Granny's Christmas Icebox Fruitcake

 

A slice of the fruitcake :)

Of all the holiday desserts, icebox fruitcake holds a special place in my heart. No other dessert brings that feeling of Christmas like my Granny's icebox fruitcake.  She made many of them every year and gifted them to friends and family. My grandpa, Papa, adored the fruitcake so much that she would make an extra batch for him, and he'd savor every slice well throughout January. It was a tradition she began years ago. The start of the holiday season was marked by her saying, "We need to go to the store to get what I need for fruitcake.'" As a child, I felt so excited. I knew the kitchen would soon be filled with the sweet aroma of cherries, marshmallows, and graham crackers. Best of all, I knew I would get to help her make it! 

A few weeks before Christmas, Granny would gather the ingredients and get to work at the kitchen table. I can still picture her sitting in the ladderback chair with the old cookbook open by her side. First, she would crush a box of graham crackers until they became fine crumbs. Then she'd chop the pecans, cherries, and English walnuts. Occasionally, she'd pull out the old-fashioned nutcracker to crack the pecans, her hands moving with the skill only years of practice could bring. Once the nuts were ready, she'd toss them into a large bowl with golden raisins. 

Next, I would pour marshmallows into a bowl, sneaking a couple from the bag before heading to the microwave. Once melted, Granny would pour the leftover maraschino cherry juice over the marshmallows, transforming it into a lovely pink hue—the same color I've forever associated with fruitcake. Then, she would pour the marshmallow mixture over the dry ingredients. My favorite part came when Granny handed me the big wooden spoon, and I'd become the official "stirrer." The bowl would be filled to the brim, and stirring it could be challenging! But I loved the challenge. After everything was well combined, she would pack the bright pink mixture into small foil baking pans before placing them in the fridge to chill. 

It's been 7 years since Granny last made the fruitcake. Since then, Alzheimer's Disease began to take its toll, taking away her ability to do so many things she loved to do, such as talking, reading books, telling stories, and cooking. The kitchen became quieter, and the fruitcake just became a cherished memory. Last year, my mom and I were flipping through old cookbooks when we stumbled upon the recipe. The smudges on the page immediately caught our attention; it was a sign that Granny had touched the page while making the beloved fruitcake. This little detail confirmed that this was the recipe she had followed all those years before. With nostalgia and inspiration, Mama and I decided to make the fruitcake for Christmas 2024 for us and our family and revive the tradition.

As I crushed graham crackers, chopped pecans, and melted marshmallows, it all came rushing back—the smells, the textures, and the joy of stirring the vibrant pink mixture. It felt like I was again at the kitchen table, helping Granny create something magical. After Mama and I mixed it up, we packed it in a couple of metal pans and put it in the fridge. This fruitcake is a good dessert to freeze. It can be kept in the fridge for a month after you make it. 

Granny's icebox fruitcake isn't just a dessert; it's a piece of our family history. It's light, no-bake, and bursting with cherry flavor—nothing like the dense, dry fruitcakes you might think of. I am not a traditional fruitcake fan but love this old-fashioned one. What's more, it's a recipe that can be adapted—add coconut, pineapple, or your favorite fruits and nuts to make it your own.

Reviving this tradition reminded me of the importance of traditions. Family traditions uniquely connect us to the people we love, even when they can no longer be with us in the same way. These traditions, no matter how small, are part of what makes a family special. They are the threads that weave our past, present, and future together and create special memories.

What holiday tradition do you enjoy with your family? I'd love to hear about it in the comments below! 

85th Shiloh Church Reunion

"Oh come to the church in the wildwood, Oh, come to the church in the vale; no spot is so dear to my childhood as the little brown church in the vale."

Walking through the doors of Shiloh Methodist Church feels like stepping back in time. The wooden pews are backless and have no padding. There is no hum of heating or air conditioning and no buzz of electricity. Instead, the large-paned windows are opened to welcome the breeze, and sunlight provides the perfect lighting to fill the room. Shiloh is simple, which is at the heart of its timeless charm.

Inside the church.

