Grammy's Cooking: Not Your Typical Grandmotherly Fare

This week we are saying goodbye to my grandmother. And some of us are celebrating her life and all the hilarious memories we have of her. Grammy was, to put it mildly, quirky. You never knew what she was going to say or do (especially after her stroke when all inhibitions she might have had flew out the window, but that is another topic.)

My grandmother will live in infamy as “The grandmother who couldn’t cook.” People talk all the time about the wonderful cookies or cakes or dressing or fried chicken that they remember their grandmothers cooking. I tell them that we remember the disasters that Grammy cooked, and they look at me in disbelief, “A grandmother who can’t cook? That’s unheard of!”

Growing up during the depression, she got used to saving every little scrap. She would ‘cook’ a casserole or freeze some peas from the garden, and upon finding them at the bottom of her deep freeze 10 years later proclaim, “This has been frozen so I’m sure it is still good.” Then she would proceed into the kitchen to thaw it out and heat it up for the relatives visiting from out of town. As far as I know, none of them ever got sick, but that could be because they only ate a few bites and survived on the ice cream my grandfather brought out after every meal (and sometimes for an in between meal snack!)

My aunt Patsy retold one of my favorite stories yesterday. Her husband, my uncle Roddie (one of Grammy’s sons), loved banana pudding, so Grammy would always try to be sure and make some for him when he visited from Mississippi. Now, Grammy was very imaginative and one of her bits of kitchen “wisdom” was that if you are cooking and find that you are missing an ingredient, just substitute something else (another trick from the Depression, I think. Plus they lived 15 miles from the nearest grocery store so she couldn’t just send someone out to grab it really quickly!) Sounds reasonable, right? Not with Grammy’s inventiveness. Anyway, he and his family were over visiting one day, so she decided to make banana pudding (keep in mind her penchant for saving everything.) It started going downhill right away. She didn’t have any bananas, so she decided to use chocolate pudding instead. Then she didn’t have any vanilla wafers, but that did not deter her. You see, she had several grandchildren who would lick the icing from the inside of oreo cookies, then leave the cookie part lying around. She would gather them up in case someone wanted a cookie later, so she decided to use those in place of the vanilla wafers. Unfortunately, she still didn’t have enough cookies, so she decided to use the next best thing that she had on hand, shredded wheat cereal. After dinner that day, she dished out the pudding for desert. My grandfather took one bight and said, “Florine, what is this?” She proudly proclaimed, “It’s banana pudding, Roddie’s favorite!”

I’m really going to miss Grammy, but I know that when I think of her the only tears will be the ones streaming down my face from laughing so hard. She would want it that way. And in her honor, I am going to try to recreate her “banana pudding” recipe for any of you brave and imaginative cooks out there.

Grammy’s “Banana” Pudding

Ingredients:

1 large box of instant chocolate pudding mix

About 12-15 oreo cookie halves with the icing licked off by young kids who have just come in from outside and not bothered to wash their hands

About 1/2 – 1 cup of Shredded Wheat cereal (or Kicks cereal, an acceptable substitution if you are out of Shredded Wheat)

Directions:

1. Using the instructions on the box as general guidelines, mix up the pudding making substitutions as needed.
2. Place a layer of oreo halves and shredded wheat along the bottom of your pan.
3. Pour the pudding on top, then garnish with a few more oreo halves and shredded wheat crumbs.
4. If you have any leftovers, store them in the refrigerator for a week or so, or put in the deep freeze indefinitely (be sure to label it clearly so you can find it again in a few years when you are looking for it.)
   

Self-pitying nonsense

My grandmother passed away yesterday. It has left me feeling rather empty, and small – like a young child who needs to be taken care of. I have trouble getting up and doing things on a good day, but today I am total mush. I just want to hide away from the world, sweep all problems under the rug and pretend like they don’t exist. But I am too good at that already. I don’t really know what I want to write about today, I only know that I want to communicate with people who are outside of everything.

