Preserving History
Sunday Family Breakfast has been a thing for us several years running now. We kinda started it when Steve and I got married when the kids are home. Because of the parenting schedule we have in place, the kids are with me every other weekend. So every other Sunday, Steve and I make a big family breakfast: scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits, gravy, pancakes, and sometimes cinnamon rolls.
Steve made the pancakes for a few years. He started out trying to make the best pancakes EVER. The kids would critique them every other Sunday. He tried “makin’ bacon pancakes”, home-style pancakes, barley pancakes, buckwheat pancakes (he was on a health kick for a while), pancakes with raisins, buttermilk pancakes, you name it… he tried to make it. Almost every single family breakfast morning, the kids informed Steve, that his pancakes still were not as good as mom’s. He eventually moved on to biscuits. Now, He really does make some pretty perfect biscuits.
Some time ago, when we were visiting Steve’s parents, Steve asked his mom if he could take home his grandmother’s biscuit cutter. She looked at him all crazy, cause… well, lets be honest… how many people would ask for an old biscuit cutter. None the less, Steve took home his prize intent on using it the next time we made family breakfast.
This morning noticed that Steve was using his grandmother’s biscuit cutter and it made my heart happy. I thought of all the things that our parents / grandparents / loved ones have given to us. We were given a quilt that Steve’s aunt HAND STITCHED recently. It is absolutely beautiful, and amazing that someone can do that without a machine. The stitches are perfect, Steve’s Aunt Joyce was most definitely an artist. I was going to put up the quilt so it didn’t get ruined, but Steve insisted that we use it. He wanted to enjoy its beauty, not hide it. There is probably a lesson there. We were also given a piano that according to the serial number is around 100 years old. It was not given to us by family so unfortunately I do not know its history, but I hope it becomes a part of our family history. I spent HOURS cleaning the keys and vacuuming out all the dust. We are going to refinish the outside before we have it tuned. I’ve always wanted to learn how to play an instrument, and now the opportunity has been placed right in front of me. I love that I have all of this history around me.
Maybe because I am getting older, I’m appreciating things more than I once did. I hope that my kids will have fond memories of our family morning breakfast time. I want to build and pass down a history for my kids and grandkids. I hope one day our grandkids will ask for Steve’s biscuit cutter, because they remember coming over to Noni and PopPop’s for Sunday morning breakfast. I hope they remember how PopPop made the best biscuits. Maybe they’ll remember sitting with me while I play the piano, or maybe they’ll remember singing silly songs. Whatever it is that they remember, I hope it’s full of life, smiles, and love. I hope when they look back at their life they can see a legacy worth saving. I hope they save that old quilt and play the piano and use the biscuit cutter. More than anything though, I hope they remember the love.
“They say I’m old-fashioned, and live in the past, but sometimes I think progress progresses too fast!”
