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Who will make the gravy?

It is a theme used often in these columns I write. . .take the time to give a young person their first break by helping them get involved in something. Sometimes I think that my parents and my husband’s parents must have been members of an elite group that passed on the tradition of “doing things the old fashioned way.” That does not mean that we were not exposed to modern convenience. We didn’t do all of these things because we HAD to do them, so much as we WANTED to do them.

Take, for example, baking bread. It is much easier to buy a loaf of bread from the grocery store than it is to take the time to mix the ingredients, let it rise and then finally bake it. For some tastebuds, there is little difference. Bread is bread. But the sense of accomplishment that comes from doing it yourself cannot be paid for with cash.

Last Tuesday evening, while Jim and his crew of 19 to 21-year old young men were putting up square bales of alfalfa hay, I was picking green beans in our garden, and then set about the task of breaking those beans. When the crew took a break to get a drink of water, all 3 of the young men related to me stories of breaking beans with their grandmothers. All of their mothers work outside of the home now, and do not believe they have time to grow their own vegetables.

Later in the week, when one of our young friends brought his girlfriend by to introduce her to us, I was knee-deep in filling pint jars with green beans, salt, and boiling water before carefully placing lids and rings on those jars and setting them in the pressure canner. I was pleasantly surprised when Madeline asked questions about canning green beans. She was not just making conversation and trying to impress me. Apparently, she remembers watching her grandmother can green beans, but did not know anyone who could teach her how to do it. I can teach her. I plan to teach her.

Our veterinarian has become a very good friend. Doc is about our age and enjoyed the same sort of childhood that my husband and I enjoyed. He grew up on a farm with grain and livestock, and was active in 4-H. Just the other day we were talking about those big family gatherings that we used to have every week-end when we were growing up. Sunday dinner usually included mashed potatoes with gravy.

My husband is a huge fan of my homemade gravy, and began telling Doc how much he likes it and how “effortless” it appears to him because I know how to do it so well. I take this as an enormous compliment. I have tasted his mother’s and my mother’s gravies, and I believe that I still have a lot to learn to come close to their level of skilled gravy-making.

The gravy discussion went on for some time. Then, with a thoughtful look on his face, Doc shared with us that his wife has not made gravy for years. As a matter of fact, he is not sure that Marcy has ever made gravy, and he is sure that his mother is the only one who makes the gravy for their very large family gatherings. His next question, although very simple, is very impactful. It’s not just about a sauce. It is about tradition.

Knowing his mother will not be around forever, Doc asked, “Who will make the gravy?”