header



Divider



icon2



I read the poem, "America's Kitchen" this morning and it reminds me of times with my own family.


icon

Our whole group used to get together to have a "canning party." The younger ones would help shuck the corn. The mom's and older girls would make an assembly line. They sat at a HUGE picnic table that was in my uncle's basement.


icon

It was in the same basement where we would all gather for Christmas dinner and being together. The table was custom designed to accommodate a portion, the elders, of this big family. He also built one for my grandmother's backyard. THAT one was for the summer gatherings.


icon

Someone would cut the corn off the cob; someone else would do something different. There was a kitchen in the basement, so they could cook what was going in the jars and then pressure cook the jars to seal them.


icon

We, the little kids, would carry the cobs and other scraps down to feed the animals. I LOVED giving the cobs to the horses. Loved to watch them take the cob with their big lips then chew them with those GIANT teeth.


icon

We're cut from the same cloth, Tim and I. That's why we relate I think. Came from the same kind of roots. :)



Jennifer Deal McCoy©
April 4, 2007
Used With Permission
All Rights Reserved





guest


Back Home
Mail

Divider


"Bridgit O'Malley"
Sequenced by Barry Taylor
Taylor's Traditional Tunebook


© Sindy's Creation & Web Design