By Bernadette Gentry
As we are growing up, our fathers teach us many things and give us the love of their hearts. On Father’s Day we remember them and thank them for all the ways they have made us who we are today.
Remembering
My Father
By Clifton J. (Jerry) Noble Sr
My journal entry on May 16, 1949, says “I wish I might have written here before now as there is so much of which I would like a more complete record.” AND HOW! Memory will have to help..
In the spring of 1948 my mother (nicknamed Hester) and I had bought a disused schoolhouse from the Town of Montgomery for $800. New Year’s Day 1949 a flood brought the Westfield River just over the floor of our rented cottage in West Springfield. (That cottage went down river in the 1955 flood.) We would be wise to move to higher ground before our lease expired the end of April ’49.
I took vacation the last week of April and the first two weeks in May from my job in the Survey Section of the Massachusetts Department of Public Works. Though we had worked at every opportunity through summer and winter to make the schoolhouse liveable, there was still much to be done when we moved in Friday, April 29. Now I may quote my journal with additions where needed.
MAY
1949
May 2009
Back by popular demand:
May 16, 1949 Monday. From Sunday, April 24th, I worked feverishly to put plywood on walls and ceilings and build a wide kitchen shelf where Bryan Hardware’s man can set our gas cooking plate. That three-burner plate is well worth the $50 it cost. It is neat, clean and hot. With a sheet metal oven set over one burner we can bake.
The telephone was installed Tuesday. The phone sits on a wall box which has a crank. Turn the crank and phones ring. Our number is 6 (ring) 11. ( 11 is one long ring followed by a short ring.) Percy Helms is 6-2, and the Willistons are 6-3. We were told we would be on an eight party line. Except the single ring for Operator in her office in the house beside the Russell Church, these are the only rings we hear. Some days the phone hasn’t rung at all.
Friday, April 29, despite the mess, we are here to stay. A sofa, two chairs and a small maple table were delivered from Hadley’s (in Springfield) Wednesday. Hester got Tom William’s van to bring up the few things I hadn’t brought in our 1948 Crosley. Tom charged $17.
Saturday morning we each took the hundred yard walk out the forest path to the sumac limb I’d fixed between two trees. Until later that day when I completed the neat two-hole backhouse on the corner of this lot our sanitary convenience was primitive in the extreme.
Since moving I’ve replaced sashes in window at north end of living room, put plywood, molding and baseboards on our walls. Hester has applied wood seal and varnish to all surfaces, even ceilings. All but one of the window boards is off. It was these matched boards which supplied siding and roof for our new backhouse.
Aunt Florence and Uncle Sam Boyce were pleased with what we have done when they made a short visit Sunday May 8th.
(MEMORY kicks in here.) Although a high tension power line crossed the mountainside a few hundred yards above the schoolhouse, no home on Carrington Road had electricity and wouldn’t have for five years. We gladly get along with kerosene lamps, lanterns and a battery radio, but we’re specially thankful for the telephone.
On one of my hot vacation days in early May I noticed smoke rising from the valley to the west. I ran across neighboring fields to the top of the bank. At the foot, along the railroad leaves were burning. I had thought diesel engines were safer than steam about setting forest fires until I saw showers of sparks billowing from a diesel stack as a freight engine labored uphill.
At home I cranked for the Operator. Fire trucks and crews arrived from Montgomery, Russell and Huntington. Meanwhile the fire had roared up the bank and was crossing fields toward road and farmhouse. I hung around in case I could help and was promptly outfitted with an “Indian” tank. The tank full of water was heavy. A slight youth like me had to lie on the tank, fasten straps over my shoulders, and roll forward to use leg strength to get up.
The fire was out. Indian tank was returned to Montgomery truck. I would receive a check that covered the cost of replacing my soot-spoiled sneakers. (BACK to journal.)
By Clifton J.(Jerry) Noble Sr.
April 29, 1949, Friday, my widowed mother, Minnie E. Noble, and I had moved into a former country schoolhouse. With no experience at carpentry, we had converted it into a three-room dwelling with an upstairs attic bedroom for me. I had nicknamed her “Hester.” She was 52. I was 23. We had a “crank” telephone, the old schoolhouse stove for heat and a three-burner gas plate for cooking. There was no running water, and poles for electricity wouldn’t march down Carrington Road for another five years. Once again, however, it was a home of our own, and my journal tells how we managed in those early months.
While I was at work with a Massachusetts Department of Public Works survey party, Hester took a walk a half mile north to visit Louis and Mary Rivard on their farm. Then she continued up Pomeroy Road past Williston’s and down Herrick Road home. She also walked the two miles to Russell and back for the newspaper and bread. There is a nest on the bank beside Herrick Road where she has watched four blue eggs change to scrawny young thrushes.
JUNE 1949
June 2009
CJN digging “cold cellar”
June 9, 1949 Thursday. Sunday’s weather: hot, muggy, thundershower. Monday and Tuesday: clear and warm with northwest breeze. Wednesday, scattered clouds with strong northwest breeze. Today: scattered clouds, warmer. I stood on our doorstep to watch the thundershower. Lightning hit the telephone pole 500 feet north at the top of the hill. A fireball came down the line, followed the wire to our house and down the wall to the ground rod beside where I was standing.
