The Hardware Store, Detroit, 1926

My father said he was going to the Hardware Store.
A Saturday morning and he was home
and I thought Saturdays to be the most
exciting day of the whole week.
And so I went along to the hardware store,
walking and skipping right there by my father.

I wondered what hardware was;
we walked past the Greek Grocery Store
where I waved at my friend Joe Joe,
(his father owned the Greek Grocery Store)
and I truly loved him for the grapes and gum balls
he filched for me, at my request.
An important walk with my father.

And there it was, the Hardware Store,
on the corner of Lemay and Charlevoix:
Charlevoix being the street with the streetcar
that took us once in a while back to
our old neighborhood on Gratiot
(our mother called those trips "going up the line")

A big disappointment at first;
This Was the Hardware store?
But then, the DOOR, the darling door made the difference.
A Dutch Door. A Holland Door
A door from the land of tulips and Windmills!
A door cut in half that swung open and shut
when you touched it.
And then, on the other side of the door
was the dark, almost black, floor that slanted downward
and on the walls were hundreds of little bins
holding shiny nails of every size,
screws, nuts, wires, tools; every blackish greasy
piece of hardware Detroit needed
to repair and build its greatness
as the second largest city in Michigan in the 1920's.

In the meanwhile, my father was busy
running the key machine, it made a noisy
grating and whirring sound; my father made
three or four keys and after each one was made,
he studied its cut and let me hold one.
I knew he was the best father in the world,
to be able to make the golden keys.

The hardware man gave me a piece of hard candy
for being so well behaved (all store people did that,
gave out candy) and I thoughtfully asked for
a second piece for my father which I thought
was only fair since he had bought the keys there.

I gave a couple swings to the wonderful
Dutch door as we left the store.
I could hardly wait to tell my sister all about the store,
the key maker, the dutch door and the candy.

My mother never went to the hardware store,
even though I pointed it out whenever we took
the Charlevoix Street Car back to our old neighborhood.
I wanted to just drop in for a look at the Dutch Door.

The activity here in the backyard has surprised everyone.  Now the crows seem to have disappeared and the squirrels are celebrating in numbers never before seen. I counted at least fifteen or more squirrels leaping, falling, chasing one another in and out of the thickly leafed silver maple and on to the tall pine, then on to the oak tree! Crazy, never ending movement with occasional stops at the bird feeder and bird bath. Do you suppose, Miss Blue, that in our nearby woods there is a community of feral cats holding forth, carousing and supping on crow meat? I truly support Melba's notion, Miss Blue. In addition, I much prefer the shenanigans of the squirrels. It is pure theater. At times my music supplies the choreography for squirrels; tree branches moving gracefully and squirrels dancing inside the cover of the leaves. Well, Miss Blue, can crows do that? There is no end to the concern I have for the betterment of the world, and I shall continue my efforts.

Love, Your Faithful Pearl

Dear Pearl,

Melba had a most interesting suggestion about the crow problem, Pearl. She says there are never any crows around the golf course when she plays and she's sure it has to do with the large population of feral cats who live in the woods directly adjacent to the ninth hole. They are very fierce as cats go and make everyone nervous with their general insolence. I think she may be on to something.

I Remain, As Always, Your Devoted Miss Blue

How to eat crow

CROW CASSEROLE
Ingredients
12 pieces of crow breast meat (no bones) (6 crows)
2 quarts sauerkraut
6 slices of bacon
1/3 cup of chopped onions
Preparation
Brown the crow breasts in a skillet with butter or oil. When browned, place them in a casserole dish on half inch layer of sauerkraut. Lay a half strip of bacon on each half breast and sprinkle the onion on them. Next, add another layer of sauerkraut and some of the juice. Bake at 350 degrees for 2 hours. Makes 2 servings.

PAN FRIED CROW
Ingredients
2 eggs
seasoned bread crumbs or flour
oil or bacon grease
Preparation
Remove breast meat from as many crows as desired. Beat with meat mallet (for tenderizing). Dip pieces in beaten egg and then in bread crumbs or flour. Fry in oil in hot skillet. Bacon grease can be approximated by adding liquid smoke. Leave inside a tad pink.

