So What if She Was Not a Great Cook

Much of my early childhood my Mom did not work. Her job was somewhat, June Cleaveresque, a typical woman of the 1950's. She stayed home and washed clothes and hung them up on a line in the back yard. To make sure my Dad's khakis had a crease she put a metal form inside them and then hung them up. The cleaning and ironing were easy for her.

However, her Achilles heel was cooking. Mom was a terrible cook. She had never had to cook until she was married. The kitchen for her was uncharted territory.I remember the famous lopsided cake that she baked for the church bake sale. Mom thought she could disguise the top layer's unevenness by placing some pink plastic flowers on the sloping side. Not yet able to appreciate this accomplishment, I was mortified when she placed it proudly on the table with the rest of the cakes for sale. The long table was filled with baked delicacies of every kind, fancy coconut cakes, red devil and German chocolate cakes. I prayed that the cake would not be the last one left on the table at the end of the sale. To my relief, her cake was not the last one purchased. Mom was so proud of herself that she sent home with a beautiful smile on her face.