Sixth sense

“I’m very worried about your husband-to-be,” said my mother when I was 15.  I frowned quizzically.  We were washing dishes after supper.  Her hands were in suds.  Mine wielded a semi-damp tea towel.  “He’s going through a very bad time now,” she added.

“MOTHER!” I responded in characteristic teenage certainty.  “You know that no one is ever going to marry me.”

“Nonsense,” she retorted.  “I’ve been praying for the partners of all you children since you were born.  And I know that your husband is going through a rough time right now.”

Swivel twelve years into the future of that day. John and I had joyously agreed to marry each other.  It was December, and we were walking on the cold dank foggy Salisbury Plain around Wiltshire’s Stone Henge – the most beautiful day in the whole Universe.

“I want to ask you something.”

“Yes?” he said, smiling.

“What happened in your life when you were 15?

He sobered instantly, and stared unseeing into the fog.  “That would be…when my mother had a bad stroke as well as other complications.  She was confused and accusing and angry.  Dad and I couldn’t figure out how to help her.  Oh, that was a very bad time.”  

My mother had a sixth sense.  She could know there was something “wrong” with a hotel we’d booked in, right at its entrance.  She knew, too, that it was all right to rent the house in Bath New York even thought someone had recently been murdered in it. She also knew that my brother had fallen off a mountain in Nepal long before he returned home – battered, bruised and cut.  And she was no fun at Twenty Questions because she knew your cunningly selected character before any yes-no question was asked.

Yes, she had a sixth sense.  But don’t we all, even a little bit?  Have you ever heard your telephone ring and you say out of the blue, “that’ll be So-and-So” and it was, even if you weren’t expecting So-and-So to call?  Or you say, “I just have a feeling that….” Or “I can’t explain it but I know it’s right”  And it is??? 

Sometimes you meet a person whom you instinctively feel is untrustworthy, and you become suspicious.  Or, more pleasantly, you meet someone with whom you just “click” and become long lasting friends.

My John had a sixth sense, too.  He knew instinctively when someone, or some idea/plan was dangerous.  He just had a feeling.  And he knew when someone was lovely inside, worth creating a relationship, becoming a friend.  After one chat with a jazz musician in San Francisco at break time, John invited him to visit us in England.  He said yes.  He came.  And we were good friends for years afterwards. 

I met John – a person from a different culture, a different country, a different continent whom I’d only talked to once or twice before we parted for work on two different shores.  We corresponded frequently before meeting together that bleak December, and every single day after our engagement.  I just knew I loved him. 

The day after that walk, we arrived at the back door of his house in Sheffield, and there was my mother-in-law-to-be, calliper on one leg, an immovable left arm, a smile of welcome, and a right hand that could roll the best pastry I’d ever tasted.

That was over fifty years ago

Chicken Caruso

I’m feeling close to my daughters these days as our family embraces the life closure of a relative, and memories of past losses.  So, I offer you a recipe they loved when they were small.  It’s a quick one if you have planned-overs.  I didn’t. However, I enjoyed reminiscing as I made it.

It’s from a dilapidated book I cherished when I was on my first job in my own apartment, and didn’t know nothing about nothing.  Now, 60+ years later its front has parted company with its back, some of the index is missing, and well-used pages have spots of dried food.  Betty Crocker’s New Dinner for Two.

Ingredients:

1 slice bacon, finely cut.  ¼ cup minced onion (I used a whole), ¼ cup minced green pepper (mine was yellow and I used the entire pepper), 1 cup cooked chicken — cut-up, 1 cup grated cheddar cheese, 2 tablespoons cut up pimiento (from a jar), 1 cup cooked peas, salt and pepper, 1 cup cooked hot drained macaroni.  Parsley.  2 – 3 tablespoons, toasted sliced almonds for garnish.

Saute bacon in a medium-sized skillet, until crisp.  Stir in onion – cook a few minutes before adding chopped pepper.  Cook until tender.  Stir in chicken, cheese, pimiento and peas.  Season.  Add cheese.  Mix in hot cooked macaroni. 

Keep warm.  Garnish with parsley and almonds when serving. 

You can see how easily this can be adapted.  I was delighted with my jar of piquante pimientos.  They made the dish sparkle.  Let’s hear of your own variations in the COMMENTS section.  Others may wish to try them.  As always, I love hearing from you.