Most of us don’t really remember events from our very early years – 2 or 3 years old. But we seem to have ‘sense memories’. Mine include the smell of Lux (a dish soap) at one grandmother’s and the heat of an oven at another grandmother’s. I also remember my mother all wet from a shower, mashed potatoes (!) and one grandmother’s clothes line – clothes line! I don’t have memories of the women themselves from that time, but somehow my little mind connected the ‘sense’ memory with the correct grandmother.
This is by way of explaining why I am disappointed that a nephew who was to stop by today had to move the visit to tomorrow morning.
He’s come from California with his family including two kids under 30 months. I don’t see these little guys much because of miles, so I wanted to plant something they might connect with me. Something they may remember when they’re 12 or 20. So I staged it. They were to arrive around 4pm.
At 2 pm I began making pumpkin pies. At 3pm I put them in the oven. The pies would come out of the oven at 4pm and the house would duly fill with the wonderful scent of fresh warm pies. And perhaps that would imprint on Emma and Grady.
But they’ll come tomorrow morning instead. And the damn pies will be in the fridge. And so it goes.
Happy Thanksgiving.
You can have wealth concentrated in the hands of a few, or democracy. But you cannot have both.
Whatever Works 