Post #11 – Women’s Memoirs, ScrapMoir – Kendra Bonnett and Matilda Butler
Moo loved holidays. They were her excuse for cooking exotic dishes, setting an artful table and celebrating family togetherness. But it wasn’t always this way.
My mother (Moo to friends and family) grew up in a small town in central Illinois during the Depression.
My parents...Dracula looking on
Her father was a jeweler and watchmaker. But time wasn’t worth very much during the Depression, and Americans weren’t buying a lot of jewelry. To make ends meet, Papa turned his business into a variety store and soda fountain. My grandparents worked long and hard, and any day they had off was an opportunity to catch up on sleep. Even Christmas was a day of rest not celebration. For adults in those difficult years, providing for one’s family took precedence over holidays and birthdays, and my mother’s experience probably wasn’t particularly exceptional.
But Moo was determined to make up for lost holidays, and she brought all of us along for the fun. On
Chinese New Year, we burned a hearth god and ate longevity noodles. We celebrated Cinco de Mayo with guacamole, chile rellenos and tamales on a table set for a fiesta. In addition to all the usual national holidays and birthday parties, we savored rich gumbo on Fat Tuesday, ate corned beef and colcannon and drank green beer (milk when we were young) on Saint Patrick’s Day, made our own cards for Valentine’s Day, ate chocolate log cake on Lincoln’s birthday and cherry cobbler on Washington’s. We even exchanged gift baskets on May Day, a Midwestern tradition. We were non-denominational celebrators, but one holiday ranked above all the rest. For all the ritual of food, it wasn’t Thanksgiving; nor was it all the Fourth of Julys spent picnicking on the beach with baskets of crispy fried chicken, pasta salad and a small arsenal of fireworks. It wasn’t even Christmas. Moo’s holiday was Halloween. We weren’t something out of Charles Addams or the Munster family reunion, we were just following Moo’s lead. She’d loved Halloween since her childhood. Perhaps because it was something she could enjoy even while her parents worked.
Septembers were beautiful in New England. Almost overnight, the maples that just weeks before shaded us from the hot August sun were ablaze in tones of red, orange and gold. The bite of early morning frost was as crisp as a ripe McIntosh. The rich, acrid smell of burning leaves hung heavy over the neighborhood, the smoke stinging our eyes. Harvest sunsets lit autumn skies on fire. But it was all a prelude to October when we began our month-long revel in witches, werewolves and warlocks.
On October 1st, I couldn’t wait to get home from school. I knew the magic had begun. Moo signaled the start of our ghoulish festivities by putting her prized ceramic pumpkin on the dining room table, where it held a place of honor until the Christmas decorations went up.
With the pumpkin in place, the real decorating could begin. My job was to hang the crepe paper spider webs from the ceilings. This was years before you could buy synthetic spider webs; we hand-cut ours from orange-and-black crepe paper. Can you even buy crepe paper today? We had white, honeycomb paper ghosts lurking in corners; rubber monster hands coming up from behind sofas and chairs; witches, black cats and cauldrons were everywhere. Every table, window and wall was given over to the weird and wonderful. A full-size mannequin dressed in Daddy’s tux and a Dracula mask stood in the corner. We lived like this for the entire month of October…and loved every minute of it. The living room reverberated with the stereophonic sounds of shrieking spooks, terrifying sound effects and a wonderful collection of Halloween tales and monster songs by the likes of Boris Karloff, Spike Jones, Zacherley, Bobby Boris Pickett, Hans Conreid and Alfred Hitchcock. The stage was set.
My sister Niki, brother Dobie and I raced through our homework each night. There were more important things to do. We had costumes to create. Treat bags to fill. And best of all, bonfires to build. We sat on the beach telling ghost stories while we toasted marshmallows and scanned the dark charcoal skies for evidence. “Look! Did you see it?” We’d all look at the moon, searching for the tiny silhouettes in their
We listened to Halloween music every night in October
tall, pointed hats taking their pre-Halloween training flights. We all wanted bragging rights…more importantly we all wanted to believe.
Moo created Friends of All Witches, FAOW Scurry 13. I still have my membership badge. We were witches (and in deference to my brother, wizards) in training. We practiced flying in the backyard running around on cute little witch brooms. Like many mothers, Moo was sad when we’d outgrow some aspect of childhood. As the oldest, I was usually the one to disappoint first. I can still see the regret in her eyes that October eve I decided I was too old to fly around the backyard.
