Pumpkin Crunch Cake served on Grandmother’s Theodore Haviland Rose-covered Porcelain Dessert Plate.
With great awe, I would watch my mom pack the Buick as we prepared for our traditional Thanksgiving Day trek. I knew to stay out of her way when she was shoving things here and there. She never said it aloud. Rather, it was her face that said it all. Her mind focused with determination. Her eyes fixed on the task at hand. Strongly flexed, her brow provided the needed “Oomph” to get things where she wanted them. Yep, I knew not to go anywhere near her or that car. I just sat back and took it all in. My dad also seemed instinctively aware it was not a time to offer unsolicited advice. Nor question her placement of a packed item, lest a piece of uncooperative luggage come flying his way.
Amazing to recall how many people, pieces of luggage, lovely desserts, and on more than one occasion, an oversized dog, a lone woman could cram into the family vehicle. Especially when I remind myself she did it years before the invention of the now common mini-van. Nope–she did it seventies-style. No car seats or seat belts to hinder her ingenuity. Sometimes I wonder how we survived those early road trips smashed tight with all our belongings. But we did. We survived. Doing it in grand style. Bickering, singing, and complaining all the way. With everything loaded and all passengers in place, we’d depart. Destination: Gramma & Papa’s house.
sueBthefoodie 