Jeana’s Journal

On Sunday, November 4, my 89 year old mother-in-law passed away. She has left a legacy of devotion to her family and a large posterity. I was asked to pay tribute to my mother-in-law at her funeral last Thursday. Below is a portion of my remarks. The photograph below is of her and our two children in 1979.

I first met Margaret Kimball on a warm Sunday afternoon in May of 1972. A few weeks earlier I had met her son, Charlie., and we had begun dating on a regular basis. On that particular day Charlie had invited me to his home to meet his mother. As we approached her front door, I was worried and a bit apprehensive that I would not measure up to her expectations of me.We stepped up onto the front porch and Charlie opened the screen door for me to enter. In that moment I saw a flash of a seemingly curious scene. In that instant I saw myself entering through that same screen door with two small children. Charlie was not there, only me and the two children. What an odd thought I remember thinking, but by then I was through the door and Margaret was there to greet me for the first time.A few years later the scene that I had seen on my first visit to her home became a reality and it was repeated many times over as I came to know, love, and appreciate my mother-in-law and the gifts of self that she offered me. She shared with me her cooking skills and her enthusiasm for making holidays an event. She shared her knowledge of gardening and she shared many plant starts from her flower beds. A few of those plants are still going in the yards of those she shared them with.

I had a wonderful mother, but she was not a great cook. She was a basic cook who knew how to stretch a few dollars into a meal for ten, but cooking was a duty for her. For Margaret, cooking was a pleasure. She made the best fried chicken I had ever eaten. Her strawberry ice cream was remarkable and her Sour Cream Cake with Burnt Butter Frosting is still our daughter’s favorite dessert. A list of the delicious recipes Margaret shared with me, and that became family favorites of our children, could go on and on.

In the early years of our marriage Margaret invited us to Sunday dinner. She would buy a special roast from the butcher and would explain to me how choice it was and how she had selected it above the others. On those occasions I looked forward to that one meal all week long. When we arrived for dinner the smells of that perfect roast cooking, along with potatoes and other vegetables were almost as good as the meal itself.

Being a great cook is a talent, but being willing to teach and share what you know is an even greater trait. She was generous in sharing all that I asked of her and more. The best teachers teach at the rate of a student’s ability to learn and that is how she worked with me. She taught me how to make the best gravy possible from the pan drippings left after cooking a roast.

She also taught me about cooking fresh vegetables to perfection. I had never tasted vegetables cooked the way she did. She combined common and unusual vegetables together in one dish, such as carrots and parsnips. They were served mashed together with a dolop of real butter melting on top. Our children have always loved vegetables and that fact is totally due to Margaret’s influence on my cooking.

When I complimented or commented on her skill she would shrug and say, “That’s the way my mother always cooked.”

I remember the first Thanksgiving I enjoyed at her house. Preparations began weeks ahead when she ordered a nice big fresh hen turkey (lots of breast meat) from Main Street Poultry. Then a few days ahead of the big event she would prepare and freeze the Cranberry Ice. Next came the making of pumpkin pie one or two days ahead. Anticipation continued to build when on the eve of the big day she and Ruth York (her next door neighbor) made the trip to Main Street Poultry to pick up “the turkey.” Anyone who happened to stop by her house that day was invited to come to the fridge and inspect the special turkey.

Later that evening R. always crumbled a couple of loaves of bread in preparation for the stuffing that she would make at 4:00 or 5:00 a.m. before stuffing the turkey and getting it in the oven by 6:00 a.m Thanksgiving morning. This early morning preparation was for her family. I believe it was a source of pride and pleasure to her to know that her children would be awaken by the enticing smell of roasting turkey.

The meal was always delicious and perfectly presented, but the anticipation and preparations before the event were as enjoyable as the meal itself.

Christmas was equally celebrated with candy making well in advance and much checking and tasting of the candy to see how it was aging as the days drew nearer to Christmas. The ritual of the turkey dinner preparations were repeated again at Christmastime. In addition to the food she always gave generous gifts. Her income was modest but she spent little on herself and saved her money to be able to give her family the best. She loved her children and grandchildren dearly and one of the ways she demonstrated that affection was through her generous gifts to them.

