why you don’t look a day over one hundred and four… the age my paternal grandmother would be, were she still alive. As the grandparent I saw the most, and the last to pass, she’s a collecting point, or recurring theme I suppose you could say – particularly around her birthday and the anniversary of her death.
She wasn’t warm and fuzzy, but there was always dessert at Grandma Arnold’s house. That’s something I remember! That it was there at least, not so much it being made. So it must have happened before we got there or at times we were otherwise occupied. I don’t have any of those archetypal memories of being shown the family recipes, learning by doing alongside. Some combination of none of us thinking to ask for or offer help, I suppose. But, unlike some stories where the kids/grandkids didn’t cook with the parent/grandparent and there were nothing written down, we at least have some recipes.
2m2t 