Sunday, November 27, 2011

Happy Sunday!

Today we were challenged at church to write in a journal for future generations. I don't keep a journal, but that is why I started this blog. When I think of those that came before me in my family my first question is usually, "What did they do for a living?" I have a lot of family stories from my mother's side of the family, but little from my father's. We were always getting together with mom's family, but my dad only had 1 sister and we didn't have 'family dinners' with her and her family. The only time we really got together with them was when there was a funeral, wedding or graduation in the family. Not many stories were told about past members of the family during those times.

Sundays use to be one of the busiest days for mom and I when I was a teen. Sundays usually meant that family was coming over for "Sunday Dinner". From my memory banks "Sunday Dinner" meant either spagetti or roast beef on the table. I can't remember what else was a 'usual' meal. It was always chaos when the families would arrive. We had between 5-20 extra people in the house for that meal almost every Sunday. Sister, brothers, spouses and of course who could forget the 'kids', which were my nephews and nieces. I was the official babysitter after everybody arrived. Not every Sunday went smooth, but nobody killed anybody and I was always very thankful when the noise level returned to normal. I don't know how my mother managed to sleep in on those days with all the work she had to do to get ready for everybody. I guess it helped a lot when 'dinner' wasn't until 2 PM and she always had part of the dinner done the day before. She had making a huge meal down to a fine art I think. I remember one Sunday morning before everybody showed up asking her to teach me how she made spaghetti sauce. She said she was to busy, so after I was married the first time I learned how to do it by using the recipe on the back of the Muller's lasagna box. I still don't know how she managed to get her spaghetti sauce to taste so good. I do know that she used Ragu sauce as her base then added 'stuff' to it.... We never had garlic bread, but plain bread and butter with the bread being sliced Italian. The 'kids' sat at the kitchen table and the 'adults' sat at the dining room table. I guess I was 'adult' enough because I don't ever remember sitting in the kitchen. I can hear my sisters saying, 'That was because you were spoiled!'. Yep, they'd be right LOL! Then they'd have to admit that they helped! Of course there was all kinds of yelling back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room before everybody was quiet from stuffing their faces. Mom was always the last to sit down, but always managed to be the first one done. She would get the meal together and then all of us 'girls' had clean up duty. I remember one time we managed to talk the 'boys' into doing clean up. That didn't happen very often. Mostly the 'boys' sat in the living room watching the current ball game yelling at the TV, head shaking and feet stomping at the 'idiot' thing that was done.... I think it is an universal thing for 'boys' to yell at the TV during sports :).... Sometimes the 'adults' would sit around and play cards. If there weren't any 'kids' around for me to watch I usually sat around the table and listened to the stories. That was one of the best times for me. The 'bestest' time for me was when everybody left and there was peace and quiet in the house again.

By the time I graduated from high school all of the 'kids' were doing other things and there were fewer "Sunday Dinners" at grandma's. I don't know how many "Sunday Dinners" the rest of my brother and sisters have with their families now, but I know I have few. With my kids scattered all over the United States it's hard to have a family get together on a regular basis. That is why I started this blog, to pass down the stories and happening that my family doesn't hear at the 'Sunday Dinner' table.....


Happy Quilting, Sharon
"Quilting the Kaye Wood Way"
Certified Instructor since 2009

No comments:

Post a Comment