Monday, January 21, 2008
The most fond memory I have of my grandfather is one evening when I was maybe 16. My family was in North Dakota for a visit, and for some reason my parents went out, and my grandpa and I were left alone for a few hours. He decided we should make blueberry muffins together. He didn't seem too confidant about following the instructions on the box himself, so I did the reading and the measuring. Actually, I'm not sure what he did, other than maybe turn the oven on. He was playing a recording of his quartet for me. I can't remember what hymn they were singing, but I remember his tenor voice--warbly but sweet, and I remember the kitchen humid in the North Dakota summer. I don't know if I really had the opportunity to be alone with him at any other time in my life. So it's a good memory, and a special one. And tomorrow morning, I think I'll have a blueberry muffin in its honor.
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