Times Gone By

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#1
Aug 17, 2013
 

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My grandmother in Louisiana would cross the street to give her new neighbors a pineapple upside down cake or a lemon bundt cake to welcome them into the neighborhood. She would write thank you letters, Christmas cards, birthday cards, and take the time during the day to do one of two things; write in her journal or recipe book. The spicy aromas that swept from the kitchen on Friday visits were mouth watering and endearing but I'd be a hot tongued liar if I told you she cooked it herself instead she sat at the bar with a cook book that I now own; perhaps then it was a navy blue with gold trim on the cover and not recovered with fabric to keep it from falling apart from age. Its tucked away from sweet covered chubby fingers trying to reach my mother's ceramic painted cookie jar of Little Red Riding Hood and her basket of goodies that she made at school when she was a child. Grandmother, grandmere, was always polite and charming to her guests, she never failed to have lemonade or tea to serve or small sandwiches to nibble. She was always feeding someone or thanking them like the newspaper boy with brownies full of nuts, the mailman with a glass jar full of homemade caramels, the local priest with an elaborate luncheon with friends, or a doctor friend who'd made a house call when our great aunt fell ill she'd insist he stay for dinner.
Where have those times gone by? It's easy to say her maid was a great cook. Was she thankful to her maid, cook? Think so, she cried the most at her funeral, lunged herself at Grandmere's casket. Terrified us and made us shameful at the same time. What hold did she have on that maid? It wasn't with time that I understood what Suzannah meant to Grandmere

“I care more about my character”

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Since: Jun 11

...... then my reputation

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#2
Aug 17, 2013
 

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Charles Chips in a can
Milk delivered at your door
Neighbors knowing neighbors
Charles Street

Portland, OR

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#3
Aug 17, 2013
 
Beautiful Black Molly wrote:
Charles Chips in a can
Milk delivered at your door
Neighbors knowing neighbors
Charles Chips. Lol, There's a name from the past.

“I care more about my character”

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#4
Aug 17, 2013
 

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Charles Street wrote:
<quoted text>Charles Chips. Lol, There's a name from the past.
Hello Geno
Justy_unplugged

Atwater, OH

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#5
Aug 17, 2013
 

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Charles chips and Lawson's dip...it doesn't get any betta.

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#6
Aug 17, 2013
 

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Justaguess, is that you?
Hope you are well.
Peace to you and yours.
:)

'
'
'
EevyToxicLipstick wrote:
My grandmother in Louisiana would cross the street to give her new neighbors a pineapple upside down cake or a lemon bundt cake to welcome them into the neighborhood. She would write thank you letters, Christmas cards, birthday cards, and take the time during the day to do one of two things; write in her journal or recipe book. The spicy aromas that swept from the kitchen on Friday visits were mouth watering and endearing but I'd be a hot tongued liar if I told you she cooked it herself instead she sat at the bar with a cook book that I now own; perhaps then it was a navy blue with gold trim on the cover and not recovered with fabric to keep it from falling apart from age. Its tucked away from sweet covered chubby fingers trying to reach my mother's ceramic painted cookie jar of Little Red Riding Hood and her basket of goodies that she made at school when she was a child. Grandmother, grandmere, was always polite and charming to her guests, she never failed to have lemonade or tea to serve or small sandwiches to nibble. She was always feeding someone or thanking them like the newspaper boy with brownies full of nuts, the mailman with a glass jar full of homemade caramels, the local priest with an elaborate luncheon with friends, or a doctor friend who'd made a house call when our great aunt fell ill she'd insist he stay for dinner.
Where have those times gone by? It's easy to say her maid was a great cook. Was she thankful to her maid, cook? Think so, she cried the most at her funeral, lunged herself at Grandmere's casket. Terrified us and made us shameful at the same time. What hold did she have on that maid? It wasn't with time that I understood what Suzannah meant to Grandmere
That was touching. I would have been happier I believe had I been born forty years earlier. It's a tough world we live in now. Families just aren't the same and neighbors are better off to keep to themselves in most places. Sad really.

Peace
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#7
Aug 18, 2013
 

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After her funeral everyone was scavenging Grandmere's house like voracious vultures tearing into an old beige mare. It didn't take them long to dismember a delicate and intricately woven house of memories. Fights over the old wine bottles in the cellar were the first then the gold trimmed hand painted Haviland China from Limoges France, followed by eighteenth century silverware, then the floral vase painting in the living room that housed beneath it a cubist painting, the antique rose tatted doilies and curtains, great Grandpapa's horia staking tool kit, the singer sewing machine in the corner by the window... the jewelry box was in the safe. Beneath the magnolia tree I sat and watched things disappear through the black iron gates of Grandmere's home. By nightfall my mother had returned from Suzannah's house, both too distraught to watch the pillaging. When we finally got the nerve to enter the house and see its gouged remains we had finished two bottles of the golden sweetness, a dessert wine Grandmere served on birthdays, a muscadine wine from a local winery. The sight was almost unbearable but one couldn't rip their eyes off the scene. My mother let a cry, appalled and confused, "Why destroy it? I've nothing left of her. Why?"


Not Justaguess.
But TY for taking the time to take a guess and reading.
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#8
Aug 18, 2013
 
jukeboxes
soda fountains like at woolworth
poodle skirts

lol

Since: Nov 09

Northeast Ohio

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#9
Aug 18, 2013
 

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Beautiful Black Molly wrote:
Charles Chips in a can
Milk delivered at your door
Neighbors knowing neighbors
Charles Chips are still around at The Vermont Country Store.

Here's the link:

http://www.vermontcountrystore.com/store/jump...

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#10
Aug 18, 2013
 

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EevyToxicLipstick wrote:
After her funeral everyone was scavenging Grandmere's house like voracious vultures tearing into an old beige mare. It didn't take them long to dismember a delicate and intricately woven house of memories. Fights over the old wine bottles in the cellar were the first then the gold trimmed hand painted Haviland China from Limoges France, followed by eighteenth century silverware, then the floral vase painting in the living room that housed beneath it a cubist painting, the antique rose tatted doilies and curtains, great Grandpapa's horia staking tool kit, the singer sewing machine in the corner by the window... the jewelry box was in the safe. Beneath the magnolia tree I sat and watched things disappear through the black iron gates of Grandmere's home. By nightfall my mother had returned from Suzannah's house, both too distraught to watch the pillaging. When we finally got the nerve to enter the house and see its gouged remains we had finished two bottles of the golden sweetness, a dessert wine Grandmere served on birthdays, a muscadine wine from a local winery. The sight was almost unbearable but one couldn't rip their eyes off the scene. My mother let a cry, appalled and confused, "Why destroy it? I've nothing left of her. Why?"
Not Justaguess.
But TY for taking the time to take a guess and reading.
Hello,
I wasn't trying to guess who you are. That note on top was for poster above my post, Justy_Unplugged.
Peace

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