Gratitude
Remembering My Grandma’s Birthday
On Christmas cookies and little presents for yourself
The first of December was my grandma’s birthday, and I always think of her on this day. Well, I think of her much more often, but in particular on her birthday.
December 1 always feels like the official start of Christmas for me. My grandma used to have us over to bake cookies for Christmas, not on her birthday (that was a day to go out to lunch) but not long after.
When I was growing up, she only ever baked at Christmas, but my mom has told me she baked a lot when my mom and her sisters were kids. I think that after her kids grew up, my grandma preferred to enjoy the convenience foods that she and my grandpa couldn’t easily afford in their youth.
I remember my grandparents having a whole cupboard of canned soups; when my brother and I came over at lunchtime, we could pick whatever soup we wanted from a wide selection. They always had multiple kinds of crackers and cookies on hand, and usually something like Little Debbies or Zingers (which were like Hostess cakes but had Charlie Brown on the box).
These days one might say my grandparents represented abundance to me as a kid. We had all kinds of delicious, home-cooked food at our house, but my grandparents always had something different and intriguing: even their breakfast cereals were different than ours.
Christmas baking with my grandma was the most abundant experience of all. She’d cover the dining room table with newspaper and then the wax paper on top. As the cookies cooled, we’d arrange them in rows, overlapping the cookies to fit as many as possible on the table.
My mom and my aunt brought all their containers, and we had big Ziploc freezer bags, too. Everything got filled with cookies, enough to eat every day before Christmas, and plenty for everyone’s freezer.
My mom and I are planning to try and get my nephews to bake cookies with us later this week. They already like playing cards and doing jigsaw puzzles, which were a couple of my grandma’s main pastimes, so we’re cautiously optimistic.
A. Edmiston recently asked if it was OK to fill a stocking for herself for Christmas (the answer is YES), and this reminded me of how my grandma would buy herself a Christmas present and wrap it and put it under the tree for herself with a little gift tag: To Betty, From Betty.
On my grandma’s birthday this year, I’m thinking about how you have to make your own fun. She didn’t buy herself extravagant Christmas presents, just a little something to put under the tree — I think she got a kick out of the process.
She believed in the little things, whether it was giving me a get-well card when I was under the weather (even though I saw her all the time), or always patiently finding quarters in her purse for my brother and me to buy tiny plastic football helmets from the grocery store vending machine.
People didn’t talk about self-care thirty years ago like we do today, but I think my grandma was onto something. I minored in philosophy in college, but she shaped my worldview more than any philosopher, whether I’m baking cookies or writing short poems about the easy-to-miss moments of everyday life.
