Chickin’ Killin’ Axe
It’s not just any family that owns this particular treasure which is the subject of today’s missive. The Chickin Killin’ Axe. It is an odd thing to hold dear, but I do, and when my mom and dad both died, I made a special request of the family to let me have it, and now it is happily ensconced in my New Jersey home. I must hasten to explain that it is a family relic, passed down from my bad-ass ancestors from the 1800’s.
This 12 inch long axe is sharp, steel, and rather indestructible. It is only about 12 inches long, and it is made of very sturdy stuff, and is the best damned utensil for tenderizing any kind of meat. I still use it regularly, tenderizing chicken or beef, and I also view it as sort of a talisman
The axe has passed down through the women in my family, from great grandmother to grandmother, to my mom and aunts, various cousins, and now me. My female ancestors were Mormon pioneer women who dragged, pushed and pulled handcarts across the country with Brigham Young, to settle the Salt Lake Valley. They had to endure storms, wounds, droughts, plagues, illness, raids, exhaustion, loss of family members, sister wives, and forging into the unknown, all while wearing long skirts and long sleeves.
This axe is a reminder of that strength. They couldn’t pop into Whole Foods to buy fresh food, they had to catch, kill, prepare and serve it themselves. I like to think about those women on the plains – hoping for and dreading the hunters returning with fowl or rabbits, or big game. Knowing the amount of work that that would create, but also the bounty that the pioneers would enjoy for a few days.
Though I could never kill anything, I like to think I inherited some of the bravery and toughness of those women. I certainly see it in my sister, my daughters and nieces. My mom had great strength, as did her mom.
The road to New Jersey was a very rocky one, suffering illness and death of loved ones, droughts, exhaustion, betrayal and forging into the unknown, but at least I didn’t have to deal with sister wives. I’d make a very bad polygamist wife. But that’s a whole different story.
Update on Arthur. Bubbles are his favorite thing – and we all love providing as many bubbles as possible for him to enjoy. We have spent this lovely summer visiting parks and splash pads, explored parks and festivals, taken lovely long drives. He’s getting so big, so funny and so absolutely charming. I’m so happy I went through the trials to get here – wouldn’t have it any other way.
