Memoir Contest Winner: Mix Water, Flour and Eggs by Sharon Mortz

Post #71 – Women’s Memoir Writing, ScrapMoir – Matilda Butler and Kendra Bonnett

Scrapbooking our Stories, One Memoir at a TIme

Kendra Bonnett and I are pleased to publish the touching story — Mix Water, Flour and Eggs — by Sharon Mortz. Sharon is an Honorable Mention winner of our Memoir Writing Contest featuring holidays. You’ll see why her brother’s birthday is still remembered, so many years later. This memoir vignette is a wonderful tribute to family love.

Memoir Writing Contest: Honorable Mention

MIX WATER, FLOUR AND EGGS

Sharon Mortz

I watched mom stand over the stove stirring a pot of boiling water and raisins.  To me, she looked like Elizabeth Taylor in spite of her psoriasis.  I asked, “What are you making?”

“Poor man’s cake, I guess,” she replied.

“You don’t know?”

“You know that if you mix water, flour and eggs, you’ll get something. Right?”

I was the oldest of nine and in charge of meal prep when mom worked.  On those occasions, my siblings groaned and complained.  I was determined to improve my cooking and show my siblings.  So, I studied mom as she prepared everything from fudge to spaghetti and chili to gravy and learned to create meals out of whatever was at hand.

* * *

It was autumn and the leaves had turned red, gold and orange in preparation for winter.  Generally, after the school bus left us off, my siblings and I trudged up the hill in no particular hurry, roughhousing and sharing tidbits from the day.  But, today was special!  My brothers and sisters tumbled off the bus and scrambled up the road because mom was home.  Plus, my brother Doug was home from the hospital and his birthday was in a few days.

We approached the back screen door where Doug stood craning his neck watching for us.  We waved and hollered as we drew near and toppled over each other to get inside where we all gathered around Doug.  He stood in the middle of the cracked-linoleum floor of our kitchen surrounded by us like a sun at the center of a revolving solar system.  He looked from one face to the next.  When his eyes landed on mine, he grinned and scampered to me.  I scooped him up in my arms in a bear hug and twirled around the center of the circle.  I squeezed my tears away so no one would see.  I had been his caregiver at times and he hadn’t forgotten me during his hospital stay.  Dougie had leukemia.  I pulled my head back to look at his face.  It was double its normal size because of swelling.  Mom said it was from the intravenous drugs.  Each of my siblings held out their arms and hugged Doug while we took turns tickling him.  He beamed at all the attention.  He was home and okay.

* * *

Our birthdays were never a big deal — there were so many of them.  Doug’s was going to be different!  For days prior, we whispered plans for our surprise.  The Inaugural Ball may not have had as much preparation.

“Marcia, don’t forget to get the balloons tomorrow.  I’m buying ice cream,” I whispered from my bed hoping no one but Marcia would hear me.

“I want to get the ice cream,” Marcia whined.

“No.  Balloons are more important.  They’ll fill the whole kitchen,” I said hoping that would make her assignment more appealing.

Don, his twin, had drawn a picture for Doug but my sister Marcia and I were buying real gifts from downtown Afton.

“What are you buying?” I asked Marcia.

“Silly Putty.  Doug loves to make prints from the Sunday funnies and stretch them out,” she answered.  I had purchased a Slinky and imagined hours of watching it crawl down the back steps.

We didn’t have enough money left for birthday wrapping paper so we cut out brown paper bags and decorated with our Crayola crayons.  We only had four colors, but our paper had more hearts and flowers than the most expensive paper in the store.

* * *

On the afternoon of Doug’s birthday, I furtively blew up balloons one by one and hid them in the pantry until it was time for the party, when the ringing phone startled me.  It was rare that the phone rang and I nearly inhaled a balloon.  I knew from the overheard  conversation that Mom’s boss wanted her to come to work.

“But, Mom, it’s Doug’s birthday.”

“Start supper,” she said.  “I’ll be back as soon as possible — as soon as Janet shows up.”  Mom was a cook and Janet was her relief, but Janet was always late.  Mom said it was because she had man troubles.  Whatever that meant, I wasn’t sympathetic.

“What will I make?” I asked.

“You’ll find something.”  I decided to make a cake, but first I had to come up with the main course.

Thankfully, potatoes and carrots filled the bin in the cellar and I could always boil them together to make a meal.  Plus, I could practice my gravy technique.  I dragged the heavy cast iron skillet, fat dotting the bottom like a bad complexion, from the back of the stove.  I added water and cornstarch, set the pan on the heat and stirred in circles until there was gravy.  There were no lumps but it wasn’t brown enough so I added a spoon of instant coffee just like mom did!

I started a cake following mom’s example.  The exact amounts were unclear, but I remembered mayo.  Mom said mayo was even better than butter and made a velvety cake.  I loved the way she explained cooking.

When I dumped the cake on the serving plate, it stuck like asphalt to a new driveway.  I hadn’t greased the bottom of the pan evenly.  I prodded and crow barred the cake out and pieced it together.  I decorated it with a chocolate chips and a few Necco Wafers.  It looked like our Chinese checkers board game.

This birthday had to be real special so I search the cupboard for ideas.

I’ll make popcorn, I thought.  So I ladled grease into the skillet, heated it and poured the popcorn and shook the skillet just like mom did.  My body didn’t wiggle as much as mom’s but miraculously the solid kernels opened into fluffy, white popcorn.  But when I seasoned the popcorn, the shaker top fell off submerging the kernels in a mountain of salt.  I spooned off the salt as best I could and tasted.  Then I added sugar hoping to counteract the salt.  I did another taste test, was not satisfied and dumped the whole dish of popcorn onto a barely used dish towel to rub off the offending salt and sugar.  It still needed something.  Our coffee can sat on the back of the stove full of omnipresent melted bacon grease.  So I dribbled some over the popcorn hoping to camouflage the damage, but the kernels absorbed the grease like cotton balls and shriveled into wrinkly, hard masses.

No one ate the popcorn.

Mom came home and said my cake was the best she had ever tasted and Doug loved his toys.  We taught him how to walk the Slinky and stretch the Silly Putty.  He clutched his toys and carried them off to bed with him that evening.

* * *

He didn’t get to play with his toys very long though because he had to go back to the hospital.  He died five months later.  He didn’t get to see spring.

* * *

White Mayonnaise Cake
• 1 cup raisins (any kind will work)
• 1 cup boiling water
• 1 tsp baking soda
• Pour boiling water over raisins and soda. Let sit until cool.  Mom boiled them together.

In a bowl, mix:
• 2 cups flour
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1 cup mayonnaise
• 1 cup chopped nuts  (optional)
• Add raisin mixture and mix well. Pour into a greased 9 X 13″ pan.

Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes.
Decorate with Necco Wafers and chocolate chips

Tagged as: memoir, Memoir Contest, Memoir writing, Treasured Family Recipe