Margaret was an early riser and she did her daily household chores long before the day began for many people. R., our son, and I lived with her for a few months before our daughter was born. Since R. and I both worked full time, we looked forward to sleeping in on Saturday mornings, but between Margaret’s energetic cleaning and our son’s young age, it did not happen often.

We slept in the basement and as we emerged into the light of day we were always greeted with a sunny good morning from Margaret. Her favorite chair was in the dining room next to an east-facing window. I can still see her there with the morning paper opened to the crossword puzzle and a smile on her face.

In looking back to those years it is hard for me to separate her next-door-neighbor, Ruth York, from Margaret in terms of everyday life. The two of them were in each other’s houses on a daily basis. Whatever one would do, the other would soon follow.

For example, when one of them made spaghetti sauce she would explain to me in great detail how it was done, and then the next day the other would have a pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove and explain to me how her special sauce was made, and then, she would carefully explain how her spaghetti sauce was better than the other one’s version.

They were a formidable team on the lookout for the best sales. Every week they scanned the ads and, if necessary, they drove across town to capture the best prices on anything they needed. Wherever they shopped the clerks always remembered them. On the occasions when I accompanied Margaret on her errands I was impressed that so many of the store clerks knew her by name.

Ruth had a newer car but she did not like to drive. Margaret had an old car and was willing to drive, so often when they shopped Margaret drove Ruth’s 1964 Ford Mustang. The two little ladies with gray hair were quite a sight driving along in Ruth’s sporty pink car.

Theirs was a fun and interesting friendship and rivalry to observe, but I am sure that they enjoyed it even more.

Margaret was 54 years old when I first met her. She was enthusiastic about life, a bit of a character, and proud of her children. As all good mentors do, she shared what she knew with me and encouraged me to go beyond the point she had achieved. She is a lovely lady and I am proud to be a part of her life.

On Sunday, November 4, my 89 year old mother-in-law passed away. She has left a legacy of devotion to her family and a large posterity. I was asked to pay tribute to my mother-in-law at her funeral last Thursday. Below is a portion of my remarks. The photograph below is of her and our two children in 1979.

I first met Margaret Kimball on a warm Sunday afternoon in May of 1972. A few weeks earlier I had met her son, Charlie., and we had begun dating on a regular basis. On that particular day Charlie had invited me to his home to meet his mother. As we approached her front door, I was worried and a bit apprehensive that I would not measure up to her expectations of me.We stepped up onto the front porch and Charlie opened the screen door for me to enter. In that moment I saw a flash of a seemingly curious scene. In that instant I saw myself entering through that same screen door with two small children. Charlie was not there, only me and the two children. What an odd thought I remember thinking, but by then I was through the door and Margaret was there to greet me for the first time.A few years later the scene that I had seen on my first visit to her home became a reality and it was repeated many times over as I came to know, love, and appreciate my mother-in-law and the gifts of self that she offered me. She shared with me her cooking skills and her enthusiasm for making holidays an event. She shared her knowledge of gardening and she shared many plant starts from her flower beds. A few of those plants are still going in the yards of those she shared them with.

I had a wonderful mother, but she was not a great cook. She was a basic cook who knew how to stretch a few dollars into a meal for ten, but cooking was a duty for her. For Margaret, cooking was a pleasure. She made the best fried chicken I had ever eaten. Her strawberry ice cream was remarkable and her Sour Cream Cake with Burnt Butter Frosting is still our daughter’s favorite dessert. A list of the delicious recipes Margaret shared with me, and that became family favorites of our children, could go on and on.

In the early years of our marriage Margaret invited us to Sunday dinner. She would buy a special roast from the butcher and would explain to me how choice it was and how she had selected it above the others. On those occasions I looked forward to that one meal all week long. When we arrived for dinner the smells of that perfect roast cooking, along with potatoes and other vegetables were almost as good as the meal itself.

