Some Sunday Evening Thoughts

So let’s just start out with this: I have a lot of opinions about a plethora of topics, all from just this week. And I mean a lot. Probably enough for a novella. But right now, it all feels so raw and so sharp that I’m still processing it. Until I can and do so in a rational, better-thought-out manner......

I saw a tweet that I’ve seen for a few days and it brought a pleasant childhood memory to my mind. Right now, I need a little soothing so I wanted to discuss.....

Kristen Arnett @kristen_arnett

when find myself in times of trouble

mother pound cake comes to me

speaking words of wisdom

sara lee

Sweet little memories of dinners at Granny B’s house where the dessert was almost always Sara Lee pound cake, with strawberries and cool whip. Granny B was my next door neighbor and really was like another grandmother to me. My mother’s mom lived with us until I was 7. My dad’s mom was always at least an hour away and didn’t have a car. I’m not sure either of them had a driver’s license. But Granny B was there. Her grandchildren were much older than I was. Her great-grandchildren were more my brother’s age (and younger). Her daughter was my mom’s best friend. The house had been built originally by my grandmother’s cousin for my great-grandmother. It was a lot of interlocking parts. 

Usually on Saturday nights, once or twice a month, we’d go to dinner there. Usually nothing terribly fancy but just the joy of getting together and we’d have to be done by 7:00 because Lawrence Welk would be on, at which point we’d all gather in the living room to watch. Children of my age have memories of only two shows on Saturday nights: Hee-Haw and Lawrence Welk. And most of us got varying levels of exposure to each. 

I loved those Saturday nights for a lot of reasons. When I was there, it felt like I had a bit of a Norman Rockwell childhood. Of course, I have some differing thoughts about Rockwell’s portrayals than I did then .... but it felt safe and normal. I was a kid missing one grandparent already when I was born and the next one would die just months later. I didn’t have any aunts or uncles nearby (except my grandmother’s siblings or their widows). I felt almost feral sometimes, in part because I truly don’t think my parents knew quite what to do with me. Not in a bad sense, mind you; I just wasn’t

At her house, there was genteel guidance, presented in such a way that I wanted to do those things right, so that they wouldn’t be disappointed in me. Things like saying please and thank you all the times, or no elbows on the table. Even little things like learning to say, “may I be excused?” instead of jumping up saying “I have to pee!” At 4 or 5, that’s an important thing to know in order not to appear completely uncouth at school. My mom could have said these things to me a million times and all I would have heard was blah blah yadda yadda. When Granny B said it, it had far greater importance. I don’t know why but it did. 

I can still taste the pound cake and thawed strawberries all these decades later. And maybe I need to think of the words of wisdom imparted to me lo those many years ago at Granny B’s house.