|Aunt Maude: under five feet tall, |
but larger than life to my childhood eyes.
We gathered at my maternal grandparents farm in Watsontown, PA, a short drive from our home on the Susquehanna River. For my cousins, siblings and me, a highlight akin to the sighting of a rock star was the arrival of Aunt Maude, delivered to the family gathering by my grandfather, Bob Sheffer.
Mika asked me today, "What was it about her that you loved so much? Was she a great cook?" I have no idea if Aunt Maude was gifted in the kitchen, though I do recall savoring a homemade popcorn ball in festive cellophane one year at Halloween.
"Aunt Maude was soft spoken, ancient, tiny and frail, smelled of soap and talcum powder, and had the softest earlobes you could imagine." Why or how it came to be that we children seized the opportunity to touch her earlobes with the utmost intrigue and respect I cannot say for I don't know. She never seemed to mind, though, which was part of what we loved about her.
The menu today is bereft of Grandma's creamed corn and baked marshmallow candied applesauce, but the mere memory suffices quite well.
Now to see if I can find a pair of soft earlobes in the group.