Friday, April 15, 2011
One bite takes me back.
Today while at the commissary on my grocery shopping trip, I ran across something I hadn't seen in years. Voortman's Windmill Cookies. I had to buy a sleeve and as soon as I got home and put the rest of the groceries away I ripped open the package. To my surprise they'd changed the design of the cookie, and I admit- I was a little disappointed. But when I bit into the snack, I was instantly transported back to my gramma's kitchen in Wyoming, Michigan. I was once again a carefree, eight-year-old little girl sitting at the 50's era kitchen table with it's plastic tablecloth, Bible and "Our Daily Bread" devotional sitting next to the napkins and salt & pepper. I was flooded with memories of my sweet grandparents and how much fun we had with them...whether it was at their house up north or down at our house in Florida where they'd spent about a month every winter. Then I thought about how I wish I'd have asked more questions and really taken in all their stories. My grandma was one of 15 kids born to farmers in Marne, Michigan. Her parents were marriedi n 1900 and both came from "the old country" of the Netherlands. My grandpa grew up in Chicago during the mobster era...I remember one story he told (very vaguely of course because my sisters & I were young and impressionable) about seeing a mob hit go down while he was walking home from school. My grandparents survived the Great Depression and World War 2. I remember them speaking Dutch around us when they didn't want us to hear what they were talking about. They taught us a couple of little rhymes and finger plays in Dutch, but unfortunately I only remember little snippets. They both passed away in 2003 and were as much in love then as they had ever been. I miss them every day, but especially when I look at my kids and think "Man- they'd sure get a kick out of them!" We were fortunate enough for them to both meet Noah when he was a baby, but they never got to meet Jonah or Sophia. Jonah was the first great-grandchild born after they both passed, and we derived Jonah's name from my grandpa, John. Isn't it amazing how one little bite of a simple ginger cookie can bring back such memories?