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| Robert Peck, 1951 - 1997 |
All my life, my family has called me "Sis". Now that there are only three of us, hearing "Sis" comes less and less frequently. That fact pulls out stories about a few of those times.
My brother Robert was born January 14, 1951. Then about eleven months later, I was born on December 4, 1951. We were inseparable, sometimes enemies and sometimes friends. But, always always we were ready to be there for the other.
Robert was able to talk me into cook or bake a treat for him. How, I don't know. "Sis...let's make some..." only he did not do the work.
He convinced me to make deep-fried onion rings on Sunday afternoon. My hair smelled like onions even when we went to church at night. Had to shampoo several times to remove that odor. Then he thought frying up some bologna sounded good and I made that for him.
But, Robert's favorites were anything sweet. Again, he would say, "Sis...let's make some..." I would sigh, but there would quickly be some dessert of any type.
Here are some of his favorites, taken from Mom's cook book given to her as a wedding present in 1946. The binding is gone, pages fragile and crumbling. Lots of splatters and wear speak volumes.
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| God bless Betty Crocker. |
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| She taught many war brides how to cook. |
Sis. How I would love to hear Robert say "Sis...let's make some..." again. I probably would mix up hundreds of batches, just for him.
Each stain in an old cookbook speaks of love. Feeding someone comes from the heart. Those are fun and wonderful memories you have of your brother.
ReplyDeleteLooking at those recipes brings back the noise in the kitchen, laughing, Mom and Dad reading, and other sounds of home.
DeleteMy mother dies in 97, too. She was 79. She is the relative I have the most solid memory of her age and when she left us, probably because the numbers interchange. My mother's cookbook was The Settlement House cookbook. It has been rebound once. We still cook from it. You don't find rhubarb custard in any modern cookbook.
ReplyDeleteThere are many many recipes from that time period, which are not around in this era. I wish this cookbook could have been re-bound. By the time the cookbook came to my house it was nearly done. Now I keep it tied together with a long piece of quilting fabric.
DeleteSweet memories of your brother. I have my grandmother's Fannie Farmer cookbook, full of notes/recipes on bits of paper. It's so brittle, but I still haul it out from time to time to look up a recipe, timing, or measurement. It's like having my grandmother in the kitchen with me.
ReplyDeleteHow wonderful! Those memories are so strong, aren't they?
DeleteSo many memories can come from cookbooks and cooking. He knew how to get his sweets, just go to you.
ReplyDeleteYes, he did. He had a way with words, and charm.
DeleteThose stains and splatters speak loudly. And sing sweetly.
ReplyDeleteMy brother Robert is also the closest to me in age. And has me wound round his finger.
I hope every family has an old cookbook like this one somewhere. Era, culture, morals--all speak.
DeleteRobert has been gone for almost 20 years, but I still think of baking for him.
I wonder what brought him to mind today. You could make something in honor of him.
ReplyDeleteThat makes me wonder as well. Why today? Perhaps it is time to bake some cookies.
DeleteFunny how nicknames get stuck. Mine (Flossie few clothes) didn't and I'm grateful for that, but my youngest has been known as The Boy all his life. He's 35 now and his brother and sisters all call him The Boy still.
ReplyDeleteThe Boy? What is his real name, just asking? That could make for a story.
DeleteJames.
DeleteWhen memories are passed on, verbally or in writing, they become part of family lore so that, sometimes, we believe we were present when A said that to B, or when C fell down the stairs. Received memory - wonderful, though sometimes confusing.
ReplyDeleteMemories tend to merge or get squished into together, resulting in massive entertaining or not memory.
Delete