You've probably noticed that my productivity this month has dropped off significantly. Writer's block? Not exactly. Life has gotten in the way and, in particular, the passing of a generation has stymied my creativity. My stepmom died last week, and as is so often the case with those battling a terminal disease, the speed of her decline was both a blessing and a shock. Emotionally, I was on a different timeline, one that would allow at least a few more conversations, maybe even one more visit. Instead, a generation in my family slipped away before my siblings and I really had time to ponder what this means. We are the sole survivors who will now need to take it upon ourselves to plan gatherings. It's up to us to pass down stories and traditions to keep our parents' memories alive. As with most new stages in life, I feel woefully unprepared, maybe because I'm the baby in the family. For every ten pictures taken of my brother as a baby, I got one. My brother and sister always joke about the little blue book that mom and dad gave them to teach about the bird and bees; I never saw that infamous book. By the time I rolled into the family, my mom wasn't being taught by her German housekeeper that children need firm limits from time to time. "Brooksie's hiney's not made from china" is folklore in our family. I am not disappointed about any of this. There are certain realities that are due to our birth order, something none of us has control over. There's no denying its influence on our personalities, just as there's no denying the importance of siblings. My brother, sister, and I are all different individuals, but we do share our heritage, and at the core this gives us a special bond. We also love and miss the generation that created and molded us. Those memories, thankfully, will never go away.
I have something to share about myself that will probably surprise you. But before I divulge this information, I must tell you about a small success I had recently. I was in a liquor store in search of an ingredient for my latest drink. I know, I know...this flies in the face of the resolution I made in the Kitchen Gods post, but hopefully you will ultimately be on my side with this decision. Anyway, there I was searching among all the different bottles when I overheard the store employee helping a woman find some brandy for cooking. She pointed her towards a type that came in a bottle far larger than your airplane variety, and the woman said, "Yikes, that's big. Are there any drinks you can make with brandy?" Other than suggesting a Brandy Alexander, the employee was kind of stumped. And so I stepped up and offered up my sidecar recipe, history and all. I kind of shocked myself, to be perfectly honest. I'm not the type to remember a joke, even ten minutes after it...
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