Spilling the Beans over Tea

By Linda Smith Kortemeyer

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462848119

Linda Smith Kortemeyer

Linda Smith Kortemeyer earned her BS in Education from Northern Illinois University and an MPA degree in 2007 from Drake University in Des Moines, Iowa. She is a member of an honorary society at Drake University, Pi Alpha Alpha, and received special recognition for promoting literary from the Bi-State Literacy Council in 2002. One of her earlier poems was published in Fields of Gold from the National Library of Poetry. Some of her community service included an officer position for the local chapters of American Association of University Women, International Association of Administrative Professionals, Church Women United, and Thrivent Financial for Lutherans.

Book preview

Spilling the Beans

Over Tea

Linda Smith Kortemeyer

Copyright © 2011 by Linda Smith Kortemeyer.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2011911716

ISBN:         Hardcover                            978-1-4628-4810-2

                   Softcover                              978-1-4628-4809-6

                   Ebook                                   978-1-4628-4811-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

Dedication Page

Introduction

Chapter 1

Roberta And The Old Neighborhood

Chapter 2

Mustard Seed Faith

Chapter 3

Salty Inspiration Comes In Dreams

Chapter 4

Small Steps & Finishing Projects

Chapter 5

Building Strong Foundations

Chapter 6

Remembering Aunts And Uncles

Chapter 7

Experience Rules

Chapter 8

Free Stuff And Things

We Really Need

Chapter 9

Opinions Matter

Chapter 10

Leaving Things Behind

Chapter 11

Quilting Patterns For Life

Chapter 12

Recipes For Life

Chapter 13

Secrets To Keep

Chapter 14

Rest For A Tired Spirit

Chapter 15

Easy Way To Travel

Chapter 16

Things We Do For Luck

And How We Use Our Gifts

Chapter 17

Being Popular Has Consequences

Chapter 18

Sparky, Cupid, And The Birds

DEDICATION PAGE

This second book on life is dedicated to my grandmothers who taught me practical ideas like hot tea with bubbles will bring you money only if you catch the bubbles on your spoon; hot tea with lemon, honey, and a tablespoon of whiskey will stop a cough better than any store-bought medicine; and the best way to get calcium for strong bones is to drink a glass of cola mixed with an equal amount of whole milk in the afternoon.

To the doubters in this world, I still scoop off any bubbles floating on my hot cup of tea; I use the mixed drink of tea, lemon, honey with a shot of whiskey to cure a bad cough (although only at bedtime); and besides taking a calcium and magnesium tablet, I find a great deal of comfort in drinking a cola with a shot of milk just for old-times sake.

Chapter Introduction.jpg

INTRODUCTION

This second book in the series again will deal with life experiences which may lead to your own serious thinking about the stories of your life as you listen to mine. There are biblical references to wisdom and some of the sources have provided inspiration for writing a book telling about my own experiences and how God worked through difficult times and allowed good times to fill my cup with blessings.

Today scholars spend endless hours examining and analyzing books from the Bible hoping to uncover hidden messages meant to give guidance to this generation. Because we think we are so wise in our studies and accumulated knowledge, we make new determinations about what the authors actually said or meant to say when they wrote down their ideas. Should we question if we are correct in making certain assumptions or interpretation of the truth while adding our own twists of experiences to the words?

Hopefully my stories or adventures will bring just a spark of wisdom into your work, family, home, or friendships. It is my belief we are really not so different from each other and often feel similar emotions as our lives unfold through generations. We are told Mary pondered things she heard in her heart as the shepherds visited the new-born Christ child; but maybe she was not allowed to speak out loud at that time without fear of dire consequences. Mary was possibly the most wise woman in the Bible because she understood when to speak, what to say when she talked, and how to make people believe in her when there was a lot going on that would question her life. The following journeys in my life are part of my own ponderings and I encourage others to explore their own thoughts about friends, family, and faith experiences.

CHAPTER 1

ROBERTA AND THE OLD NEIGHBORHOOD

Matthew 6: 30-34: But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O men of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek all these things; and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day’s own trouble be sufficient for the day.

My earliest memories of friendship go all the way back to the south side of Chicago where Roberta and I became best friends. We lived in what was called a two-flat with my Honeyboy Grandma and Aunt Annie living on the top floor and my parents, brother, I and our dog took residence on the first floor. It was quiet and safe on the second floor and our two families were connected by a calling tube in the middle hallway which could be used in case grandma or auntie needed help. My brother and I liked to go to the hall and whistle upstairs to Honeyboy Grandma just to say hello. Each individual family unit lived in their separate quarters but we were always within reach of each other if anyone was needed.

Roberta lived two units away from us. There was a three-flat next door and then the Knauber family lived in a big six-flat apartment building to the south. Since it was difficult for me to pronounce Roberta, her nickname became Berta and she liked it. Berta was an only child and her parents were very different from mine. I think Berta’s mom did some sales work or real estate business and Berta’s dad worked as a day-laborer for the city. Around 4:00 in the afternoon Ed and Maryann would walk two blocks to the local grocery store, which was connected to a tavern, and they would meet with friends. Maryann drank cola and Ed would have a beer or two. Roberta would go with them and play in one of the booths in the tavern. When Berta was old enough to go to school, the routine was after she finished classes she went to the tavern and finished her homework, colored pictures, or played games there. Other kids were also at the tavern with their families, but my parents didn’t associate with them on a social level. Some times I would get to go with Berta but my parents didn’t really approve of children being in a tavern. However, since it was connected to the grocery store and meat market, I could go up there to get food items needed by mom at home. The store was only two or three blocks from our house, and you have to realize back in 1956 it was safer for young children to walk alone on the streets of Chicago.

