By Linda Lee Greene,
Author & Artist
246 years have passed
since nurseryman and missionary, John Chapman, better known as Johnny
Appleseed, was born in Massachusetts, which at the time was a New World colony
of British America, and in many ways its beating heart. When he was a toddling
boy, the British Loyalists and the American Patriots went to war, and his is
adolescence unfolded as the triumphant and newly-formed United States organized
as a sovereign nation. The year of his eighteenth birthday, the United States
Post Office Department was established; the United States Mint went into
operation; the New York Stock Exchange opened for business; Kentucky became the
15th state of the union; Washington D.C. was founded and the
cornerstone for the White House laid; and George Washington was re-elected as
President of the United States.
I can imagine that as he
approached adulthood, his life flashed before his eyes, and he was not
enthralled with what he saw. It is likely that he would have been expected to
follow in his father’s footsteps and join the military—but a spirit as free as
Johnny’s would have withered and died under such regimentation—such oppression
of the gentle soul. Still, he wanted to do something with his life that would
outlast him. He also had a convincing feeling that he would have to wait until
his time in heaven to meet his soulmate, which meant foregoing fathering children
through which to preserve his earthly legacy. By the grace of God, he came upon
the idea of setting out from the security of hearth and home, and to plant apple
trees hither and yon. In time spent as an apprentice to a local orchardist, he
had developed expertise in the cultivation and management of fruit trees. I fancy,
as well, that his specific interest in apple trees might have stemmed in part
from his deep religious faith, whereby in the New Testament, the apple is an
emblem of the redemption of mankind’s soul.
Labeling himself as a
“primitive Christian,” Johnny trudged barefoot and under-clothed in tattered
and often hand-me-down garments, doffing a tin mush pot as a cap on his head, a
receptacle that was useful in myriad ways. That same year, the precursor of the
Nabisco Biscuit Company was founded in his home state.
I refer to it only because Johnny was quite fond of biscuits, especially of the
twice-baked variety, commonly called “dry rusk.” In his travel pouch was often a supply of dry rusk and cold meats. In
his later years, he became a strict vegetarian. It is recorded that he
traveled over four thousand miles on foot during his lifetime planting nurseries of apple trees across large tracts of land in
Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, West Virginia, and Ontario, Canada. Once
planted, he left the nurseries in the care of neighbors who sold trees on
shares. Every year or two, Johnny revisited each nursery to tend to them..
As much as planting apple trees,
Johnny was intent on saving souls. In exchange for supper and a place to rest
his head for the night, he spoke the gospel to eager ears of his contemporaries,
as well as many Native Americans, whom he greatly admired, and who welcomed him
in their midst as one they believed to be touched by the Great Spirit. A
raconteur of wide reputation, he entertained the children with stories of the
Bible, as well as of his own exploits, stories laced with animals and insects,
all of which he revered as God’s sacred creatures. I can hear him in my mind’s ear in what
might well have been Mark Twain tones, the famous story about the snowy night in
the woods that he came upon a hollow log in which he planned to spend the night.
On close inspection, he discovered that the log was already occupied by a bear
and cubs. He promptly removed to the opposite end of the log and crawled into
it, snug and warm. Supposedly, all slept peacefully through the night. And in another
story, a wolf whose injured leg Johnny doctored followed him around like a
docile puppy for a time. A horse scheduled to be put down was also the
beneficiary of his goodwill. He bought the horse along with a grassy field in
which to release it, and then he gifted both the horse and field to a friend,
exacting a promise that the animal be treated humanely. "God forbid that I should build a fire for my
comfort that should be the means of destroying any of His creatures,"
Johnny declared. Accordingly, he gave up the warmth of campfires because
bugs would fly into the flame and be burned alive. His cheerful denial of
creature comforts was based on his religious beliefs that the more hardship he
endured in this world the greater his happiness would be in the hereafter.
By all accounts, the only surviving tree planted by
Johnny Appleseed is on the farm of Richard and Phyllis Algeo of Nova, Ohio,
located in the north central portion of the state. Nurseries offer immature Johnny
Appleseed trees for planting on which scions of the Algeo stock are grafted. It
is gratifying to know that although Johnny never had human children, his trees continue
to propagate down through the generations.
This past weekend would have
marked the 45th Johnny Appleseed Festival, except that it was
canceled this year because of the coronavirus pandemic. Held yearly during the
third weekend of September at the site in Fort Wayne, Indiana of his death at
the age of seventy, it is but one of several similar commemorations in the USA
of the life and legacy of the notable American pioneer. He spent more time in
Ohio than in any other place, and many of the state’s first orchards had their
start with saplings from Johnny’s nurseries. The produce from his trees fed
many of Ohio’s early settlers as they struggled to establish farms and homes on
the new frontier. As a result, several museums and historical sites not far
from my home in Columbus, Ohio are living testaments to his contribution. His kind
and generous personality and leadership in conservation and other humanitarian deeds
are embedded in the popular consciousness and have earned him the designation
of a folk hero on earth. I lay odds that he is crowned an angel in heaven, going
his merry way planting apple trees in the company of his heaven-found soulmate.©
HOW TO MAKE DRY RUSKS
Rusks
are dry, hard biscuits or twice-baked bread that find many uses throughout the
world from teething snacks for infants to bread crumbs for salads to the bread base
for traditional Italian and/or Greek bruschetta (toasted bread drizzled with
olive oil and topped with garlic and tomatoes and other veggies and/or shell
fish and spices). French markets sell rusks as biscotte. Germany’s version is packaged
as zwieback. Russian sookhar’ are made from either stale bread or a bread similar
to challah (a special ceremonial bread in Jewish cuisine made of eggs,
fine white flour, water, yeast, sugar and salt). Sookhar’ are more like a
cookie and served with warm milk or coffee. It is also added to soups much like
crackers in western cuisine. Dry rusks in retail settings in the United States
are labeled as melba toast and biscotti. This type of dry bread can be used in
recipes calling for “friganies.”
Rye
or wheat bread are preferred, and if not already sliced, slice and trim each
piece to ¾ to ¼ inch squares. Place on a sheet and bake at 120º F / 50º C for 3
hours or more depending on the thickness of the squares. There is no need to
flip them. Dry rusks will store in an airtight container for up to three
months.
Multi-award-winning
author, Linda Lee Greene’s GUARDIANS AND OTHER ANGELS is reviewed as 5.0 out of 5 stars – “Both thumbs up.
Linda Lee Greene’s artistic background certainly influenced her writing style
in this rich, expressive novel. Each well-chosen word is a masterful
brushstroke that does its job to keep the momentum flowing. This is a lovely,
often poignant family saga that I thoroughly enjoyed. Both thumbs up!”
Purchase link for GUARDIANS AND OTHER ANGELS: http://goo.gl/imUwKO
