During my first pregnancy, I ate a ton of Cream of Wheat. That and apples were all I could stomach. But I am not that good at keeping lumps out, and I haven’t made it for years. Great essay, though!

When I went to Finland I discovered a dessert made from Cream of Wheat that is a family favorite. Essentially you cook the cream of wheat in some kind of tart berry juice (I use cranberry), then you whip it for what seems like an hour. Then you serve it with cream. It’s the only way I can eat Cream of Wheat.

Wendy–thanks for your great comment. I love that your one grandmother played Mr. Potato Head with a real potato and that you did the Hokey Pokey together. As for your other grandmother, I think there is a special place in heaven for those people who are good cheerleaders. Thanks again for sharing a bit of their stories.

Most of my memories around my dad’s mom are around food. She grew up on a farm in Minnesota. Though she wasn’t LDS, she was a full Swede, and I never did like her orange jello salad with shredded carrots and pineapple. She made the best fried chicken in the world, the best mashed potatoes and gravy, and the absolute best cinnamon rolls. Other memories from her home include doing the Hokey Pokey, singing with some old records: “I went to the animal fair” and “working on the chain gang,” playing tiddly winks, and using real potatoes for Mr. Potato Head. Legacy wise, she and my grandpa danced from their dating days until they were too weak to dance anymore.

My mom’s mom had more sadness to tell about, rough marriages, mistreatment by her parents, etc., but what I try to remember most was her strength. She worked herself through part of college (U of U), and left Utah with a friend to move to California. I think she was very social and with-it, until her second husband came into the picture and, being the jealous type, put up a big fuss against friends. Still, she kept her mind and body sharp and active with exercise, home maintenance, cross word puzzles, reading and artistic crafts. I think when she was 87 or 88, she painted her porch to get it ready for moving in with my parents. She played a mean game of Samba (kanasta?) until the very end. Most of all, I think, she was one of my best cheerleaders. Even during her unhappiest times, she was always encouraging, praising and supportive.

Striving to build on their legacies . . . I am no culinary goddess, but I do try to be positive, supportive, and strong, and I love music and dancing. I hope to pass on their stories, the positive and the hard stuff. They were good women.