...the thing upon which we build. Not necessarily a house. Maybe a piece of paper or cloth in making a quilt. Maybe a marriage. And just maybe....a life. None of us are without a foundation. Even if that is a negative thing such as an orphanage, or foster home,or a hospital in a war torn country Your life's foundation is based, in part on where you find yourself at the age of reason, which is about 7 years.This is my foundation. My beautiful young mother and father, my beloved Grandma Lottie. I don't know what year this was taken, but the engagement was short so probably 1935. She met him during deer hunting season of 1934, and married him the following August. There is only one word on the back of this faded picture...prophesy? Yes, the question mark is there, behind the word. I'm sure the writing, which was my Mom's, was added later.The picture foretells what is to be the future.
She and my Dad had from 1935 until January of 1942 to be their own family. I was born in the 5ht year of their marriage. Then the unthinkable happened, my maternal grandfather died suddenly. He left my beloved Grandma virtually penniless and with no job skills. Needless to say, she came to live with her only daugther. And that changed the course of everyones life. But that scenario is the foundation of my life.
I stood by the stove a few evenings ago, slicing cold boiled potatoes into a smail frying pan. That was what I wanted most in the world right then. I didn't think about why or what the foundation of my craving was. I wanted fried potatoes.
The undescrible quirks of memory took over, and I followed them along a dimly lit path. What I found was my mother, standing by the stove, slicing cold boiled potatoes into a iron frying pan...feeding a hungry family. At first it was just the 4 of us, and then, as I reached the age of reason, and an awareness of myself as an individual, a new sister and 4 years later, another. That completed our family I grew up in.
Potatoes were almost always boiled at our house. I'm not sure I ever had a baked potato until I began eating "out". That must have been part of her foundation in life. Peeling potatoes to boil one night for supper, and frying the leftover the next day for lunch or supper. One of my best 'home from school for lunch' meals was a fried egg on top of fried potatoes.
As I stood there, turning my few fried potatoes, I remembered thinking about how many thousand potatoes she must have peeled, cooked and fried in her short 52 years of life. I have her black iron frying pans, most of them. Some I shared with my middle sister. I don't use them often as I dislike cleaning them.
My DD#1 called the next day, and as we conversed, I mentioned I had made fried potatoes for my supper. Her instant response was "oh, comfort food" and I could hear the smile in her voice. I never gave much thought to what or how my kids felt about being served fried potatoes on occasion. It was just "part of the whole deal" growing up in the family I raised. We had rice sometimes, mashed potatoes on other occasions. Some times boiled potatoes and some times baked. I covered all the bases..LOL Apparently she remembers fried potatoes as a good thing. That's really nice to know, after all these years *VBS* I think my Mom is smiling down from Heaven about that.
When Genealogy meets Quilting
7 hours ago