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Health & Fitness

Interesting People

My world was larger as a child because my grandmother included me in hers.

I was thinking this week about the cavalcade of people introduced into my childhood by my grandmother, Momo, all of them tough and smart; Depression survivors and veterans of The War. They enlarged my world. Two of these families intrude into my memories often.

Growing up in the 1950s was a snap when I compare it to the early years of my grandmother’s life. She was just fifteen in 1900, but already on her own, boarding with a family whose members became her ardent cheerleaders, and lifelong friends. Their last name was “Kendrick.” I knew them as “Aunt Dorothy” and “Uncle Nate”. Through my childhood eyes, they were giants, and as I’ve learned from Aunt Betsy, Uncle Nate was 6’6”, and Aunt Dorothy was 5’11”, so indeed they were. One of my earliest memories is sitting on Uncle Nate’s lap while they talked and sipped the strong black coffee they all loved, even after lunch, because to that rock-hard generation only a sissy would admit that something you drank could affect your sleep!

Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Nate raised five boys, all over 6’6”. Occasionally one or two would come with his parents to visit. They piled noisily into Momo’s room, appearing as a very real threat to a small, wide-eyed girl who shrunk as small as she could into a corner, unwilling to leave but wanting to be invisible. They lived in Glendale, and every Tuesday Aunt Betsy picked Momo up and ferried her to “The Kendricks’” house. Wednesday afternoon Aunt Betsy brought her back. This unbroken routine was sacred, and proves the strength of the bond between them.

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And then there were the Keenans. They were Momo’s next-door neighbors when she lived in Prescott after The War, and they remained her friends until they died, worthy of occasional visits. They had thick European accents, which fascinated this sheltered girl. A visit to “The Keenans” prompted a happy heart, because Mrs. Keenan made amazing, huge cookies, of all flavors. They were soft and chewy, unlike my mother’s “Health Cookies”, so named because the recipe used whole wheat flour. (They were hard enough to chew that we frequently soaked them in a bowl of milk just so we could bite them.) Sometimes, if it was a long visit, my mom would let us have a second one of Mrs. Keenan’s disks of delight. Even today when I bake cookies I find myself trying to copy hers.

Momo, I introduce my grandchildren to my friends with pride. I think you must have done the same, although I didn’t know it then. Anyway, once again, thank you for these contributions to my memories.

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