Yesterday we worked in Southwick staking the lower end of Sheeppasture Road for reconstruction. Since Friday we were on South Chesterfield Road in Goshen. Tuesday we went to Morgan Street, South Hadley.
Last Saturday we had Minnie and Mel Finney and Vera up to dinner and supper. I cut and extended woodland paths on our two and a half acres in afternoon.
Hester went with me to Westfield today to make a few purchases. She visited her brother, Ralph Emerson, at his watch repair shop.
There is a lake in Goshen near our job. With about 400 acres of surrounding land it belongs to Anne Hammond and is posted against hunters, fishers, and trespassers in general. She has a commodious summer house at the south end of the pond with boat dock. A sign at the entrance says “Guests only.” Bill Robinson, our other rodman, says that Anne is the widow of Judge Hammond. She is along in years and was a friend of Bill’s grandmother. Attempts had been made to have the lake surveyed. If it is large enough, the owner would have to open it to the public. During his lifetime Judge Hammond thwarted all such efforts. At lunch time, transitman
Minnie Finney at schoolhouse
Bob Fay, made a hook from a bent pin and fished from the bridge where our road to be surveryed crossed the pond’s north end. He actually caught a fish. Party Chief Louis Johnson watched.
June 22, 1949 Wednesday. Yesterday’s official temperature was 96 degrees.
Mel Finney had a heart attack last Wednesday. Minnie, who had been trying to run the house and take care of him day and night, had to go to bed herself yesterday.
Louis Johnson started a two-week vacation Monday. Bob Fay is substituting. Hugh A. Corr has come to work as rodman for the summer. Bob makes a fine party chief. We are a congenial party, and none of us smoke. Supervisor Tattan told Bob he will have a party and equipment of his own in July. I’m supposed to become transitman at the same time. We heard that Greenfield crews had half a day off yesterday because of the heat. We worked right through it.
Last Saturday morning, while I was washing the car under the maple tree and Hester was reading to me, three deer galloped across the upper end of the meadow. This
June 1995
Our next stop on the Southwick History Tour is at a fairly recent historical site. Although we don’t usually think this way, we are actually making history every day, and what is com-monplace in our time may be just the stuff that later genera-tions and historians revel in. Who knew in the days of the ice houses in Southwick that later generations, growing up with refrigerators, would be fascinated with details of the town’s ice industry?
In that same vein, who thought that when the late Charlie Baiardi began buying property on Southwick’s South Pond in the late 30s, he would develop a family beach and entertain-ment area that would still be in use by families today as the town beach?
To get to this spot, turn left off Routes 10-202 at Gillett’s Corners onto Route 168 (CongamondRd.), and drive east to-ward the lakes. The first right after Berkshire Avenue (on the left), is Barbara Drive, a one-way street. Turn here, and you will come out directly across from the new South Pond Park Beach located on Beach Street, a one-way street leading back toward Consamond Road.
This proper-ty was known as “Smith’s Beach” when Charley Baiardi pur-chased it from the late Harmon Smith, Sr. in the late 30s. According to Har-mon “Pat’’ Smith, Jr., when his father bought the property in the early 30s, it was called “Roxie’s.” The elder Smith, an ath-letic director at Agawam High School, and his wife, Evelyn E. Smith, also employed by the school system, worked summers at Miller’s Beach on the Connecticut side of South Pond for a few years before they purchased the property that would be-come “Smith’s Beach.”
Charley Baiardi died on April 29, 1992, but his wife, Alice Baiardi, still lives in the house they built in 1948 across from the beach. She has handwritten receipts made out by Harmon Smith, Sr. to her husband for payments on the land. One of the receipts is dated September 6, 1938 and is for $5.00 for a partial payment on Lot #1. Smith says lots in those days were only 50’ by 100’.” The ones on the waterfront sold for $500 but the ones in the back went for $200 or less, he says.
Baiardi was born in Agawam, but his father came from northern Italy and arrived in the area in a horse-drawn wag-on, according to Billy Jenkins of Southwick. Jenkins, a history teacher and enthusiast, moved next to the Baiardis in 1975. He says he and Baiardi were “fence buddies,” and he loved to hear Baiardi’s stories of the old days.
Smith says Baiardi first learned about land for sale on South
Pond when visiting Miller’s Beach as a salesman for Country Club Soda. Baiardi put a trailer on the first land he bought and used it for a weekend and vacation getaway, according ro Alice Baiardi. It did not include the beach front. At that time people were still calling the lakes the “Congamuck” or “Congamond Ponds.” The area was very wooded and secluded, Jenkins says.
Baiardi planned to build houses on the swampy section of the property, each with its own boat canal leading to the lake. However, this plan didn’t materialize because inland wetland regulations tightened up after the Second World War. The swamp is still there at the ends of Beach St. and Barbara Drive, the latter named for Baiardi’s oldest daughter.
Baiardi did build a number of houses on the drier areas of the property all the way to Congamond Rd. When the beach property came up for sale, he purchased it as well, and his plans for it flourished. Smith says he worked for Baiardi at the beach when he (Smith) was in high school and before Baiardi was married. He did everything from tending the bath house and renting boats, to cooking, cleaning up, and being the life guard, he says.
