Childhood Christmas part 3

A couple of months back, I heard from a childhood friend who still lives in the little mountain community where we grew up. She wrote to ask if I would care to contribute any Christmas memories for their holiday newsletter.

Of COURSE I responded right away- nothing fascinates me more than myself. (I've posted a couple of excerpts.) I went ON and ON- my friend had asked for favorite foods, favorite presents, LEAST favorite presents, favorite activities... I was a little sheepish to find out that the other readers had sent in only a line or two. Only a little, though.

Anyway, here is another portion- favorite foods- of my ramblings:

I remember that Mrs. Sanborn made about 15 different types of Christmas cookies every year. If I could have the recipe for those cunning little round, white, sugared cookies sandwiching red and green icing, I would consider myself lucky.

My own mother made orange bread and cranberry bread for everyone we knew. She saved cans from fruits and vegetables, and baked the batter in those. I'm sure it was just a matter of practicality: who has, or even WANTS, enough baking pans to use for 30 - 40 people? Still, it made for some immediately recognizable little column loaves, which I'm sure were
looked forward to every year. She also made cheeseballs to give. I just don't feel I've had Christmas- especially Christmas morning- without cranberry bread and cheeseball.

About the first week of December, I received my copy of the newsletter in the mail, which was everything a small-town newspaper should be. I enjoyed reading everyone's stories, and recognizing names from my childhood. I showed it to my husband, who kindly indulged me and read it thoroughly. (He knows I'm sentimental.) I called my parents to see if she had received one, because I wanted them to know how their efforts had affected me. She hadn't gotten one, but I made sure that my friend Lisa sent one to her.

A couple of weeks later, I came home from work to find a box FROM MRS. SANBORN. I hadn't seen her for decades! I just knew I would open up that box and find some of those meltingly perfect little cookies. I think I actually started jumping up and down.

But no. Inside was a framed copy of the recipe. CROSS-STITCHED. Mrs. Sanborn had included a cross-stitched Christmas card "Dear Laurie Sue, (How long has it been since someone called you Laurie Sue?) I read in a newsletter that these cookies were one of your favorite Christmas treats..."

My parents have since shared with me that they heard from Mrs. Sanborn right away, because she needed my address. She was just as delighted as could be to be preparing this surprise for me, and swore them to secrecy. My parents already knew about it when I called to ask them if they had received the newspaper.

In another delightful dimension of a story that is already almost too good to be true, my dad shared with me that after they had wrapped up their phone call with Mrs. Sanborn, my mom said to him, "I have coveted that recipe for 40 years!"

I guess she just didn't know how to ask for it.