Latest news with #Thanksgivings
Time of India
12-07-2025
- General
- Time of India
National Pecan Pie Day: It's not just pie, it's tradition on a plate
There's something quietly comforting about certain traditions. They don't demand attention or grand celebration, they simply show up, year after year, offering a moment to pause. It's about something quietly familiar, a dessert that reminds many of home, of family, of holidays, and slow Sunday afternoons. It's funny, really. You might not even think about pecan pie until someone sets a slice in front of you, warm and syrupy, with that sweet scent of toasted nuts rising in the air. Then it all comes back. The first time you tasted it. The person who made it. Maybe your grandmother with a pie tin that had seen too many Thanksgivings. Maybe a diner where you stopped once on a road trip and found yourself surprised by how good it was. Whatever your memory, the pie seems to linger longer than the bite. Where does the story begin? Before the pie came the pecan. These nuts have been around for ages, native to North America and prized by Indigenous tribes long before supermarkets began stocking them in plastic tubs. The word 'pecan' itself comes from a Native American word, one that described nuts so hard they needed a stone to crack. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Why seniors are rushing to get this Internet box – here's why! Techno Mag Learn More Undo You can almost picture a circle of people, hands stained from the shells, working together to gather what nature offered in the fall. Pecan trees grew where the land was moist, especially near rivers in places like Texas, Georgia, and Louisiana. Even George Washington and Thomas Jefferson planted them in their gardens. They weren't just nuts, they were nourishment and connection, passed down, gathered, stored, and shared. How pie came into the picture The earliest versions of pecan pie likely showed up in the late 1800s in Southern kitchens. No one knows who first put pecans into a crust with sugar and butter, but by the 1920s, the pie had caught on in a big way. That's partly thanks to Karo Syrup, which began printing a pecan pie recipe on its bottles. It was a clever move, and suddenly, this pie was showing up in kitchens across the country. That Karo version is still the one many people know: Glossy, gooey, sweet but not overwhelming. A slice that's equal parts dessert and nostalgia. The little joy in one slice There's something deeply comforting about pecan pie that doesn't quite translate to other desserts. Maybe it's the crackle of the top layer as your fork goes in, or the way the sweetness isn't just sugar but something rounder, caramelized, cozy. It's not flashy. It doesn't need to be. It's the kind of dessert you want to sit with, not rush through. For some, it's part of their family story. For others, it's a treat discovered by accident. But it always seems to come with a little more meaning than just 'sweet tooth satisfaction.' Maybe that's what makes it special. Reinvented but still familiar People have put their own spin on the classic recipe over the years. Some add bourbon or chocolate, others use maple syrup, or make it vegan. Yet no matter how it's changed, the heart of pecan pie stays the same. It's still about sharing. Still about something warm. Still about connection. What does this day really mean? National Pecan Pie Day may not be a major event, but maybe that's exactly the point. It's a reminder that the quietest traditions sometimes mean the most. It's not about baking the perfect pie. It's about remembering that food holds memory. That even the simplest things, a slice of pie, a cup of coffee, a quiet afternoon, can offer comfort when we need it most. So if you find yourself near a slice of pecan pie this July 12, take it. Savor it. Let it remind you that even in a loud, rushed world, there are still small, sweet things that stick around for a reason.
