OLD RECIPES, OLD PEOPLE, YOUNG IDEAS
I recently learned that “elderly” is the world’s description of me. To tell you the truth..that ticks me off.
Admittedly, I live in an old house, on an old farm, drive a used truck and my name is biblical. Mary really is a grand “old” name and I can handle that idea.
What I can’t handle are the ways of the world we seem to accept today as normal.
Respect is a word we don’t hear much of late; and I could add tolerance, commitment, understanding, did I say “respect”?
My Dad used to say, “Old people know more about being young, than young people know about being old”. There was a time, (in my younger years), when I thought that was just a cute saying.
Now, the truth of it amazes me.
I’ve been thinking about sharing some of the things my Gramma used to say, you know, “old sayings”. Such as, “it’s raining pitchforks and hammer handles”…and…with a smile she referred to babies who were born prior to nine months of marriage as “sore-footed babies”..because
they hurried so fast to get here.
Unusual persons were referred to as being “odder than Dick’s hat-band”. I used to ask her what was so odd about this fellow named Dick with a hat-band and what was a hat-band anyway? Actually, not too many fellows wear hats in this day and age, so it’s a subject that doesn’t come up much anymore..well..
that was her remark and I’m sure Gramma’s grandmother may have used the same description.
I miss my Gramma…she was a good cook and a person of faith with an enormous amount of kindness in her soul.
She left me with many recipes written by her, in pencil, in a recipe box which I keep in the cupboard. Ingredients like a pinch of this and a dash of that; a little butter, the size of a walnut…
(you can’t go wrong with those descriptions.)
My folks (that’s what I call my Mother and Dad), belonged to a lodge called Oddfellows and Rebekah’s. Gramma belonged to it too.
She was known as a wonderful cook and always brought a cake to the dinners. During the time when boxed cakes were coming into the world, folks would say one of those boxed things couldn’t beat a “real” cake made from scratch.
Gramma didn’t have time to make a “real” cake for one of the dinners and she whipped up a box cake and took it for her offering. The word got around quickly, “You can sure tell the difference between one of Sadie’s great cakes from those doggone box cakes they’ve come out with.”
It wasn’t long before “Sadie’s Box Cake” became a favorite story at lodge gatherings.
About this elderly thing; both of my Grandmothers died at the age of eighty. They were old.
I’m eighty-five. I’m not!.