MATTHEW'S MAGIC STEW
Ingredients
20-24 crow breast pieces (10-12 crows)
1 bag of celery
2 onions
2 pounds of baby carrots
2 cans of beef consomme
1 cup flour
Preparation
Chop up celery and onions. In a crock pot, place two alternating layers of meat -onions -celery -and carrots. Pour both cans of consomme into pot. Let cook for 6-10 hours. A half hour before you are ready to serve, remove about 5-6 cups of liquid and mix with 1 cup of flour for a thickener. Mix all contents (stew & thickener) well. Let stand for half an hour, season with salt & pepper to taste, and enjoy.

A carrion crow sat on an oak

With a ling long lilly dong kai row may

And he called for a tailor to make him a cloak

With a ling long lilly dong kai row may

Hey, falero, gil fin-a-garo

Hey, falero, gil fin-a-gay

Up jumped John, he's a ringing on his bell

With a ling long lilly dong kai row may

Wife, oh wife, hand me my bow

That I might shoot yon carrion crow

The tailor shot and he missed his mark

He shot his own sow bang straight through the heart

Wife, oh wife, bring me brandy on a spoon

The old sow's fallen down in a swoon

Oh, said his wife, You're a silly old louse

You've killed the old sow and you don't care a mouse

Oh, said the tailor, I care not a mouse

We'll have black pudding, chitterlings, and souse

The old sow died and they threw her in a hole

The little pigs squealed for their mother's soul

Fanny is so delighted to have more of your story, Pearl. She says her favorite things in the world are pancakes and sausages and the way the air feels after a stormy night. Also she wants a pet goat. Melba won't allow it, of course, so she follows the antics of the fishermen brothers' pet with special interest. She's in her room right now drawing goats with the colored pencils Louise brought back from her honeymoon at the seashore - they say EMMETT'S OCEAN MOTOR INN on each and every one. Toujours l'amour, if you will.

I was most disturbed to hear of the misbehaving crows there and in the Orient. In the gentle times we knew as children, crows represented the very height of genteel husbandry, did they not? Or was that just the English side of the family?

I Remain As Always, Your Devoted Miss Blue

Alana's Goat

More of Pearl's Story

After The Storm (continued)

And so it was that Jim flung Pet Goat over his broad shoulders

surprising Pet Goat, whose back legs flailed in the salty air

and whose little front hoofs clicked against one another,

until the icy cold ocean water sprayed them from top to bottom.

Jim hollered and laughed at Pet Goat's fearful eyes.

"It's all right, Pet Goat, just a little ocean bath.

Won't hurt us at all."

And so Jim waded in the gentle lapping waves with Pet Goat,

now standing alongside Jim, jumping now and then

when his hoofs touched some little ocean creature.

After a while Jim turned to the shore and just in time;

for in the distance a large pelican sitting atop a tall post

spread its large wings and dived into the ocean

after his morning breakfast and Jim and Pet Goat

alarmed, to be sure, for they didn't want to be in the way

of the pelican's sharp beak,

high stepped back to shore and safety.

John had long since returned to the cottage

and had begun making breakfast.

Enough wood had been saved from the day before the storm

to start the fire in the stove and soon the room was filled

with the smell of pancakes and sausages

and whatever else John had on hand.

Pet Goat needed to sit in the sun to dry his brown and white coat.

The storm had made the air smell clean

and so another day began for the brothers.

A fishing day after the storm.

