The Norman Transcript

November 9, 2013

Falling into memories

The Norman Transcript

NORMAN — We’ve got a lot of old bones around my house. At least that’s what the old bodies that surround those bones tell us every morning.

There’s more snapping, crackling and popping every morning in the humans than there is in the cereal. The humans, well we understand that’s what happens when you get old and the temperature starts to take a dip. Things just don’t work the way they used to. Or they work just fine but only after a brief “warm up” period. But the poor dogs just don’t understand that their legs don’t work the way they used to or that they can’t jump up on the bed with as much ease.

Despite the trouble it brings, fall has always been my favorite time of the year. It’s always nice to feel that extra zip in the air. The colors of the falling leaves are also a nice sight. And don’t forget the crunching sounds underneath our feet that are the last sounds the leaves make before they depart for another season.

Even though I love fall, it seems to always get me a little sentimental. It seems like growing up, fall and winter was just more magical when you went to the grandparent’s house.

My grandparents never had much money. Their old house didn’t have central heat or air. In the summer all the grandkids were too busy playing outside to notice that it was hot. We didn’t need air-conditioning and if we did, we would have had to fight the adults for the space in front of the window unit located in the dining room.

But winter was a different story. The gas stove in the living room was the meeting spot for the family. I’m not sure if that stove put off any heat at all, but being crowded around with 30 or 40 others sure made up for it. Being the youngest also meant you were the smallest and you could wiggle your way through the crowd for prime warm real estate.

Then there was grandmother’s chicken and noodles. It didn’t matter if you didn’t like the chicken and noodles out of the can, grandmother made them and we all had to try some. Most of us didn’t put up a fight and all of us asked for seconds.

No one has the recipe, I’ve asked. The reason we don’t have it isn’t because no one bothered to ask for it, it’s but because there wasn’t one. Grandmother hardly had any recipes on paper, they were all tucked away in her head for safe keeping.

I’ve tried my hardest to duplicate her dish, but there is nothing that comes close. I’ve looked high and low. It might be that I don’t make my noodles from scratch. It might be that I don’t have a long table to share them with a big family. Or it might be that I’m not as talented as she was when it comes to the culinary arts.

Shana Adkisson


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