HOW IT USED TO BE

It’s amazing to me how much of my first few years of marriage I remember. Maybe that’s because it was unlike any thing I ever imagined it would be. Sometimes when I think back on those first few years I wonder how I lived through them and then I know. Laughter. O yeah, it was the best way to deal with things.

The day my husband and I married we put all of our wedding presents and other worldly possessions in the back of a new pickup truck. The truck was a 4 wheel drive International and it cost $3,500. We drove from Pennsylvania to the coast of Oregon non-stop. I thought we were forgoing a honeymoon because my husband had to get back to work. It wasn’t work we were rushing back to it was fishing and hunting. And hunting and fishing. It was important stuff!

All the way across the country, all 3,000 miles of it I had a picture of the place we were going to live. I don’t know where it came from, perhaps something my husband said or maybe didn’t say. But it was a cute little white country house, one that needed work but had great promise. When we arrived at my husband’s house (soon to be mine) at 2:30 in the morning, he pulled up to the mailbox and checked to see what was in it. The headlights from the truck were illuminating the house that was about to become my home. I didn’t like what I saw. In fact I didn’t believe what I saw. So I said, “Good joke! Now take me to your real house.” But it wasn’t a joke. It was really his house. It was butt ugly and not a thing like I imagined!

It was October and chilly. The house was cold and I immediately looked for the thermostat to turn the heat on. I couldn’t find it so I asked my new husband to please turn the heat on. He said, “No problem.” He turned on his heel and went outside. I thought this was odd but maybe in Oregon thermostats were outside. In no time at all he was back inside but his arms were full of kindling wood. I recognized kindling because we had a fireplace at home. We put a fire in it at Christmas and a few other times a winter but we didn’t heat with it. With his kindling he was building a fire in a small wood stove. I had never seen one. As he built the fire he was explaining to me that if I wanted to stay warm I would need to know how to do this. O great I thought, there is no thermostat.

While the fire was warming the stove that would in turn warm the house, I was checking the place out. And I must say I was not encouraged. I was a country girl accustomed to hard work and I don’t think I was spoiled but I really wondered if I was up to this. A new bride, 3,000 miles from home, and if I wanted to stay warm I had to build a fire in something I had never seen before. Actually, it was good I was 3,000 miles from home.

The house had 3 bedrooms and one bath. It was a small bathroom with one of those metal shower stalls that they no longer make (for good reason). The front bedroom is the one my husband had chosen to sleep in, so that’s were we spent the night or what was left of it. I was not about to get in sheets that I did not know were clean. That meant he had to unpack most of the truck to get to sheets I would use. With our new sheets on the bed I was ready to sleep. I decided to take Scarlet O’Hara’s advice- I’d think about all the rest another day. Even if that day was as soon as a few hours away.

I woke up to a noise in the house. When I opened my eyes I saw a girl about my age (21) standing in the doorway with a box of socks. She was just there. No knock, no hello I’m coming in. She was just there. And when I looked at her she began to explain that she had washed my new husband’s socks but there were a lot of mismatched ones. Fascinating information for me on my first day in my new home with my new husband. I felt like I had jumped into another dimension. The conversation woke up Herman (the guy I married) and he introduced me to his best friend’s wife. And then he realized he needed to go see his buddy right away. So he got dressed and left me alone with the sock lady.

My first day in Oregon had begun!

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When I got married I wanted to be the best wife ever. I wasn’t looking for a certificate that said “Best Wife -1972, 1973, 1974, …” but I wanted my husband to feel like he had a Proverbs 31 wife. The interesting thing about that was at the time I didn’t know about Proverbs 31. I only knew that I wanted to be a excellent wife.

I don’t think I thought about my strategy for winning the “Best Wife” title except to do what I saw my own mother do. It’s what women have done for centuries I guess. While the husband is out working, even if we are working, we make his home a castle.

Now my husband’s castle had a lot to be desired in the structural department. In fact when I first saw the house we were going to live in I said, “OK, Now take me to your real house!” But much to my surprise that was the real house. And I may write about that another time…

So the actual house was a bit lacking but my imagination to make my husband feel like a king in his castle was not. I did a lot of re-decorating, most of which he noticed at least once. But when I began my baking campaign I knew I was on the right track.

This fella I married was a cook in the US Navy. I had nothing on him as far as ability. Heck! the guy had people stopping by his house to see if they could get some of his fresh baked bread. (see what I was up against?) But I was a very determined gal. And one day I decided to bake him a pie. I figured bread would not be impressive but no one was stopping by for one of his pies. So a pie was waiting when he came home from work. A nice supper and then pie for dessert. He ate all but one piece - the one I ate. The next day I baked a different pie. He ate his supper and then all of the pie but one piece (mine). I repeated this every day for about 5 days. Apple, pumpkin, lemon, chocolate, rhubarb- it was like he’d died and gone to heaven. I mean he could not wait to get home to me (and my pie). I was so on my way to being the best wife ever!

And then came the custard pie. He came home eagerly anticipating what pie would he eat that night. I was almost as anxious as he was. After all it was a real favorite of mine. He took one look at it and promptly declared that he did not eat custard pie!

Well, I forgot all about wanting to be the perfect little wife. I took one look at him and set him straight. I told him if he ever wanted another pie he had darn well better eat this one. It only took a second or two for him to process that information. And naturally he took the only logical course of action. He said “Let me try that pie.” He ate most of it which was alright because I wanted more than one piece. And now, almost 36 years later, custard has become one of his favorites as well. Or at least he has the good sense to say so.

Our first year of marriage I baked just about one pie every day. Good thing my husband had a job that burned calories and a high metabolism because he never gained so much as an ounce of weight. I still love to bake something for him and often it is a pie.

Here’s the recipe for the custard pie from “The Mennonite Community Cook Book by Mary Showalter”

Old-Fashioned Baked Custard Pie (by Anna B. Showalter, Broadway, Va.)

3 cups milk
3 eggs
1/3 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons flour
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
Combine sugar and flour.
Add beaten eggs.
Bring milk to boiling point and add gradually to egg mixture.
Pour into an unbaked pie shell and sprinkle nutmeg over the top.
Bake at 350° for 40-45 minutes or until an inserted silver knife comes out clean. Makes 1(9 inch) pie.

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