There were days Berta and I would just stay at her apartment and play with our paper dolls or watch television. Berta was worldlier than I and it seemed she got to do many exciting things like taking ballet lessons, playing the accordion, or learning to dance backward on roller skates. Maryann was a good seamstress and would make beautiful costumes for Berta because she was in lots of competitions involving skating or accordion performances. How I envied the way Berta looked in her outfits and with her brilliant auburn colored hair. Berta admitted she was jealous of me because we had a bigger house and a collie dog. They couldn’t have pets in her apartment so our dog became sort of the neighborhood mascot for other kids. Roberta thought my mom was the best cook in the world and Berta didn’t think her mom really knew how to cook many things. One time Berta and I tried to make a Jell-O mold at her house. Since I watched mom make Jell-O dozens of times, it would be easy. However, neither of us knew how long it would take to set up; so after ten minutes had passed, we checked the refrigerator for progress. The dish hadn’t set up yet and because of our impatience we decided to drink the Jell-O liquid instead and laughed.

As an adult I got an opportunity to drive through my old neighborhood in Chicago only to be astonished with how small everything looked. My memories brought back the times when we would play ball in the walkways between our buildings, run around trying to catch each other in a game of tag, or drawing hop scotch patterns with colored chalk on the sidewalk. Years later the yards seemed so tiny to me as a grown up even though I could still picture all of us playing together in the streets. When I was young, this world where I lived was big and fascinating. We invented imaginary games in the back yard where we would pretend we could get over to China if we dug in the ground long enough. We would pick lilacs from the bushes in the springtime and take home bouquets of wild flowers to our moms for a present. We learned to ride our bikes in the alley and practiced by hanging on to the fences for balance. We left our initials in wet cement with the hope that years later we would know this was our territory and first home.

At times we felt very adventurous and daring because we would play chicken on our bikes in the alley. The game would dare us to ride as fast as we could down the alley and then try to race across the street without getting hit by a car that might be coming along. As an adult I question the wisdom of such a childish game and wonder which one of us thought up the stunt to see who was the most fearless. You have to remember when children are seven or eight years old they really don’t have the maturity to make good decisions on a number of matters. They don’t know all the dangers in the world, they haven’t been hurt or wounded by life, and they feel invincible. As children we wanted to give the appearance of being grown up and longed to explore the bigger world we were learning about at school.

My Honeyboy Grandma wasn’t sure it was a good idea that Berta was my best friend with her reasoning being our family was Lutheran and Berta’s family was Catholic. As children we actually were very ecumenical back in the fifties before the word ecumenical became a politically correct term. It was explained our family was raised to be Republicans and the other families down the block were Democrats. The areas of religion and politics were very important to our neighbor mix, but at times children bridge areas of difficulty in better ways than adults can. Kids would tell each other what we overheard our parents say, and then we would try to make sense out of something we really didn’t understand. We knew it was important to support our parents’ views, but we didn’t know what they were talking about most of the time.

Most of the children were sent to parochial schools about two or three blocks from home. My brother and I attended Timothy Lutheran Elementary School and Berta went to Little Flower Catholic School. It seemed to me I was getting the better deal especially when Berta would tell me stories about the nuns who were teaching at her school. Berta was unfortunately left handed and at that time the practice of writing with your left hand was not allowed in the Catholic school she attended. The nuns would tie her left hand behind her back to stop Berta from using it to write and draw. Berta said the teachers told her using a left hand had something to do with the devil and she had to get used to doing things with her right hand instead. I don’t remember learning anything about this and since I was lucky enough to be right-handed, it wasn’t a problem for me. Berta was having trouble in school and her handwriting was a big problem; now I wonder if some of her problems with school began with the practices used during this time instead of the fact that I was smarter than Berta.

It is rather amusing to note my first daughter showed signs of being left-handed early on and everyone else in our family was right-handed. I always believed left-handed people were very creative and outgoing individuals. Every time I would see my daughter accomplish a task using her left hand it would remind me of Roberta and happy thoughts would fill my mind. We encouraged Ann to use her left hand and even bought special scissors for her which no one else in the family could use because we were all right handed.

Roberta moved away from our neighborhood when she was around eight or nine but we would write each other letters even though we only lived about six miles apart. We were old enough to be able to stay overnight at each other’s houses and we got together a couple times each year. Maryann even learned how to cook a few meals including roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, plus lima beans—I hated them but ate the beans anyhow to be polite. We would have orange or green Jell-O for dessert with whipped cream also.

As young adults we both found young men to marry but Berta ended up in a less-than-perfect relationship. She gave birth to two children and tried hard to make things work, but it didn’t. Berta was Catholic so the prospect of divorcing her