Yahoo
15-04-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Church helps provide meals for Easter
CANFIELD, Ohio (WKBN) -Members of a local church did their part to help others enjoy a hot meal for Easter. This is the fourth year that parishioners at Saint Michael's in Canfield have collected hams and colored eggs and other items to be given to three local soup kitchens so they can provide a holiday meal later this week. This is the same church that has been gathering cooked turkeys at Thanksgiving for many years. 'It's a long way between Thanksgivings and people need help in between, so ham is so simple to do. You don't have to cook it ahead. It's already cooked for you,' said Juanita Sherba, a church member. For fun, organizers also asked specifically for colored eggs and then named the project after the Dr. Seuss classic 'Green Eggs and Ham.' 'It made it a lot of fun. I think people enjoyed it,' Sherba said. Wednesday's effort brought in 52 dozen eggs, some with inspirational messages on the shells, and 128 hams — enough to feed more than 5,000 people. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
Fox News
07-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Fox News
PATRICIA HEATON: I'm a mom on screen and off. Building a family is a journey of love and commitment
Some know me as Debra Barone, others as Frankie Heck. To my four boys, I am simply "Mom" — the name I cherish most. Though they are now grown, I will never forget the first time Sam, John, Joe and Dan first said it. That single word, a milestone, formed a bond only a parent and child can understand. Yet, for many women facing infertility, that same word carries a pain only they can truly know. There has been much discussion lately about the importance of having children. But if the conversation stops there, we miss the bigger picture. It is not just about having kids — it is about having a sense of family. If we overlook that truth, we risk turning a deeply personal experience into a divisive debate. Family has always been at the heart of my life and career. Portraying mothers on screen and raising four sons with my husband, David Hunt, has given me profound insights into the joys and challenges of parenthood. Playing characters like Debra Barone in "Everybody Loves Raymond" and Frankie Heck in "The Middle" allowed me to explore the complexities of motherhood and family — its humor, chaos, and love — reflecting the diverse experiences that so many women navigate daily. Off-screen, my greatest role has been being "Mom." My life is permanently enriched by my sons — through the endless soccer games, band practices, school dances, Thanksgivings with kids running wild, summer vacations, bedtime stories, road trips, science fairs, driving lessons, pillow and blanket forts, college applications, playing catch in the back yard, school plays and so much more. But I know this journey to parenthood is not the same for everyone. April marks National Infertility Awareness Month. Here in the United States, approximately 12% of women aged 15 to 49 — more than 10 million — struggle to conceive or carry a pregnancy to term. The weight of infertility can feel overwhelming, made heavier by the assumption that becoming a parent is something that simply happens. The heartbreak of infertility is often lived in silence, which is why my husband, David, and I produced the feature adult comedy "Unexpected," a film about a couple navigating infertility and finding their unique path to family. Infertility is more than a medical condition. It is an emotional journey that tests identity, relationships, and faith. The societal expectation that parenthood is a given can make this journey even more isolating. But families are not defined solely by biology. Adoption, for instance, brings approximately 135,000 children into new loving homes each year. Yet, when discussing children in our culture, we rarely discuss what it means to build a family. The conversation often focuses on birth rates, fertility rates and the economic impact. But these numbers miss the real human experience. Every child deserves a loving home, and every hopeful parent deserves to know that there are many paths to creating a family — paths that deserve just as much recognition and support as traditional childbirth. My family, friends and audience members who have seen "Unexpected" and experienced infertility firsthand have shared how lonely it can be. For too long, they have felt overlooked in conversations about parenthood, as if their journey matters less. But it does matter. David and I hope "Unexpected" offers hope, reminding viewers that while the road to parenthood may be uncertain, the destination — a loving family — is possible in many ways. If we truly value family, we should recognize that building one is not a one-size-fits-all journey. A family's strength is not measured by how it is formed but by the love, commitment and faith that hold it together. From Debra Barone to Frankie Heck to Patricia Heaton, the throughline of my life has always been family. To those experiencing the uphill battle of building a family, I hope you find support to walk this path with others and faith to believe that your dreams of family — however they unfold — are possible.