After their marriage in 1942, Baiardi and Alice worked to-
gether over the years to develop the beach. They were helped later by their three daughters including Charlene as well as the two already mentioned. Facilities at the beach included the swimming area, bathhouse, boat rentals, the clam shed, picnic grounds, bar, and a restaurant.
Baiardi was drafted into the war in the middle of the sum-mer, and Alice kept the beach establishment open without him until the end of the season. She lived in a cottage at the end of Beach St., and kept a loaded gun and a big, white German Shepherd dog. She says that at closing time, “l walked at night to the cottage with the money, and I was afraid of the gun and the dog.”
There was a recreation camp for troops on the Connecticut side of the lake, she says. They used to come across on boats to the beach, and they helped her including doing “K.P.” After rationing was instituted, food was scarce, and she closed the restaurant, working at Pratt and Whitney sharpening tools.
Baiardi trained paratroopers in this country, but after being
injured, returned lo Southwick in 1943. He and Alice continued to run the beach until Charley retired in 1964, selling the prop-erty to “Tancridi” and “Basile.” Ernie Lombardi purchased it from them and eventually sold it to the Town of Southwick for the public beach.
Patricia Baiardi remembers the clam shed, located at the north end of the beach near the water, had a wooden canopy overhead for shade and protection from the rain. She says that whole factories would come to the beach for their factory picnic. A clambake ticket cost 1 or 2 dollars, she says, and with it, you got all the clams you could eat, a whole lobster, a baked potato, a half chicken, watermelon, and beer. Individual meals were wrapped in cheesecloth so everyone got the same amount, and the food was all cooked in special, underground ovens. There were benches and tables on each side of the shed.
They did not use refrigerators at the beach, depending in-stead on ice brought in gigantic chunks from the nearby ice house. Patricia says her father had an air-conditioned car to bring the ice to the beach, and this was quite unusual in those days, Later, Baiardi closed the clam shed, making it into 2 apartments, and he and his family lived in one of them until their house was built.
The bathhouse where people changed into their bathing
suits was on the south side of the clambake shed. Patricia says beach patrons were given a key to their lockers on an elastic. There was a fence around the beach, and patrons had to pay to get in. They received a tiny ribbon of material to tie on their belt or bathing suit, a different color every day, to show that they had paid. Patricia remembers nights spent with her mother and sisters cutting the cloth into strips for the next day.
She laughs about the concession stand that she and her sis-ters operated. It was a small building, only 5 feet by 10 feet, near the entrance where they sold penny candy, kids’ shovels and pails, and other beach articles. “My father bought the items,” she says, “but we kept all the money.”
“There was not one cigarette butt or match on it (the beach),” Patricia says. “You could walk out (in the water) to about 6 feet, but then it suddenly dropped off to 20 feet. My father put the raft out that deep, and the game for kids was (jumping off the raft) and trying to hit bottom,” she says.
The deep spot was where the old New Haven-Northampton Canal had been dredged, she says. The early 19th century ca-nal ran along the western edge of South Pond and past Smith’s Beach. Smith says he remembers when he was working for Baiardi that they walked what remained of the canal towpath on the shore to a little restaurant on 1st St. for supper.
Besides the raft and a pier that ran parallel to the shore,
On summer evenings after supper, my father would play catch with me in the backyard. He also gave me his interest in baseball and taught me how to read the team standings in the Daily News - especially of my beloved Brooklyn Dodgers.
I loved working with my father in the yard and enjoyed painting the trellis where the sweet peas would grow come summer. When I was older, he taught me so many things like how to check the oil, the radiator, and the tires of our car. But, of all the things he taught or gave me, his love of flowers and gardens was the most treasured.
We had a tiny yard, but it was always filled with the colors of beautiful flowers. Most of our annuals we grew from seed, and with him I watched the miracle of a seed coming to life. To this day, the pungent smell of marigolds on my fingers brings me back to my childhood days.
I loved the daffodils he planted along the chain link fence the neighbor put up, and I loved the lavender irises we took to the cemetery on Memorial Day.
He loved driving the big Cadillacs he drove as a chauffeur, but sadly, he never had a new car of his own. That’s why he spent so much time teaching me how to take care of our older cars.
When he died, he was buried in a part of the cemetery where you could hear the traffic of the NY Thruway wheezing by. Everyone said he would have loved this spot.
Take time this Father’s Day to thank your father for all he has given you to enrich your lives.
Saturday we had a kitten for a day from the New England store in Russell. Our house, with wall tops open at the upstairs floor, isn’t safe for kittens so we took him back.
I carry wash water and some cooking water from the brook, but there is a fine spring at the Russell town line where we fill jugs for drinking water.
We have set out a maple sapling which may shade the house from afternoon sun.
Working outdoors in briefs I’m getting as tanned as a Tahitian. I do love it here. God’s will has made it possible for us to own a home again.
May 30, 1949, Memorial Day, Monday - For the last three days the weather has been a mixture of clouds, sunshine and blustery northwest wind.
Hester has done all the painting, wood seal and varnish.
Chipmunks are getting tame. They run for the foundation wall or the woodpile when we go out, but will sit and watch
us. This morning as I sang “When I Was a Lad” from the backhouse, I heard them romping in the leaves outside.
On the way to Westfield, we stopped to take a picture near Peckham’s barn. I crossed the road to inspect an old cellar hole. A slithery rustle made me aware of a presence I’d suspected. On a concrete slab lay a black snake over four feet long.
