4th of July Flag Cake

This isn't your regular red velvet cake recipe.

This is the original red velvet cake recipe.

I've been making this flag cake for fifty years and it's worth the effort,

I promise!

Click here for the recipe and easy directions!

How to make a 4th of July flag cake.

Family Easter Egg Hunt

"Dear! I think you're the Easter Bunny!"

Grama Lundgren used to have an Easter Egg Hunt in her gigantic front yard for 24 grandkids. She spent hours boiling, dying and hiding a dozen dozens of eggs; we spent ten minutes running wildly through the apple trees in our Easter bonnets and bow ties; then we all spent days eating egg salad sandwiches. The work-to-fun ratio was out of balance, so I tweaked the tradition. An Oma Party always includes the preparation: instead of doing the work myself, I let the guests do it—that becomes the party! Let me explain.

Back when I was a full-time mom, I'd often announce a Halverson Hero Happening. Our family gathered in the kitchen (we were a party of nine) for a planning session, assignments were made, and the festivities began. Scotch tape, balloons and crepe paper appeared; pudding was instant (with lots of squirt whipped cream) and games were assembled. Fifteen minutes later colorful streamers and excited screamers filled the family room—the party had planned itself.

With that background I'm sharing some tried and true suggestions:

Ten Easy Steps for an Easter Egg Hunt

1. Put an invitation on your kids' pillow or plate (or send an e-vite to the kids in your life.)
2. At the start of the party, give each kid a roll of colored crepe paper and a roll of tape, then set the timer. (You'll be kept busy finding the end of somebody's scotch tape.) They can twist and drape—it doesn't matter how it looks in the end. Decorating is the fun part. The timer is necessary because they won't want to stop.
   
3. Gather everybody on the floor and give each guest ten plastic eggs. Dump packages of jelly beans, bubble gum, etc. in a big bowl and let everybody fill their eggs. (For a big group, have every family bring something to contribute.)
4. While the guests fill eggs, you fill two eggs per person with something unique: McDonald's coupons, dollar bills, quarters (depending on how old they are and how rich you are) or slips of paper that say Sing a Song, Tell a Joke, etc. for an impromptu program. It helps if these eggs look different somehow (color, size, whatever) than the others.
5. Give each kid a paper sack and crayons and let them decorate it as an Easter basket.
6. While an adult hides the eggs, the kids go somewhere else with another adult and learn to do the bunny hop, or play "Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar?"
   
7. Youngest to oldest, a pair of kids are released and told to find ten eggs, plus two of the unique eggs.
8. Everybody stuffs candy in their mouths.
9. Everybody dumps their eggs out into their sacks, and the plastic eggs are collected and taken to the garage until next year.
10. Talent show: sing songs, tell jokes, do somersaults, dance the bunny hop—show your true colors, come out of your shell.
    

Make everybunny happy!

How does your family celebrate Easter?
I'm all ears!

Family Tradition

Lucy

"Hey, Kids!
Have I ever told you about the diamond clip?"

Opa and I had a Conference Party and I decided to teach a little family history lesson.

June and Gerald Bagley Wedding
April 1, 1946

"Sixty-six years ago my mom and dad got married. At the wedding breakfast my grampa gave a tribute to his new daughter-in-law. He said he had a special wedding present for her, something that had been in the family for years: a diamond clip.

"Then he gave her a black velvet box. Thrilled, she opened the little box and found . . .

a dime and clip."

(It was April Fool's Day!)

They lived happily ever after anyway.

(Pass on a story about your parents to somebody. Create a tradition!)

Our First Christmas Morning

Our 8' x 35' home, and our VW Bug, 1969

As newlyweds we never noticed how cold it got in our trailer at night. Christmas morning we woke up to find our shower curtain frozen into it's folds. The moisture had turned to ice! To save money, we left our coal oil furnace off, so Dee jumped out of bed to light it while I stayed snug under the covers. I told him to open his first Christmas present before he lit the fire: his new extra-long matches (in a decorative box) took up residence on top of the "fireplace" as objects d' art.

When the room warmed up, we made hot chocolate with candy canes, and freshly whipped cream, and Dee lit the candles on the tree (which was dry and a huge fire hazard.) A tiny stash of presents was piled underneath. Although we'd set a $10 budget, both of us had overspent. Dee gave me a book of Bruegel art, a slip of ivory lace, and a small hymn book. Besides the matches, Dee got some 4711 Cologne, a collage of our memories, and a red flannel nightshirt that I had made. (He only wore the nightshirt once because it stuck to the sheets, and turned them red.)

