For anyone who’s read more than a couple of my stories, you know when the Hubs and I eloped during the fall of 1969, I didn’t know how to boil water, let alone cook a meal. Kind of odd since mom made a home cooked meal for supper 5 nights a week. We ate out every Saturday night. Nothing fancy and rarely in the 2 big cities nearby, Sioux Falls or Sioux City. Rather we stayed within a few miles of home like Perkins Corner, (which is no longer there), Hull, Canton, Rock Rapids, Sioux Center or my hometown of Rock Valley (thank heavens-not another Sioux something).

Mom made a big dinner (noon meal) on Sunday (while we were in church and Sunday school-she went too-but went home while dad and I went to Sunday school), so we had either leftovers or a sandwich for supper before the second service of the sabbath. But mom preferred her alone time in our small kitchen and wasn’t compelled to teach her youngest the basics about everyday cooking, although I could make a mean plate of homemade fudge by the time I was 16 (which was mom’s maternal grandmother’s recipe).

For our first supper after returning from our luxurious 2 day honeymoon in Sioux Falls (of course) I attempted pork chops, (a favorite when I was growing up). They were as hard as a rock and clinked loudly on the plate as Hubs deftly slid them through a mountain of Heinz so not to offend his new bride. I had a ways to go in the art of meal making. I cried a lot but I did try. But this really isn’t about my cooking skills, but the type of cook/baker I would eventually become.

There were new conveniences readily available in grocery stores (yes-way back in the 70’s). The group that comes to mind is Hamburger Helper. A variety of boxed, dried ingredients/spices/pasta that would transform a pound of browned hamburger into a delectable meal. And I admit I did try a few in the beginning. But it wasn’t long before I started testing my skills by making suppers from scratch. This learning process was more important when I discovered how much I enjoyed baking. From scratch when oodles of recipes were available that I call “easy layering.”

Here’s an example. In a 9 X 13 pan, pat a layer of graham cracker crumbs mixed with a 1/3 cup of melted butter. (Not a real recipe, I just made this up)

Take one package of instant vanilla pudding mixed with milk and pour on top the crust.

Slice 4 bananas on top of the pudding.

Layer a tub of Cool whip on top of the bananas.

Drizzle a half can of Hershey’s syrup on the top.

Sprinkle a few graham cracker crumbs on top of the chocolate.

Chill and serve.

This is exactly the type of ‘bar’ dessert I didn’t want to make. It wasn’t the layers I actually objected to (I like layers and steps) but the ingredients. Mostly instant stuff and Cool Whip. Just not me. I must admit there are a couple of my recipes I truly love that contain these dreaded ingredients but for the most part what I make is from scratch for supper and dessert.

A fun, delicious dessert called “Dirt,” is one recipe I’ve used since my friend Diane brought it over for a barbecue during the late 80’s. What I assumed was a fresh potted planter of tulips was indeed our dessert for the meal. Layers of crushed Oreos, pudding and milk mixed with cream cheese, gummy worms, cool whip with silk tulips. So realistic. I was intrigued. Here’s the same ingredients but made into a scary cemetery scene for Halloween with our grandson Graham a few years ago.

But while learning the method of scratch cooking, I was also having babies. Three children in ten years, one daughter, 2 sons. Little did I know that by the ages of 9 and 5, those 2 boys could literally eat their weight in food. Every. Single. Day. How do you cook for that? Oh I still made scratch suppers, constant homemade cookies, cupcakes and bars but they needed a meal after school to get by until supper was ready a couple hours later. Yet they all remained slender. If I inhaled the fragrance of food I gained a pound.

And there lies the rub. I couldn’t do it all. Joshua & Adam weren’t halfway full with convenience foods like potato chips, Cheetos, cookies, Little Debbie’s, Hostess cupcakes, Sno balls, Twinkies or anything leftover in the fridge from a day or 2 ago. Plus, it wasn’t really good for them. Their appetites required more. I call them the Chef-Boyardee years. Spaghetti O’s, Ravioli, Beefaroni, Hot Pockets, Kraft mac & cheese. At the time most of these products were about the size of a can of vegetables, not the microwaveable tubs now available. They were loathe to share anything and these skinny boys would eat an entire can each.

Josh (kind of sneaky yet profoundly brilliant) grew weary of going through mountains of the grocery bags after I got home from Meijer (like I might make him put some of the food away) to see what type of vittles he had to live off before his regular 3 squares a day and found an easier method of deducing what was available for the next several days. He’d latch on to the grocery receipt. No wonder he’s been so successful. Always an easier way to get the needed results.