Today we saw the tan “dog” on the slope by Duggan’s barn. Last time I saw it in the meadow I thought it moved more like a cat than a dog. At closer range I could see the sharp nose, pointed ears and bushy tail. Our “dog” is a fox.
This morning I lit the fire at 5:30 and took a run up Russell Mountain (about 2.6 miles round trip) at 6:00. Temperature was probably 55 degrees, but in shorts with long sleeved shirt only my hands were cold.
I am working with party chief Louis Johnson again. Last weekend Whitey was on a binge. He worked with us Monday in Belchertown and messed things up with his half-blind rod readings. We got word Tuesday that he was wanted in Greenfield to replace someone on vacation. Whitey was missing
till Wednesday when Louis got hold of him and we took him to Greenfield. Monday evening he had gone back to Springfield to see his bookie friends, got drunk and spent the night in jail.
Last night when we got home from evening service at the Adventist Church in Westfield, we found a Model T Ford broken down on Herrick Road. The young driver needed a bolt to repair the damage. I had no bolt so drove him and the older man with him to the garage in Russell to get one. Their wives and two little boys stayed at the schoolhouse with Hester. We were soon back, repairs made, and they were on their way.
The older man told me that years ago he lived in the now-deserted house at the top of Herrick Road. I asked him how he got out in winter. He said, “In the morning you’re up there so it’s easy coming down through the snow, By the time you go home they’d have the road open.” His wife told Hester they are coming up for a weekend while he does some work for Mr. Williston. The boys sat quietly on the bench by the stove. Unfortunately the ladies smoked so our little house stunk till late.
Mr. Peckham has been in bed for a week with heart trouble.
We went up to Whitman Hill tonight and had supper with the Boyces.
The laurel is budded and blooming in some places.
Even though we have no running water and no electricity, our little house is a COSY HOME. I’m so grateful for it and all our other blessings.
morning when Hester walked out to the brow of the hill a deer approached within 25 feet of her and grazed in an abandoned garden patch. We’ve seen the fox several times.
Sunday I put the other small window in the attic gable on the side toward the road. My bedroom is lighter and much pleasanter now.
At night it is like a reflection of stars to see fireflies twinkling from to tall grass clear up into the tall trees.
I seldom wear a shirt at work and have got a fine tan. Bob took us to Westover Field today to get a benchmark description and elevation for our Granby job. We met Harry Karp the Chief Engineer, but he didn’t have much information.
June 25, 1949 Saturday After clear days with low humidity, today was hot and muggy with a thunderstorm.
We worked in Westhampton yesterday. Having money left over from bridge construction, the road supervisor has bulldozed a new route for Island Pond Road fifty to a hundred feet about the old road. It connects at the bottom with a long, straight, but steep grade. Our Greenfield District Office thinks the grade is too steep. If our profile shows it is too steep the town will be refused State financial aid for the work. If the job succeeds, it will be the cheapest road built in this decade since the bulldozer is the only equipment used. Our work was hampered by the bulldozer pushing down trees in the path of our baseline and by the fact that Bill Robinson didn’t arrive early with the survey books. Thus it was six o’clock before we reached Holyoke. After a stop for groceries I arrived home about seven.
We went down to see the Finneys last night. They are both better. Was too tired to go today. I spent a pleasant hour in the brook this afternoon. Only the rush of water and chirp of a chipmunk broke the hush of the approaching thunderstorm. There has been only enough rain to lay the dust.
June 27, 1949 Monday Two or three deer have been picking up apples in the orchard across the road. They are so pretty.
This morning I trimmed maple branches away from our roof. Also gave the upstairs window casings an extra coat of paint. Carried water and mowed grass. My legs are getting tanned from wearing shorts.
I started to dig a “cold cellar.” If there should turn out to be water in the cold cellar—WELL!
Bugs are out this weather. We found a sugar bag full of black ants. This noon, when she set the table, I heard Hester shooing a fly. “It’s probably fresh from the backhouse,” she said, “and I don’t want it walking on my plate.” Indifferently I said, “Oh, I don’’t think so.” Then as ideas struck home, I added, “Don’t let it walk on mine.”
Someone has a novel idea for walking their dog. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other out the window holding the dog leash, they drive slowly along our road letting the animal trot beside the car.
I met the youngest Rusin boy (Stanley) at the town line spring this evening. He says his vacation from Texon starts next week.
A young fellow stopped here tonight to inquire if this was the schoolhouse and if it were for sale. Folks are thinking of country homes, but places are scarce.
there was also a ski jump in the water. In the 50s the Congam-ond Water Ski Club held ski shows at Smith’s Beach, Patricia says. At the south end of the beach was the boat jetty. Baiardi built and rented the 23 oversized, wooden rowboats. Patricia remembers it was her job to bail out those boats.
The restaurant was located about where the present town beach building is. There was an outdoor concession that sold hot dogs, hamburgers, and popcorn made in a machine. The beer garden or patio was originally open but had to be en-closed because it became illegal to sell liquor outdoors, Patricia says. There were large glass windows, however, that could be opened very wide in the summer, and the tables came from the Lake House, a hotel across from Saunder’s Boat Livery that burned down in 1925.
