Time and Age

I was twenty-five years old when our first child was born. My grandma Madeline died that same year; she was 73 years old at the time. That twenty-five year old me thought 73 was far into the future. After all, it was almost three times the number of years I had already lived in my lifetime. 

Funny how our perception of age and years change as we get older.

My mother lived much longer than Grandma Madeline. For one thing she took better care of herself. Grandma had lived a sedentary life and smoked for as long as I knew her. Mom lived to age 96; her final years spent lost in Dementia.

In twenty-five years, I will be the same age as Mom was when she died—if I live that long.

Twenty-five years ago, it was 2001. The same year the Twin Towers were hit. The same year Don and I lost our restaurant and had to rebuild our lives. It was also our daughter’s first year of college, and she was still living at home with us.

Maybe to some that sounds like a lifetime—in the same way twenty-five years seemed like a lifetime to me when I had my first child.  

But now? 

2001 feels more like a yesterday.  All the cliches come to mind: In the blink of an eye. Gone in a heartbeat. Quick as a flash. Where did the time go? In a New York minute. The years fly by. Time flies when you are having fun. Time waits for no one… 

I am not trying to sound macabre. I am simply reflecting  and facing the reality of the time I might have left in this lifetime. 

Death doesn’t scare me because I sincerely believe my time here is simply part of my journey. However, that doesn’t mean I am anxious to move on or ready to go.

Sometimes I feel as if I am standing by an open doorway watching the people I love rush by me, busy in their daily lives. I smile as they pass me by, happy to see they seem healthy, happy, and well loved.

As they rush by, they might give me a quick wave, a nod, or blow me a kiss. Sometimes one shouts back that soon we can spend more time together. Sometimes I’m the one who shouts it to them as they pass by.

But I know that from now to “soon” is much closer than they realize, and the time beyond that is shorter still. 

(Above photo: Bobbi and her oldest child.)

Searching for the Truth

CBS’s 60-Minutes was planning to run a segment on their show about CECOT and what they deemed  “brutal and tortuous conditions.” But then the segment was pulled from the show in the US, reportedly due to pressure from the Trump Administration. Apparently, 60-Minutes in Canada didn’t get the memo, and the segment was aired in Canada. It then made it to social media, and many people in the US, along with independent media outlets saw the episode. Supposedly it has since been removed from YouTube, citing copyright infringement by CBS, but I haven’t verified that fact.

From what I understand the episode was chilling, but the contents of that episode is not really what this blog post is about.

This current bending of the knee by CBS is another example of how the free and open press in our country—something that is supposed to be enshrined in our First Amendment—is eroding.  Our traditional media outlets are looking far different from when I was studying journalism in college, a decade before Reagan killed the Fairness Doctrine.

I have been writing for most of my life. My first novel at age 14. In high school, I was on the school paper, and its co-editor my senior year.  I studied journalism in college. At age 19, I wrote a screen play for one of my classes, which I later made into a book. At age 21, I wrote and produced a TV documentary for my senior project, that was aired on an educational TV channel in Southern California. In my thirties, I was the editor and publisher of a publication serving the communities of Wrightwood, Phelan, and Pinion Hills, California, called Mountain/Hi-Desert Guide, for about six years. 

In my forties, I wrote and self-published a book on local history, that I believe is still being sold in the Havasu Museum, and I wrote Lessons, an unconventional love story that I self-published over a decade later, and it was eventually made into a five book series, and its audio rights sold to Dreamscape Media.

These days I am known—by people who know me and I am not claiming to be some well-known author, I’m not—for the Haunting Danielle series, which currently has 37 books, and got me on the USA Today Bestseller list.

My point being—and yes, I do have a point—since I first started writing I have moved from fiction to non-fiction—and back again.

Those who took English with me in high school might remember I was probably the only classmate who looked forward to doing the term paper. I LOVED doing term papers. Seriously. I loved the research, which back then, meant visiting libraries and conducting interviews. We didn’t have the internet yet, and I was going to school in the remote community of Lake Havasu City, Arizona, so library access was limited.

When I was editor of Mountain/Hi-Desert Guide I regularly interviewed local people of interest, local politicians, and even got representatives from the county government and sheriff’s department to submit monthly columns to the publication. 

But my favorite was researching and writing about local history. Sometimes during my research, I would end up dispelling an accepted story on local history and set the record straight. I was somewhat obsessive about drilling down to find the source of the source. 

This was in the 1980s, and we still didn’t have the internet in Wrightwood. I often drove off the hill to visit some of the larger libraries and often visited the California Room in one of those libraries.

After one such visit and continually finding conflicting information from what appeared to be reputable sources, I asked one of the research librarians a question. 

The question: When you keep coming up with different stories about the same event, how do you know which one to use?

Her reply: Which ever version has been told the most frequently.

Her answer troubled me. It wasn’t what I expected—and it’s entirely possible that if I had asked another librarian the same question, they would have given me a different answer. But this is the response that I was given.

I find it especially troubling considering our current administration, especially with the pressure it’s exerting on corporate media outlets.

I keep thinking about the strategy used by many in this administration—if you repeat a lie enough, it will eventually be accepted as truth.

That lie ends up filling all the space, and suddenly we believe what they want us to believe.

We all need to be cognizant of how AI, coupled with our addiction to social media, makes it easier for someone with an agenda to overwhelm us with a false narrative—eventually replacing the truth.

And what makes this scarier—is when the folks with the agenda have the power to lock down the entities holding evidence of the truth.  Or in simpler terms, re-writing history.

