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Ingredients: When you are little your perception of the world is so much different. As a little girl the world that surrounded me was full of perceptions that now often make me laugh in disbelief. Older adults seemed to be so much older than they were, big people seemed to be gigantic, and some places seemed like wonderlands of treasures way beyond my wildest imagination.
My grandfather's house was just that way. It was a world of distorted perceptions, some of them intimidating and some of them exciting. I remember my grandfather as being one of the more intimidating parts as a child. I loved my grandfather, but it was more of a "the fear of God" kind of love, than because I knew his personality and who he was. And if I heard it once I will never be able to count the times I have to hear, "don't bother your Grandpa," or "don't let your Grandpa hear you say that." I guess it was more of the other adults in my life that made me a little intimidated of this man, who seemed like a giant, but I was none-the-less.
On the other hand, my grandfather's house seemed like a magical place, filled with things I had never seen. There was treasure after treasure of gadgets and gizmos. that were foreign to me, and seemed to have been brought from a far away land. These things were not toys, because we were not allowed to play with them, but they were treasures just to be able to see. And throughout the twists and turns of my grandfather's house you could find so many odd things, many you had no clue what name to give them, most of which I still do not. But it was not just inside you would find these seemingly magical oddities. You see if you went outside in "the building" that was Grandpa's workshop, you would find so many more things that you just didn't know what to name or what to do with. I can still almost smell the way it smelled in that building...a mix between fumes of WD-40 or motor oil, what I recall to be Old Spice, and my Grandpa's hard work. Even in the yard you could find the strangest things...I remember a push reel mower that he had, that I was always excited to cut the grass with, because it was so different than the motorized mower we had at our house. There was a wash tub, with a wash board, that I remember playing house with that seemed like it would be so much better to do laundry in.
If you go to my Grandpa's house now, you would find many of those treasures, and quite a many new additions. Now as an adult it seems more like an antique shop than a wonderland full of treasures. And when I go there, more than likely, my Grandpa is sitting in his same chair in the kitchen, where I always remember him sitting fiddling with a watch or some other gadget. And now it seems ridiculous that I was ever intimidated by him, and I love him dearly now for the man I know him to be. A man that without his help I wouldn't have gotten where I am in life today. And he wouldn't seem near as big or old as he did when I was little, but he would be sitting there, waiting to tell you a story about how he remembers the world to be. And surrounding you would be his many treasures that serve as memories of a world gone by. And I might pull out my digital camera, and snap an instant picture to put on my computer, all the while, sitting in the corner of the room somewhere in his house will be a strange contraption that likes to call itself a camera. And I still love to visit my Grandfather's house, where I get to learn of a slower world, that has been lost somewhere along the way, and in many ways it is still very magical, when he opens up his door to the past and lets you in.
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This recipe for My Grandfather's ( William T. "Bill" Moore) House is from