Her loss was one that everyone had been holding their collective breath for. She had a severe stroke several years ago which left her paralyzed on one side of her body. Her mind was still pretty much in tact, but she could not access parts of her body. Her favorite activity, I think was letter writing (and reading). She had an address book full of people that she had been corresponding with for years. The stroke was devastating to her, and she was already suffering from the loss of my grandfather. Sunday night she had another stroke which put her into a coma. She drifted away about 7 pm last night, after all her children and many grandchildren and great grandchildren had been by to say their goodbyes. It was a very surreal and bizarre scene at the hospital. Almost like a scene from a dark comedy. Maybe one day I will write about that – today I am trying to come to grips with the strangeness of it.

I am trying to keep things in perspective. I feel sadness, but also the relief that comes when you know that the person is no longer suffering. I feel worry over my father and aunts and uncles, but also for myself. This is probably going to sound extremely awful and insensitive, but I am finding it difficult to remain focused on my grandmother’s memory and on the well-being of my family members. I am discovering that in times like these people have a tendency to focus more on themselves and their own personal feelings. It becomes a sort of selfish performance, “Look at me, look at at me, I am suffering so much!” Maybe that it just part of the grieving process.

I believe I have mentioned it before, but I have suffered from depression for many years. Every winter I have a low period. The closer it gets to Christmas, the lower I get. This year has been no exception, and today I am just left feeling so empty and alone. No amount of medicine or therapy can cure that. I know that I am not really alone, especially now, but it is so easy to slip into that mode, to block yourself off from the world and pretend like you are someone else, living a totally different life. I once had a friend who believed that you shouldn’t take anti-depressants or go to a therapist. He believed that you should just completely “live” all your feelings. I don’t agree with the not taking medication part (I couldn’t function if I didn’t take it), but I think he was on to something about truly experiencing all your feelings. Maybe that is what I need. Maybe I shouldn’t fight them so hard. Just give in and let them work their way through me for a few days rather than burying them and going on through the motions of day-to-day life. I might find that it is cleansing. Or it could make matters worse – I already have a mountain of laundry to fold and put away (at least it is clean!) and my kitchen looks like a bomb went off. The sink is overflowing and their are dirty dishes on every available flat surface. I probably shouldn’t admit that. I’m really not a disgusting person, I’m just a little overwhelmed right now. It is crazy when you think about it – there are all these bigger issues which I worry and stress over even though I know I have no control over them. But the little things that I can control and do something about (like laundry and dishes) get pushed aside even though seeing them tends to make me feel that much worse.

And here I am with a novel of a blog full of nonsense. I could just cry and laugh all the way to the padded room if I didn’t feel quite so numb.

What Can You Say 11/03/08

I tried to write a blog this morning, but ended up deleting it. I have been out of town for a few days so have not written in a while. My husband’s uncle passed away so we went back to his hometown for the service. Funerals always bring to mind several topics for discussion, but right now they somehow don’t seem appropriate. I feel the need to put my own selfish thoughts on hold and just reflect on Ernie, and on family in general.

I did not know him very well, but I did know him well enough to know that he was a very intelligent man. One of those people who surprises you – on the surface he seemed to be just
another country bumpkin, but he could hold his own (or take over!) any topic you wanted to discuss. He was one of those people who is a fountain of facts and general knowledge. We used to groan when we thought about going over to their house because we knew that he would sit there and talk and talk and talk and never let you get away. But then when we finally did leave, we realized that the stories he told and things he talked about were actually really interesting, and we couldn’t believe we had spent a couple of hours listening.

I have heard that he was a very tough father, and that he was verbally abusive at times. But whatever faults he had were made up for in his loyalty and dedication to family. He truly loved is family, and worked hard to support them. He remained married to the same wonderful woman
for 40 something years. When his daughter took the wrong path in life, he opened his home to his grandchildren and began supporting them. I know that they are going to miss him terribly, but I also know that they are taking heart in the fact that he is no longer suffering. He
had a stroke several years ago, then developed diabetes. He recently had a heart attack, and when they checked him out discovered that he had actually had quite a few heart attacks over the past couple of years, but did not realize it due to the effects of the stroke. At this
point, his body was too weak to operate so they decided to let him go. We are all relieved that he doesn’t have to suffer anymore, but for those close to him I am sure the relief does not lessen the grief.