Some evenings we “camped out” in the basement eating grilled cheese, grilled peanut butter and grilled chocolate sandwiches. We’d watch black-and-white B movies about Frankenstein, Dracula or some radioactive mutant reptile. Moo would read Halloween stories from the tattered pages of old issues of Jack and Jill magazine. I loved hearing “Tail-spin Tina.” Poor, bumbling Witch Tina was a terrible flyer who usually crash landed in the brambles, but she was a marvelous cook. 
She won favor with the other witches by setting a table piled high with homemade donuts, gooey caramel apples, bowls overflowing with candy corn, and mugs of tart apple cider.
Yes Halloween meant lots of treats. Like freshly popped corn drizzled with melted butter served in an orange-and-black bowl (I still use the same bowl). Homemade donut holes fresh out of the fryer, drained on a paper towel. It was my job to pick them up and toss them in a paper bag with granulated sugar. Eager for the treats, I couldn’t wait for the donuts to cool and usually burned my fingers. It was worth it.
But there was more to October than sugar and carbs. When I was about eight, Moo started making vegetable beef soup. It was a simple recipe, and an excellent way to get protein and vegetables into three growing children. This wasn’t canned soup; Moo made it from scratch using the best ingredients. “Never use pre-cut supermarket stew meat,” Moo admonished when I asked for her recipe years later. “Get a good piece of chuck and cut it up yourself.” The vegetables too were fresh–just celery, cabbage and carrots. I’ve looked at other recipes, but I still love the simplicity of Moo’s soup. Many recipes include tomatoes, green beans and potatoes. But they’re really not necessary.
Witches' Brew
The first time Moo served the soup…well that was a different matter. We hated it, all those vegetables swimming in broth. Yuck. We were not eating vegetable beef soup. And that was that. Other mothers might have given up and tried another dish. Moo was more resourceful. She called upon her good friend, Witch Hazel.
I never met Witch Hazel, but I knew she existed. She always dropped by on Halloween to spend some time with Moo while we were out trick or treating. Hazel never stayed long; too many obligations, too little time on that one special night. But we knew she’d been there because of the gifts wrapped in black-and-orange paper she left beside the fireplace. An eight year old doesn’t need any more proof.
That Halloween Witch Hazel left one more gift. This one she gave to Moo, who shared it with us. “What is it?” I asked. “You’ll find out tomorrow night,” was all she’d say.
It was November first. The magic was over. The trees were bare. Smashed pumpkins littered the road. But there would be one more treat: Witch Hazel’s gift. Home from school, Moo pulled into the garage. We scrambled out of the car, clamored up the basement stairs and piled into the kitchen. Ah, the aroma. “We’re having Hazel’s Witches’ Brew tonight,” Moo said. It was the best soup ever.
Hazel’s Witches’ Brew
2 – 2 1/2 lbs. beef chuck, cubed
2 T Olive Oil
6 – 8 celery stalks, sliced
2 qts. water
6 – 8 large carrots, sliced
1 qt. beef broth
1/2 head cabbage, chopped
Maggi Seasoning to taste
Salt and pepper to taste
In a stock pot, heat olive oil. Sear beef cubes to brown. Add water and beef broth, cover and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to simmer for about 15 minutes. Slice vegetables. When preparing cabbage, cut head in half. With the half you’ll use, cut in half again. Remove heart and slice. Add vegetables to pot, cover and continue to simmer until vegetables are tender. Maggi Seasoning will enhance the beef flavor. Because it is salty, use this before adding salt and pepper. If you feel you need more broth, add water and beef broth in equal proportions.
About Moo
My mother was a commercial artist who worked under her maiden name, Rosemary Buehrig. She illustrated comic strips, Pullman train ads, Child Craft magazine and many children’s books. Her
Moo at about 12 years old; we could have been twins at that age
crowning achievement was being the illustrator hired in the 1940s to replace Milo Winter and redesign the Rice Krispies characters, Snap!, Crackle! and Pop! She’s the one who gave them the round, cute, Disneyesque figures we still recognize today.
After I was born, Moo felt she couldn’t manage a career and take care of her family. That was the way most women thought in the 1950s.
But Moo was an artist first and foremost. When she was five, she came home from Sunday school in tears. “What’s the matter, Rosemary?” her mother asked. “I don’t want to go to heaven, Mother.” Given the family’s deep religious roots, my grandmother couldn’t imagine why her daughter would say such a thing. But little Moo had the answer: “The Sunday-school teacher told us that in Heaven we’ll play the harp. I don’t want to play the harp. I want to paint.” She never lost her devotion to her talent.
The witch and cat on the broomstick is from Moo’s last painting, finished shortly before her stroke in 1991. Although she recovered, she never painted again. Moo passed away June 1, 2001.
