Yes, I did it, I broke the cookie jar. I am heart broken. The thing is, this was not just a cookie jar...it was 31 years of memories. Florence Sulzle was always busy, always baking, and 9 times out of 10 it was cookies. My love of the change of seasons stems from her, which she passed along to mom, then me, and hopefully I will to Glenn. With each season the cookie jar was filled with something different. Currently in the fall it would have been filled with applesauce cookies with a simple white frosting, by December she would be filling it with big round sugar cookies that us kids would decorate in an assortment of green, red and white frosting with as many sprinkles as we could mix up. What a sight that was every cold winter day until Christmas! The next moths brought chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin (never really a kids favorite by the way) and by spring it was back to sugar cookies to be decorated for Easter. By summer the jar was filled with "no-bake" cookies so she didn't have to use the oven and heat up the house. Then by harvest time we were back to Applesauce cookies again. The jar represented so much more than a simple storage container. It was opened up for a small hand when a knee was scraped, when a report card had a high grade, when one "just couldn't sleep", when I wasn't invited to the popular girls slumber party, and when my boyfriend of two years broke up with me...yes even at age 16 that jar had "magic".
She gave me the jar the year I got married. I had plans of Carrying on the tradition, looking forward to Glenn climbing off the school bus and running in straight to the jar as we discussed all his adventures over a glass of milk.
But alas, I broke it. But as I kicked my self and cried into my hands I realized that it was not the jar that contained the Magic, it was the cook...she put the love in it, she opened the lid to reward us or soothe a broken heart. I still have that, I have her and those lessons. If you have ever read "like water for Chocolate" you will know what I mean when I say that we put emotion into our food when we cook. I was feeling a lot of emotion today. So, in my upset I put on my apron, my favorite fall music (Practical Magic Soundtrack, Roger Whitaker, and Kenny Rogers) and went to work baking, baking with as much memories as I could muster up, I remembered all the wonderful things about grandma I could. I baked oatmeal chip cookies, zucchini bread, apple pie, blackberry muffins and applesauce cookies. And there she was, right next to me, reminding me to stir slower, kneed less, add a bit more vanilla, stop worrying so much, remember to cherish each moment...for who knows it may mean so much to the next generation.
So, next time you see me on the junking trail, you know what I am in search of...But thank goodness I already have what I "need".
awe!!!!!!!!! love the story!
ReplyDeleteawweee! That is soo sweet! Sorry your broke it though.~Chandra
ReplyDeleteSo poignant!! Grandma's cookie jars are indeed special...I still remember my greatgrandma and grandma's both and the cookies!! Wish I could have been there to give a hug and eat some of your baking spree=)!!
ReplyDeleteLots of love
Hollie
Jennifer that brought tears to my eyes, moving to this country the hardest thing was to leave everything that meant something to me, and I often find myself missing "stuff" from my grandmother too, but like you, I have to keep reminding myself, that "stuff" is just that, "stuff", people are what made a difference in our lives. Sorry it broke though (((HUGS)))
ReplyDeleteI found your blog as a result of ruffles and rust this last weekend and had to read this post several times. My grams was the best, recently passed away, and was always there for me. She is the reason I am painting now!
ReplyDeleteShe used to bake, can and you name it. I miss it already, good for you for keeping up with the tradition!
Jody
Thank you Leah, Chandra Hollie and Lani. Glad you like the story!
ReplyDeleteJody, it is nice to meet you. It is true, they are the "stuff" we are made up of. I am glad you paint for her and you. Love, Jennifer