I reminisce fondly back on the days when they were little and had voracious appetites. Trying to keep up with their never ending hunger pangs, what was good for them to eat and not so good, plus not going bankrupt while grocery shopping. I miss those Chef-Boyardee days of convenience foods, and making scratch meals for the party of 5…

Our family’s had many blessings this year but also experienced a very significant loss. The loss wasn’t something totally unexpected but a shock nonetheless. We met this guy Josh (not our middle child Joshua but another young man with the same cool name). Let’s just call new Josh JD for less confusion.

We got acquainted with this young man a decade ago when our oldest granddaughter Ariana and JD started dating. JD worked at U of M (boo-hiss said every loyal Iowa Hawkeye fan) in the IT department, about 30 miles away but lived near us in Jackson with his mom. He was handsome, polite and doted on Ari. About 18 months into their relationship Ari discovered she was pregnant. They were both in their mid-20’s, mature and seemed unlikely that anything could hinder their engagement and upcoming foray into marriage and parenthood. Becoming a great grandmother was awesome. Jovi Marie was born (full grown-just ask Ari) in early 2017. Life for them and the rest of the family was good. That euphoria however was not about to last.

I don’t know exactly how many times in the 8 years since Jovi’s birth JD has been picked up for impaired driving or been under the influence of drugs. I guess the defining/declining moment was when JD discovered his 51 year-old mom dead when he got home from work one day about 6 years ago. It had always been the 2 of them (she adored him but was also an enabler and condoned his behavior). He simply fell apart. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Ari and Jovi, but he was so deep in misery and depression he just couldn’t stay clean.

JD would spend weeks in rehab, find his way back to life with his little family, change the negatives in his life and start over. Three years ago he wanted to add a pet to the family. He bought a King Charles Cavalier, named her Winnie and thought it would bring him, Ari and Jovi closer. But Winnie had a thing or 2 to say about that. She had one master who she loved with all her little heart and it was JD. There was no compromise, she was JD’s dog. They lived together, ate the same food (often off the same plate) and there was always a spot on JD’s bed for 16 pound Winnie.

JD desperately wanted Ari and Jovi to move in with him so he had his house remodeled with a super cool bedroom for Jovi. But soon he would be back in rehab, his car impounded and driver’s license taken away, Winnie spending time, patiently waiting for her master’s return. More fingers than on one hand Ari watched the guy she loved spiral into the depths. It was hard watching how much she loved him and how many chances she gave. She was gutted. But her top priority was now Jovi. She had to do what was best for their daughter. She just couldn’t deal with all the uncertainty, highs, lows and chaos involving JD on a daily basis anymore.

They still loved each other, she gave him all the support she could, but their lives were separate. Ari’s mental health and safety in raising Jovi had top priority from now on. JD understood but any semblance of a normal life quickly vanished. He truly had lost his way and would not, could not find his way back.

Ari kept tabs on JD, bringing over groceries, food, taking him to appointments as his overall health declined (serious liver problems requiring hospitalization) visiting with Jovi if he wasn’t high, cleaning up after Winnie. One day in early February Ari realized she hadn’t heard from JD in a couple days. She called but he didn’t answer. She panicked and called the cops, asking for a welfare check because she was afraid of what she might find. It was bad. He had accidentally overdosed right after the last time they had spoke. And Winnie was with her deceased master that whole time, lots of trauma for the pup. (It was like JD had known, there was a huge bowl of Winnie food and water in the house, and messes everywhere).

JD died about a week before he turned 36. Devastating time for the girls. And Winnie was lost without her master. A couple weeks later Ari asked if we could take Winnie? (We haven’t had a pet for 20 years). “Absolutely not,” I said. “We can’t afford a pet, I hear from all the kids how much those vet bills and food costs are. No, no, no.” Did anybody hear or listen to me? Apparently not.

We. Have. A. Dog. Named. Winnie. (She’s a hoot!) It’s taken some time but all the love Winnie felt for JD, she has quietly lavished on the Hubs. Sure, I make her homemade dog food (brown rice, sweet potatoes, carrots, green beans, diced chicken, sausage, but she is once again a one-man-dog.

The year has been a painful learning experience for a loss of the man Ari devoted her life and heart to. For a young girl who lost her father before she turned a decade. They talk about him all the time. Jovi recently asked me if she ever sat in an antique high chair sitting in my living room? I told her all the time when she was little and went to the pictures on my iPad. Literally dozens of pictures of suppers at our house with Jovi chowing down, sitting in that high chair. Many right next to her daddy at the table. Jovi was so happy looking at those pictures, “look at my little feet, standing on my daddy’s big feet and we’re dancing!” She’d giggle and look at the next photo. Tears were streaming down my face, yet Jovi only saw the joy and love between her and her daddy. Life was good. He loved her so much, and she could see that, over and over again…