Anyway, like I said, my trip has left me with several topics that I want to write about, but for today I think I will just be quiet and let Ernie do all the talking.

It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown 10/29/2008

I’m sitting here watching “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” with my son and am feeling very nostalgic. I try to watch it once every Halloween. I never get tired of watching all these old holiday classics. During Christmas, it is Rudolph and the Grinch. The original cartoon Grinch, which I love. I make my voice really low and sing that crazy song for at least three days ofter I watch it – “You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch, you’re rotten to the core, somethin somethin somethin, I wouldn’t touch you with a 29 1/2 foot pole.” I can’t remember the words right now, but I love that song. It just isn’t Christmas without the Grinch. And it just isn’t Halloween without the Great Pumpkin.

My son doesn’t seem to have the same love for all these old shows. I guess now that they can watch these super duper computer generated cartoons at any time they want they just don’t develop the same appreciation for them. When I was growing up, cartoons generally only came on for a few hours on Saturday morning. So it was a big deal if they came on at night. We would all gather around our 19 inch tv and pop popcorn in the fireplace. We had this thing that kind of looked like a metal skillet with a top that latched down on top and had a really long handle. You put the kernels and little oil in it, close up the top, and hold it over the fire shaking it often. Of course, by the time I was in high school, we had a 27” tv and microwave popcorn but we still got together as a family to watch all the holiday specials.

One of my best memories of Christmas involves the movie “The Christmas Story.” It is the one about a little boy who really wants a Red Rider b.b. gun. His mom tells him he doesn’t need one because he’ll shoot his eye out. But he gets up Christmas morning and Santa has left one for him. So he goes to shoot for the first time and ends up hurting himself just below his eye. We watched that one year when my brother was about 9 or 10, and the next day he got a gun for Christmas. And what does he do? He goes out to shoot it, it kicks a little, and he cut himself under his
eye! It was scary, but once we saw that he was ok we all got a good laugh. I need to remember to remind my brother of that the next time I talk to him. And remember to tell his son that story when he gets older (he is only 1 right now).

I am sad that my son doesn’t love them as much as I do, but at 8 he is still young enough to want to sit in the living room and actually enjoy watching them with me on our big screen tv. I think I’ll go make us some popcorn.

Horror and Halloween 10/27/08

As Halloween quickly approaches, I have been thinking about the horror genre of books and movies. Mostly because my son has recently become interested in scary movies, and even thinks he wants to go to a haunted house (this from a kid who didn’t want to sleep by himself after watching the cartoon “Monster House!”) It got me to thinking about how I used to love the horror genre.

I went through several phases – the Stephen King phase, Dean Koontz phase, Anne Rice
phase. Now, not all of their books are strictly horror, but they do contain those spooky, supernatural elements. I also loved watching horror movies. Back then, they didn’t have all the special effects and computer technology, and the movies seemed more real somehow. I think I
liked them because they sparked strong emotions, in this case fear or sadness when a main character was killed. I think I liked that I didn’t have to “think” about these movies and books – I could just sit back and enjoy the ride. Even now I prefer books and movies that actually make me “feel” something. But I particularly liked that adrenaline rush that you get from being scared. I can remember staying up until 2 or 3 o’clock in the morning with a Stephen King book because I just couldn’t put it down until the bad guy had been defeated. And then still being
too scared to go to sleep. And as lame as many people find it, Blair Witch Project scared me more than any thing else I’ve seen in a very long time. Probably because it was set in the woods, and looked very much like where I grew up. There are all sorts of scary noises in the
woods at night.

