Twaddle on Tuesday

 

How are you today? Are you getting your shopping done, and your cookies baked? I have got the lights up Really Ron and Peter, got the lights up on the house and the Christmas tree decorated. But so far, not much shopping and no cookie baking as of yet. I hope to conquer the shopping list on Friday. Have you had a nice week? Since it has been a week since I posted.

 There seems to be such bad news all of the time, and I refuse to talk about it here on my blog. I thought today, I would share a Christmas memory. I think this one was triggered the other day, when I was looking through old books and I saw The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald.

 The princess is named Irene. It made me think of my Grandpa's sister who was named Irene, and I wondered if perhaps, her Mom had named her after that princess in that book. My Grandpa's family, were concert musicians in the late 1800s. For reasons he never told me they left the city and moved to Oklahoma. All of the children were gifted musically. I grew up watching his family play violins, guitars, and lots of singing. Except of course not Irene. She wasn't around and for the life of me, I have no idea why. She was my Grandpa's oldest sister.

When I was very young. Maybe, three or four. I should explain about my Grandpa. He was my Grandmother's second husband. My Grandmother divorced, her husband after World War Two  my Mom's dad. My Mom was raised by a single Mom in the late 40s and 50s. My Grandmother was a very modern woman for her day. In 1956 she married, my Papa. He never had children of his own so when I came along, I was his. He took me everywhere. He called me on Friday afternoons after he got off work, and he came and got me for the weekends. He carried me everywhere on his shoulders. We were the very best of friends.

 

On a Saturday, he asked me if I wanted to go to Irene's with him. I wonder what my Mom and Grandma were doing that made him ask. He bundled me up in gloves, coat and hat. He had a 1956 Yellow Ford pickup. It must not have had a heater, because I remember getting to Irene's house and being very cold. Her house, as I think about it today, was odd. It was very long. I wonder if it had been an converted train car like my other Grandma's house was.  I remember going in the front door, and at the very end of the house was the kitchen. The house smelled so wonderful and was so warm. She stood up with a cookie sheet in her hands and held the pan while Papa lifted me up and there were nice crispy Gingerbread Men with raisin eyes and little cloves for buttons.  I was enchanted.

 

She took my coat off and my hat and my gloves and brought me into the kitchen. My Grandpa disappeared.
I just remembered Irene sat and talked to me and told me the story of the gingerbread man. When they had cooled, she gave me this tiny little glass with a tiny gold Christmas tree on it filled with milk. She gave me a gingerbread man to eat still warm from the oven. I really didn't want to eat it but to be polite I took a nibble. I just wanted to look at it. After a while it was time to go and I was bundled up again. She gave me some more of the cookies to take home. I had to tell everyone the story that Irene told me about the gingerbread man.

 

I don't think I ever saw her again. There was always some skeleton in the closet I guess. I know she talked to my Dad a lot because his grocery store was across the street so she would call our house if something was amiss.
I just thought I would share this little story with you. It is nice to think about how sometimes when you are not aware, some little tiny act of kindness might become someones memory forever. Have a lovely day.
~Kim~

There are dark shadows on the earth, but its lights are stronger in the contrast.
Charles Dickens