Cows and Casseroles

My dad taught me to feed things. I vividly recall the chore of bottle feeding the baby calves. It was both fun and miserable. As a little girl I would lug a white jug of water, brimming with hot water, up from the basement, across the road and over to the barn. It had a lid, but most of the time I would misplace it and have to carry the water slopping and slooshing down the pant leg of my dark green coveralls. Once I got what was left of the water over to the calf pens, I'd slop out a bit into a giant bottle, put scoops of the sticky milk powder in and wish I was done. This was the worst part: taking my little kid hand, I would try to position it just right over the top of the bottle and start shaking. No matter how I put my hand over it, it would always squirt and drip out between my fingers, and then taking my hand off the now air filled top, it would whoosh out specks across my face. I wiped, probably with very dirty fingers, a lot of that sticky milk out of my eyes as a child. I then would stretch the huge nipple onto the bottle and start feeding the calves that never seemed to be filled. There is something satisfying in the feel of a baby calf bunting hard against the bottle you're holding, and knowing that you're taking care of him, and that without you, he would sleep hungry that night. Even as a small child with only 6 or 7 years of life, I realized that we feed things. That's just what we do.

We feed cows, horses, lambs, pigs, chickens and the occasional flock of geese.We also feed ourselves. My dad may have taught me to feed things, but my mom taught me how to feed. My mom's kitchen is a wonder. It is small, but it is full. She has no fancy kitchen island or walk-in pantry, but she has every spice, noodle, can of obscure sauce and seasoning you would ever need. She packs all of this into only a handful of cupboards, but if you keep searching you can find whatever basil leaf or cream of celery you need. We used to have one fridge, but now we have two. They stand side by side and are great! I don't know why more people don't have double fridges. One of the hardest lessons I had to learn when moving out on my own was how to cook for one. One? That's all? That's a waste! You mean to tell me I need to save the rest of this pound of hamburger? Pah! I'm just gonna cook it all up now and eat hamburger for the next two weeks. My mom never taught me how to cook for less than ten people. Just half the recipe you say? Half the recipe? I'v heard of doubling it, and even tripling a Chocolate Chip Applesauce recipe before, but never halving one. That's just ridiculous. She may not have known she was teaching me all this, but I was watching as she would violently chop onions, simmer chili and jog the bosch as she made bread. I don't have her knack of pantry stocking, or her wonderful utensil drawer where there are never dirty spoons or mismatching knives, but I do share her need to feed. She can whip up a full course meal on the spot and usually without ever glancing at a recipe. My mom feeds people. It's what she does, and I've never met anyone who can do it better.

My dad taught me to feed and my mom taught me how, and I'm grateful they did. I have a need to feed people. I miss feeding the animals, so I need to feed people now. I don't show love easily. In fact, it was hard for me to even type the word "love" let alone show a person I care about them! But I do feed easily. It's what I know how to do for those I care about: stuff them with food, wash their dish and do it all over again by dinner time. It's what I like to do. Thank you mom and dad for teaching me how feed things. Little did you know that it would be my saving grace when it come to being sweet and nice.