It is interesting, however, that since my son has been born I can’t watch or read all those things any more. I don’t know why, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I don’t know if
it is the sight of the blood and guts, or something about the scariness of it, or what the deal is, but I just can’t stomach the horror genre any more. And I’ve talked to several other women who are the same way. Women who loved being “scared” until they had kids. I wonder if it is
maturity that has caused this shift, or if it is just something about having children – maybe some anti-horror hormone is released along with all the other “motherly” hormones. I wonder if there has ever been a study done on this. Scientists study everything else, so why not this?
Just a thought. Anybody else out there have this experience? Did you ever get to where you could start enjoying horror again?

Memories 10/21/08

I have been going through my old poetry lately and typing it into the computer – right now it is mostly in journals and on random scraps of paper. I have kind of been going through writer’s block, and I am hoping that revisiting some of my old stuff will jump-start my creativity. Last night, I came across the following scrap on memory -

Memory-

the Eye of the soul,

the Mother of Muses

and Source of all inspiration.

Our guide and our strength

through future experiences,

the very Definition of a life.

Hold Her close to your heart,

for once She is lost,

She can never be regained,

and She will take with Her

all that separates you

from the crowd.

That got me to thinking about memories – good and bad – and whether or not I would keep all of them, or cut some out of my mind if given the chance. I have read that the ancient Greeks believed that we are given a choice kind of like that when we die. We can choose to drink from the river of Lethe, goddess of forgetfulness, and thereby forget our lives and all the pain and hardships we endured. Or, we can drink from the spring of Mnemosyne, goddess of memory, and carry all our life experiences with us. The choice, I think would be tough for many people. If you choose Lethe, you forget not only everything that was bad in life, but also everything that was good, and all the lessons learned from life experiences. For this choice, one is given the gift of re-birth, a new life. A chance to start over with a clean slate and learn (or re-learn) the lessons necessary to move on. If you choose Mnemosyne, however, you retain all your memories and all the important lessons that they provide. For this, you are granted access into the Elysian Fields,
which is kind of like the Greek version of Heaven.

What would you choose? Would you want to forget everything and start a whole new life (I think many people already do this by living in a self-induced state of numbness and self-absorption)? Or would you want to keep all your memories, and practice all your life’s lessons? The choice is given to all of us – I hope we choose well.

Motherhood, Work, and Self 10/14/08

Since becoming a mother 8 years ago, I have been in this constant battle with myself, the same one many mothers go through. The first battle is whether you should go back to work or stay home. That was an easy one for me – I didn’t have a choice and had to go back to work. And even though that battle was solved early on, there have always been the lingering doubts – would my child be better off if I stayed home with him? Or am I setting a better example for him by always getting up and going to work – showing him not only a good work ethic, but also that a woman’s place isn’t just in the home?

Over the years, that battle has transformed some. Now I don’t worry so much about being a working mother – my son is in school, so there is really no reason for me not to work. Now he is getting involved in extra-curricular activities like sports and cub scouts. I support these activities, and want him to have these experiences, but I would be lying if I said that I didn’t hold some little bit of resentment towards them (note that I said them, and not him). And my husband feels that way at times too. We love our son more than anything in the world, but we also realize that to be good parents, you can’t put your child up on a pedestal and make them the center of your whole world. I sometimes fear that I am losing my identity to him. And then I feel
like crap for having those feelings. How do you create a balance between being an active member of your family, working, and still being your own person? I snatch at time during the day for myself – reading a book during my lunch break and when I am stuck in traffic, banning
everyone from the kitchen and singing and dancing while I cook, staying up a little later or getting up a little earlier so I can check email and blog or read blogs. Right now it is football season, so I have kind of put my other hobbies on hold (if I didn’t my house would be declared
uninhabitable and we’d be running around in dirty clothes!) I am SO proud of my son and cheer loudly at every game (and sometimes during practice). But I can’t help but feel anxious for the season to be over.

This probably sounds like a whiny blog, but it is really not meant to be. I just wanted to put my feelings out there – so if anyone else feels that way they can know that they are not alone. And also to issue a challenge to us all – Find creative ways to maintain the delicate balance between motherhood, work, and self so we can avoid negative feelings and fully enjoy every aspect of our lives. And not lose who we are in the process.