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I don’t exactly remember the year it started, but it was
probably in 1968-69. And as I remember it, my dad began
making pancakes on Sunday mornings. I guess the reason this
particular time comes to mind, is because my mother and dad
where in the process of separating. Through years of alcohol
use, disagreements, fights, etc., the influence of alcohol
deteriorated our family so that separation and divorce were
destined. |
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As my dad began, what would become a family tradition of
cooking pancakes and other accompaniments like sausage, bacon,
and eggs, family members would stop by after church on
Sunday. In the beginning the group was small. For a family
and off spring like ours, fifteen was small. My dad probably
did this for about two or three weeks in a row. Then he was
gone to tackle additional experiences and bouts with alcohol. |
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Pa & Jim |
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After he left, my mother took over the task of making
pancakes. |
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What is amazing about this family tradition is the opportunity
it gave our family to interact with each other. This tradition
lasted for about 10-11 years. |
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The time in our lives when we had our Sunday morning
gatherings was still in a time when things were simple.
Pre-microwave, pre-mix, and pre-instant days. So when the
pancake batter was made, it was made from scratch. Flour, dry
milk, eggs, bacon grease, sugar, baking powder, and water.
Nothing was measured---just by hand. But it tastes so good!
However these ingredients came together in this manner was
amazing, but it was great. |
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As I think back to this time, I can see my mother stirring all
the things together. Mixing, so the sides of the pan clanked
each time it was stirred by the spoon. Because of being a
seasoned cook, by experience, she did this with such finesse
and expertise. |
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As the griddle on the stove was heated, she would grease the
top and test it by cooking one pancake. If the pancake was
not golden brown, she would say “Need to add some more sugar
to make it brown.” Plop, some more sugar went in and the
clanking started again. |
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It was hard to tell how many pancakes were made from the
batter, but there was rarely a time when some was left. |
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Here is how the Sunday mornings occurred after church. |
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Within 5 to 10 minutes, everyone sorted of raced to Ma’s
house. Jackets, coats, scarves, gloves all flew somewhere.
The grown-ups would gather around the table in the dining
room. The kids would fight over a place in the living room.
In the living room someone would get teased, someone would
cry, someone would get hollered at. It was comical how
many times this would happen---almost weekly. You would hear
things like “he’s teasing me!,” or “she’s looking at me!,” or
“you’re gonna get a slap.” |
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As the pancakes were being made, gossip would be talked about
by the grown ups. Those darn kids, in the living room, would
also listen and try to add in what they heard. |
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During this time, Ma and I were the only ones that lived at
home. We had a wood-burning stove in the kitchen. So one of
the weekly events for the grandkids was to haul wood into the
shed from outside or up from the basement. Another round of
fights and arguing would occur. But nonetheless, it got done
each week. |
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Sometimes, there would be “unofficial” pancake eating
contests. One of the grandkids would eat 25, 30, or more!
(Seems like Jeff Livingston holds the record to this day!) |
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After the meal, there was usually another round of fights and
arguing about who would do dishes. You would hear a lot of
things like “I did them last week,” or “I’m sick,” or “I have
to go.” Again, somehow they got done. |
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After the eating was done, the adults would play cards, like
cribbage, blitz, or shit on your neighbor. |
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There was a certain status achieved when one of the grandkids
was able to sit in the dining room, as compared to the living
room with the other kids. |
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Sometimes, the visiting and card playing would go on into the
afternoon. There was even a few times that lunch/dinner was
prepared. |
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The tradition became so well known in our community, and at
various times people from the community would stop in.
Friends of Ma’s, other family members, friends from school. |
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It was sort of comical the way a boyfriend or girlfriend was
initiated into the family, with teasing. If you could stand
that and come back, you were accepted into the family. |
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Other stages of life were experienced during this time. Since
I was the youngest, I was the last to leave home. I remember
it well when I left to go to college. I got out of high
school early and went to college immediately. It was at one
of these pancakes breakfasts that Ma and I had our good-bye.
We cried so hard! |
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Ma & Jim |
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Almost as quickly as it started, it also ended. We grew apart
as we got older. In later years, Ma would mix all the dry
ingredients up and give those to her grandkids as
gifts---treasured gifts. |
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It is so ironic how sometimes we want to have or do things
that we did in the past. Prior to Ma’s death, I had hoped to
have one more breakfast of this sort. The pancakes, bacon,
sausage, eggs, playing cards, gossiping, and visiting. |
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Because I know how to make the “special” pancake mix, I will
occasionally have a breakfast of this nature. Even though the
same people will not be there, somehow the breakfast is still
the same. Probably the good memories it brings back has a lot
to do with it. |
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Here’s a special thank you to you Ma and Pa, for the special
time when a family tradition was started and for the memories
your kids and grandkids will have forever. |
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Also dedicated to the families of
Haven and Joyce Livingston, Donna and David Galazen, Butch and
Mary (Duffy) Livingston, Mary Peterson, and Jim Pete and
Sharon Peterson. |
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