There are many things I regret in my life. I regret that I was more concerned about who was sitting behind my in Algebra II than I was about polynomials. I regret that I spent all the money I earned while I was young and single on skinny jeans. I wish I had spent more time with the Lord and less time in front of the TV. But, one of my most stinging regrets... one that haunts me quite often is that I did not appreciate and soak up the incredible wisdom of my grandmother.
Meme's house was in the country and it only had one gas heater and one window unit air conditioner, both in the living room. I hated going there when I was a child. It was boring and they didn't have a TV. They didn't even have a phone until 1975. My Meme cooked everything from scratch. She had a huge expanse of a garden which she tended all by herself. I remember sitting on her front porch snapping my weight in beans. Hated it. Loathed it. Wished I was home watching The Hardy Boys.
Meme has been dead for many years now. Once I became older and wiser, I realized what a treasure I had in her. She was an incredible seamstress, sewing lingerie at a factory as long as I can remember. The biscuits she made were a little taste of heaven on earth. I've never known such biscuits since her kitchen table. Cracker Barrel biscuits give me a hint of Meme, but they aren't the same. Why did I never ask for the recipe? I didn't appreciate such things back then.
A few months ago, I happened up on a yard sale. In chatting with the family, I discovered the contents of the yard sale belonged to a little old lady that had died and her children and grandchildren were selling off her possessions. There is nothing so special about that. We run into estate sales all the time with a similar story. But, this sale was different. This lady was different. She was so much like me! She had gardening supplies, cake decorating equipment, books on health and wellness, and enough quilting material to fill a U-Haul truck. It was like I was seeing myself in everything she had owned. Her children were talking to me about their mother's "quirks".
My mother wouldn't put a single thing in plastic! Said it leeched out chemicals or something in her food.
Neither will I!
You're going to buy those health books? My mother had tons of those silly things. The relatives all thought she was a little loony the way she read them.
So do mine!
I'm glad someone's going to use that sunhat. Mama insisted on growing her own tomatoes. She said no tomato was as good as one from her own vine.
Me too!
I love this woman. I don't know her name and I never met her but we are kindred spirits. Her children had two sales. I spent way too much money at both but wish I had spent more. Then finally I heard that an estate company had come in to have a final estate sale before the house is put on the market. I had to go.
She's family.
I wandered through her house, touching her things, noticing how our tastes are so similar. Her towels were beautiful. I would choose them too. She had beautiful silver and crystal, a wonderful cast iron collection, a beautiful rocker. I loved it all and would have brought it all home with me if I had a million dollars. It was all too expensive to even consider.
Then I saw this.
On a shelf next to more cookbooks that I had missed the first two times around was a small plastic box of recipes. Handwritten recipes. Some dating back as far as the '60s. Penned in her own hand with little notes telling where she had this or how she came to acquire that or who liked this best at Thanksgiving.
Reminders not to take the foil off too soon so as to over-brown the cheese. Remarks about how fine to dice the onions because "no one likes a big bite of onion for their breath's sake".
Little parenthetical comments with brand suggestions.
(Ritz is always best)
Yes, for one dollar I walked away with the most priceless thing in that house. Why her children wouldn't want these is a mystery to me. The history recorded on these index cards, magazine and newspaper clipped recipes is a treasure that will be as dear to me as if it were my own Meme's. I'm afraid one day they will regret not grasping the value of something as simple as their grandmother's recipe box.
When that day comes, I hope the Lord sends them to an estate sale and blesses them with a recipe box. And, I hope it is as sweet and dear to them as this box is to me.
It will be like sitting on their Meme's porch again with a lap full of snap beans. Ask me how I know.
6 comments:
I have my Nanny's recipe box. From the "Cistard Pie" (she typed it and hit the 'i' instead of the 'u' for 'custard' and from that day on, we called it 'Cistard Pie' in our family) to Aufdenkamp Soup (cream of tomato soup, the recipe for which was given to Nanny by a woman whose last name was Aufdenkamp) to fried peach pies.
That box of recipes, her favorite skillet, and her rolling pin grace my kitchen. And I can't imagine not having them. They're imbued by the pure essence of her.
I love this post. I spent almost every Saturday with my grama from the time I was about 8 until I was 14. I tried so hard to get my grama to write down her recipes for me before I got married. She never used a recipe. "Everything is in my head." She made the best spaghetti sauce. I have my own recipe books and I write notes in the margins, the date I made it, and whether or not we liked it. My girls are already fighting over the one book that I have handwritten recipes in out of magazines or taped recipe cards in from friends and other relatives. I have photocopied recipes out of it to give to my oldest married daughter so she would have the relatives handwriting or my notes.
Happy cooking!
What a treasure! I would have bought it too.
This is a great story.
My grandaddy passed away in 2004. He was a preacher. Before I knew what happened my mom had given away all of his old sermons and sermon notes. I asked her why she thought I would not want those not only for myself but for my boys one day. She looked at me and asked what would I do with them???? *Sigh*
A few years ago, my grandparents were going through some estate planning and wanted to make sure each of their kids and grandkids got the "things" that they wanted. Each figurine is marked with a name, etc. but the only thing I asked for was the cookbooks. My grandma was my babysitter most of the time, so we spent TONS AND TONS of time on their farm and that meant cooking with Grandma....and still some of my best memories. So, I also do not understand how that family could give them up, especially handwritten, so easily. Enjoy, you found quite a treasure! :)
Trying.very.hard.not.to.covet.....sigh....
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