Heather Quale writes, “I am grateful for cooking and baking skills taught by my parents. The memories that flood my body and brain fill me with joy as I read recipes and prepare foods we once made together. The recipes are in their hand.”
It’s been eight years since this lady passed away. I am grateful for the many years I experienced her good humor, her storytelling, her teaching, her avid following of sports, her caring for everyone, especially people she didn’t know, and her capacity for love. She’s pictured here with a teddy bear Steve made for her, making that face that says, “Oh, how cute.” We miss you, Mom.
For several years, I considered writing a blog called “What Would Grandma Do?” In our striving for a life of less consumption, less waste, less harm to the planet, I realized that my grandmother often made do: creatively solving needs for new clothing by sewing and mending; making her own cleaning solutions; growing, canning, and making food to feed large numbers of visitors; re-using everything she could; making gifts designed to please the recipients; and buying as little as possible. She was a wonderful role model, providing hundreds of lessons and examples. I’m grateful for my grandmother for many reasons, but her role as chatelaine of her two-bedroom, one-bath manor guides me now. (Photo: my grandmother, my mother, my great-grandmother, and me)
In my early teens, I was too sick for my mom and me to travel to Chicago for Easter to visit her brother’s family. Instead, we went a month later to celebrate the twins’ birthday. On the drive down, I mentioned that I really missed my annual chocolate Easter bunny from Fanny Farmer. While we were in Chicago, my mom went on an errand to Woodfield. At Sunday dinner, there was a dark chocolate Easter bunny waiting on my dinner plate … in May. My mother always paid attention to the details. Hug the special people in your lives today and tell them how much you love them!
Yesterday, Steve and I sat down with our newly washed collection of dish towels, deciding it was time to cull those that are too thin to be effective after decades of use. We don’t use a dishwasher, so our dish towels are crucial kitchen equipment, as they were for generations before us. The aspect for which I’m grateful is that so many women chose to display their embroidery talents by telling stories with these towels, thereby turning them into art. We have towels stitched by my mother, my grandmother, and two aunts. Each time we use them, we feel that connection. Quite often, the stories they tell are funny: vegetable musicians, naughty kittens, and Mother Goose, as well as a set that depicts dishes in the colors of the pottery Steve and I collected when we were first married. Those that we set aside because they no longer have a practical use will become part of a fabric art project I have in mind … their stories will stay with us.