The restaurant also had the old type of pinball machines and a juke box. Patricia says she and her sisters tried every spring to persuade the juke box salesman to put in Elvis Presley records, but they never did. Inside the restaurant included a bar and eating area with a dance floor, stage, and player piano. A band played every Saturday night, according to Alice Baiardi. The drinking age was 21 then, Patricia says, and her father was very strict. The beach catered to families, she explains, and he sent anybody who was rowdy home.
I sit here on the river’s bank
Where oak and maple stand.
The sun and breeze caress my face,
A book is in my hand.
The cares I face are left behind,
This is my place of rest.
Of all my shadowed calm retreats
I like this one the best!
The rippling waters slowly pass,
They neither rush nor care.
I have retreated from the world.
I find no solace there.
My world is calm, my thoughts are free.
There is no fear nor pain,
And when at last I must go back,
I’ll surely come again!
Sweet Retreat
By Phil Pothier
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February 1999
Measure off 8. length of aluminum foil long enough to encircle 4-cup souffle dish. Fold in half length wise. Fasten to dish with tape or string so collar is about 6 inches higher than rim. Beat egg yolks slightly in saucepan; stir in gela-tin, 1/2 cup of the sugar and the milk. Cook over low hot stirring constantly, until gelatin is completely dissolved and mixture thickens slightly and coats a metal spoon. Remove from heat; stir in brandy and vanilla. Beat egg whites and salt in large mixing bowl until foamy. Beat in remaining sug-ar, a tablespoon one at time, until meringue forms soft peaks. Beat cream in another bowl until stiff. Stir 1/4 of meringue into the egg yolk ·mixture. Gently folk egg yolk mixture, whipped cream and grated chocolate into remaining me-ringue. Four mixture into prepared dish. Refrigerate at least 4 hours or until set. Remove collar. Garnish with chocolate triangles if desired. Serves 8.
6 eggs. separated
1 envelope unflavored gelatin
1 c. sugar
3/4 c. milk
1/4 c. brandy
1 t. vanilla
1/4 t. salt
1 C. heavy cream
6 squares semisweet choco-late, grated
Chocolate Chip-Brandy Souffle
Measure crumbs, coconut and nuts into bowl Blend and reserve. Heat butter and l/4 c. granulated sugar in small saucepan until butter is melted. Stir in cocoa Mixture should be smooth and sugar dissolved. Blend in egg and vanilla, mixing well. Combine with Crumb mixture. Turn into a light-ly oiled (not greased) 8-inch squarecake pan. Press firmly to make a smooth surface. Place into freezer. While preparing next layer. Blend the 1/4 c. soft butter, the powdered sugar and hot water until mixture is smooth and well combined. Spread over chocolate layer, smoothing top. Place chocolate chips in double boiler. Place over hot water, stir until melted. Spread chocolate over the top of the cookie. Cover and Chill about 30min. or until chocolate is set. Cut into 16 bars. (If desired, the powdered sugar layer may be flavored with nut or fruit flavored liqueur such as curacoa, cointreau, banana, coconut or almond.)
Naniamo Bars
2 c. graham cracker crumbs
1 c. flaked coconut
1/2 c. chopped walnuts
1/2 c. butter or margarine
1/4 c. granulated sugar
3 T. cocoa
1 egg, beaten
1 t. vanilla extract
1/ 4 c., soft butter or margarine
2 c. powdered sugar
2 T. hot water
2/3 c. semisweet chocolate chips
Grease and line bottom of an 8 x 3-inch round cake pan or 3 8 x 1-1/2-inch layer cake pans. Pour boiling water over chopped chocolate, stir until melted and smooth. Cool to lukewarm. In large mixer bowl beat eggs. At high speed, add sugar very gradually, continuing to beat until mixture is triple in volume, about 8- 10 minutes. Mixture will be thick and fluffy. Mix flour and salt; sprinkle over egg batter in sev-eral stages, folding in after each addition until flour disap-pears. Drizzle chocolate over batter in two stages, folding in after each until ;well blended. Pour into prepared pan(s). In 350 degree oven bake single cake 45-50 minutes, smaller cakes about 30 minutes or until tester comes out clean. Cool on rack 5 minutes and turn out. Remove liner(s). When cool, slice large cake horizontally into 3 layers. Sprinkle kirsch or liqueur over layers. Mix whipped cream, sugar and almond extract. Spread cream and pie filling between first 2 layers, reserving some cherries for garnish: Frost entire cake with cream. Decorated ,with reserved cherries and, if desired, chocolate curls. Refrigerate. Serves 10-12.
Black Forest Cake
3/4 c. boiling water
5 oz. bittersweet chocolate or 3 oz. semisweet and 2 oz. unsweetened, chopped
5 eggs, room temperature
3/4 c. superfine sugar
1 c. cake flour, unsifted
1/8 t. salt
1/4 c. Kirsh or Cherry Heering liqueur
2 c. heavy cream, whipped
1/4 c. confectioners sugar
1/2 t almond extract
1 can cherry pie filling
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Prepare chocolate crust. Set aside. Beat cream cheese un-til smooth. Gradually add sugar, mixing until well blended. Add eggs, one at a time. Beat at low speed until very smooth. Melt chocolate with cream over boiling water, stirring until smooth. Add to cheese mixture, blending well. Add ·sour cream, salt, coffee, liqueur and vanilla, beating until smooth. Turn into prepared pan. Bake in center of oven at 350 degrees for 45 min. or-until sides are puffed. Center will be soft but will firm up when chilled. Turn oven, off. Leave door ajar. Allow cake to cool in oven for 45 min. Cover and chill for 12 hours. Remove sides of pan. Whip cream. Flavor with sugar and liquor. Garnish with mounds of whipped cream and chocolate leaves.
