Direction
Mooest
Old Moos
Moo to Me
Go to Diaryland
Sign My Guestbook!
Read My Profile
Rivers Point Webpage
Favorite URLs
Light a candle
<
My Trading Card
Pictures
The Family
More Furfamily pictures
Quizzes
Prince or Princess
Star Wars Test
100 Acre Wood Test
What Element am I
What Mythical Creature am I
Political Affiliation
Peanuts Character
Atlantian Duke
My Words
One Nation. . .
My Best Day
MY Journey
2002 Retrospection
Let There Be Peace
War Pictures
Best Stolen Stuff
Frodo Has Failed
Archived Pages
Entry 501-Present
Entry 401-500
Entry 301-400
Entry 201-300
Entry 101-200
Entry 1-100
Last Five Entries
Veteran's Day and an Etiquette Question
2001-12-18 - 11:25 a.m.
Memories and Apple Cake
Isn't it amazing how "normal" things can trigger memories? Yesterday, I found myself in the middle of everyday memory that happens every year around this time. I work at a local university, and every year, one of the faculty makes a fresh apple cake for all of us in the office. It's her way of saying thanks and Happy Holidays. This will be my third Christmas in this office and the same memories come back when I bite into that cake.
When I was growing up, My father wasn't one to do anything in the kitchen. That was my Mother's domain, at least it was until he retired. He didn't cook, and real men certainly didn't bake where he came from (the farms of Illinois). When my dad retired, he and my mother started to attend our local baptist church's Senior Citizen's group. Most of the folks who belonged to the group and were able, all brought something to eat during the meeting. My dad poured over my mother's collection of cookbooks and settled on a "Fresh Apple cake". It was an amazing sight to see my dad at the kitchen table on Monday evenings, with the apple peeler in hand, peeling apple after apple. I'd watch him mix the ingredients together (it was more like a light bread than a cake); then put it in to bake. The loving care he went into those cakes (about one a week for almost 4 years) was legendary. The little old ladies got to engage their sweet tooth and all gave him hugs and kisses, my mom was proud of her "man" and my dad was just so proud that he made something not only edible but so delicious it was always the first thing to go.
After a while, it was a tradition in our house. Mom would retire downstairs to Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune on Monday nights and dad would get started on his cake. I'd come upstairs and we'd talk for a bit while he worked. He worked a lot when I was growing up, and when I became an adult, I was always working or busy doing something else, so we never really got to know each other. I took advantage of his time in the kitchen to just sit and talk to him. He wouldn't let me help with the cake, but he was happy for the company. He was in his element, doing something that made someone else happy. It's an everyday memory that I get at Christmas. I miss my parents, but even moreso at Christmas.
I have to tell you, the cake wasn't just okay.. it was WONDERFUL, the memories I have of my father in the kitchen with flour up to his elbows makes it that much better!
I was just getting to know my father as another adult when he died, and the memories of the time we spent while he worked on his cakes made that rift smaller and smaller. I'd like to think that if we'd had more time, we could have found a way to bridge the gap.
Please don't forget to answer my survey... it's research for a small business idea... all comments appreciated, no reasonable offer refused!!! It won't take five minutes, I PROMISE!
