tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074861.post114892527420670696..comments2024-03-28T02:36:55.037-04:00Comments on Brooklyn Arden: In Memoriam, for the DayCherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05972029478350879112noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074861.post-1149650988127865662006-06-06T23:29:00.000-04:002006-06-06T23:29:00.000-04:00Seed caps off to Midwesterners! They're why I lov...Seed caps off to Midwesterners! They're why I love living here.Melinda R. Cordellhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02924404257237523106noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074861.post-1149433731651502442006-06-04T11:08:00.000-04:002006-06-04T11:08:00.000-04:00Me, too. Not to be too preoccupied with cooking bu...Me, too. <BR/>Not to be too preoccupied with cooking but these are the moments embedded in memory.<BR/> I learned much about cooking from watching these women in the kitchen and from just being there. As a new, young wife the repertoire consisted primarily of hamburgers and spaghetti prior to seeing Granny (Velma Devers) use exotic southwest ingredients like peppers and pinto beans in those fabulous meals.<BR/>A bonding experience was making noodles with Grandma Sadler or "Mawmaw". It was the day after Thanksgiving and I will never forget draping the kitchen chairs with luscious homemade noodles. I think I proved my worth to her in the kitchen that day!<BR/><BR/>Thanks for the memoriam.<BR/>LeslieAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074861.post-1149281512566060092006-06-02T16:51:00.000-04:002006-06-02T16:51:00.000-04:00Well, you made me cry.Well, you made me cry.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074861.post-1149005289903956332006-05-30T12:08:00.000-04:002006-05-30T12:08:00.000-04:00What is wonderful is how kids remember the importa...What is wonderful is how kids remember the important things. Grandmothers aren’t great because they drive Ferraris (though that would be an interesting story) but because of the ordinary bits of their lives are special to us. <BR/><BR/>I always thought my grandmother was rich when I spent summers with her in Mississippi. She too had troves of paste diamond jewelry and a musty closet full of cloche hats. Her two-story house had hiding places with piles of comics and books. The oil room was always packed wall to wall for our arrival with Doctor Pepper in little bottles. Our playroom was part of the house had been a county store before the Depression, filled with glorious junk. It was only a couple of years ago that I found out that she lived on a miniscule teacher retirement and didn’t get indoor plumbing until the mid sixties. She taught me that it was okay for girls to be smart and going to college was a requirement, not just as a way to get a career, but also as a way to learn about life.<BR/><BR/>I would have liked to have eaten dinner at your great-grandmother’s houses. (Mmm creamed corn…)<BR/><BR/>Have a great week!<BR/><BR/>Marilyn.Thetoymakershttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15405265800595978197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4074861.post-1149001564528911972006-05-30T11:06:00.000-04:002006-05-30T11:06:00.000-04:00I was touched by your portraits. It's interesting ...I was touched by your portraits. It's interesting what images rise when we call up memories of loved ones. When I think of my mom, I recall the delightful tingle of her fingernails scratching my back as I lay, head in her lap, in a warm, comfortable church service. Simple things....<BR/>Thank you for sharing these.<BR/><BR/>Christy LenziAnonymousnoreply@blogger.com