A Blueprint for a Memory
Sinatra once sang, "Regrets, I've had a few. But then again, too few to mention." I'm happy to say that line applies to my life for the most part, although if I could hop in a time machine there is one thing I would change.
You see, my children never met my parents.
Even though the circumstances were far beyond my control, I have always felt guilty about that.
I know this is irrational thinking. When I graduated from high school there is no way I could have known I would lose my mother in less than two years. Indeed, no one can see into the future (and that might be the greatest gift God has ever given us).
But the guilt remains: Deep inside my psyche I fear I've cheated my kids.
Because of this, I talk about my parents frequently with my girl and boy. I tell them stories all the time; things my dad would do or something my mom would say. At least once every summer we make sure to camp at "the farm," as we call it; this is where my parents lived and where I grew up. It is my way of connecting my children to the grandparents they never knew.
Yet it is difficult for a young person to remember someone they've never met. I suppose my parents are sort of mythical figures in my kids' world.
But I have found another way to preserve their memory. I've mentioned before that I have, quite literally, thousands of recipes my mom collected over the years. Many are cut out of newspapers and magazines. Many more are handwritten on index cards and paper tablets.
I always describe my mom's cooking to my kids. Her homemade meals were delicious; her doughnuts were legendary (and I am still hunting for the recipe). But her cookies were the best and they are what I miss the most.
And the blueprint for those memories are right there inside Mom's old Land O' Lakes recipe card holder.
A few days ago I announced, "I have an idea! Let's make a batch of my mom's cookies!" I am happy to say my children were genuinely excited at the proposition.
Probably my favorite cookie was the Peanut Butter Crackle cookie (but there are so many to choose from!). I have no idea how old this recipe is, but the worn and stained card is written in my mom's hand.
It was just like she was there in the kitchen with us.
Spooning up the dough, rolling it into little "planets" (like Play-Doh) and dipping them into sugar was the best part...
The most challenging part was not eating all the dough so we had enough for the cookies.
Into the oven they went and the anticipation was killing them, especially the boy. Twelve minutes never seemed...
so....
long......
But the wait was worth it. They came out looking exactly right:
And how did they taste? They tasted just like Grandma Branstner's place, circa 1976.
And yes, they vanished very quickly.
You see, my children never met my parents.
Even though the circumstances were far beyond my control, I have always felt guilty about that.
I know this is irrational thinking. When I graduated from high school there is no way I could have known I would lose my mother in less than two years. Indeed, no one can see into the future (and that might be the greatest gift God has ever given us).
But the guilt remains: Deep inside my psyche I fear I've cheated my kids.
Because of this, I talk about my parents frequently with my girl and boy. I tell them stories all the time; things my dad would do or something my mom would say. At least once every summer we make sure to camp at "the farm," as we call it; this is where my parents lived and where I grew up. It is my way of connecting my children to the grandparents they never knew.
 |
| The peacefulness of "the farm." |
Yet it is difficult for a young person to remember someone they've never met. I suppose my parents are sort of mythical figures in my kids' world.
But I have found another way to preserve their memory. I've mentioned before that I have, quite literally, thousands of recipes my mom collected over the years. Many are cut out of newspapers and magazines. Many more are handwritten on index cards and paper tablets.
I always describe my mom's cooking to my kids. Her homemade meals were delicious; her doughnuts were legendary (and I am still hunting for the recipe). But her cookies were the best and they are what I miss the most.
And the blueprint for those memories are right there inside Mom's old Land O' Lakes recipe card holder.
 |
| The recipe for my mom's Peanut Butter Crackle cookies |
Probably my favorite cookie was the Peanut Butter Crackle cookie (but there are so many to choose from!). I have no idea how old this recipe is, but the worn and stained card is written in my mom's hand.
It was just like she was there in the kitchen with us.
Spooning up the dough, rolling it into little "planets" (like Play-Doh) and dipping them into sugar was the best part...
The most challenging part was not eating all the dough so we had enough for the cookies.
Into the oven they went and the anticipation was killing them, especially the boy. Twelve minutes never seemed...
so....
long......
But the wait was worth it. They came out looking exactly right:
And how did they taste? They tasted just like Grandma Branstner's place, circa 1976.
And yes, they vanished very quickly.