(Photo: Bobbi Holmes. Early days of Mountain/Hi-Desert Guide, its first office in the basement, before moving to its downtown office.)

Christmas Family Traditions and the Pfeffernüsse Cookie

In my most recent Haunting Danielle book, The Ghost and Christmas Magic, I write a lot about family Christmas traditions. Many Christmas traditions are food traditions, like what foods are served on Christmas Eve and Christmas night, or special treats. Some of the food traditions from my family I’ve introduced to the Haunting Danielle world.

In our family, my Grandma Madeline made things like Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Cookies, Chocolate Drop Cookies, Chex Mix, and cheese balls every Christmas. Dad made his fudge—a recipe he developed himself. When my kids were little, our go-to Christmas cookie was the Magic Bar cookie, which was easy to make for a busy young mom, and I thought tasted even better than chocolate chip.  And then there was Grandma Hilda’s infamous Feffernut Cookie.

Both of my grandmothers were known for being excellent cooks. In my mother’s family, the Feffernut cookie was a Christmas family tradition. Mom and my sister loved them, dad called them dog biscuits.

As a child, I didn’t like them because they weren’t chocolate. I probably tried them when I was little—although I don’t remember—I just remembered they weren’t chocolate, and I was a picky eater so for me, when I opened a cookie tin and saw Feffernut cookies, I saw disappointment.

When Grandma Hilda—and whoever helped her, probably my aunt Margaret—make the cookies, they would make a lot and store them in pillowcases.  Grandma didn’t seem to take offence at Dad’s critique. 

I was pretty young when Grandma had to hang up her apron. By this time she had glaucoma and was considered legally blind yet had some vision out of one eye. My Aunt Margaret, mom’s older sister, took over the task of making the Feffernut cookies. Cooking was never Mom’s thing, but she loved the Feffernut cookie, so she appreciated the tin of cookies Margaret sent each year.

Despite knowing my family was not a Feffernut fan, Aunt Margaret would send my family a tin of homemade cookies each Christmas, with some of them being the “dog biscuits.” As it turned out, my kids and husband shared Dad’s view of the cookie. We’d give Mom the cookies, even though she had a tin of her own. 

Now fast forward many years, and Aunt Margaret, like her mother before her, had to hang up her apron. My sister, Lynn, who always made the absolute best chocolate chip cookies, began making Feffernut cookies every Christmas, something Mom appreciated.

Then something crazy happened…I tried one of my sister’s Feffernut cookies. And I liked it…I really liked it. For one thing, it was not dry like Aunt Margaret’s (sorry Auntie) and I can’t say how it compares to Grandma Hilda’s because that was so long ago. Even my husband likes my sister’s Feffernut cookies.

Last year Lynn didn’t send us any. I suspect because Mom had passed months before that Christmas, and that’s who Lynn usually made them for. This year, when Lynn asked what I wanted for Christmas, I said Feffernut cookies. 

Yesterday my sister’s Christmas package arrived, it included the requested cookies—and they are super yummy.

But are they really called Feffernut? When I was growing up, I heard them called Feffernut—and Peppernut. Yet they are actually Pfeffernüsse cookies, a small round German spice cookie popular during the holidays. From what I understand, this is a cookie Grandma Hilda made with her mother, and I assume her sisters.

While Grandma Hilda’s father was born in Norway, her mother, Louisa Sontag, was born in Wisconsin in 1872. Louisa’s father, Jacob Sontag, was born in Germany in 1846 and immigrated to the USA around the age of six. Louisa’s mother, Margaretha Frisch, was born on the ship when her parents were immigrating from Switzerland, in 1850. 

Margaretha Frish had ten children, and died when Lousia was sixteen, at the age of thirty-eight. Jacob remarried three times after his first wife’s death. While I am not sure about the statuses of the subsequent marriages—did they divorce or die—I know his mother, Barbara Heinrich, outlived Jacob. 

Barbara Heinrich, Jacob’s mother, Louisa’s grandmother, and Hilda’s great grandmother, died when my grandma Hilda was around eleven years old. I remember hearing stories about how when Grandma Hilda was a little girl, she knew how to speak German. I suspect she learned from her Great-Grandma Barbara, and I imagine the Pfeffernüsse cookie was a tradition passed down from Barbara.

While Grandma never spoke German when I knew her—and I understood she no longer remembered how to speak it—she still knew how to make the Pfeffernüsse cookie, and that tradition has been passed down to Barbara’s Great-Great-Great Granddaughter, my sister Lynn.

Grandma Hilda’s Peppernut Cookie Recipe

  • 2 cups shortening
  • 1 quart light molasses
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 2 cups light brown sugar
  • 4 eggs (beaten)
  • 2 teaspoons baking soda (dissolved in a little warm water)
  • 2 cups chopped walnuts ( not chopped too fine)
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
  • 2 teaspoons cinnamon
  • 2 tablespoons pepper nut seeds (equal amounts of cardamon, anise and
  • coriander seeds ground together)
  • Walnut halves for topping cookies (Optional)
  • Flour
  • In large pot melt shortening, add molasses, salt and brown sugar. Bring to near boil, remove from heat and allow to cool. While warm (not hot) add eggs, stir. Add remaining ingredients, blend well. Add enough flour to make a stiff batter that can be stirred with a large spoon. Chill. Roll and slice. Place cookie rounds on cookie sheet, top with walnut and bake for 15 minutes at 300º.