Yahoo
27-03-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Milton's Urquhart House moving to new location — and it's not far
MILTON, Fla. (WKRG) — It's not something you see every day: a house moving down the street. It's all part of an effort to save one of Milton's historic treasures including the Urquhart House. Sink or save? Group starts petition to fight against SS United States from becoming artificial reef Built in 1941, the house was home to the Urquhart family, owners of the former JW Urquhart's Grocery & Market in the heart of downtown Milton. 'It's really a core part of the history of this community, their family, their store, and we want to be able to share that moving forward,' Santa Rosa Historical Society secretary Vernon Compton said. Nearby residents watched, many taking photos as the house made its journey down Canal Street. Crews helped navigate it through trees and other roadblocks. The home carries with it lots of memories for the Urquhart grandchildren. 'All the Christmases and Thanksgivings, the smell of my grandmother's kitchen,' Joseph Warner said. 'Being in her house. The backyard. Her flowers. Lots of good memories,' Debby Urquhart Schepper said. Until now, the home sat on property belonging to the First Baptist Church of Milton. The church has partnered with the Santa Rosa Historical Society to restore this piece of Northwest Florida History. 'To have all this happen is just really an honor,' Warner said. 'We're just very, very thankful and appreciative that everyone stepped up and made this happen.' The house will eventually open its doors once again as a museum in Milton's Historic District — where the Urquharts' impact on the Milton community will live on. FIRST LOOK inside the building bringing commercial flights to Gulf Shores International Airport 'I'm just really excited just to show the history that our family had for this community,' Urquhart Schepper said. 'We're just very grateful to the community, and I know that Granny and Grandaddy and their children also are looking down and are also grateful,' Kathryn Williams said. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
Boston Globe
14-02-2025
- General
- Boston Globe
From Timothy Leary to Melkite seminarians, my house has a storied history of occupants
Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up But what drew us to the house wasn't its history. We saw it as an ideal place for our blended family. Though our six kids — three of mine and three of his — wouldn't always be at home, the ample space the house offered meant that they'd know there was a place for each of them here. Advertisement That night, we brought the volumes upstairs. The long-lost Timothy Leary journals, I thought, as I dusted them off. Nope. Inside were ledger pages, filled with tiny handwriting recording a decade of financial records from St. Gregory's. Every donation was listed, as well as columns detailing cash disbursements, mortgage payments, retirement funds, and household expenses. I tried to reach the seminary but got no leads. I occasionally studied the volumes in search of what clues they might divulge about this house and its onetime inhabitants. I read about Leary and thought about him sleeping in what was now our bedroom, or him writing in the small adjacent office where I now worked. The house as it looked when it was the St. Gregory The Theologian Seminary in the 1970s and '80s. from Tova mirvis While my interest in the past was an occasional hobby, the actual needs of the house were more pressing. All too regularly, I called plumbers, electricians, and critter control. But as this steady stream of repairs was taking place, we were busy living there. We had Thanksgivings with all six kids, and on Sunday nights, enjoyed barbecues on the porches the seminary had added as prayer chapels. I still groaned when the latest problem cropped up but came to feel like I was not just the house's owner: However unlikely it might be, I was a caretaker of its history. Timothy Leary, the Melkite seminarians, and now me. Advertisement One day there was a knock on the front door. An elderly man wearing black pants, a black shirt, and a clerical collar stood on the doorstep. 'I used to live here,' he said. I invited him inside and offered a tour. 'It looks different, but feels like yesterday,' he said, upon seeing his old bedroom, the quirky upstairs bathroom, and my son's room, painted in bold shades of Bruins yellow and Red Sox blue and red. Back downstairs, I showed him the ledgers. Startled, he stared at the faint blue pen lines. 'That's my handwriting,' he said, his veined hands tracing the words his younger self had written. Relieved, I offered them to him, but he shook his head. 'They've been here all this time,' he said. 'They might as well stay.' He handed me a stack of photos from when the seminarians had first moved in. In the kitchen, he took one last look. 'That stovetop always caused trouble,' he said. 'It still does,' I replied. After a decade in the house, we're thinking about selling. As bittersweet as this upcoming change feels, in the long view, we're but one more set of temporary inhabitants in this house in which we became a family. The house and its history will once again be passed on. Advertisement Tova Mirvis is a writer in Newton. Her new novel We Would Never was just published. TELL YOUR STORY. Email your 650-word unpublished essay on a relationship to connections@ Please note: We do not respond to submissions we won't pursue.
