I Am A Modern Day Grandma!

This time of the year brings back bittersweet memories of my childhood. Places, people, and things buried deep within my heart seem to come back for a visit when the holidays come around. That is good, because I love to visit with loved ones from the past.

Our family was never much for the traditional Thanksgiving dinner. We were more into it being a family Sunday dinner at grandma’s house. Traditions were very basic and simple back then. Grandma prepared dinner and the whole family had better be there. My family, my dad, mom, two brothers, and myself arrived early. Mom would go to help grandma as much as she could.

A picture of coming to that farm is still vivid in my mind and seems as though it were only yesterday. The house and barn were at least a half-mile off the main road and looked as if it had been planted in that green valley. I believe, Currier & Ives would have loved it. It was truly a picture of Americana. What a welcome sight to come just at the top of the hill and look down over the farm. On a clear day, the sky was so blue it looked like a never-ending mirror stretching from horizon to horizon... Smoke from the chimneys curled upwards lazily climbing toward the heavens.  The cows were strolling over the pastures, picking at the tender grass as they slowly walked over the field. They had  just been released from the morning milking. The sound of cowbells greeted you with a warm welcome as you came through the first gate. It was most definitely, coming home…

To open the front door and walk into the house was heavenly. The house would be filled with the aroma of fried chicken on the stove and blackberry cobbler baking in the oven. Country ham (cured by grandpa) cooling on the table and ready to be sliced. There was a huge pot of potatoes ready to be mashed. Every kind of vegetable you can imagine emptied from the large jars of garden vegetables grandma had canned during the summer was  simmering on the back of the old wood cooking stove. Pans of homemade biscuits and large skillets of cornbread sitting on the side table wrapped in dishtowels to keep warm. I could not wait to sink my teeth in that bread smeared with grandma’s home churned butter. Every item of food on her table was things grandpa harvested on the farm. There would be a multiple choice of cakes and pies for dessert. Fried apple pies were my favorite and I could not wait to get one. Almost every time she made them, grandma would hide one away for me, “ just in case they run out before you get to the table” she would say with a smile…The best part of it all was arriving in time to see my grandma standing in that kitchen up to her elbows in flour.  She would be dressed in her little black, pink,  and white gingham dress with an apron tied around her slim waist. Her hair would be done up in a twist and neatly shaped around her head….My grandmother was a beautiful person.

The big kitchen table would seat ten people at a time. The meal was served family style with bowls of food placed in the middle of the table. It was a work of art to watch those big burly uncles of mine "Dip and pass."As it was a custom in those days the men would always eat first, the women next, and finally, the children were called in from play to eat last. It did not matter to us that we were last… to be interrupted any earlier would have messed up our “treasure hunts.” (That is another story to share at another time). The only thing that would not be plentiful was the “good pieces” of chicken. In early childhood I thought chickens only had wings and backs because that is all I had for years…. However, if I happened to be at grandma’s house and watched as she prepared those chickens for cooking, it would not have mattered what pieces were left on the platter. There was no way I could watch her commit chicken murder by whacking their heads off, dip them in very hot water, pluck out all their feathers, and cut them into small pieces; How could I sit at the table and eat that poor defenseless dead bird! However, if I did not see the process I could tear those wings up.  

It is good to know that some traditions are still around although times and things have changed. We now have processed chickens, all cleaned and de-feathered and just waiting for grandma's to toss them in the modern day skillet. We have prepackaged vegetables, and even our desserts are already prepared and ready for us to open the box, lift them out, slice, and serve them. If we choose to do it that way.  

I love for my family to come home at Thanksgiving, Christmas, and any other holiday.  I want to be the same kind of grandma that I had. But that cannot be! And the reason for that is because I am one of those modern day grandma's. I am spoiled and want things made easy for me. But more than anything  I am thankful that I don't have to go to the chicken house and select a few chickens for frying up golden brown and crunchy.  I have found if I use my iron skillet they fry just as golden brown and crunchy when they come from a supermarket as they would from a chicken house in my backyard.... OR, that is the way I see it.....


Walk with God,
Mary Frances King

Enter unto his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name....Psalm 100:4


Thank You, God, for all the ways you bless me every day...May I always have a thankful heart and never grow slack in lifting my hands to you in praise...Amen