Christmas Story.
The very long climb to the look-out point.
People tend to hunker down in the winter months. Social circles contract because people aren’t out and about as much. It takes energy to bundle up, dig the car out, scrape it off, and drive somewhere in the winter, so people do it less. Because of the pandemic, people did it even less this year, at least this is true for me and those in my social circle. No lunch with friends on a Friday to catch up, no bull sessions over drinks at the B&J on Thursday afternoons, no working at a coffee shop for a few hours just to be around people. If you live alone, this winter has probably sucked the big one more so than usual.
I took the opportunity Fool’s Spring provided to get out and hike a bit. I visited a very soggy Whitewater State Park. Despite the muddy, icy, and snowy trails (in some places all of these at the same time) it felt so good to get out, move my body, and breathe in the fresh air. I hiked up a set of stairs that extended approximately 0.2 miles to a lookout point. I sat at the very wisely-placed bench at the top of these stairs and enjoyed the view, felt my heart pound, and drank some water. It felt so good to feel my heart pushing blood through my body and fresh breath in my lungs. It was like this winter was starting to melt inside of me as well as on the land around me.
View from the look-out point.
This first Fool’s Spring provided a break from the cold, grey days. It gave me the chance to shed my winter shell and thaw a bit from the past few months. I not only needed to warm my body, but also tend to my heart. Emotions have been high for me for a lot of reasons over the past year. I know I am not the only one on this either. The fresh air, the sun on my face, and the feel of sneakers on my feet rather than snow boots is a boost to my morale. The opportunity to recharge a bit before finishing out the winter season. A shimmer of hope that this winter won’t last forever, that spring will be here soon.
Fool’s Spring is a promise to us all. Better times are ahead. We just have to be patient and wait a little bit longer.
© Catherine HaslagAunt Jo’s German Chocolate Cake
My Aunt Jo holding baby me circa 1980.
My Aunt Jo made a three-layer German Chocolate Cake from scratch. About 9 years ago, I obtained her recipe from my mom because I wanted a way to connect with Aunt Jo. I wanted to create something she once did. I didn’t like her cake when she was alive to make it because I was too young to appreciate coconut and chocolate cake. Thankfully, my dessert appreciation has matured since I was 7. I loved my Aunt Jo. She always had those yellow Brach butterscotch candies in a dish and she let me play on her organ and piano when I came over. All the stops on the organ fascinated me and I loved to flip them in different combinations and see what sounds I could make. I must have made all kinds of horrible noises during my musical experiments, but I don’t ever remember her telling me to stop.
Mostly, I remember how much I loved her. The kind of pure, endless love only a little kid shows. The kind of love that hasn’t been damaged by hurt, disappointment, and time. When I bake her cake, I am reminded of that love, of her, of her carpet on my feet, and the noises I made on her organ. It’s a way to connect with someone I love and barely know. A way to keep her alive. When I share that cake with others, I share her and the love I have for my Aunt Jo.
Below is the recipe my Aunt Jo used. It was straight off the box of Baker’s German chocolate (which I didn’t know until I wrote this post). It is best made as a 3-layer cake but can be made in a 9×13 pan, which is much easier to transport. May you bake this treat and share it with those you love.
GERMAN’S SWEET CHOCOLATE CAKE
Used by Aunt Josephine Samson
Aunt Jo’s three-layer German Chocolate cake.
Ingredients:
1 pkg. (4 oz.) BAKER’S GERMAN Sweet Chocolate
½ cup water
4 eggs, separated
2 cups flour
1 tsp. baking soda
¼ tsp. salt
1 cup butter, softened
2 cups sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
1 cup buttermilk
Procedure:
HEAT oven to 350°F.
COVER bottoms of 3 (9-inch) round pans with waxed paper; spray sides with cooking spray. Microwave chocolate and water in a large microwaveable bowl on HIGH 1 ½ to 2 min. or until chocolate is almost melted, stirring after 1 min. Stir until chocolate is completely melted.
BEAT egg whites in a small bowl with mixer on high speed until stiff peaks form; set aside. Mix flour, baking soda, and salt. Beat butter and sugar in a large bowl with a mixer until light and fluffy. Add egg yolks, 1 at a time, beating well after each. Blend in melted chocolate and vanilla. Add flour mixture alternately with buttermilk, beating until well blended after each addition.
ADD egg whites; stir gently until well blended. Pour into prepared pans.
BAKE 30 min. or until a toothpick inserted in centers comes out clean. Immediately run small spatula around cakes in pans. Cool cakes in pans 15 min.; remove from pans to wire racks. Cool completely. Spread Coconut-Pecan Filling and Frosting between cake layers and onto the top of the cake.
COCONUT-PECAN FILLING AND FROSTING
Time prep: 20 min
Total Servings: About 4-1/2 cups or 36 servings, 2 Tbsp. each
Ingredients:
4 egg yolks
1 can (12 oz.) evaporated milk
1 ½ tsp. vanilla
1 ½ cups sugar
¾ cup butter or margarine
1 pkg. (7 oz.) Baker’s Flake Coconut (2 2/3 cups)
1 ½ cups chopped Fischer’s Pecans
Procedure:
BEAT egg yolks, milk, and vanilla in a large saucepan with whisk until well blended. Add sugar and butter; cook on medium heat for 12 min. or until thickened and golden brown, stirring constantly. Remove from heat.
ADD coconut and nuts; mix well. Cool to desired spreading consistency. This is mix is also used between the layers of the cake.