CHOCOLATE CRUST: Combine 1 c. chocolate wafer crumbs, 1/ 4 c. softened butter or margarine, 2 T sugar and 1/4 t. cinnamon, mixing well. Butter sides and bottom on 8-inch springform pan. Press crumb mixture into pan.
CHOCOLATE LEAVES: Melt 1-oz. chocolate. Brush real leaves with chocolate. Freeze until form. Peel off. Freeze un-til needed.
Chocolate Crust (follows)
3 8-oz. pkgs. cream cheese
1 c. sugar
3 large eggs
8 1-oz. squares semi-sweet chocolate 1 c. whipping cream 2 T. coffee liqueur
1/4 t. salt
2 t. instant espresso coffee dissolved in 1/4 c. hot water
1/4 c. coffee liqueur
2 t. vanilla extract
2 T. whipping cream
1 c. sour cream
2 T. powdered sugar Choco-late leaves (recipe follows)
Chocolate Cappucino
Cheesecake
By Ed Sourdiffe
Learning to live in a Pandemic can be a bit disconcerting to say the least. We all need to stay safe, and keep our spirits up in this uncertain time. One of the very best places to do just that is in the garden. One of the most rewarding plants to grow is also one of the most stately flowers of the garden, the Rose.
If you haven’t grown roses before, you will love what they do for your yard. And the cut flowers bring beauty to your home.
Success with the rose plant can be easily attained by follow-ing a few rules and planting them in the right spot.
A rose is a creature of sunshine and fresh air. It prefers to be planted in full sun (6 or more hours per day). It wants to be sur-rounded by good air circulation to help keep its leaves dry and free of diseases. As for soil, these fine ladies of the garden pre-fer a bed of rich soil, which is well drained and full of organic matter. With these considerations taken into account, you will have healthy, strong plants that will have no problem fighting off disease and pests, while producing abundant blooms.
Once you establish your rose plants, you will most probably want winter protection for them. This can be accomplished with store bought winter protectors made es-pecially for roses, or simple mounds of mulch. The mounds of mulch, which can be as much as an 18 inch tall hill covering the entire rose center, is my preferred method. The reason for this is come spring, I simply uncover the roses and spread the mulch around the rose garden, increasing the organic matter and helping to suppress the weeds. You cover your roses in late fall when the soil is beginning to freeze. This will help ensure you don’t attract any mice to burrow around the rose, setting up house for the winter. Then come Spring, you unbury the roses. But you only do this after the freeze (below 32 degrees), thaw cycle has finished. So, in our area that would be April, or even early May in some of our colder environments.
Having uncovered your roses now is the time to really get them in shape, and wake them up for the year. First you are going to prune your roses. Get a good sharp pair of clean gar-
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“A Coping Strategy”
Encouragement from
Pastor Ken Blanchard
Christ Church United Methodist
There is a verse in the 12th chapter of the Book of Romans that recently caught my attention (Rom 12:12): “Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” That’s a pretty good coping strategy, no matter what life throws our way. The three things mentioned in this one verse are extremely relevant to the days we are currently living...and just might provide a good coping strategy for us!
“Be joyful in hope.” Another scripture (Proverbs 13:12) says: “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing ful-filled is a tree of life.” We can all certainly relate to that notion of “hope deferred” as we live through this time of the COVID19 pandemic. It can indeed “make the heart sick” when we re-alize no one really knows how long this thing will last; when we wonder when a vaccine might become available; when we watch proposed reopening dates change; when we see more
and more events needing to be canceled. True, we don’t know when this pandemic will be over; we don’t know when we will be able to safely gather with friends and family once again. But we trust that we will, somehow, someday – because our hope is in the Lord. We know that God is with us in good times and in bad, and it is in God that we have hope. At least a few dozen scriptures tell us our hope is in God. So allow hopeful thoughts to enter your mind, focus on God the Creator, Sustainer and Re-deemer – and then we can truly be joyful in hope that we will be provided what we need! But it takes patience.
And so, the second part of that verse from Romans 12:12 – tells us to be “patient in affliction.” Again, let’s put that in the context of the times we are living in. Do you feel afflicted? I certainly do, even though I still have my health. I can only imagine how it would be if this were not the case! It’s a common complaint – not just from those who have been stricken with the coronavirus, but from all of us around the world. We are all afflicted in some way or another – whether in our own family
“Stay Positive!”
Encouragement from Dr. Jeff King
Christ Lutheran Church
I talked to a lady who was having a bad week. I said, “Mary, how are you?”
She said, “I’m having a bad week … My husband died last night.”
I said, “Oh my goodness! Did he have any last wishes?”
She looked down at the floor and said, “Why, yes, he did. The last thing he said was … ‘Mary, I wish you would put down that gun!’”
Now, that’s a bad week. Maybe you are having a bad week, too. My advice to you is this. Try to remember three things.