Nestled in the woods off Shiloh Church Road in Troy, North Carolina, Shiloh Church’s history is rooted in a humble beginning. According to Montgomery County deed records, Joseph Haltom donated the land in 1836, and a log building was constructed near a small spring. Furnished with backless benches and a fireplace, it served as a church and a one-room schoolhouse. In 1883, after a fire destroyed the original structure, the congregation constructed a new building at the present site. In the early 20th century, changes in the rural population affected attendance, and many people left the congregation. Abandoned, Shiloh’s doors closed in 1928. In 1939, former students and members met together at the church. It became known as the Shiloh Reunion, and its purpose was to keep the memory of Shiloh alive for years to come. That purpose continues to this day.

This year’s reunion was on Sunday, September 22. It was a beautiful day as we celebrated 85 years! No matter how often I travel down that long gravel driveway through the woods to get there, I always feel excited. I’ve attended this reunion with my family since I was a kid. The Shiloh Reunion is not just an event; it’s a tradition that carries deep meaning for our family. It’s a tradition I cherish, and I look forward to being part of it again every year. As I walked up the weathered steps of the church, I thought about all the family and friends who had passed through these doors over the years. Many of them are no longer with us, and the crowd grows smaller each year. It’s a quiet reminder of how quickly time passes. This year, we were fortunate to have about 35 people join us, including a lady who attended the very first reunion in 1939!

Page 121 from the hymnal

The service began with morning announcements and a prayer. Then, everyone picked up the Cokesbury Hymnal to sing the opening hymns, “The Church In the Wildwood” and “Revive Us Again.” Thanks to the church's natural acoustics, everyone's voices echoed beautifully. This year, Rev. Jim Hunsucker preached a powerful message from the book of Matthew. As the service closed, we sang, “God Be With You Till We Meet Again."

After the service, everyone gathered around the long concrete picnic table for dinner on the grounds like those early Beamans, Russells, Cranfords, Hurleys, and VunCannons did. The table was filled with the best homemade dishes and desserts. My favorites were mashed potatoes, green beans, beef stew with carrots, and my mom's chicken and dressing casserole.  As I sat down, I was surrounded by laughter and conversation. I enjoyed seeing people I hadn’t seen in a year and talking with them and my family. 

Once I was finished, I walked through the cemetery, filled with my family's history. Many of my Beaman ancestors are buried there—my grandpa, great-grandparents, great-great-grandparents, great-granduncles, and others. This year, my little cousins joined me, their curious questions breaking the silence as they pointed to the headstones and asked about the names carved into them. The 9-year-old asked me, "Why do you like going to the cemetery?" I told her I like to because I am a genealogist. Then she asked, "What's a genealogist?" I said, "It's a person who studies family history. She grinned and said, "That's what you should be!" The moment made me smile, knowing I was passing pieces of our family’s story to the next generation.

Ultimately, I feel a warm embrace and a sense of belonging when I visit Shiloh, no matter the time of year, but it's even greater when I come for the reunion. When September comes again next year, I'll step back in time for a couple of hours at the little brown church in the Wildwood. 

Happy New Year!

1. 2023 was an exciting year for my family history journey. I spent a lot of days looking through records, visiting cemeteries, reading books, searching newspapers, and writing. I found some great things and can't wait to share them with you all! Here's to the new discoveries that will be made and the stories that will be shared in 2024!🥂

John Armstrong Beaman's Story of Survival

In March of 1863, my great-great-grandfather, a small-town farmer and blacksmith named John Armstrong Beaman, enlisted in the 34th Regiment to fight in the Civil War. His brother, Abraham Jackson Beaman, and local friends Armistead Hurley, James Hardister, Clay Morgan, and Joel Cranford, also joined. These men were a part of Company K, nicknamed the "Montgomery Boys". 

John in Civil War uniform
(from my own collection)

Two months later, the 34th Regiment fought in the Battle of Chancellorsville in Virginia with General Pender's brigade. On May 2nd, the 34th were at the head of the attack on Orange Plank Road. The next morning, they launched another attack. The attack forced the Union soldiers to retreat.(Taylor, 2004, p. 138). 