Our first Christmas, 1969

The opening ceremonies took about five minutes. Part of me wanted to rush home to my parent's warm family room where a giant tree glittered and a real fireplace roared. Dad would be passing out presents for an hour, and Mom would be fixing a lavish buffet, and I could be a kid in receiving mode. But this year I was not a kid anymore—I was a wife with a home of my own and it was our first Christmas as a family.

Dee's enthusiasm for all our firsts made them fun: I cherish that about him. He has always put our family above anyone or anything else; since the day we were married his goal has been to strengthen and unify our little (now big) family. At first I would have been happy to play house, but return to my parent's home several times a week to enjoy their TV, refrigerator, and full-size tub. About a month after we were married I remember thinking, "Well, this was fun, but I want to go home where Mom does the dirty laundry, and Dad makes the scary decisions." I realize that we would have stagnated that way. It would have diminished our shaky self confidence, and kept our fledgling abilities unnoticed and unnecessary. I'm glad it was only a fleeting thought, because those attributes needed opportunity and reason to grow—too much supervision or hovering would have smothered them.

One of our great thrills has been to watch our kids start their own holiday traditions. It's fun to see which ones they include from their childhood, what their spouse brings into the mix and what ideas they come up with together (Anna). (Click the links to see their versions of our traditions.) I love hearing that somebody celebrates St. Nickolas Day (Gabi) and that somebody else remembers our George Bailey Award (Marta). They also incorporate new traditions such as the Nutcracker Ballet, sleigh riding or cooking their own fancy dinner on Christmas Eve.

We decided long ago that we would never put pressure on our kids to split their time equally, or keep track of on and off years. Now they have extra sets of parents, grandparents and even great-grandparents they want to fit around the traditions they're trying to establish in their homes. Our main gift is to take the pressure off, support their decisions, and enjoy being together in whatever configuration works best that year. Our old traditions have served their purpose, and now there are seven unique families we try to strengthen in whatever way they need—by being there, having them over, or giving them space.

Someone said, "Your traditions must not mean as much to you as mine do to me." I answered that as fun as our traditions have been, they have evolved over time. I want the tradition to work for the family, rather than the family have to work for the tradition. Although Swedish thin hot cakes were our favorite tradition for Christmas breakfast, trying to wedge in a thinny between breakfast and brunch (at three different houses, hauling three babies) seems ridiculous. The thinny won't have its feelings hurt and neither will I! "We'll be thrilled to see you anytime" has become our new holiday tradition.

Memories are worth making. I'm so glad our stubbornness in establishing that first Family Christmas in our trailer overrode my mom's heartbreak, my homesickness, and Dee's granny's disappointment. We established some traditions that year that have lasted 42 years—mainly that our marriage made us a family, and no matter how inexperienced we were, strengthening our family was our main responsibility as long as they were ours. Some year we would see them leave to establish their own family, and we would stand back and let them go. We each get our own turn—the Christmas of 1969 taught me that.

St. Nicholas Day

Some folks are just naturally merry.

Take St. Nicholas, for instance. Can you imagine him complaining about the cold? Or feeling sorry for himself because he works 24/7? He's a jolly old soul whose main goal in life is to make us smile.

Today is St. Nicholas Day. Children in Holland and Germany (and lots of other places) know that St. Nick is out and about, so they leave a carrot or apple in their shoe as a snack for the reindeer. When they wake up, the carrot has been replaced with a tiny thank-you surprise, and the season of giving is ushered in.

In honor of St. Nicholas Day, I'm thinking of people who always live life as if it were filled with twinkling lights, inspiring music, exciting adventure and endless promise. The ones that make my life better just by being part of it. Optimistic people, merry people.

A cute lady I know brightens a room whenever she enters, not because of her appearance but because of her attitude, her smile and her friendliness. She has lots of interests and is very interesting, but she still seems genuinely interested in me! Another friend always asks about everyone in my family, laughs about funny things I said years ago, and finds the best in any situation. Her enthusiasm is contagious; it's a gift I get whenever we're together.

A wise man said, "Like all human behavior, optimism is learned. No one is born with it or without it. You learn it. You practice it. You try it out until it becomes a habit. And then you can't imagine behaving any other way . . .

"Begin with a smile. Take a real interest in what others are thinking, saying, and doing. Get outside yourself. You can (and do) change everyone with whom you come in contact. The question is whether you add to or subtract from the day's experience." (Don Gale)

As my St. Nicholas Day gift to you, I asked the jolly old man his secret. "I wink a lot," he said. Mmmm . . . maybe that's why he sees only the best in us. (Haven't you always wondered why he leaves presents whether you're naughty or nice?) He looks at the bright side: maybe that's why he's so merry!

