It takes a lot of time in the kitchen to bake all those cookies and holiday treats. Any cook can attest to that. And, when the dog eats your cookies, there's even more toiling to do over the mixing bowl, but I figure it's all worth it.
The reward for all these hours in the kitchen comes on days like today when we get to at least say hello to our neighbors, for whom most of the cookies/breads/candies and treats are intended.
Those visits don't ALWAYS occur at delivery time, but they happen eventually during the season, and when they do, one of the highlights of Christmas comes to fruition.
The Ten Commandments tell us some rules about our neighbors----specifically no coveting. Let's hope there's some fine print in there saying it's okay to covet your neighbors' cookies or caramel corn, cuz along with those goodies comes the yearly reminder of just how important, valued and loved your neighbors happen to be.
Is there a "love thy neighbor" clause in God's rules? I think so, and I do love my neighbors. In fact, I have, for the most part, throughout my life. Oh, there have been a few incidents causing a little conflict from time to time, but those work both ways.
I'm sure my neighbors along North Boyer did NOT love the unknown soul who stole their mail every day for three weeks. Of course, except for Mrs. Moore, I think most of them never knew who that neighbor was until I revealed my sin publicly as an adult.
I guess I got off on good behavior for coveting my neighbors' mail at such a young age. That incident and its repercussions alone taught me some strict lifelong guidelines about coveting and then acting on one's covetry.
Anyway, cookie plate time with the neighors goes back to the days when my mother toiled for long hours in the kitchen on those long winter nights before Christmas. I'm guessing my cookie plates so many decades later look a heckuva lot like hers did as far back as the '50s.
Mother's plates went to the Hudons, the Bests, Mr. Dusty (the hermit), Pappy White, Joe Carter, Roy Spear and other friends who spent a lot of time at our farm or vice versa.
They say the best way to teach others is by example.
I guess I learned from my mother how much those cookie plates were appreciated and that their meaning went beyond sweets and too many calories.
If only the neighbors knew what my mother endured to get a full plate prepared for them, they would have really appreciated her annual gestures.
If only the neighbors knew what my mother endured to get a full plate prepared for them, they would have really appreciated her annual gestures.
Mother had dogs and cats, but they knew enough to leave the cookies alone. Besides, they couldn't get into the freezer to sample them.
Mother also had kids----enterprising kids----kids who learned that the butcher knife would work just fine at tripping the latch of her locked freezer and that a screwdriver used on the hardware for the padlock could get you into her "fruit room."
There was usually an explosion and maybe a few banging pans when Mother would happily go to her freezer or fruit room to bring out the goods, slip the key into the lock, open the top and discover cookie containers with a sudden shortage of goods inside.
I don't know really what she did after these discoveries to take care of the shortages because we usually disappeared when her scary maternal noise started blasting off in the kitchen.
Somehow she managed, though, and the neighbors were always happy with most folks (except the bachelors) exchanging their own offerings for the annual Tibbs cookie plate. Most notable each year was John Hudon's homemade huckleberry and raspberry wine.
John is not aging wine at his North Boyer farm anymore. As his nephew Pat Gooby noted in the annual Pat Gooby Christmas epistle, John found his place in Heaven this year---where he and many of the aforementioned neighbors are probably sitting around smiling and sipping on his brew.
And, so today is Neighbor Day here in Selle as well as in the old neighborhood with the cookie plates. Some have already been delivered, but the bulk of these deliveries will involve walks in the snow to make the drops or a few short drives where some offerings may have to go into mailboxes.
Yes, I learned from my postal pilfering days that it is better to give than receive when it comes to mailboxes.
I'm looking forward to whatever short visits transpire from cookie-plate deliveries. I love sharing the headlines of life with these people of common geography. Most notable out here in Selle have been visits my to the Meserve's next door.
Geneva brews up some coffee and asks Stan to reach for the cannister of hard gingersnaps up on a high shelf in the cupboard. Gingersnaps and coffee have been a staple for many Meserve visits.
Meanwhile, Geneva pulls out her home-baked cookie supply and a basket. We all chat while she selects an assortment of cookies for the basket. After a good visit, it's off to the next delivery.
By the time the entire neighborhood cookie-plate exchange has ended, we're all caught up on what's new with kids, animals and local happenings.
Then, it's time to graze off the neighbor's goodies for the next few days and then resume a life of waving as daily life goes on for all of us----all sweet fodder for chapters to be reported with next year's cookie ritual.
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