My father, my cousin Tom, my grandfather Ellsworth, and I were born near Christmas. Competing with the baby Jesus on his special day was a tricky business that often resulted in gifts labeled “Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas.”
But we were lucky to have family who loved us and made our birthday celebrations special without taking any of the joy away from Christmas. One year my cousins from Indiana gave me a gingerbread house for my birthday. I was young then – maybe seven or eight – and am not sure if Lydia, Bill, Tom, and Nancy drove east for the holiday or just sent the house. In any event, it was miraculous to me, and I can still taste those candies on the roof.
Carol and the gingerbread house
My grandfather’s birthday was December 28th. In 1913, on this date, he married my grandmother Agnes.
Sunday, December 28, 1913 – “Cold night Saturday night, cold today. Ellsworth a married man. Spent the night with his bride in Springfield. His birthday today – thirty-two years old today.” – Lydia Jane Hall.
Five and a half years later my mother Janet was born, and she and her daddy were great friends.
Ellsworth and Janet Hall, 1920
Ellsworth had modest taste in food and a liking for eating it in little bits throughout the day. He hid favored snacks on the shelves of the pantry and china cupboards – squares of chocolate and boxes of “Hi-Ho” Crackers are what I remember. We all knew his hiding places and helped ourselves to his stores, but I don’t think we were ever scolded or seriously admonished for this behavior.
But once a year, on his birthday, he had an extravagant treat when my mother baked him a fresh coconut cake. She was a meticulous cook and followed all recipes to the letter. She had a hard time organizing her closets, but she could beat an egg white so that it stood at attention in perfect peaks.
For this annual confection she first baked delicate layers of cake and filled them with lemon custard. Next she covered the stacked rounds with a boiled frosting of egg whites, sugar, vanilla, water, and cream of tartar. Finally, she grated fresh coconut and gently patted it onto the graceful swirls, a long and painstaking process undertaken with love and care. It was a beautiful sight – this large snowball of a cake – and my grandfather was always delighted.
“Janet’s Coconut Cake,” Carol Crump Bryner, colored pencil, 2012
On Wednesday: A New Year
Thank you for sharing the history of your family. Your blog, the words, photographs, and paintings, bound by memories provided a warm and stimulating experience to a stranger. I’ve grown accustomed to their faces.
Thanks Allen. That’s such a very lovely compliment!
Love the stories of life on the farm as we had similar family values. Memories of boiled frosting with flakes of coconut bring back fond memories of my mother, too. That combination must have been in vogue during their generation as my mother made it often. I loved it and my daughter cringed every time grandma made it for her!
The coconut must have been such a treat in the middle of winter. Thanks, Karen!
I’m happy to be “linked” once again to your blog.
I remember the whipped frostings (our family had homemade angel food, more whipping involved on egg whites) and this coconut cake is so elegant on its graceful stand.
Our family has three Christmas birthdays including my husband’s on the 27th. I loved the ways in which your family made a special time for each celebrant!
Hi Susan! So glad you’re re-connected. It’s surprising how many people do have birthdays around this time of year.
That cake is gorgeous! Janet would approve.
Yes. She definitely would have asked for an extra big slice.
Almost every day that my parents and I read your blog, we remark about the stunning photographs you include. Someone, or perhaps several someones, had a great eye for setting up a shot and the quality of even the oldest pictures is outstanding. It also seems that the camera was always at hand as everyday scenes were captured at the pond, in the back yard and in the barn. Do you know who was behind the lens?
I’m not sure about some of the older photos. I think my grandfather took some, and my grandmother others. My dad took alot of the ones from the mid-1930’s on. He was a very good photographer.