The Minnesota Farm Woman

My cousin and my 91-year-old uncle make an annual trip from northern Michigan every fall for a visit. I won’t tell you my cousin’s age, because she may not like it and  besides, knows a few secrets about me such as just how cluttered my kitchen cupboards are.  She knows this little secret because she does the dishes when she comes to visit, with help from my sister.  I cook and they wash the dishes. We like it that way. When I can’t find certain dishes or utensils  for a few weeks, I don’t mind a bit.  They brought along some old family pictures from my late Auntie Olive’s cedar chest.  We enjoyed looking at the old pictures and having Mom identify the people for us. I remember how Mom and Auntie Olive used to sing together as they worked, one singing melody and one singing harmony, voices blending perfectly as sisters’ voices often do.  I confess that we sometimes skip church during these visits, as late nights of sipping wine and chatting do not necessarily lead to getting up early on Sunday mornings. This morning, we all decided to go together, visitors from two houses and in two cars, sliding into the row together, early rather than late, because that’s just the way we are.  Strangely enough, one of the hymns the pastor chose  was an old Swedish song that my mom and aunt often sang together, one that was sung at their mother’s funeral.  I remember them like it was yesterday, singing that favorite old hymn and then switching over to something with a little more pep, never seeming to forget the words or the tune. As the music started,  my cousin and I sang the harmony as my sister sang the melody, slipping into the music with voices that blended together well, just as our mothers did before us. The other strange thing was that on this of all days, our friend Barb Tornes decided to make cardamom bread for coffee after the church service.  Her cardamom bread is delicious and is a recipe that she got from Mom who got it from Auntie Olive many years ago.  You could consider that an old family recipe for sure.  Being a family is much more than singing in harmony. It can mean still singing along even when things are not so harmonious.  Being a family means cleaning your sister’s bathroom when company is coming and she has run out of time. Being a family means eating good meals together on a weekend and not counting the calories.  Being a family means sharing a slice of cardamom bread and a cup of good strong Lutheran coffee on a Sunday morning and smiling, because each time you are together, you are making new memories.