The Dreaded New Year’s Dumpling
By
Gerry Niskern
What will you be eating on New Year’s Eve?
That last night of the year is coming up and countries around world are preparing a special food that everyone must eat to ensure good luck for the coming year. In Spain people must eat 12 grapes at midnight to represent each month to bring good health and prosperity. Black eyed peas are a must in the United States South. Mexicans eat delicious tamales and, of course, dumplings in numerous shapes and sauces are the traditional midnight fare in many countries.
Somehow, as a young kid I had Christmas and New Years mixed together. My Orthodox Christian Grandmother’s Christmas was celebrated on January 7th. After church, the whole family gathered at her house to celebrate. The kitchen was filled with all kinds of pies, cookies, delicious cabbage rolls, roasted pork in browned sauerkraut, and Grandma’s speciality, her round loaves of bread decorated in flowers and leaves. There were also bowls of stewed prunes and apricots. There were no presents exchanged, just lots of laughter and fun.
Even though my parents had given my sister and me a wonderful Santa Claus day on December 25th, with toys and filled stockings, I looked forward just as much to the Christmas at Grandmas with a house filled with my cousins.
I remember walking up the path to her house every year, our boots crunching on the frozen snow. I couldn’t wait, but then I would remember the tradition that I always dreaded, the dumplings! Along with all the delicious food spread out on the long tables that filled the living room, dining room and hall, were bowls of honey drenched, round dumplings covered generously with black poppy seed. Tradition dictated that you were supposed to swallow one whole in order to have good health, good luck, and much happiness for the entire coming year. “Everyone must eat,” Grandma would command. “Or you won’t have good health in the new year!” She watched to make sure all of her grandchildren followed tradition.
I hated those dumplings! I tried my best and finally gagged down a tiny bite and I was “off the hook” for another year.
Than all the tables would l come down, clearing the big kitchen floor for the polka. Everyone joined in, well, except for my dad and uncle John, the two “Americans”. My Uncle Paul Fama provided the music with his sparkling, blue accordian and we danced in the New Year. Uncle Walter Tribelo lead those willing to try in the high kicks of the Masurka.
Lucky for me, soon that dreaded dumpling was forgotten!

Heading Home
by
Gerry Niskern
Are you planning on flying home for Christmas? Millions of travelers are planning their schedules, checking their flights daily. Everything could change in a minute with the powerful winter storm barreling across the U. S. It’s tough.
I’m reminded of a trip our family made to see both families in West Virginia in December of l946. The war was over and gasoline had been released to the public again. People were overjoyed. They could make the trek home once again to enjoy the love, warmth and share family memories. Air travel wasn’t even considered for most.
The trip from Phoenix to the Ohio River Valley took five days. We were lucky. Dad drove our little four door black Plymouth thru bitter cold states with snow on the ground but no storms. We did break down in Brownsville, Texas, and had to spend the day waiting for the local garage to get the part needed from another town.
I remember singing carols along with the radio to pass the time. “The Old Lamp Lighter” accompanied us towards home. We made it to Moundsville by Christmas.
I also remember my cousins taking me roller skating every evening. There was a rink in every town and we hit them all. “Couples only” was fun and they played “Christmas Island” always for that round.
We walked back to my Grandma’s from the local rink sometimes and spent the evenings listening to the adults recalling family stories while watching the purple, red, yellow and blue flumes sputtering from the coal fire in the grate.
Bad weather was threatening the morning we headed home. Mother nature was getting serious now. A young friend of my sisters was going to ride to Phoenix with us. She was going to begin nurses training at St. Joseph’s Hospital so Dad had extra responsibility heading West.
He took the Southern route, but my vivid memories were of driving thru snow flurries and the radio announcer telling us it was 106* as we drove into Dallas, Texas. Around midnight we were looking for a motel, the vision was bad, and suddenly the blinding light of a train coming around a bend was bearing down on us. Dad stepped on the gas and we shot across the tracks.
The next morning our somber group drove on across the rest of Texas and New Mexico as we saw cars stuck in snow banks everywhere . I have to think that Dad’s experience driving on the icy roads with “hair pin turns” in the West Virginia hills had prepared him for that icy highway home.
The “Old Lamp Lighter” was still with us as we crossed into Arizona and headed into the sunshine of home.

Christmas is a time for families to get together and tell the familiar old stories. Here’s a good one from our family’s beginning.
“Now, That’s a Story!”
By
Gerry Niskern

One of my most memorable nights actually started at eight in the morning.
I woke up suddenly and realized the alarm hadn’t gone off and I was going to be late for work. Starting to turn my head to wake Ken, I was hit with a paralyzing pain. Something was wrong. I couldn’t turn my head or move any part of my body. It hurt too bad.
I called out to him and he came around to my side and tried to help me up, but I was in such pain we stopped. I don’t know why but my scared, young husband decided the best thing for him to do was make me some breakfast. “Stay in bed. I’m going to fix you something to eat.” He made some scrambled eggs, the first and only time he cooked in our marriage. I couldn’t get even a bite down.
I was four months pregnant with our daughter. Ken then calmed down and said, “ We are going over to St. Josephs emergency right now.” He helped me dress and I leaned on him as he half carried me to the car.
The examination indicated the pain was radiating from the appendix area. However, when the blood test came back the blood count was normal. There was no sign of infection. Various doctors, including Dr. Craig, our family doctor, were consulted. They gave me something for the pain and I fell in and out of sleep as the day wore on.
I woke up once and my mother was there. I realized Ken was hold my hand in a tight grip. A hospital doctor came in and said “It’s complicated. Your baby has camped on your right side and won’t move. It is crowding the appendix and causing unusual pressure. We need to remove the appendix.” Then he said, very clearly,” You need to understand that the shock of the anesthetic could cause an abortion. You need to be prepared for that.”
I remember someone saying it was ten o’clock and they were waiting for Dr. Craig. And I was asleep again
Suddenly I was awakened by bright lights. I was in the operating room. My most vivid memory of that exciting night was of me frantically searching the faces above me that were moving in and out of view. I was determined to stay awake and to speak to Dr. Craig. I finally saw him come into view. “ Don’t forget”, I pleaded, “I’m having a baby.” His eyes twinkled above his mask as he replied, ”Yes, dear. I know”.
Then a voice told me to start counting backwards from 100.
Over the years, our kids asked me to tell that amazing story over and over again. “Tell us about the time that Daddy made scrambled eggs!”