Cookies
Noel Laflin
1-12-17
During the
latter years of my father’s life, we’d frequently feel the crunch of broken
cookies when giving him a hug.
He kept them
in various pockets of both shirt and trousers as he always liked to have some
handy.
He was
refilling those pockets daily.
Each time my
sister came out to visit, she set aside an entire day or two baking up several
hundred homemade varieties of cookies – molasses, chocolate chip, peanut
butter, oatmeal raisin, etc. - so that
they could be frozen and handed out over several months time.
The ample
supply was usually gone within a month of her departure.
Dad might
have been near blind, but he knew where the freezer was.
Consequently, a noted amount of the household budget went toward the old man’s seemingly unquenchable sugar addiction as any kind of store bought cookie seemed to tide him over until Susi returned once more and transformed his Leisure World kitchen into confectionery heaven.
Consequently, a noted amount of the household budget went toward the old man’s seemingly unquenchable sugar addiction as any kind of store bought cookie seemed to tide him over until Susi returned once more and transformed his Leisure World kitchen into confectionery heaven.
I think a
fair amount of Susi’s personal budget went into the appropriation of butter,
sugar, flour, chocolate, molasses, oatmeal, peanut butter, and raisins.
It was a
good investment apparently, since dad made it into his nineties.
As tomorrow
will mark our father’s 102nd birthday, I am pulling out the last of
the homemade cookies my sister sent me for Christmas and crunching to his
memory.
They were
meant to last longer, but I know where the freezer is too.
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