Merry Christmas!

Thanksgiving with Relatives

After hours of togetherness,
Mary thought for just a moment
about flipping her family the bird.

(Now, now . . .
you are not related to a bunch of turkeys . . . )

Thanks for Everything!

The Opi's went south for the holiday.

First Stop:
Trump International Hotel Las Vegas.
Luxury room--$108--no casino,
directly across the street from Nordstrom's front door.
I was thankful.

The next day we crossed the desert, passed Joshua trees,
and arrived at a grand oasis--

a place to be restored!
(We were thankful.)

Opa buttered up the turkey,

Emmie buttered up the table,



And Sam buttered up his Oma.
(I'm always thankful for butter.)

All four grandparents had a personal server who filled our plates,
replenished our drinks and cleared away our dishes:

Jake


Emily

Sam


Luke.

After dinner we all just kicked back for the weekend
and felt thankful.

Thanks for everything!

Scary Business

"What's cooking, Oma?"

I've got a Halloween party brewing, but some little ghouls can't come.

So I invited them over a few days early to spook up the place.

Martha's mice on the stairs. See how they run!

With silhouettes, stickies and squeals they created a rat house.

I'm no dummy!

Since a real pumpkin head was too heavy, this spook's a light-weight with a styrofoam noggin. The ghoulies crumpled newspapers to stuff his shirt, and pieced his squishy parts together with elastics and duct tape. In no time our house was haunted and party-ready.

Oma Superior

Thanks, ghouls!

Now, want to stir up something spooky?
Here's a recipe that haunts me:

Ghost Cake With Glowing Eyes

Bake a cake in an oblong pan.
When cool, dump out of the pan carefully onto a tray.

Now cut off two pieces to create a rounded ghost shape.
The two extra pieces will become arms.

Use white meringue type frosting from a box to glue the arms on the sides of the cake.
Frost the cake.
Use black licorice for the mouth.

Now the spooky part:
Break an egg, dump out the insides, and place each 1/2 eggshell (open side up) for eyes.
Soak two sugar cubes in lemon extract.
Place sugar cubes in egg shells, and light them with a match.
The eyes will glow.

Ghost Cake

Boo-ti-ful!

Scary Stuff

Pumpkin Heads by Wendell Minor

"I'll bet living in a nudist colony takes all the fun out of Halloween."

Any cool, easy ideas for costumes?

Share or you'll be haunted for life.

Being a Mummy

Jake and Emmie 2009

Being someone's mummy is scary stuff!
(I have forty-one years of experience.)

I was recently asked for my best advice on Motherhood.
It's in an essay I wrote years ago called—

Colonial woman dipping candles.

Wax Strong

Into the hot wax; out of the hot wax. Into the hot wax; out of the hot wax. I watched as the woman dipped her candles. She held a dowel with ten pieces of string looped over it, and repeatedly lowered it into a vat of melted wax.

Wicks

The first time it looked like nothing stuck to the strings at all. Another dip, and they still looked clean. Patiently, the woman dunked them again, and again, and eventually I could see a film of wax building. Time after time the thin layers adhered to each other, and slowly the strings began to look like candles.

After countless dips.

I've watched other women engaged in an old-fashioned art that also involves patience and repetition. It is mothering. Time after time they dip their kids in character building experiences—"Say Please," "Thank you," "I'm sorry;" share your toys; pick up your coat; mind your dad; love your brother; don't whine; feed the dog; say your prayers—over and over again, the same admonitions. At first it seems nothing is sticking. The kids are still the same. But eventually they begin to wax strong.

A work of art!

Each experience a child has in character building is like one more dip of the candle.
It is repetitious, it can become wearisome.
But it's worth it.

Art by William Adolphe Bouguereau

"Be not weary in well doing,
for ye are laying the foundation of a great work.
For out of small things proceedeth that which is great."
---D&C 64:33

It's a good season for Mummies.

Treat yourself!

John Bagley: Pioneer Tree Hugger

Photo by Holgen Leue

Great-great Grandpa John Bagley was only eighteen when he left his family in eastern Canada. He joined with the Mormon pioneers to prepare for a trek across the plains from Illinois to Utah.

John was extremely trusted and took the responsibility of caring for a widow and her children in the wagon train. He drove the lead team of nine yoke of oxen into the valley in 1856 when he was just twenty years old. Later, Brigham Young requested that John accompany him in many dangerous situations as a body guard. At the age of 58 he wrote his life story in his own hand, recalling his adventures with Indians, wild animals, cholera, and starvation.

