Gramma Cookies by Neil Silcox
Commissioned by Barbara Salsberg
Inspired by the confession…
Artist Statement
I don't have a lot of memories of Josephine, my Grandma Moore. She died when I was 5 or so, at the age of 78. What I remember most about her is her hair... — a steely-silvery gray. She looked great.
The thing that always makes me think of her are Gramma Cookies, our family's name for what are usually called ""haystacks"". They are a feature any time we all gather together. Our family recipe is in my 7-years-older sister Sara's handwriting — transcribed at Grandma Moore's house before she died, when Sara was about 12.
I never really got to know any of my grandparents; the last to die was my father's mother, Grace, when I was 9. At that age I was too young to want to learn about them as people, and too young for them to see the person I would become. By age 12, I feel like you can really start to see who someone will become.
I want to know my grandkids, and I want them to know me.
In the last two years I've started taking my fitness seriously. Partly it is vanity. And partly it's because I know I've got a lot of track left to run. I'll be 40 next year, and likely won't have kids until I'm 45 or so. It feels reasonable to assume my kids also won't have kids until their mid-40s.
If my grandkids are born when I'm 90 means I'll have to make it to at least 102 — to get to know them at age 12, and to have them get to know me.
Guess I'd better go out for a run.
After all, I'm going to be eating at least half of these cookies!
