I like to
cook. Well at least most of the time. I learned to cook at an early age, mostly
as a self-defense strategy. My mom much as I love is one of the worst cooks I
have ever had the displeasure of eating their food. Rivaled only by my grandma,
only my Grandma Lorraine could bake. She baked like a goddess and she canned
fruits and jams. My Grandpa John had a sweet tooth so she always had something
there for him. But, cooking oh goodness. It was almost comical.
If you went
to a holiday meal at my Grandma Lorraine and Grandpa John’s house she would
make a nice spread. A turkey that she had forgotten about, pasty mashed
potatoes or stuffing. Never both because she always forgot one. Plus most of
the time if she made potatoes she forgot to make gravy. But, these were fun
meals because there was always a lot of family there and that family was great!
The desserts were always so good and there were always several different types.
Now if the
holiday meal was at Grandpa Egon and Grandma Lorna’s house there was always a
spread. My grandpa always did the cooking. I would sit in the kitchen and talk
to him and watch him cook. He was amazing. Notice I say talk to him and not
with him. He was a man of few words. We were a great pair, a little girl who
loved to talk and an older man who loved to listen.
Grandpa’s
holiday meals were always a sight to behold. He would make a perfect turkey,
and this was before the Reynolds Wrap turkey bags. I admit that I swear by
them. Perfect turkey every time as long as you follow the directions and they
are never dry. He would make the complete meal. Grandma Lorna would make the
pumpkin and apple pies. To me the best part of the whole meal was the prune
whip that he made. That was how dinner started with a little dish of prune
whip.
Holidays
were always happy events. I have many happy memories of when I was a child. I
was blessed with a loving family. Yes, there were times that weren’t always
happy but I believe I was always nurtured and loved. One of my biggest memories
of my Grandpa John was what was a backhanded compliment. When I was a young
adult before my grandpa died we became closer than we ever had been. I mean we
were close enough before but we had a more comfortable relationship. We could
talk about the things that interested me like politics. When I was younger he
wouldn’t talk such thing with me I was a girl. He told me that it was too bad
that I hadn’t been born a man.
I was
greatly affronted by this. I felt it was a great insult. I told him so. He then
explained that if I had been born male life would have afforded me more
opportunities than it did normally for women. I understand now what he meant
but to a young woman it was an insult. The last political advice he gave me?
Was that he liked that young guy from Arkansas. He figured that he would make a
pretty good president. Grandpa John was right President Bill Clinton was a good
president.
One last
thought on my Grandpa John. He had been a lifelong Democrat until Ronald Reagan ran for governor of the Great
State of California. It seems Mr Reagan (he had not held office at that point)
didn’t look grandpa in the eye when he shook his hand and he had a weak
handshake. Unlike Governor Pat Brown whom he had great respect. That’s a story
for another time.
