We Made Omelet, Mixed and Magical

We Made Omelet, Mixed and Magical  

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            Bacon and eggs are common base ingredients, but we created a different kind of omelet at Char’s the other morning, a “Friend Omelet”, made of ingredients (ourselves), old friends and new.

            I had no idea whether we could pull it off. I conjured the germ of an idea shortly after I spontaneously decided to fly to Montana. My little girl needed me. She was born in ’66, you do the math, but age is meaningless to a mother. And I wanted to see her new home.

Dee’s family moved into new digs two months ago: Dee Dee, Chris, Antoinette, four dogs, a cat, three guinea pigs, innumerable and varied chickens, a yellow lizard, a horse and an assortment of unpacked boxes. Now I know why she needed her mommy.

            But I digress. When I decided to go north, I constrained myself to a strict budget. Words mean everything, pun intended: “Strict budget” sounds much more acceptable than stone broke. I would not visit all my friends this trip.  

            Dee Dee said, “When I pick you up in Billings, let’s take a quick road trip to Havre. I’ve located an old school friend I’d like to see.”

            So, I wrote my long-time good friend Jane and asked her to arrange a breakfast gathering Saturday morning. I asked her to call two Havre women who write me real letters regularly. I knew that Jane knew Lee. In a letter, Loretta had wondered if her and Lee’s husbands had worked together at one time. Dee and her friend Cathi would join us too.

            What made this breakfast rather unique is that the ingredients, we people, were all strangers in some ways. I’d never met the women who corresponded with me. Dee knew Cathi from high school but had not seen her in too many years.

            Loretta said it best. “When Jane, a stranger to me, called, I thought, this breakfast meet is way out of my comfort zone. I won’t know anyone.” But she took a deep breath and showed up despite misgivings.

            We all arrived about the same time, full of hugs and glad-to-meet-yous and so-good-to-see yous.

            Coffee appeared. The young woman who served our table was so sweet and patient. We delayed ordering because we were too busy talking, laughing. Our good food took forever to eat between questions, stories, insights, and connections.

            Here is where our story gets unique. To be good an omelet must have ingredients whose flavors blend and enhance each other, right?

            Two ingredients, Dee and her friend Cathi, whom I recognized instantly, is Lee’s daughter. Now how about that! Dee and Cathi cornered one end of the table talking as though no time had passed.

Stir in a third ingredient, Lee. Now add my friend Jane. In the mixing, I learned that my daughter’s friend, also Lee’s daughter, Cathi, had, at one time, been married to my friend Jane’s son. What a mixed omelet! Keep in mind, I had no idea they all knew each other and were family.

Now to gently fold in a generous measure of seasoning. Loretta and Lee had known one another in the past. Indeed, their husbands had worked together. They had many remember-when type stories to share.

Oops! I also must jump into this omelet pan. Turn up the heat but not too high. Blended together, with no preconceived notions, we made a great omelet.

Having lived long enough to have no shame, we hung dirty laundry on the line. Our collective stories included the good, the bad and the ugly. Every ingredient is necessary to live life with full flavor.  

We sat down as strangers, discovered connections, shared experiences and stood up as family. Magical. Bizarre and magical.

           

Sondra Ashton

HDN: Looking out my back door

June 6, 2019

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The 61st Montana Seed Show - Building Community

More than potatoes
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The 61st Montana Seed Show—Building Community


Along with hundreds of other folks from the Hi-Line, from cities and towns throughout Eastern Montana and with a few tourists from our sister state, Western Montana , I celebrated a shared heritage at the 61st Annual Montana Seed Show in Harlem last weekend. I like that it is called the “ Montana ” Seed Show, not the “ Harlem ” Seed Show. It demonstrates an inclusiveness that reaches beyond regionalism. And in a historically appropriate way, it took place at the high school, the traditional hub of every small-town community.

The Seed Show that I remember from my youth was held in the old Civics Center , a multi-purpose structure that burned to the ground in 1968. I remember long, narrow tables with trays of potatoes, sugar beets, grains, leafs of baled hay, and huge bags of wool. I remember the blended smells of agricultural produce. I remember the excitement of the pie and bread baking contests. Except for the absence of sugar beets, not a lot has changed.

Ours is still a farm and ranch community. We still grow grains, hay, beeves, and sheep. A few valley farmers still raise potatoes. But now we have less than two people per square mile in Blaine County . Throughout the area farms and ranches are larger; towns are smaller, most of them half the size they were when I grew up in the Milk River Valley . Harlem is fortunate in our diversity; we are lucky to have the Fort Belknap Reservation across the river and the two Hutterite Colonies north of town. The Seed Show has adapted to the changing times and is today a major regional winter fair.

Thursday was entry day with people busy building displays and bringing in entries for the various competitions. A steady stream of men and women popped in the door with a pie or loaf of bread or a baker’s dozen cookies in hand and deposited their goodies with the food superintendents. Many of them hurried off to another setting-up chore while others hung about to chat with neighbors. An enticing smell wafted through the school from pots of spicy chili, simmering in anticipation of the chili cook-off in the school cafeteria that evening. I reluctantly passed on the chili feed since I wanted to take advantage of the Blood Screening early Friday morning. But I’ve been thinking of recruiting a chili-making crew for next year.

Fasting is not my favorite non-activity. My veins burrowed underground when the nurse with the needle approached the tender bend of my arm. I hyperventilated. So I was glad to woozy my way to the cafeteria for breakfast served by the Civic Association. Orange drink never tasted so good. Egg muffins approached perfection.

Friday and Saturday were a circus of activity. In the new gym I enjoyed all the commercial and educational displays, even the vase of noxious weeds. I recognized these invaders of my flower garden, most of which I have struggled to eradicate. Art exhibits filled the old gym. The variety of talents on display drew me back several times. In the adjacent room I marveled at the intricate quilts and related needlework. In another area I admired the skilled women carding and spinning wool. I peeked at the vintage cars and tractors in the ag and industrial arts building. I enjoyed lunches served by church groups from Turner and Harlem , and, oh, the home-made pies! Every kind of pie imaginable!

Speaking of pies, it would not be a Seed Show without the auctions. Bob Sivertsen auctioned breads and pies and cookies, those entered in hopes of a blue ribbon plus those donated to support the Show. The Art Auction Friday night is always a top draw, but this year the Number One Star of the Seed Show was the grand prize pie baked by Havre resident, Char Burckhard. Char is a long-time friend. She graduated from Harlem High so we claim her as our own. Char’s cherry pie sold for a record high bid of one thousand and twenty-five dollars at the Saturday night banquet.

But people were the best part of the Montana Seed Show. I visited with old friends and new friends, with neighbors from near and far. I noted the diversity of peoples who populate our sparse country and saw, not their differences, but a blending, a commonality. I noticed a change in consciousness from the old days. I observed a sense of family. I saw cooperation; people reaching out to support one another. We were simply people from many communities who came together, without rivalry or division, to make this shared experience fun and successful.

In this time of economic uncertainty, I felt an underlying current of hope, of excitement, a sense of “we”. We can build a better life here. We can make it happen. We can work together. From hundreds of miles, we gathered in Harlem at the Montana Seed Show, to share our knowledge, our creativity, our production. We came together to work, to visit, to play and to eat pie. We shared in a true communion.

Sondra Ashton
Looking out my back door.
Havre Daily News, March 18, 2010
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