To My Grandma

Earlier this year I wrote a story for my Grandpa Brown's 90th Birthday.  Click here to read: The Knights of Bedford Street.

The book of stories from family and friends was a success.  Therefore, in May, my family did another book for my Grandma Brown, who was turning 85.  I never put my story on this blog, and since it is a good recollection of my past I would post it today.  Enjoy!

If God had intended us to follow recipes,

He wouldn't have given us grandmothers.

~Linda Henley

My family memories are sprinkled with a dash of Texas Sheetcake, a pinch of Deviled Eggs and a splash of Spaghetti Salad.  My Grandma Brown knew how to throw a party, and still does to this day.  She loves a reason to bring her family together, and what better way than to dangle yummy food in front of them while you are at it?

When I was little, I would often ask to help bake cookies, or cut vegetables for dinner.  My mother would lose patience quickly, because I had this habit of not listening to her directions.  Throughout the years, many tears were had in that kitchen of ours.  However, I was lucky to have two grandmothers who allowed me to express myself in the kitchen, even if I wasn’t completely paying attention.

My very favorite memory in the kitchen with my Grandma Brown was when my sister, Kelly, and I learned the fine craft of bread making.  I remember that we made the bread from scratch – no box mix for Grandma Brown.  She also mixed everything by hand, which was extremely exhausting.  We had to stir one way so many times, and then the other way the same amount of times.  And it seemed to go on FOREVER!  I remember getting flour over everything (especially ourselves), and I also remember learning how to kneed the dough the proper way.  I have been lucky to share the proper dough kneed with my husband, Jim, and my Ladybugs, Zoe and Eva.  There was a lot of laughter while we kneeded the dough, and waited for it to rise.  I was so happy to be allowed to have a true hands-on experience. 

Of course (I’m sure it is no surprise) we were not quick or efficiant in our doughy masterpiece.  I do not recall the temperature of the oven, what container we baked our bread in, what we ate for dinner that evening, nor can I tell you how the bread tasted.  However, the memory of that experience has remained in my heart all these years later. 

Happy Birthday to the quintessential grandmother: my Grandma Brown!