1. You’re not alone.
Maybe you’re thinking, Jeff, you have no clue what’s been go-ing on in my life. Maybe I don’t. But God knows. God knows because He’s been with you the whole time. And this is what He says to you: “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” So we say with confidence, “The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid.” (Hebrews 13:5-6)
There’s an old Cherokee legend. They had a rite of passage for a boy to become a man. His father would take him into the
forest, blindfold him, and leave him. The boy is required to sit there the whole night and not remove that blindfold. He can’t cry. He can’t yell for help. He can’t quit and run. Once he sur-vives the night in the forest, he is no longer considered a boy. In the eyes of the tribe, he is a man.
The boy is naturally terrified. He can hear all kinds of noises. Wild animals. Creeping, crawling things. Through the night, the wind whips the forest and shakes the trees, but he sits qui-etly, bravely, never removing his blindfold.
Finally, after the long, dark, frightening night, the morning sun appears, and he removes his blindfold. It is then that he discovers … his father … sitting just a few feet away from him. His father was right there the entire night, watching over him, protecting him from harm.
Even when you’re not aware of it, your Heavenly Father is right there, watching over you. Remember: Just because you can’t see God, doesn’t mean He isn’t there. I can tell that from experience. Even when you’re having the worst week ever, you’re not alone. Even if you can’t see Him, God is with you. So, what are you going to do?
2. Keep going.
Like the old Irish blessing: “If you’re going through hell, may you get through it before the devil even knows you’re there.”
Maybe you’re discouraged. Maybe nothing is working out
for you. Maybe all your plans are messed up. Here’s what God says to you: “Be strong and courageous! Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go!” (Joshua 1:9)
The next time you feel down, like everything’s against you and troubles are piling up around you, remember the story of the Old Mule. An old mule tripped one day and fell into a well. He hee-hawed and hee-hawed until the farmer came along and found him.
But what could the farmer do? He wasn’t strong enough to pull him out. The mule was just too big and heavy. It was hope-less! The farmer finally said, “Well, the mule’s old anyway. I might as well just fill in the well and give him a proper burial.”
So, he began to shovel dirt into the well. When the dirt hit the mule down there in the dark at the bottom of the well, he would shake it off and step up. The dirt would hit again. He’d shake it off and step up again. He fought through panic … He shook it off and stepped up. He fought through hopelessness ... He shook it off and stepped up. He fought through! And, as the dirt piled higher and higher, he rose higher and higher, until he finally just stepped out of that well.
Do you see what happened? The mule got out. And you’ll get out of your troubles the same way. When bad things hap-pen, when troubles are piling up all around you … just shake it off and step up. Keep going and keep doing your best. Why? Because …
3. It’s always too soon to quit.
Smith’s Beach was very popular in the 40s, 50s, and early 60s, according to Jenkins, with people coming about equally from Connecticut and Massachusetts. Maud Etta Gillett Davis in her book, Historical Facts and Stories about Southwick, com-pleted in 1951, mentions it in one line: ‘’On the South Pond is the ‘Ovids’, an eating place. There are ‘Smith’s Beach’ and ‘Miller’s Beach.’ “The “Ovids” was located north of Smith’s at the cause-way between South and Middle Ponds where the Round Up Restaurant is today. It didn’t have its own beach, however.
The beach property was evidently popular in earlier times as well as a gathering and camping place for Native Ameri-cans. Alice Baiardi remembers workmen taking home arrow-heads and other artifacts they found along the beach road, and a friend of Jenkins found arrowheads in the old picnic grove. This was a hilly area shaded by trees behind the restaurant in the south west corner of the property. It was called “the moun-tain” and had individual picnic tables and a lovely view of the lake. Later owners leveled it to make a parking lot, and this upset Baiardi, Alice says, because he thought it was the most beautiful spot on the whole beach.
Here in this peaceful, quiet place
I read my book in peace.
I am transported far away,
My mind has found release.
Oh, what adventures grace my way,
What wond’rous friends I meet!
Far from the bustling, troubled world,
I love this sweet retreat!
Alas! Too soon I must depart,
The world calls me away.
My family and my work cry out!
I know I cannot stay.
And yet I have enjoyed this time,
I know I shall again.
I shall return to this dear place,
Although I don’t know when!
den clippers and remove any obvious dead or diseased canes. Prune so the center of the rose bush will be airy and open. This will help keep disease away and open the rose up for more sun-shine and more rose flowers. Cut the plant back to where you want it, depending on the rose it can be 12 to 18 inches, or more above the ground. Cut ¼ inch above a growth node (the area where the branches will come out from the rose cane). Make sure the node is facing outwards from the center of the plant. This will insure that the branch grows outwards not inwards.
Finally, feed your rose. When the rose breaks dormancy and you see actual growth, you begin to fertilize it. You will con-tinue this throughout the summer every 5 to 6 weeks, stopping 8 weeks before frost is expected. Stopping at this time will en-sure that the rose doesn’t put forth any new, green growth that
or our local community or our global community – and it calls for an extraordinary amount of patience. The scriptures tell us to be patient. We can do that. We have to live as new creations, putting away our former ways and putting on new ways more in alignment with the image of God, recognizing that we are all in this together as God’s children. Be patient in affliction.
