At our house, we call 'em Christmas cookies. And, at your house, you can call 'em any ol' thing you like. They all taste the same. That kinda reminds me about what my friend Marilynn told me one day about religions in general. She said they're all like cars. Different brands, different models, but all have the same goal: to get down the road. Only in the religious sense, I guess it's the Highway to Heaven.
Well, I'm not quite ready to get on board for that destination just yet, but maybe my Christmas cookie tradition will help. I learned this tradition from a very giving Mother, who, at 84, remains a very giving mother. She doesn't bake quite as many cookies as she used to, but she still gives everyone her all, and that's quite an example.
Her Christmas-cookie example included plates of at least a dozen varieties of cookies and candy for the Poelstras, the Bests, the Pappy Whites, the Lee Whites, the Racicots, the Crocketts, the Hudons and Ol' Dusty, to name a few. Over the years, the lists of recipients may have changed a time or two but not the spirit of remembering your neighbors at Christmas time.
In Ol' Dusty's case (he was the hermit with the beard hanging off his adam's apple who lived down the road in the woods in an old shack with his billy goats), Mother always put together a hot plate of Christmas dinner, complete with all the extras too. She and Harold would go over there, knock on Dusty's door and present him with his holiday meal. He always appreciated the food and ate every bite.
Mother's example rubbed off, except we don't have any hermits in our neighborhood these days. So, the Feists, Bob Gooby, Thane and Connie, my friends Ray and Norma, the Raihas and the Chambers often receive cookies baked with the hands of Love. We put together a few other plates for family members and office parties.
Today is the day to start bringing in the boxes of cookies baked over the past couple of weeks and arrange them on colorful plates, along with this year's special: a jar of Love's raspberry jelly. I've gotten my jelly to taste pretty darn good, so I like to share it. Raspberry jam is nice, but when you get rid of the seeds, the jelly is heavenly.
When the plates are ready, I often send Bill or the kids to do some of the deliveries and with those visits come updates on what's happening with families or thoughts of what's happening in the neighborhood. We'll be taking a plate to the Chambers Christmas party tonight. Marilynn's been having her annual party on Dec. 23 ever since I can remember, and we've made it to most of them.
I always come in with my grocery bag, and she checks me at the door to see if there's anything other than cookies at the bottom. We have this tradition that's gone on at unannounced times for almost 30 years now. It's an ugly old candle that keeps changing forms and keeps going back and forth in its new forms to Marilyn or me. I've written the story of the "Magic Friendship Candle" in my second book.
Anyway, I've received it as a cow paddy, a lollipop and even as a box of chocolates. You'd have to ask Marilyn what her favorite creation on my end has been. I rather liked when it was the first gift opened at the Hayden Lake Country Club wedding of one of her sons. It was pretty ugly that day, too, so all the more fun. I'm a bit nervous about tonight's party cuz it's my turn to receive the candle.
Well, I could go on and on about the traditions that rise out of baking and sharing those plates of Christmas cookies, but I'd better shut up and get to the kitchen. Lots of work to do. In the meantime, I'll just wish you all a sweet and caloric day and no ugly candles.
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