The Last Supper

Tonight we dined with Jesus as he prepared us for his departure. For a reason that I am not sure about, I thought of my parents' last meal. I hope this is not a sin comparing Christ to my parents... putting them on the same level... but somehow I don't really think it is wrong. I am now able to humanize thoroughly what it must be like to chew and swallow your last bite of food. My mother's was a strawberry. One of the first things a nurse told us when my mother was put in ICU was that my mother needed to eat. We tried everything... artificially sweetened pudding. I crushed some strawberries and gave that to her. She had lost the desire for any sustanance. She actually clenched her jaws. She could not speak any more. The doctor came in and I could tell that he was not pleased that I had tried to force my mother to eat. That spoke volumns to me. My mother did not want to live. The doctor said that food could actually harm her at this stage and cause her discomfort. I would honor my mother's wishes. Only two weeks before in a phone conversation I had with her, while I was living in Mexico, my mother had stated that she did not want to go on. She had suffered so much, I knew, that she knew best. No more food. No more sweet, salty, tangy, spicey food. Nothing colorful, soft or crisp. All the things she loved, being the fabulous cook she was. Her last meal had been prepared and been eaten. What was the last meal she prepared and what was it? Her magic was always delectable. Aromas from the kitchen were mouth-watering... pots simmering with sauce, skillets sizzling with Italian sausage, a saucepan steaming with broccoli and peas mixed together. All a memory now. The kitchen is empty and ready for another wife and mother to come in and prepare meals for her family and friends.
My father... well, my father was supposed to have three months to wait until he would take his journey to join my mother. A nanno-second made up my mind that I would be at his side, preparing him for his voyage. I wanted him to smell Italian food cooking in the kitchen, reminding him just a little (after all, how could I prepare anything half as good as my mother's food?!), of the taste of sauce and pasta... and think, "it won't be much longer, Rosemary, and I will be with you." My father could barely swallow and the cancer had robbed him of his desire to eat. Three months only lasted three weeks. My dad was gone. I called him my "Indiana Jones". His years in WW II, plus jobs and then working and living around the world made him a man of all seasons. In the night he was off to his next big adventure. Tonight my mother prepared the most wonderful meal for my father... and invited all of Heaven to join.
It was our Savior's Last Supper... a meal to remember....

“There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. Yet that will be the beginning." Louis L'Amour

A true Patriot

Yesterday as I drove down one of Mission's older roads, I noticed one of the old homes in the community. It was in need of repair and some fresh white paint, but sat beautifully on a green, well-cared-for yard of about two acres. Out in front of the home flew a new U.S. flag, blowing so proudly and with great reassurance. The message was strong. The economy in the world is not the best, but love of our country and it's ideals would get us through these times.
I also thought, this family chose to fly a crisp, new flag rather than spend the money on paint. What that said to me... love of country and our freedoms, not to mention blessings, have stood the test of time. Paint will fade but this great land will stand solid.

Carrot balls for all...

I was in first grade. My parents, younger sister and baby brother were all living in student housing known as College View Apartments in College Station, Texas. I'm not sure why the babysitter had left early, but supper needed to be prepared and I felt like as the oldest person the house, then I needed to get busy and cook something. It had to be... yes, carrot balls. I grabbed carrots from the refrigerator and a grater from the cabinets. Somehow I made it through grating the carrots without cutting myself. I mashed the grated carrots together with margarine, rolling them into balls the size of a small egg. I drug a chair over to the small gas stove, lit a match and turned on the stove. I poured olive oil into a frying pan and proceeded to fry the "carrot balls" until crisp. I had only fried a few when my parents came in from work. Thank goodness their reaction was not one of terror, however, I'm not sure what kept them from doing so. We can only imagine what might possibly have happened... a seven year old leaning over a frying pan full of hot oil... with carrots sizzling away. My mother thanked me for starting supper and said that she would be glad to help me. My father even acted pleased. As the years having passed I realize now that had they reacted quite differently I might never have felt encouraged to ever cook again! As a matter of fact, I enjoy cooking and know that my parents were always quick to cheer me on with my culinary endeavors.

Why I love white Sunbeam Mixmasters

I suppose I was about six years old. We were living in Midland, Texas. My younger sister and I were outside "cooking"... making mud pies and just staying busy. Mother called me inside. I remember that at that age I was just above her elbow. She was standing at the kitchen counter, wearing an apron, mixing chocolate batter with her white Sunbeam Mixmaster. She looked down at me and asked me if I would like a new baby sister or brother? Sure! I told her I thought a baby brother would be real nice. She agreed. Several months later my brother was born! When he and my mother came home from the hospital, I was the first child to be allowed to hold my brother. I felt so grown up! We had bonded.

Bathtime....

Bath time had to be an orderly procession of family members since we were a family of six. My sister, 18 months younger, a brother, 7 years younger and another brother, 15 years younger. I suspect the youngest was about four when one of the funniest events happened in our family.
Everyone was either reading, watching television, working on homework or doing chores. My youngest brother was splashing in the tub, as usual. I'm sure he was told at least twice to stop, however, he had a very vivid imagination and he was probably acting out a scene from one of his favorite shows, "Speedracer" or "The Rifleman". He got out of the tub, wrapped himself tightly in his towel and ran to his room. Once in there he yelled in the loudest voice possible, "Behold, the naked man of 1966!" You absolutely could have heard a pin drop in our home. Then slowly muffled sounds of laughter and a little snickering started up. Where in the world had this little boy heard such a proclamation?? We still kid my brother about this. And actually it was one of the funniest events of my teen years. I laugh out loud every time I think of it!

Saturday grocery shopping with my mother

My mother worked Monday through Friday, so Saturday was grocery shopping day... usually at Piggly Wiggly right on the boundary between College Station and Bryan. Early Saturday morning we would get out the grocery shopping specials section from Thursday's newspaper and plan our menus according to what was on sale and what was nutritious. Little did I know I was getting some of the best training a prospective wife and mother could ever need. It was several years off in the future, but for me the best part of this "task" was spending time, one on one with my mother. Being the eldest of four children it was a rare event. We sat at the same maple dinner table that I have in my own breakfast nook right now. Meals were planned carefully, with good nutrition in mind. The main course was never fried, only baked, steamed or broiled. Vegetables were always served, usually two types each meal and if not, there certainly was a salad with olive oil and wine vinegar used sparingly on top. We weren't dessert eaters, so we might pick up a bag of cookies, but often times we did not. There were plenty of apples since that was my father and sister's favorite. By Tuesday, my mother would be fussing that the apples were disappearing too fast and she limited my dad and sister to one a day. (Hey! The budget was tight. ;-) ) But the best part of that early morning shopping trip was purchasing hot dogs for Coney Islands for lunch... and they were served with Fritos... about the only time chips would be found in the Boykin household pantry. They were so good!! Now several members of our family traditionally ask for Coney Islands for their birthday meal. I will have to state that those Saturdays were the most special memory I have.
I side note to this, I just remembered how Mother would do the driving until I took Driver's Ed and then I would drive Mother.

Mother's Coney Islands

Boil 6 good hot dogs
Slather each hot dog bun - half with mustard and half with mayonnaise
Place hot dog in the bun
Top with Wolf Brand Chili
Add a little sweet pickle relish
Top with grated Velveeta Cheese
Add a few diced onions - not for the little kids though
Place in a foil-lined casserole dish (This was before Pam, you know)
Place under a broiler (not too close) until cheese is melted

Serve on paper plates with Fritos!