The final piece of that scripture in Romans 12:12 tells us to be “faithful in prayer.” To me, that’s stating the obvious. That’s where it all begins and where it all ends. We have no control. If this pandemic teaches the world anything, it should show us just how little control we actually have. We can’t control how long we’ve been given to live; we can’t control the behavior of people who willfully ignore restrictions put in place for the safe-ty of all; we can’t control the spread of a tiny virus that envel-oped the world and brought the world’s economies to its knees; we can’t control how others think or behave about that or any-thing else; we can’t control anything but our own response to
will just get frosted back. For the first feeding of the season, Rosarians swear by 1 cup of Epsom salt worked into the soil to give the plant vigor. Then add a balanced rose fertilizer this time and then for the rest of the season. Watering will come into play with feeding. Make sure your roses get at least 2 inch-es of water a week. Try not to wet the leaves, or make sure they dry off before nightfall to help prevent disease.
Follow these simple steps and prepare yourself for seasons of beautiful blooms to come. And most of all remember to take time, relax, and just smell the roses.
whatever comes our way. That’s called self-control, and it comes to us when we surrender control – when we let go and let God – when we offer it up – whatever “it” is – to God in prayer. We can do that. We have to be faithful in prayer. God is in control.
One of my elderly church members that I used to visit regularly once said something that really stuck with me, and it is good advice for each and every one of us today. She said: “Well, at my age you just have to live each day, try to get a little joy out of it, and know that God is with you no matter what.” That’s what I’m talking about! That is a living example of what I hope you now see in Romans 12:12 as a pretty good coping strategy for life: “Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” AMEN.
“Church”
Encouragement from Terry Putnam,
Moderator for Southwick Congregational Church
A human connection of love, not a building
a lifestyle, not a weekly activity
an act of service, not a service to attend (taylor duvall)
It has been almost 10 weeks since Massachusetts churchgo-ers could attend worship services together because of the Covid 19/Coronavirus pandemic. During this time, ministers, priests, rabbis, and imams have had to come up with new and different ways to keep the fellowship with their members going in the absence of face-to-face interactions.
We here at the Southwick Congregational Church have kept up the connection with our congregation in various ways. Rev. Susanne Hayes continues to make her sermons available by email and regular mail, on Facebook, and on YouTube. She
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Let me tell you about Cliff Young …Cliff decided to run the most grueling marathon in the world, the Ultra-Marathon, a 544-mile marathon. You read that right: a 544-mile marathon.
All the other runners were professionals. They had Nike and Adidas sponsorships. They had wind and water-resistant gear. Cliff? Well … Cliff was just a farmer. He had Levi jeans and work boots.
First thing Cliff did was take out his false teeth. He said they rattled when he ran. Second thing he did was put a pair of ga-loshes over his work boots in case it rained.
When the starting gun went off, all the other runners burst out of there … but old Cliff just kind of shuffled along. For the first eighteen hours, Cliff got farther and farther behind. Soon, darkness falls, but the 61-year-old runner kept shuffling on.
For five days, fifteen hours, and four minutes straight, Cliff Young ran, never once stopping, even when it got dark. Never stopping … until the old farmer crossed the finish line … FIRST! In first place!
In fact, Cliff beat the world record by TWO WHOLE DAYS! The second place runner crossed the finish line nine hours after old Cliff.
What happened? All the other runners stopped each night to rest and get some sleep. Cliff didn’t know you were expected to stop once it got dark. So, he just kept running through night.
By the way, when they handed the $10,000 prize to him, Old Cliff said he didn’t know there was a prize. He just ran for the wonder of it. Said all the other runners worked hard, too. So Cliff waited at the finish line and handed each of the runners an equal share of the prize money.
So, you’re telling me you’re in a dark place right now? Maybe it’s time to pull a Cliff Young! Just keep running through the dark.
•While others run fast… you can just shuffle with perseverance.
•While others run to impress … you can simply press on.
•While others stop for the dark … you can run through the dark.
•The race is won… by those who keep running through the dark.
Stay positive! God is with you, even if you can’t see Him. Just shake it off and keep stepping up. It’s always too soon to quit!
reaches out regularly to our members by phone. The church of-fice remains open to ensure that callers receive the assistance they need and to produce and distribute our weekly and monthly publications. We host virtual coffee hours each Sunday morn-ing via Zoom to give our folks the opportunity to hear church updates and to see and visit with each other.
Now that the state’s restrictions are beginning to ease, we are tasked with putting together a plan that would allow our congre-gation to worship together again safely. We will take into con-sideration the guidance given by the state and by the Southern New England Conference, along with what we’ve learned over the past two months and what will be in the best interest of our congregation, in developing our plan. Some of the measures that we’ve put into place during the pandemic will be incorporated permanently going forward.
We will use this time to thoughtfully determine what worship at Southwick Congregational Church will look like post-pandemic and beyond. We do not have a building re-open date at this time but one thing is for certain—we will continue to meet the needs of our congregation and to be good stewards of our community in the safest, most compas-sionate way possible.
I pray for the continued strength and perseverance of our healthcare workers, first responders, and essential work-ers and their families. I pray for comfort for those directly impacted by this virus. I pray that we all stay the course and continue to “flatten the curve” by following the advice of-fered by the health experts and our state and local leaders. May God bless each of you and keep you safe.