John's Journal

But there is one particular feat John is remembered for.

John had worked in a lumber mill with his father from the time he was a little boy. Four days after his arrival in Salt Lake Valley he started work on what would become six lumber mills in Big Cottonwood Canyon. He helped build roads, haul logs and build silver mines in Alta, and became known quickly for his ability and agility.

Photo: Lake Mary, Brighton, UT Project 365:185/366 Flickr

On July 23, 1857, nine months after John's arrival, 2,600 people (with 500 vehicles and 1,500 animals) gathered at the bottom of Big Cottonwood Canyon for a giant anniversary party. The first pioneers had settled the valley ten years before, and there was a celebration planned ten miles up the canyon in Brighton. The group followed Brigham Young and a long line of dignitaries in carriages and wagons. A marching company of 50 kids between 10 and 12 years old led the way up the canyon, along with a brass band that furnished music for the celebration.

At sunset a bugle summoned the campers to a central elevated spot where Brigham Young addressed them. On the morning of July 24, the flag was unfurled from a giant pine tree, standing on a peak. Prayer was offered, then singing, and afterward cannons roared. The Big Cottonwood Lumber Company, for which John worked, had constructed the road as far as Lake Alice, near Silver Lake, expressly for this occasion. Today there is a small chapel at the top of Big Cottonwood Canyon, in Brighton, close to where the celebration took place.

Photo by Blozan's Tree Climb

This is how John recalled the day of Celebration:

Brigham Young's tent was near a towering pine tree 100 feet high. That tree was selected as a flag pole for the unfurling of the Stars and Stripes. I had been reared in the timber lands of eastern New Brunswick, America, and was experienced in handling timber and logging, so I was selected by President Young to trim the tree for a flagpole.


Carrying my axe, I climbed to the top of the tree, trimmed the branches and cut the tip so there was a smooth top. I unfurled the flag, and much to the amazement of those below, I stood on my head on the top of the tree!

As I descended, I trimmed the other branches, and when I was among the trees that were not so lofty, I seized the branch of another tree and ape-like, swung from the flag pole and disappeared. The people below thought I had perished and were quite concerned until I finally appeared having made my way through the branches.

John Bagley

He sounds like a great, great-great grandfather to me!

Pioneer Parade

Looking straight down from our balcony

I looked out my window, and what did I see?
People sleeping underneath my tree!

Thousands of people camp overnight on our sidewalk to reserve their parade spot.

For 24 hours every 24th of July we have the hottest real estate in Utah. Our balcony overlooks the traditional Pioneer Parade (the 3rd largest parade in the USA) and our local grands sit in our grandstand.

The 24th of July is a day of stories. Everyone in Mormondom has heard heart-wrenching accounts about the pioneers who left Nauvoo and trekked across the plains in covered wagons. There are soul-stirring tales about people who joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in England, Scandinavia and Europe. Families sold everything to afford passage, and sailed to America to join the Saints. Because they couldn't afford wagons, they pulled handcarts and walked the whole way. Miracles abound in these oft-told stories, but sometimes they lose their significance in the repetition.

C.C.A. Christensen

A few years ago I wrote a book called A Lasting Legacy, tracing my family history back to 1628. I loved reading and working from original documents and journals. One of my ancestors was Andrew Jackson Allen, born September 5, 1818 in Pulasky County, Kentucky. He started keeping a daily journal when he was 38 years old.

One of the original pioneers, he arrived in the Great Salt Lake Valley November 25, 1847, just four months after Brigham Young told the first company, "This is the right place." The Allen family built a log cabin and lived through the winter, eating mostly flour and bulbs.

In 1848, long before anyone was telling this story in Sunday School, he wrote down his own experience with the Miracle of the Seagulls:

May 7, 1848
Now every man went in for farming. There were a field laid out large enough for all. We put in our spring wheat, corn and what few potatoes we had. We had to irrigate, which we had never done before. Now we needed to grow grain, or suffer, as there were no grain nearer than one thousand miles away and my provisions were getting short. When wild vegetation sprang up, the people had to go to the prairies to seek roots to eat, such as field onions and thistle roots which were not pleasant, but hunger made them taste good. There were some folks to my knowledge that ate large white wolves.

Now we commenced making water ditches for irrigation. The spring grain sprung up and looked quite good. The next thing we see was thousands of young crickets making their appearance in every direction. We discovered they were eating at the young growing wheat and gardens. We began to destroy them in every way we could, but all in vain. It really seemed as though the more we killed, the more came. It seemed as though they would destroy all we put in the ground in spite of all we could do.

