Doot Ta Do!

Empty cardboard cores of toilet paper, what do you call them?  In our family they were called Doot Ta Dos.  When we emptied a roll of TP, we'd hold the core to our mouth and yell Doot Ta Do (DTD!  Did one of my brilliant siblings start that great tradition or did it come from elsewhere?

The lower corner cabinet in our kitchen was a swivel-out flour bin.  It's usage ended when flour was marketed in more user-friendly packaging than 100-pound bags.  

Then it became a home for DTDs.  It was some do-good thing or a maybe-some-day craft project of my Mom's.  I don't recall what the mission was and, later on, I doubt Mom did either.  

It was plumb full of the things, 100s of 'em.  They became part of the huge bonfire that my oldest sister Mary and I had going before the farm was sold.

Trish inspired this little story: she held up and empty plastic bottle and said Doot Ta Do!

Do any readers know the origin of DTD?  If so, please share.

Mom

A salute to Mom on Mother's day.

She was 5' nothing tall, highly religious, piano and organ player, was the organist at the nearby church.  Her children made up the bulk of the choir.

She was a teacher: for the time (1920s) she was highly educated.  My Dad, on the other hand, had a 6th grade education.  I've often wondered how he managed to seduce Mom into marriage.   With most young men serving in WWI, it was slim pickings, I suppose.  Not that Dad was a dummy, far from it.

Mom was 100% German, Dad 100% Irish.  Interesting that they got together during the height of WW1, where there countries of origin were on opposite sides. 

She bore 8 children, plus 3 that didn't make it; 11 total.  I'm the youngest.

Being a farmer's wife was anything but easy.  No plumbing or electricity for the first 20 years or so.  Imagine cooking on wood stoves, heating water for baths in a collapsible tub, doing laundry by hand using a washboard, including dirty diapers from 8 kids.

Dad and kids would milk the cows by hand every morning at 5 AM - and again at 5 PM.  Mom always had a hot breakfast waiting for us when we returned - and more hot meals at lunch and dinner.

When I was in grade school, she'd sometimes walk the 1.5 miles to the school, sit and watch the teacher and classes, then walk back home.  I was always glad to see her there, did my best to make her proud.  

Influenced by the depression shortages, she couldn't bear to throw anything away.  Spare bedroom full of worn-out clothing, broken furniture, old mattresses and other junk.  Same with food.  Kitchen counter covered with leftover dribs and drabs, leaving about 10" of work space.  Fridge full of trimmed lard parcels, leftover veggies, you name it.

She'd take naps in the afternoons.  When I came home from college, I'd take advantage of that interlude and clean house.  I'd start a bonfire outside, burn everything combustible, wash empty containers, etc.  When Mom woke up the counter would be bare and the freezer mostly empty.  She was okay with that: although she couldn't throw stuff away, she was okay if somebody else did.

She was one tough, hard working lady.  RIP, Mom.