Grand-Bea

true love

I've never really liked cold cereal all that much.
I can vaguely remember eating it at our little table in the den in Danville, IL, watching Little House on the Prairie or the news - anything but cartoons, which were forbidden before school.
I never bought boxes of the sugary stuff to store in my half of the cabinet in college and I still never stock the fiber filled, protein packed flakes in my very own pantry.

Cold cereal to me is depressing.
Think about it.
How about I start my day with something ice cold, soggy and liquidy?
Just the thought beckons me to crawl back in bed because starting a day with droopy Chex certainly means doom looms nearby.

But at Grand-Bea's house the average bowl of cold cereal turned into a understated, yet delicious event. She would see me walk into her kitchen looking for the perfect breakfast. Something to make those cool North Carolina mountain mornings start off on the right foot. "How about some cereal?" She'd ask, eyes twinkling, hand practically on the box. Meanwhile, Grandpa would slip behind her grab a handful of cookies, wink at me and dismiss himself. I wanted those cookies bad, "Sure. I'll take a bowl." Grand-Bea would have me slide into the breakfast nook while she whipped up a bowl of cereal with such precision, you couldn't help but watch. "Peach or banana?" And here's where it got good. The old boring cereal, cold in it's bowl, would come served up with the sweetest peaches sliced perfectly on top. Or circle of bananas would float in the milk, turning the mundane into the delicious. Sometimes, she would lean over the table, just before sitting next to me and shake a teaspoon of sugar over the top of it all. Now, that's what I call breakfast. 

Beatrice Caskey had a way with, well, everything.

But most of all, the girl could cook. After a long and winding car ride from Jackson, TN to their house in the Smoky Mountains, we'd all tumble out of the car and head straight for the paint pen decorated Tupperware that proudly proclaimed "Bea's Treats." Big slices of her German Chocolate cake would start circulating around the room or plates of cookies. We'd all anxiously await dinner, knowing that the food in the Caskey house was far better than anything ordered at a restaurant; even if it did mean sitting through a couple of long-winded (but with great intentions) lectures from my grandfather at the dining room table.

I remember several years back I called up my mom slightly upset that a guy I was dating at the time hadn't raved about the meal I had worked all evening to prepare. "I made it all from scratch and he just shoveled it in his mouth! And barely mumbled 'thank you'." Mom took a deep breath, "Ah, well you see, us Caskey women - we show our love through cooking and baking. A cake to us isn't just flour and sugar, it's filled with two hours of love and appreciation and to most everyone else, food is just food."

A couple years after that and many, many phone calls later I watch my grandparents car pull into the driveway. I didn't know it at the time, but that was our last holiday together. They were in town for Thanksgiving, the biggest and more glorified food day of them all. Grand-Bea in her quiet way, came up to me while sitting on the couch and placed a small navy blue recipe box in my hand. As I mentioned in my post about Grandpa, they liked to bestow us with odd goods, so I couldn't be sure that this box actually continued recipes. I carefully opened it and saw dozens upon dozens of recipes straight from the kitchen of Grand-Bea. She had taken the time to sit down and hand-write every single one; with notes included in the corner like "serve when you have company." The gift of love in a little blue box.

Just 5 weeks after the love of her life passed, she went to join him in Heaven. Grand-Bea you are sorely missed down here; your hugs, that twinkle in your eye when we all knew Grandpa's lectures were going on far too long, your mean golf swing, your always lucky hand in gambling and at bridge, the Christmas ornaments you sent every year to all 9 grandkids without fail and your beautifully handwritten notes. Give God a big slice of your cake and put in a good word for me, will ya?

I love you!
Ashley