Life is the flower for which love is the honey.
~Victor Hugo
Daddy's mother, my Gama, was born in 1896. That's astonishing to think about. It has nothing to do with anything, just a random factoid. She was, and will always be, one of the people I love most in the world. She died a month before I got married, 22 years ago, and I still miss her.
When I was a teenager in the early 70s she was already an old woman. At the time, though, she still lived in her own home. I always loved her house--it was tiny, and old, but it was hers and that is what made is precious to me. I remember her kitchen, and the windowsill full of African violets she had in the living room. She had a huge old TV, and she watched Lawrence Welk on it every Sunday night. She also had a wonderful back yard that was always full of flowers. She was an absolutely perfect grandmother, and we all adored her.
She lived about 1/2 hour from us, closer to the city. The summer I turned 16, I had a job at a local supermarket, so I could no longer go out to the summer house with the rest of the family. Like Daddy, I stayed home during the week and worked, and went out there on weekends.
Once a week, every week, Daddy & I went to Gama's for dinner. She had no air conditioning, of course, just several large fans. Summer heat never daunted her one bit. Every week she prepared a huge, heavy dinner for the two of us, complete with dessert. I think she was afraid we were living on PBJs and pizza the rest of the week. We weren't.
Gama could COOK! To this day, I have never tasted (nor been able to replicate) anything even close to the beef barley soup she made. After Thanksgiving, she made turkey soup that actually TASTED like turkey, not "chicken-lite". She also made bread. She baked the most light, delicious white bread from scratch, no matter what the weather. She knew we both loved her soup and bread, and she made it for us on a regular basis all through the summer. Pot roast was her specialty; I still use her recipe. Roast beef, roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and all kinds of veggies were the types of meals she made for us.
I loved going there with Dad. It was so precious to me, being with Daddy and having Gama fuss over us. She loved the fussing, and we loved being the fuss-ees. Special days, special meals, ......and yet all ordinary meals on ordinary days. It was Gama's love that made it all special.
She lived about 1/2 hour from us, closer to the city. The summer I turned 16, I had a job at a local supermarket, so I could no longer go out to the summer house with the rest of the family. Like Daddy, I stayed home during the week and worked, and went out there on weekends.
Once a week, every week, Daddy & I went to Gama's for dinner. She had no air conditioning, of course, just several large fans. Summer heat never daunted her one bit. Every week she prepared a huge, heavy dinner for the two of us, complete with dessert. I think she was afraid we were living on PBJs and pizza the rest of the week. We weren't.
Gama could COOK! To this day, I have never tasted (nor been able to replicate) anything even close to the beef barley soup she made. After Thanksgiving, she made turkey soup that actually TASTED like turkey, not "chicken-lite". She also made bread. She baked the most light, delicious white bread from scratch, no matter what the weather. She knew we both loved her soup and bread, and she made it for us on a regular basis all through the summer. Pot roast was her specialty; I still use her recipe. Roast beef, roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and all kinds of veggies were the types of meals she made for us.
I loved going there with Dad. It was so precious to me, being with Daddy and having Gama fuss over us. She loved the fussing, and we loved being the fuss-ees. Special days, special meals, ......and yet all ordinary meals on ordinary days. It was Gama's love that made it all special.
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