Here's another part of the cookie jar saga and Grandma that I wanted to share with you. In Grandma's house, everyone could have cookies, like I mentioned earlier you never had to ask. You did however; have to clean up after yourself. If you didn't there wouldn't be a next time.
The part I want to share has been a secret for years...that is up until her funeral and memorial service. The chapel was overflowing with people. Literally hundreds of people were there for this tremendous woman who had a hardscrabble existence for most of her life but gave her love and generosity unselfishly to everyone that crossed her path. So be it; everyone came to say their good-byes to the grandma of the neighborhood.
Her daughter, mu Auntie M, called and gave me the news of her passing. She had also requested that I be one of the people that would get up and tell a favorite memory of theirs with Grandma. I felt so honored. This woman had been my rock for my entire life. Of all the women in the world, there are only two that I ever openly loved and cherished. My wife J of thirty-four years and Grandma.
J and I arrived at the chapel and Auntie M greeted us. Again, the place was overflowing, all here to remember her. We started to sit down in the 'friends' section and Auntie M objected. "Kenneth, you're family, come with me. Come on J, you too." I was dumbfounded and try to apologize and back away. Not hearing of this, Auntie M grabbed our arms and took us to the family section. We were the only non-blood 'family' members allowed in this section. The entire family lit up with smiles to see us and I was happy to see them.
The service began somewhat traditionally and then everything changed and you knew that this was Grandma's doing. Regardless, people started to speak out and tell their stories. Strangely, it was all family speaking and then one of them spoke my name and said I had a story to share. She introduced me as Grandma's other 'son' as Robert, her only son, died on the same day, hearing the news that his mother died. This was his funeral as well.
I recanted the cookie jar story that follows this post and then added the story about the 'secret' cookie jar. The cookie jar we all knew had scores of different kind of cookies. Ginger snaps, vanilla wafers, chocolate cream cookies. You get the idea. Well, as I grew older and into junior high, Grandma let me in on a little secret. She had a private stash of 'special' cookies for 'special' people. The only special people ended up being P, her granddaughter; Grandma herself and me. Whenever I came to see her, she had me run and get the 'good' cookies. Coconut macaroons, chocolate chunks, homemade peanut butter. We always had to be careful not to let the others know.
When I married J, my wife, Grandma included her in that group of 'special' people. As for being her 'son', she told my mother at my wedding (in the receiving line at that) that she (Mom) wasn't my mother. She told her rather matter-of-factly that she may have given birth to me and I may live with her but I was her other 'son'. And that was all there was to it. I felt so honored as she told me to the day she passed that I was her son...and her family agreed.
Yes, she still had those 'special' cookies for me when I came to visit over the years. The family eventually learned of her little sham and just laughed about it. Everyone at the funeral did too...they never knew about it,though. kG
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