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Some Food Fads Stick Around

Who remembers the first salad bars?  Chopped iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and carrots.  Two dressings: 1000 Island and French.  When shredded cheese, ham cubes, and croutons were added, a salad became a meal.  Then every type of greens and all things purple (think diced pickled beets) and red and orange and yellow were added.  Even diced canned peaches and cottage cheese.

            As make-it-yourself restaurant meals became popular, we are offered soup and salad bars.  We fill bowls with tomato soup, ate it, and then ate a bowl of chicken noodle soup.  There’s no limit – all we can eat for one flat price.  Start with a spinach and mushroom salad with vinegar and oil dressing and end with fruit and pudding.  

            Restaurant owners have created serve-yourself bars beyond soup and salad.  Potato bars – every topping possible on baked potatoes, not just traditional sour cream and butter.  Bacon bits, green onions, sauteed mushrooms are popular.  A pasta bar Husband and I recently passed up offered six kinds of pasta and red and white sauces, even a pink one.  I wondered if it was a mixture of marinara and alfredo sauces  It looked like Pepto Bismol which was a reason to skip the whole pasta bar.  

            A few years ago, I learned to pronounce charcuterie at the same time I learned which deli meats and cheeses to lay side-by-side.  Now, that’s called a Classic Charcuterie Board.  An article in a recent Taste of Home magazine is entitled, “32 Best Charcuterie Board Ideas for Every Occasion.”  Anything and everything can be placed together on anything and everything – from a dinner-plate size wooden disc to a twelve-person dining room table – and it’s a charcuterie board.

            Two of my favorites are a chocolate board and a pancake board.  Who wouldn’t like all things chocolate?  Hot chocolate, chocolate covered strawberries and cherries and pretzels, chocolate chunk cookies, even homemade chocolate ganache to dip fruits.  And all kinds of chocolate:  dark, milk, white and salted.

            My Grands would probably like the fluffy pancakes I make even better if I served beside banana slices and berries, peanut butter and Nutella, sprinkles, chocolate chips, marshmallow cream, and flavored syrups.  And we all like pancakes topped with whipped cream – some like a cherry on top.

            A Thanksgiving Board looks interesting, but sliced pears and apples, spiced pecans, olives, and cheese can never replace turkey, cornbread dressing, and giblet gravy.

            I don’t keep up with food fads, but I’ve noticed pimento cheese isn’t just for sandwiches and to stuff celery.  Last week I ate a hamburger topped with pimento cheese and it was delicious. Have you tried pimento cheese dip or pimento cornbread muffins?  How about pimento cheese and ham pizza?  Deviled eggs?  Breakfast bake? 

            Surely pimento cheese could be featured on a charcuterie board.  Think of the possibilities.  With bacon or red onion or toasted pecans or shredded apples.  White sharp cheddar cheese.  Creamy Velvetta.  Even pimento Brie. 

            And pimento cheese on a salad bar?  Why not?  It’ll be right beside the celery.

She Threw Her Arms Around Him

She was 7 when he was born.  From the stories I’ve heard, Husband was his aunt Shirley’s live doll and she carried him until he got too heavy for her – maybe that’s when she started calling him Big Boy.  My first memory of Shirley was when Husband and I were dating and I visited his family’s holiday gathering.  Shirley held her arms wide, wrapped them around Husband and said, “My Big Boy.” 

            At that time, I didn’t understand their relationship.  As children and through her teen-age years, they had lived next door to each other and their parents worked together in the family-owned Ray’s Bi-Rite grocery, next to her home.  Shirley was like a big sister who adored her nephew and she spoiled him.  

            Because Ray’s Bi-Rite didn’t stock Fritos and Husband like them, Shirley, a high school student, bought them for him at another store.  When she was a TPI student, she gave him a purple sweat shirt embossed with Golden Eagle, now known as Awesome Eagle.  Husband wore that shirt to school at least twice a week.

She celebrated his every birthday, every milestone, and was sad when she couldn’t attend Husband’s and my wedding, but she had good reason: her son was born just hours after we said I do.

During the early years of our marriage, we saw Shirley, her husband Owen, and their two children at holiday gatherings at Husband’s grandparents’ home here in Cookeville.  

But I got to know Shirley and Owen well when Husband, our two young school-age children, and I visited them in Athens, Georgia.  They welcomed us with smiles and hugs and gave us a tour of their work place, the University of Georgia. Owen was a professor and she worked in an administrator’s office.  

The campus was beautiful, but the football game between the hedges was the highlight of the visit. Owen and Shirley recognized that Son was taken with their Dawgs so both he and Daughter left Athens wearing Georgia sweatshirts. 

Son’s bedroom was redecorated: Georgia wallpaper border, a Georgia comforter and curtains.  Through the years, Shirley and Owen gave t-shirts, caps, and banners, and all our family, especially Son, are still avid UGA football fans.

Husband often talks with Shirley, but they hadn’t been together for a few years so he and I recently visited Owen and her – not in Athens – in Ohio where they moved five years ago to a senior living facility near their daughter and her family. 

Shirley opened the door of their independent living apartment.  She wrapped her arms around Husband, lay her head on his chest, and said, “My Big Boy.”  Owen, wearing a Georgia t-shirt and a red Bulldog cap, held his arms toward me, then hugged tightly, and said, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Our two-day visit was perfect.  Time to talk, share photos, catch-up on family news, and reminisce.  As Husband and I drove out of the senior living parking lot, Shirley stood on her second story apartment balcony, waved and blew kisses. 