That day, the sound of gunfire rang out across the battlefield. The rapid firing of guns emitted such harsh shells that they exploded and set the woods on fire (Taylor, 2004, p. 138). The blazing fire spread, engulfing many wounded and fallen soldiers in its path. Burwell Thomas Cotton, Lieutenant of the 34th Regiment, described the scene as "the most horrible sight I ever saw," and Second Lieutenant Thomas Lattimore described it as "sickening." (Taylor, 2004, p. 139). 

In the middle of the intense battle that surrounded him, I believe John had a moment of realization. Death seemed to be lurking around every corner. Back home in North Carolina, his wife Malinda and three young daughters – Mary Sirona, Eliza Ellen, and Ruth Abigail were waiting or his return. Would he ever see them again? Would his daughters grow up without their father? The thought was unbearable. In that moment, survival became the only option. In quick-thinking action, John made a desperate decision- he ran from the battlefield.

His quick escape did not go unnoticed. Lieutenant Cotton recalled the moment in a letter, "While I was going back John Beamon run by me without hat, gun or anything in the way of accoutrements. I tryed to stop him and got him to stay with me but he said he was afraid of getting killed." (Taylor, 2004, p. 145).  

Old Capitol Prison, between 1861-1865
(Courtesy of Library Congress)

Despite the intense fighting on May 3rd, a number of Union soldiers were left behind in the rear (Taylor, 2004, p. 143). These soldiers, who were stragglers, ended up capturing John and others of the 34th. They forwarded them to Old Capitol Prison in Washington, DC. The prison was infamous for its terrible conditions.

After signing the Oath of Allegiance, John was released from Old Capitol Prison and sent to Petersburg, Virginia, on May 10. He deserted from Petersburg with Joel Cranford, eventually making the trek back to Troy Township. 

John A. Beaman's tale of survival is a reminder of the power of an event and perseverance. An event can be so powerful it can have a different outcome and change the course of history forever. 

Michael W. Taylor's book The Cry is War, War, War was extremely helpful for my research. Reading about John and Abraham Jackson in Lieutenant Cotton's letters from 1863 was so interesting. I learned more about what happened to John to construct this story. The book brings the history of the 34th Regiment to life and has lots of vivid details you can visualize. 

References:

Taylor, M. W. (2004). The Letters of Burwell Thomas Cotton . In The Cry is War, War, War (pp. 138-139, 143, 145). Morningside.

Exterior view of the Old Capitol prison, Washington, D.C. Washington D.C. United States, None. [Place not identified: publisher not identified, between 1861 and 1865] [Photograph] Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/2022630588/.

The Album That Started It All

    

Aunt Ephriam (Bea) in the early 1910s

Three years ago, I was cleaning out a cabinet in my grandparent's house when I stumbled upon something I had never seen before. It was a black photo album that belonged to my great-grandaunt, Ephriam Beaman. In my family, we always called her Aunt Bea. It was old, with a leather cover and strings holding the paper pages together.  

As I delicately opened it, I found a collection of black and white and sepia-toned photos pasted on the pages. Some were missing, some had rips, and some were starting to fade. 

   

The Album.

Who were these people? 

What stories did they have to tell? 

What were their daily lives like? 

   

Those questions flooded my mind, and from that moment, my fascination with family history began. I was curious and determined to learn more about my family and the faces in the photographs. I decided to join Ancestry and spent the summer taking the first steps into creating my family tree. 

Flash forward three years later, and I am even more passionate about family history. I'm still adding ancestors to the tree, uncovering new hints, reading books, and searching through documents and newspapers. Each discovery feels like a puzzle piece clicking into place, and there are so many things I have yet to discover. 

 I created this blog to look into the past and the lives of those who came before us in the 1800s and 1900s. My mission is to share their stories and photographs, so they will never be forgotten. If their stories are not shared, if their names are not spoken, it would be like they never existed. Future generations will never know about them. 

Thanks to that old photo album, I found a new hobby that I enjoy, and I couldn't be happier.