Shortly after my last post, I got a phone call from my mother. This was followed later in the afternoon my another call, and a final call late that night. My grandma had died.
I don't usually discuss personal experiences or thoughts on my blog; generally I stick to the topic of my art and related events, but today I feel like sharing.
For the past several hours I've been trying to write my thoughts about my grandma, and describe what she meant to me and to my family and who she was as a person. Of course, a person cannot be encapsulated in a blog entry, so I have decided instead to tell a favorite story about her.
Growing up, I waited all year every year to feast on Grandma's pumpkin pie. I wouldn't allow myself to eat it at any other time of year, or else I felt like I was cheating. On Thanksgiving day, I had to wait patiently for everyone to finish dinner, and let it settle for a while before breaking into dessert. She knew I loved the pie, and would make enough so that some could be sent home with me.
When I realized that moving away from Syracuse would mean that I may not get to participate in this annual indulgence, I started nagging her for the recipe. Eventually, a year after I had moved and she was visiting KC, she finally shared her secret recipe with me. I believe her exact words were, "Oh, get a can of Libby's and read it!"
I now refer to it as "Grandma's World Famous 'Get a Can of Libby's and Read It!' Pumpkin Pie."