            Everybody should have an Aunt Shirley.

Celebrating Grandparents

  

 Daughter sent a quote to Husband and me:  The only real parenting hack is to live close to grandparents.         

I don’t know Peter Yang, Canadian writer, entrepreneur, and public speaker, but I agree with the 86,700 people who liked his twitter post.  Daughter added five red hearts and THANK YOU! at the end of her text message. I wiped a happy tear from my cheek when I first read it, and now that I’ve lived with this quote for months, I treasure it.

            Those of us who grew up near grandparents knew we could hide away at their house.  Granny, my paternal grandmother, lived close by – what would be half a city block, but in Byrdstown there weren’t blocks, just roads.  I often nonchalantly said, “I’m going to Granny’s,” and I’d run out our back door and be sitting beside Granny on her pea green nylon covered couch before Mom could ask if I’d finished my homework.

            Granny’s screen door was always unlocked and she always had milk, Hershey’s cocoa, sugar and butter to make grainy chocolate candy.  

            My maternal grandparents lived a ten-minute drive away and I often visited.  Although my grandparents weren’t ‘huggers,’ I knew they loved me no matter if I showed up wearing a dirty t-shirt and shorts or my Sunday dress.

            When Daughter and Son were toddlers, Husband and I moved back to Cookeville; we wanted our children to be closer than three hours away from grandparents.  Through the years, I watched as children and grandparents bonded in everyday life.

After Daughter and Son became independent adults, I realized that their grandparents were the stabilizers for them and me when they were teenagers.  When Daughter drove to Grandmother’s (Husband’s mother), I knew she was going for more than the orange sherbet ice cream push-ups in Grandmother’s freezer. And I remember Mom said, ‘They’ll grow out of it.  Just love them.’ 

Curious to know professional opinions about the influence of grandparents, I googled why grandparents are important.  One article published by Focus on the Family rings true:  We provide unconditional love, perspective, stability, adventure and connections.  

Daughter’s family lives about a 1½ miles from Husband and me.  These five Grands gave me birthday greetings that confirm research.  My gift was a quart canning jar filled with notes that my Grands had written – most words of appreciation.

All wrote of time spent together: making a quilt, learning cursive, Purple Cow stories, reading poems and books, writing stories, playing cards and board games, putting puzzles together, bedtime back rubs, going places, spending the night. And they wrote about food:  bread and rolls, pancakes with sprinkles, fried dill pickles, bacon and scrambled eggs, fried okra.

            Our fourteen-year-old Grand could write the book on grandparenting.  My favorite notes from her: You never give up on us even when we’re extremely aggravating.  You always want the best for us, no matter what you want. You love us so much and care for us and expect nothing in return…..except our smiles.

            She’s right.

When Gran Folded in the Chair

A long-time favorite feature in Reader’s Digest magazine is Laughter, The Best Medicine.  It’s aptly named.  According to Mayo Clinic medical experts, laughing increases our intake of oxygen, stimulates our heart and circulation, and muscles relax immediately.  And there are long-term effects:  improved immune system, pain relief, lessen stress and anxiety, and better self-esteem.

            A giggle and chuckle can turn into uncontrollable laughing. You’ve done it – laughed so hard you couldn’t talk.  Couldn’t catch your breath. Tears rolled and laughter overtook breathing.  Couldn’t talk.  One such time that I could only nod and inhale sharply to get a breath was in June, near the end of the best week of this summer.

I wrote about the Heart Hugs when Son’s and Daughter’s families and Husband and I spent a week together at a Florida beach. I told about our Grands playing and the fun things we did, but the funniest happening was the most unexpected. 

It’s what one Grand remembered recently while we ate breakfast together.  I often read poems with our Grands and that morning a poetry book lay on the kitchen table. My Grand flipped pages searching for her favorite poems; she giggled and then asked if I’d saved the poem that I wrote while we were at the beach.  I did.

“First,” she said, “I want to read Daddy Fell into the Pond.”  What a fun poem to read aloud: Everyone grumbled. There was nothing to do and nothing to say.  It was the end of a dismal day.  But everything changed when Daddy fell into the pond. 

Alfred Noyes wrote about a dad, and I copied his style to write what happened when I didn’t sit as I expected in a lightweight low-seat beach chair.  I just wanted to sit with Husband and my Grand’s parents and watch the Grands play as the sun set.

When Gran Folded in the Chair

Younger Grands splashed in the ocean

Dug holes in the sand.

Big Kids floated on the waves.

Parents relaxed, standing and seated

Near the water’s edge.

It was the calm end of a beach day

THEN Gran folded in the chair!

Daughter leaped

Are you okay?

Alarmed teenage Grands came to help.

With knees to chin,

And bottom on the sand,

Gran hee-hawed, nodded, closed her eyes.

Daughter laughed and slapped her knees

WHEN Gran folded in the chair!

Pop said Quick, get a picture, quick!

Daughter 2 dutifully complied.

Daughter and Gran lost their breaths

Laughed uncontrollably.

All around, young and old

Stopped and looked.

There wasn’t a person who didn’t respond

WHEN Gran folded in the chair!

Even now, I chuckle.  For a good dose of laughing medicine, I look at Daughter 2’s pictures. Maybe I’ll send When Gran Folded in the Chair to Reader’s Digest, but the pictures – those are private.