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Storytelling: The child's cookbook that cooks on

Storytelling: The child's cookbook that cooks on

Our Storytelling series on holiday giving from the heart continues. Click here to read more:


A childhood cookbook helped to ignite a lifelong love of feeding my family

My parents hit the nail on the head in 1973: They presented me with "Betty Crocker's New Boys and Girls Cookbook." It further fueled my love of cooking and reading.

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The cookbook, which I still own, provided me with the inspiration to create family dinners. As a 9-year-old, serving "Tuna and Chips Casserole" was a culinary triumph. While I never created the "Enchanted Castle Cake," a masterpiece, complete with ice cream cone turrets, I baked "Speedy Gingerbread Boys," which delighted my 4-year-old sister.

While most of my attempts were well received, the "Rolled Biscuits" on page 31 were not a hit. My mother penciled in, "BAD," above the title, in case I would ever be tempted to try again.

This started my own habit of writing in cookbooks. When I am pleased with the results, I write in the date and follow that with "Yummy." It is a culinary walk down memory lane, when I thumb through my now large collection of cookbooks, although, none are quite as special as the yellow cookbook with smudged pages.

-- LISA WOZNIAK, Monroeville

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A 4-year-old boy + $2 in Murphy's = a Nativity scene to cherish

In the 1960s when my son Tommy turned 4, he took his $2 and entered the G.C. Murphy store with his brother and two sisters. His blond fly-away hair bounced as he sped down the aisles to find my perfect present.

"Is this $2?" he asked his sister as he looked at various items in the store. I peeked between the aisles. My heart swelled.

"No," Lisa and Stacey said. "Too much money." Up and down the aisles he excitedly priced possible gifts.

Each time, the cost topped his $2. When he came upon three plastic animals, his eyes lit up. A tiny Snoopy dog trimmed in navy blue and black, a tiny elephant with trunk, feet and ears trimmed in pink, and a kitty cat with turquoise ears, tail tip and tiny paws fit his budget of $2.

Tommy asked the clerk to wrap them in tissue paper.

Christmas morning when I opened these precious gifts, I felt delighted and thrilled at the gift's simplicity -- such perfect gifts from a child so young.

Snoopy, pink elephant and turquoise kitty cat joined our Nativity scene along with the cows and sheep. An aardvark created by our older son, Ted, soon joined the animals to greet baby Jesus into the world.

My heart tingles whenever I unpack my precious gifts each Christmas and remember that special day when a young lad chose a something special for his mom.

I am convinced that simple gifts given with love make the best presents and memories.

-- PATRICIA ORENDORFF SMITH, Indiana, Pa.



My father could not give presents that year -- but he continued to be a gift to us

This is not really a story about Christmas presents, it's more about a Christmas presence.

It was my first time home from college in December of 1967. I was excited to be home and anxious to see my high school sweetheart. I managed to hitch a ride home from Columbus, Ohio, with a classmate who dropped me off at South Hills Village. I called home and Mom said she would pick me up in a few minutes.

After I hung up I thought that was a little odd -- my dad did most of the driving. I shrugged it off and called my girlfriend, Sally (it was a full moon and I planned a great romantic evening). She sounded a bit aloof but I chalked it up to my imagination.

Mom finally arrived and as I entered the car she started crying. Dad had a heart attack that afternoon and was in the hospital. I wanted to go there immediately but Mom insisted we had "to eat first." Yeah, right.

Anyway I discovered that Sally and her father would go with us to retrieve Dad's company car. I did get to spend some time with her, but it was pretty somber. Dad looked horrible, very blue and struggling to breathe. He could barely speak. After a few days he was able to sit up and talk a little with us. His color was starting to return. This had to be the worst Christmas break, ever!

Mom and I sat with Dad on Christmas Day, eating the most tasteless turkey dinner I can recall. I saw my father cry only twice (once at my sister's wedding). He turned to Mom and me, sobbing and saying he was sorry he had no presents for us. (He was a notorious last-minute shopper.)

Little did he know at the time but he did have a great present -- his presence with us for another 11 years.

-- DEE M. TAYLOR, West Newton

First Published: December 5, 2008, 10:45 a.m.

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