A Tale Of Three Pies

Pie #1

Pie # 1 was made five plus years ago. My kid and the neighbor’s kid somehow discovered a Queen Anne cherry tree laden with cherries--before the birds did. This neighbor's kid’s mother and I gave these kids permission to pick those cherries. What do you say to a kid who tells you, “Hey Mom, there’s this cherry tree over yonder and there are these cherries on it that are yellow and golden and seem right (ripe) for the pickin’--and plus it’s in a yard of a house where no one is living?” We (as intuitively engaged parents) said: O.K. you kids—go over there and pick those cherries—which they did. They had to cross a big wide street to do it, which they did, and god bless them the pie that was produced.

Those little guys brought back these warm and baked--in the golden sun way that is—precious little juicy 3-D fossils of the season. The boys took them to my dear friend’s house, who, god bless her, is known to some as April May. She is known to me as--a goddess of pastry (among other things) (I am here to tell you). April May (W.) took these Sunkist cherries and baked them into a pie, such as which the gods only occasionally get to eat. Thus its distinction as Pie #1.

Pie #2

I was hanging out with Scot and his family at Lake Okoboji, Iowa. Scot’s dad had bought a flat of beautifully ripe peaches. I decided (looking at this gorgeous flat of fruit) that I would use some of my juice to, otherwise wanting for fun and creative application of the moment there at the lake, to make a pie. (Even then I wanted to be known as a good pie maker--a distinction I have yet to achieve.) I knew those peaches were sweet, but I did not really know how to make a pie. I thought the peaches so sweet enough on their own, that I didn’t need to add any extra sugar to the mix. Couple this with the fact that I let my little nieces use the piecrust as play-dough. The pie turned out to be, frankly inedible. The crust was so tough one could not chew it, and the delicious peaches became so unpleasantly tart one could not imagine why one would have wanted to eat them in the first place.

It was here I learned that even good ingredients don’t guarantee a good outcome. There are these secrets. For example—with pastry, that are meaningful. There are secrets it behooves one to find out about.


Pie #3

I have some friends now—friends who look after me and figure so much into my life that I can do no more than to count my blessings and to open my eyes and everything else and capture as much as I can from these two wonderful people. I’m speaking here, once again of Jerry and Judy Farnsworth. These guys are neighbors and friends. The other day Judy called and asked if she could stop by with a piece of strawberry –rhubarb pie (from her own garden as well as her oven).

I did not deny her. Why would one? On it’s way to me was a delicious piece of pie. The guy who is singing this song has eaten a similar piece of pie made by this same woman. Any guy who’s “ready for his pie,” has it all right.

Enough with my take. Song: BC: Scot, Kenny, Jerry, plus Michael S. - More on this guy later. Pie, pie, pie. It actually makes me feel weird to make a page and a half entry and not mentioned Scot. This is a memorial blog after all. So to conclude, so much for pies. So much for living in a way that acknowledges the benefit of knowing how to turn up at somebody’s house when pie is being served. So much for knowing how to know from where you came, and then even more interestingly, where you are going. I am now headed out into a direction that is of my own making and is a direction that reflects my own desire to fulfill my dreams. This is a geuine Basement Collaboration. Listen to all the people wailing in the background,

Checking in, nodding… (because it’s late) and everything else. I picked the song today because it was #6 on the track and I wanted to celebrate John William’s 60’Th birthday.