Isn’t it funny how a memory can sneak up on you, putting a smile on your face for no apparent reason? Then someone asks, “What are you thinking about?” and you just shrug and say, “Oh, nothing.” Because some memories are just yours to hold onto. And let’s be honest—sometimes when you do share them, people look at you like you’re crazy. Okay, okay, I’ve had plenty of people give me that look. Maybe I am a little crazy.
During a recent call with my siblings, we got to reminiscing about Grandma Cooper. At some point, someone said, “Well, Grandma wasn’t a great cook.” And just like that, two memories flashed through my mind—one that still makes me laugh, and another that warms my heart to this day.
The Crunchiest Chips You’ll Ever Eat
One weekend at Grandma’s cottage, we were getting ready for lunch. She was making PB&J sandwiches, the kind that somehow tasted better just because she made them. She popped open a can of Charles Chips, sampled a few, and then—out of nowhere—grabbed a baking sheet and dumped the chips onto it. Into the oven they went.
“Wash up and get ready for lunch!” she called out.
When we returned to the table, there sat our PB&J sandwiches on our initialed paper plates, next to our initialed paper cups filled with bright red Kool-Aid. And, of course, those potato chips, fresh from the oven.
Now, here’s the thing. As we started eating, those chips were extra crunchy. We tried to keep straight faces, but the sounds—oh, the sounds!—were impossible to ignore. A single bite felt like crunching on gravel. We exchanged sideways glances, trying not to giggle. Me, Greg, and Erin were doing our best to chew quietly, but the chips tasted off. Then it hit us—Grandma had tried to “fix” stale chips by baking them.
The realization was too much. We started making faces at each other, silently over-exaggerating our chewing, pretending to choke just for fun. It was all we could do to keep from busting out laughing. But lunchtime wasn’t playtime, and we knew better than to push our luck.
After we finished, Grandma sent us outside to rake leaves. As soon as we were out of sight, we lost it—giggling, choking dramatically, reenacting the stale chip situation over and over. We thought we were getting away with something, but Grandma wasn’t oblivious.
As we raked the last pile of leaves and got ready to burn them, she finally asked, “What has gotten into the three of you today?”
We froze. I blurted out, “We’re just excited to be with you!”
Grandma lowered her chin and peered at me over the top of her glasses. Then she looked at Greg. Then at Erin.
That’s when Erin, the youngest of us, whispered, “The potato chips were stale.”
Grandma just shrugged. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
And that was that.
The Best Oatmeal in the World
Now, for all the teasing we did about those crunchy chips, there was one thing nobody—nobody—could ever beat Grandma at: oatmeal.
Specifically, her oatmeal with peaches.
I don’t know what magic she worked, but her oatmeal was legendary. Creamy, thick, and just the right amount of sweet, with soft peaches folded in so that every bite was like a little piece of heaven.
Maybe it was the way she made it, stirring it with a wooden spoon that had probably been around longer than I had. Maybe it was the way she let the peaches soak in the warm oats just long enough to melt into them. Or maybe it was just the feeling of being at Grandma’s table, knowing she’d made something special just for us.
To this day, I’ve never had oatmeal that even comes close.
So yeah, maybe Grandma wasn’t a gourmet cook. But I wouldn’t trade those memories—the laughter over stale chips or the warmth of that perfect oatmeal—for anything in the world.
And if I ever smile to myself when I think of her, and someone asks, “What are you thinking about?”
I’ll probably just say, “Oh, nothing.”
Because some memories are just too good to share with anyone who wasn’t there.
YOU MAY ALSO LIKE:
Grandma Cooper A Dealer of Cards and Life Lessons
Leave a Reply