May 20, 1848
There was a cold snap that froze the vines, and things in the ground were easily killed. Now the fall wheat we had got was just beginning to put the head out of the ground and the frost killed it. This was a trying time. Those crickets also were eating at the fall wheat. Many of us were out of bread. Just now the seagulls came in flocks by the thousands and began to eat the crickets. They would cover the fields and fill themselves and then they would fly to the water and drink, then they would vomit them up and go again and fill up again. They seemed to repeat this time after time after time, and soon they destroyed the crickets in a great measure. We attributed this to the hand of the Lord in our behalf. If those gulls had not destroyed them, they would have destroyed all of our growing crops. And that would have brought great suffering among the people.

This guy was pretty great: my great-great-great-great grandfather. He touched on a huge variety of events: the death of Joseph Smith, the civil war, the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, the "tellegraft wire," the coming of the railroad, and the shot that killed President James A. Garfield.

He wrote "one of my little boys, 19 months of age, had been sick but got better. Was taken worse and at 8:00 am he departed this life." And a couple of years later: "My daughter, Purlina, were taken very ill with her old leg complaint. I done all for her I could, but all in vain. She departed this life at 7:00 pm, perfectly in her right mind, reconciled to her fate. Her age was 12 years and 11 months."

Andrew Jackson Allen died at age 66. The obituary said, "He was gored to death by a vicious bull." It's a horrible end, but it makes a great story.

The Bible tells us that our hearts will turn to our fathers. I believe it. Joseph Fielding Smith said, "It remains the responsibility of each individual to know his kindred dead . . . it is each person's responsibility to study and become acquainted with his ancestors." Compiling dates isn't enough. We are, after all, not simply clerks recording their passing. We're a family, all marching in the same parade.

Celebrating Peace

Spectators at the Parade by Norman Rockwell

"I want a little piece of peace."

People go lots of places in search of peace: a mountain top, a bubble bath, a voting booth, a garden, a museum, a convent. We all long for peace, but few of us have much enthusiasm for doing what actually creates it. Peace isn't like an unexpected rain shower; it is achieved deliberately. And luckily we don't have to wait for the whole world to be at peace to live in a peaceful world.

As a new bride I decided to create a home where our family could retreat from the tension and conflict of daily life. I had some great ideas of what this peaceful haven would be like. Interestingly, Dee had different great ideas. We discussed, then debated, then argued.

A war happens when one side wants their own way more than they want peace, and I was willing to go to war—lay down my life, if need be—to prevail. Dee wanted peace. I wanted to win, but I actually wanted more than that; I wanted to be right. It took me a while to realize that I was the cause of tension and conflict even while I was trying to carry out my dream of peace. I didn't understand that peace involved more than agreeing on a Christmas tree or who should wash the dishes.

Peace is not just an absence of hostilities, it is a state of mind; a decision to be cheerful, understanding, kind, loving and lovable.

"Men who cry for peace sometimes look upon peace as something that may be picked as an apple from a tree, something that lies about within easy reach of humanity. If I pick an apple from a tree, I have first planted the tree, cared for it, watered it, brought it to maturity. Then in due time I may have the fruit.

"So with peace. It is not a thing by itself to be picked up casually, but it is the fruit of something sown.

"Peace can only be obtained by the use of a body of principles which, if obeyed, in time would give us peace. Jesus Christ is the Prince of Peace. There is the way to peace."

---John A. Widtsoe

I love the Young Women's succinct list of Christ's teachings. When I apply them to myself, and remember they apply to others, the result is peace, in every circumstance.

1. Faith (The Lord will bless me.)
   
2. Divine Nature (I am a child of God.)
   
3. Individual Worth (I have something worthwhile to contribute.)
   
4. Knowledge (I must search for wisdom and truth, and learn from experience.)
   
5. Choice and Accountability (I will take responsibility for my choices.)
   
6. Good Works (I will serve others gladly.)
   
7. Integrity (I will be honest in my dealings, and repent when I fall short.)
   
8. Virtue (I will strive to be pure in my actions and thoughts.)

Eleanor Roosevelt said, "It isn't enough to talk about peace. One must believe in it. And it isn't enough to believe in it. One must work for it."

My marriage, my family, my home, my neighborhood: this is where I work for it. I want world peace, but I'm more likely to make a difference in my own little piece of the world.

(I'm repeating myself by reposting an old post. But I still believe it!)

Wisdom for a New Year

"Quite often we look at a task and think there is no way we can do what needs to be done.
That happens because we look at ourselves when we should be looking at God."

—Joyce Meyer

New Year's Goal

"I dare you, while there is still time, to have a magnificent obsession."
--William Danforth