Oh Steve, no relation to the Ducommun Steel people, they lived close where I lived, but in the high-end part of that area. The name Ducommun has a history, it was taken by a group of people who settled in the Switzerland, in the French speaking part. They were Hugenots, Protestants, fleeing from persecution by the Catholic majority in France. They are not all related, it's more like a Clan, Du commun means "the commoners", so even that Francois of the clock may not be an ancestor of the Ducommun family.

Dave, can you give some examples? Examples of types of recipes? Yeah, what Carol said. If someone has a specific recipe from an old book that they just have to have for some reason then that recipe has to be evaluated on its own merits, not the date of the book. That was my point. Some of the old recipes that aren't in the later editions of the BBB were left out not because they were now unsafe but because they were low-demand/low-interest and room was needed to add new recipes. Some of them are still fine but it takes experience and a good knowledge base of canning guidelines to evaluate them. Someone new to canning would need help doing that and if the post the recipe we can do that. Dave

Karen, I tried to talk DH into wrapping up those paintings last Christmas Season, but he was adament he didn't want to go that route. It's a good idea, though. Ncnana, thanks. The door, like most all of them in our house, is handcarved. We had to have a carpenter repair one once and I was amazed to see that they come apart in many pieces that fit together by sliding each piece into the grooves of the next piece. Kathleen, that's what I try to do. I don't have the room (or the energy) to store the everyday pieces we have! I'm so sorry that all these pics seem dark. I need to take my camera in and have it checked out. Something is not right! Lynn

Two books I most associate with the Xmases of my youth are "Little Women" and a sad, 19th century tome: "The Bird's Christmas Carol." In the latter, Carol is a sick little girl, daughter of the Bird family. It is relieved only by the portrayal of the Ruggles', an Irish family next door, who are struggling to survive. It is now out of print. I have my own antiquarian copy and cannot read it withoug weeping. I grew up in the suburbs of the "old" Atlanta, before all the changes. It was a friendly neighborhood, and we all knew each other. We used to walk the old sidewalks going from door to door for Xmas cheer, when neighbors would have "open house." At our own open house, my father made home-made egg nog --- incredibly strong, with sherry. I think a few were reeling, afterward.... Christmas eve feast were a few relatives and friends, with a large ham served. (never, ever turkey!). The ham was studded with cloves. Alongside it was the traditional southern dish of sweet potato pudding with orange flavor and marshmallows. Dessert was always the traditional southern fruitcake, made with Bourbon. Children would go door to door singing the old Xmas carols in the evening. We always had a live fir tree in the bay window of our living room, decorated with very old glass balls and that dreadful silver tinsel draped over its branches. There was always a fire in our fireplace and it was the one night of the year that our dog was permitted to come into the house to lie in front of the fire. On Xmas eve night, a plate of cookies was left out for Santa. I had been told to write a letter to Santa to state what I wanted. ( really, very simple gifts, by today's standards -- a bike, a doll, a book). I got little sleep that night, as I recall listening for the hooves of 8 reindeer on our slate roof. I would arise early and sneak downstairs to peek at the few gifts under the tree. Later on, the neighborhood kids would all congregate outside on the sidewalks to compare gifts. One of my most memorable gifts was a cowgirl outfit, a la Dale Evans, with boots, a lariat, a hat, etc. One of the boys got a Roy Rogers outfit, so we were quite the pair! We never went to church on Xmas, although there were Xmas concerts we attended, with choirs. Later in his life, my father took to listening to Handel's "Messiah."