Being a great cook is a talent, but being willing to teach and share what you know is an even greater trait. She was generous in sharing all that I asked of her and more. The best teachers teach at the rate of a student’s ability to learn and that is how she worked with me. She taught me how to make the best gravy possible from the pan drippings left after cooking a roast.

She also taught me about cooking fresh vegetables to perfection. I had never tasted vegetables cooked the way she did. She combined common and unusual vegetables together in one dish, such as carrots and parsnips. They were served mashed together with a dolop of real butter melting on top. Our children have always loved vegetables and that fact is totally due to Margaret’s influence on my cooking.

When I complimented or commented on her skill she would shrug and say, “That’s the way my mother always cooked.”

I remember the first Thanksgiving I enjoyed at her house. Preparations began weeks ahead when she ordered a nice big fresh hen turkey (lots of breast meat) from Main Street Poultry. Then a few days ahead of the big event she would prepare and freeze the Cranberry Ice. Next came the making of pumpkin pie one or two days ahead. Anticipation continued to build when on the eve of the big day she and Ruth York (her next door neighbor) made the trip to Main Street Poultry to pick up “the turkey.” Anyone who happened to stop by her house that day was invited to come to the fridge and inspect the special turkey.

Later that evening R. always crumbled a couple of loaves of bread in preparation for the stuffing that she would make at 4:00 or 5:00 a.m. before stuffing the turkey and getting it in the oven by 6:00 a.m Thanksgiving morning. This early morning preparation was for her family. I believe it was a source of pride and pleasure to her to know that her children would be awaken by the enticing smell of roasting turkey.

The meal was always delicious and perfectly presented, but the anticipation and preparations before the event were as enjoyable as the meal itself.

Christmas was equally celebrated with candy making well in advance and much checking and tasting of the candy to see how it was aging as the days drew nearer to Christmas. The ritual of the turkey dinner preparations were repeated again at Christmastime. In addition to the food she always gave generous gifts. Her income was modest but she spent little on herself and saved her money to be able to give her family the best. She loved her children and grandchildren dearly and one of the ways she demonstrated that affection was through her generous gifts to them.

Margaret was an early riser and she did her daily household chores long before the day began for many people. R., our son, and I lived with her for a few months before our daughter was born. Since R. and I both worked full time, we looked forward to sleeping in on Saturday mornings, but between Margaret’s energetic cleaning and our son’s young age, it did not happen often.

We slept in the basement and as we emerged into the light of day we were always greeted with a sunny good morning from Margaret. Her favorite chair was in the dining room next to an east-facing window. I can still see her there with the morning paper opened to the crossword puzzle and a smile on her face.

In looking back to those years it is hard for me to separate her next-door-neighbor, Ruth York, from Margaret in terms of everyday life. The two of them were in each other’s houses on a daily basis. Whatever one would do, the other would soon follow.

For example, when one of them made spaghetti sauce she would explain to me in great detail how it was done, and then the next day the other would have a pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove and explain to me how her special sauce was made, and then, she would carefully explain how her spaghetti sauce was better than the other one’s version.

They were a formidable team on the lookout for the best sales. Every week they scanned the ads and, if necessary, they drove across town to capture the best prices on anything they needed. Wherever they shopped the clerks always remembered them. On the occasions when I accompanied Margaret on her errands I was impressed that so many of the store clerks knew her by name.

Ruth had a newer car but she did not like to drive. Margaret had an old car and was willing to drive, so often when they shopped Margaret drove Ruth’s 1964 Ford Mustang. The two little ladies with gray hair were quite a sight driving along in Ruth’s sporty pink car.

Theirs was a fun and interesting friendship and rivalry to observe, but I am sure that they enjoyed it even more.

Margaret was 54 years old when I first met her. She was enthusiastic about life, a bit of a character, and proud of her children. As all good mentors do, she shared what she knew with me and encouraged me to go beyond the point she had achieved. She is a lovely lady and I am proud to be a part of her life.