Dear Miss Blue,

Frederick Crow is at it again; this very morning I heard him scolding Bernard there on a branch of the silver maple (Bernard's home is at the fork of two sturdy limbs). Standing humped with tail all afluff; his little paws spread menacingly on the branch, so fierce was his expression that I thought Frederick would whirl around and fly off. Bernard held his pose all the while making his warning chuh chuh sound. Frederick took a step toward Bernard, wings spread and then flew off, turning his head backward for a split second and calling out an answering caw caw.The crows are becoming a nuisance here in the village and I am afraid I will again be called upon to solve the problem. I have read about the crow problem in Japan: The Kagoshima Journal has reported the numbers to exceed 7,000 in Tokyo; a Crow Patrol works constantly to eliminate the crows but it is a never-ending problem. It is FEAR, they say. They have confessed to the idea that the crows are smarter than they are! So you can see, Miss Blue, that this could be an enormous undertaking for me. Well, again I will be happy to take to the Village streets with my usual enthusiasm, the plan being to catch the crows and, as the good people in Japan have considered, relocating them outside the city. But where oh where would that be?

On a much lighter note, the handsome duck family has returned to our backyard. They have made their home for the summer here, to raise their little ones in safety. One of our neighbors feeds them corn, assuring us that Delbert and Daisy (Mr and Mrs) will again spend the summer here in our backyard (with occasional visits to the creek nearby). The continual rain seems to be perfect for the ducks. I will keep you informed of the happenings around here.

Until later,
Pearl, again helping

Portieres. The Way We Lived, 1920's Detroit

They hung on brass rods to cover, when drawn, the archway between the piano room and the living room. They were a lovely blue color, heavy with significance, keeping the heat in and the cold out of a winter's day and night and held open by the coils of golden colored braided ropes with tasseled ends.

This was the way we lived in houses without central heating. The temperatures were often regulated by little pot bellied stoves with isinglass windows in each room or at least one on each floor of our house. Coal kept the room warm and gave a bluish look to the isinglass, flinging mysterious slender shapes against the isinglass. We were warned never to open the small door that housed the fire, although we really wanted to. The kitchen stove was a small wood burning stove used mostly for heating the kitchen but occasionally used for the big dinner cooking and baking. The other kitchen stove was a kerosene burning stove with two burners - just right for the regular meals - having nothing to do with keeping the house warm.

Portieres gave the house a grand look. They were away from the working space and that's why we loved them. They made us feel like princesses, my sister and I, as we approached their beauty and fingered the golden coils and thick brocade. But wait, there was also the decorative and carefree way to separate rooms: Curtains of Beads - beaded ribbons or strings, vertical swaying colorful beads - tossed aside with a sweeping gesture of a hand belonging to the bobbed hair, boyish figure, Charleston Prodigy Ingenue; the Darling of the 1920's (she had the vote, after all).

Dear Miss Blue,

The news that Louise and Linguini have married at last, is a relief to me. I have worried that the love affair would cool with wretchedness all around. But, then the good news. I am wondering if Louise has ever been told of Linguini's irascible brother, Fusilli. Hardly the ideal in-law; I would imagine Linguini has kept Fusilli undercover until the day-to-day married life can be challenged with the revelation about Fusilli's time in jail (the Rome Affair). Nevertheless, he was pardoned by the Pope and that should be impressive to Louise; she just might forgive Linguini for his temporary 'lapse' of memory. I bring this whole affair up because I have read in my copy of Il Manifesto that Fusilli is again in trouble - this time for unpaid bills - and will be jailed unless he can come up with a very large sum of money to pay off anxious creditors. I read that he plans to contact a certain relative in London; this being the case, Linguini should be warned of this impending embarrassment. Fretting does no good, but there will be a buzz in your household when Franco brings the happy couple back.

I am sending Fanny recipes for plain and easy sandwiches for children to make when their household help is away.

1. The Ketchup Sandwich: Take two slices of very soft and fresh bread. Spread with lots of butter. Spread ketchup neatly on one slice of bread and then cover it with the second slice of bread. The whole procedure should take about four minutes .

2. The Karo Syrup Sandwich: This is put together the same way as above, being cautious not to overdo the syrup or it will be a sorry mess (I know).

3. The Brown Sugar or White Sugar Sandwiches: These need only to be sprinkled gently so as not to spill out of the bread slices. Buttered bread is important on these sandwiches!

These little recipes will keep Fanny able to practice her violin without any hunger pangs.

Give my love to the newlyweds, Pearl