Saturday, September 24, 2016
My grandson Miro is going to come to visit. He just graduated from college in California. The last time we talked he said he wanted to know more about the family.
My grandmother was a seamstress who wore a housedress to work at the B.R. Baker Men's Clothing store in Toledo. They would let her come out from the back room to say hello to us when we visited from Detroit.
Then, we would go over to the tire store owned by my two uncles. I remember the smells. From the big cigars they smoked or held unlit between their teeth. ("Ugh!" when they tried to kiss me.) And, of course, from the tires. They let us go into the back room where the tires were stacked in enormous black piles.
Sometimes we would visit my Aunt Rose. She baked cakes at a deli. This time the back room was the kitchen where we would find her dusted with flour while stirring chocolate batter with a wooden spoon in a huge bowl.
The very cool thing about Aunt Rose is that many years later her children encouraged her to write a cookbook and she was on the Johnny Carson show!
The cookbook has disappeared -- but I still have the stories. I still have them, Miro, if you are interested.