A Bowl of Homemade Turkey Noodle Soup & Generational Wealth
The photo of this posting is of a bowl of my homemade turkey noodle soup – made with the remains of the 21lb. turkey and stuffing that I had made for a Thanksgiving family gathering with my sister this year. And for the stuffing, I basically used a tripled version of the recipe that my parents used to make the stuffing for our turkey every Thanksgiving and Christmas as long back as I can remember. Stuffing that, as a kid, I always joyfully gobbled-up as much as I could, every chance I had, every holiday. One of my fondest holiday food memories as a boy.
And the turkey my parents roasted, was a Christmas gift from my dad’s employer, one of the sand and gravel plants in the Valley, which always seemed to run three shifts – day, swing, and graveyard – supplying the insatiable needs of the freeways then being built in Los Angeles. For a few years, our family received two frozen turkeys, when a friend of my dad at work without children, gave us his. That was always welcomed and appreciated by my parents – and by me! – as we had a second turkey to eventually feast upon, but roasted without any stuffing, sort of sad, but a least providing more meat for me to gobble-up.
Now the bowl with the soup in the center of the photo, a Starbucks bowl, was a gift that my oldest daughter gave me as one of my Christmas presents from her this year. It is sitting on my family’s heavy maple table that was marred and damaged in the 1971 Sylmar earthquake, when the heavy maple wood hutch – which unfortunately had not been tied down onto the buffet on which it sat – came crashing down on the table, spewing and smashing some of the pieces of my mom’s beautiful set of Japanese dishware that my oldest sister’s first husband had purchased for my mom during a few weeks R&R in Japan during the Vietnam war.
The hutch, after crashing down on the table, then flipped over the table, spewing out many of the lovely fragile gifts that my parents had received for their 25th wedding anniversary celebration in 1970, and finally coming to rest upright on the floor next to the table, all the way on the other side of the dining room. Good thing that earthquake was 6:00 a.m. in the morning, and no one was up eating breakfast at the table!
After the earthquake, my dad secured the maple hutch to the heavy maple buffet. Then, in the house my mom had moved to after my father died, the hutch stayed upright and did not fall over in the 1994 Northridge earthquake. The maple buffet and hutch, acquired by one of my sisters after our mom died, eventually went with that sister when she moved to Oklahoma.
In the background of the photo, with the row of drawers visible, is the buffet that my father made of alder wood to match the maple wood buffet upon which the once tumbling hutch had now been secured. Once built and finished, this new buffet sat on the opposite side of the dining room from the maple hutch. I acquired both this buffet and the maple table, and six matching maple wood chairs, from my mom’s second house when she died.
Now the bowl on the table, sits near one of the six wooden trays – one for me and one for each of my five sisters – I had made from the living room hardwood flooring in our old family home, that had to be torn up and replaced before we sold it in 2015, about two years after my mom died. Most of the flooring used for the trays, was from the area near the large front window where the family Christmas tree had always stood for the more than sixty years the house was in our family.
We were and are a family that likes to keep the treasures of our past, of our parents, in the family. So much history in just one little photo!
Now the story of our old family home and the two houses my father built, is also a great story of generational wealth. For this generational wealth started in 1947, when my parents purchased the property on which my dad built the two houses we lived in as a family, with the $600 my mom received as an inheritance when her mother died in England, her mother, who she never saw again once my mother arrived as a British war-bride in California in 1946.
The proceeds from the sale of our old family home formed part of the inheritance for my sisters and me from my mom. Then, when my son-in-law and daughter and grandchildren moved to Missouri, they soon found out that with five children, three of whom were teenagers, plus two cats, their name was just mud when it came to anyone even thinking of renting them a nice and large enough home. So, after my daughter told me of the problems they were having in finding something to rent, I just said we would buy a house. I then eventually used part of my inheritance (sitting in the bank at that time, getting .25% interest) as the down payment on a house that they picked out that was large enough for them in an area of good schools, that I could rent to them for just the mortgage payment, insurance, and property tax. So, for just a little more than they would have had to pay to rent really nothing, they were able to rent a beautiful four bedroom, three bath house, in a nice neighborhood. How good was that!
And that house I then eventually sold to them about four years later, gifting them the appreciation – the increase in value of the house – so that they could use it as a 20% down payment and secure a low interest rate for the house. Everything really worked out well! A great blessing all around!
Now I do often wonder what will happen to all of the treasured objects from my family when I am gone, but I do not worry, because now, as I begin to communicate the history and worth and value to me of these treasures from my past to all of my children and grandchildren, at least then by my words, the stories of these treasured objects have been handed down to them. However, I still do hope that these family treasures will find good homes when I am gone. Perhaps, if I ever become a writer of note, they may even acquire additional value and interest for my family. There’s always that hope!
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To view all Family Non-Fiction Posts, please use the link below.
Family Non-Fiction – Writing In The Shade Of Trees
To specifically read a post in Family Non-Fiction which goes more into the purchase of the property the two houses were built upon, please use the link below.
A Tale of Two Houses on the Road, Originally Dirt, That I Grew Up On – Writing In The Shade Of Trees
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You are good dad. I went back to work in 2012 to help my son buy a house. I am sure happy I did. I now might be moving in with him. I will rent my house. That is what good parents do. We help our children. Always! I remember your parents’ hone in Sylmar very well, thank you for sharing this wonderful memory.
I have my mom’s kitchen table which was in really good condition. I also got one of her sofas. My mom took real good care of her home. So did my daddy. I also got a beautiful painting that was in her bedroom. A lot of her stuff went to the goodwill after we all chose what we wanted. I feel my mom in my house cuz I got so much of her stuff. I have also set up a little altar for them with both their pictures that I look at everyday. They were such a handsome couple. This was our second Christmas without them. It is still hard. But I know they are in a wonderful place. I wish I could have brought her orange and fig trees with me. I sure miss those figs!
Her wonderful Italian neighbor gave her the cuttings for the trees. Her orange trees started out as seeds.she loved to plant. S he planted. Epasote which is delicious on scrambled eggs and lemon grass. I miss all the aromas from her back yard. We were blessed to have great parents. Thanks for your vivid memories. Happy new year!