Elizabeth Cady Stanton: Crusader for Votes and Rights

Recently I was reading about the remarkable Elizabeth Cady Stanton (whose journalist husband Henry co-founded the Republican party).

Born in New York on November 12, 1815, Ol' Liz was a supporter of racial and gender equality, speaking up for women on everything from access to contraception, to property ownership, to voting rights.

Liz was a good friend of Susan B. Anthony. Because of their passionate commitment to women's causes, both refrained from supporting the 14th and 15th Amendments, arguing that, while the Amendments offered protection to African-American men, they neglected to include women.

In 1848, Stanton wrote The Declaration of Sentiments, a gender-equal document presented at one of the first Women's Rights conventions and signed by 100 men and women.

Predictably, not everyone was a supporter of allowing all humans to enjoy the same rights. (The very idea!) Detractors called it "the most shocking and unnatural event ever recorded in the history of womanity."

In the 1890s, Stanton wrote and published "The Woman's Bible," which challenged the belief that women should be subservient to men. The views in the book divided supporters of the women's rights movement, who were afraid it was too controversial and would harm their cause.

Liz was in favor of equal rights for with regards to both race and gender -- she supported interracial marriage at a time when very few shared this view. However, she suffered from her own prejudices: she supported the Spanish-American War and had a deep and abiding dislike of all things Spanish.

Dear ol' Liz had a keen legal mind and a way with words.

When the 14th and 15th Amendments were passed, she argued that their language applied to women as well, but the male-controlled government did not agree.

Though her popularity swung wildly between "influential icon" and "embarrassing zealot," she never let her other people dictate her views. She never sold out. She never gave up.

Elizabeth lectured and published widely throughout her life. She died in 1902, 18 years before women could vote, yet still she persisted and never let her fire burn out.

Grandma's Recipes

I recently spent some time sorting through my late Grandma's recipes. (I was the only one in the family who wanted them. When she died, they were the only thing of hers I wanted... A true treasure!)

Some are over 100 years old. The vast majority of them are for cakes, cookies, pies, puddings, or something else vaguely dessert-like. Many use creative measuring techniques and require leaps of culinary faith.

For instance:

Dutch Cake recipe: choose your own ending!

Exhibit A:  DUTCH CAKE 
2 C flour
1 C sugar
2 tsp. B.P.
pinch salt
1 tbsp. melted butter
1 C milk

That's it. What you see is what you get. No mixing or baking instructions. B.P. is baking powder, obviously. I assume you just stick it in a 350 oven & watch till it's done?

Whoever thought this was a thing the world needed?

Exhibit B: TOMATO SOUP BARS 
1 can tomato soup
1/2 can water
1/2 C melted shortening or cooking oil
1 box mincemeat or 1 C raisins
1 tsp allspice
2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp soda
1 C sugar
2 1/4 C flour

This one has mixing and baking instructions, but... SOUNDS SO YUCK!

One of my faves, titled "Sun Cooked," is written in prose like flash fiction:

"Take 2 lbs of strawberries and 2 lbs of sugar. Put 1/2 C of hot water in a kettle. Add sugar & stir until boiling. Then add cleaned & hulled strawberries & simmer slowly for 5 min."

After boiling, you put the berries on a large platter, cover with cheesecloth "to keep out insects and let stand in the sun for 3 days, taking them in at night." (!!!) "The 3rd day they will plump up and be firm."

Me: Fermented is more like it...

"Sun Cooked" ends with a little editorial: "Place in sterilized jars without heating. Do only two pounds at a time. These are super-duper."

Me: Riiiiiiight...

Orange Pudding started me down this recipe rabbit hole. Dad was reminiscing about an Orange Pudding his mother made. I don't have her recipes, but looked and -- lo and behold! My other grandma had that one too...

ORANGE PUDDING ("Elva's") 
1 C Sugar

2 oranges (juice)
1 1/2 C water
Butter the size of an egg

Boil first four ingredients while mixing batter

1/2 C sugar
1 T. Butter 1
/2 C milk
1 C flour
1 tsp BP

Drop in juice by spoonfuls and bake. Don't grease pan. As with "Dutch Cake," time and temperature not given.

If you're wondering why all of Grandma's recipes are typewritten: my Grandma came from a long line of teachers. She typed instructions for *everything.* Some of the recipes are handwritten - in her spidery cursive; often in pencil. Deciphering them takes... patience and luck.

Going through her recipes makes me miss her terribly. She was a fantastic baker and cook. I've made many of her recipes -- but not these recipes. Since Dad has a hankering for Orange Pudding. I may have to try my hand at making it soon... Further bulletins as events warrant.

Ponies From Heaven

I'm the choir director for a tiny rural church. This summer, a member of the church, and my strongest tenor, graduated from the Salvation Army Adult Recovery Center, clean and sober after 6 months. Everyone celebrated. So the church threw a big potluck, complete with bounce house and pony rides for the kids.

I agree to bring the pony. Meet Randy, a 20-something Haflinger gelding who loves carrots and tummy rubs:

I don't have a trailer, so I ride there -- a little over six and a half miles one way. I give pony rides to all the kiddos, give Randy a little breather, and head for home.

It's hot. About 2 miles of road has recently been tarred and chipped, which doesn't do any favors for Randy's bare feet, poor guy. We mosey along, taking our time, but I find myself wondering, Was it worth it? It was a long ride. Took up most of my day. My butt hurts. Blah blah blah...

A few miles from home, Randy whinnies.

No one is outside. There are no other horses for miles. He just stops still on the side of the road and blasts the air with a full WHEEEE-eeeee-heee-heee.

At the noise, a dog starts barking and a woman comes outside. She asks if it's OK to introduce her dog, a recent rescue, to the horse.

Randy is cool with dogs, so I say, "Sure."

The woman and I chat a bit while the dog grapples with the reality of this new creature.

"My mom would love to see him," the woman says. "She misses her horses so much."

Turns out, Mom and Dad live nearby. Dad is on hospice with advanced liver cancer. He cannot get out of bed. Mom takes care of him, but is quite unwell herself. Both are, essentially, housebound.

I know about having someone you love on hospice. The days all run together as you watch them die by degrees. So we wander over so Mom can see Randy through the kitchen window.

Well.

Mom is stunned. Stunned. Suddenly--

Mom heads outside.

She ditches her oxygen tank at the door.

When I meet her, she's yanking the tubing from her nose. Nothing will stop her from meeting Randy. She holds his muzzle in her hands and leans her forehead on his. For a moment, she is just a girl with a horse.

I try to pretend this is totally normal: Randy loves having people pet him. No big deal. But I'm a mess because it is so precious and pure and perfect.

We exchange phone numbers. I promise to text the next time I ride over there, so Mom (who used to have a gorgeous American Saddle Horse back in the day) can have some horse time. And I will. I totally will. But here's the thing...

I've lived here almost 30 years. I have never ridden on that road. And Randy isn't a chatty boy. He never just whinnies for no reason.

That day, though...

On that day all norms were off. I believe Randy and I were pawns in a little divine intervention. When things like that happen, they happen so fast, often you don't recognize the moment for what it is until it has passed. That day there was a woman who needed some sunshine in her soul. She needed to have some horse time, to reconnect with one of her first, best loves. I'm just glad I went along for the ride.