Just a Snack

Peanut butter on cheese crackers. It's a favorite snack that dates back to my childhood.

A pack of crackers was about the cheapest snack going when I was little, and when we went somewhere, it was usually on the cheap. We weren't a wealthy family. Then, we could get a can of Coke for 50 cents, and a pack of crackers for a quarter. So, when my sister and I went with Daddy somewhere, we could all get a Coke and a pack of crackers for about $2.50. And usually, someone would get peanut butter on cheese crackers. We all tended to get something different, so we could trade a cracker for 2 chips, for instance, or a cheese on wheat cracker for a peanut butter one.

Going somewhere with Daddy was always something of an adventure. We could be certain we wouldn't return the same way we got there. "Going somewhere" in the summer might mean going to the Bank of Lexington when Daddy deposited his check, or it might mean a trip to Athens, and consequently, to my aunt's house, also a good thing. On some rare occasions, it meant hitting salvage yards in the area to look for a part for a car.

In the fall or spring, particularly, "going somewhere" often meant a trip to Blount County. I've been awakened on a beautiful spring or fall weekend morning with the words, "Come on girls. It's a good day to go to Blount County." My paternal grandmother grew up here, and several of her sisters still lived in the Oneonta area. Daddy loved his aunts and always felt it a pleasant duty to go see them a few times a year. Depending on who was home, we would go see Aunt Annie, Aunt Matie, Aunt Lulamae, Aunt Allie and Aunt Willie. Going around Christmas almost always meant an offer of German Chocolate cake from Aunt Lulamae. Hers were delicious.

I think I need to mention a little more about Aunt Willie, here. She had many nieces and nephews, but Daddy was one of her favorites, for sure. Why? Well, she was very close to my grandmother, and saw a lot of Daddy his whole life. Also, he was faithful about coming to see her. That means a lot to older people. Who comes to see them? Who remembers them? Daddy always remembered Aunt Willie. She remembered him, too. You never got out of Aunt Willie's house without having a snack. She wouldn't hear of anyone leaving her home without eating. Consequently, she always kept a package of diabetic cookies in her kitchen, just for Daddy when he came by. She knew he had diabetes and wanted to be able to offer him something he could enjoy.

Years later, my sister and I were in Oneonta for a cousin's wedding. We were worn out, and didn't want to make the drive back home that night. The hotel was full (of wedding guests) and a call to another cousin gave us the idea of calling Aunt Willie and asking her if we might stay the night with her. "She will be thrilled," Jeanette said. She was, indeed. She also had been to the wedding, and was tickled to have someone to talk it over with. She was overjoyed to share her hospitality.

I will never forget her coming into my bedroom that night, checking on me, and on my sister, as well, as though we were her own children. She also cooked breakfast for us the next morning. All this, and well past 80 years old. But nothing could have pleased her more. I told Jeanette later I felt we might have been imposing, but she said, "No, no. Willie talked about your visit for weeks. She was just tickled you thought to call her." It was such a small thing, but I am grateful it brought her such joy.

After my sister went to college, Daddy and I drove to Madison to school every morning, and to Florence on weekends. Peanut butter on cheese crackers figured in many of these trips. We talked of the news of the day, of history, of books we had both read, of the Lord, of living the Christian faith daily. Those days and hours in the car with Daddy are beautiful and blessed in my mind.

I grab that humble package now and always think of Daddy.