The Home Of The

I rather doubt she still remembers, it was a very long time ago. I understand she now has a lovely little girl of her own, and undoubtedly, is quite busy.

However I haven’t forgotten. She was our first Granddaughter, and I was always thrilled whenever she and I were blessed to share time together.

Jillian was enchanting, vocal and a dark haired beauty strongly resembling her Mother. Her older brother, Greg, had been my husband’s traveling companion on several adventures, but this was the first excursion his younger sister and I shared.

We traveled to Washington D.C. on a spring morning and immediately signed up for a twilight tour of the Vietnam Memorial. I doubt either one of us were aware the emotional impact the excursion would have that evening.

After it ended, as we boarded the small van taking us back to our hotel, my eyes were still moist, The normally vivacious twelve year old with me was unusually silent.

The next day we spent at the Smithsonian and of course, ended our day in the lovely gift shop. I forget what Jill selected, but I chose a small spiral bound copy of “The National Symphony Orchestra Cook Book.”

That was decades ago. During the days that followed whenever I opened the slim white book I always remembered our evening at the Vietnam War Memorial.

When the time came for me to depart NY, I selected many favorite recipes from my vast collection of cookbooks. Inadvertently, however, I neglected to include the small volume I had purchased in the Smithsonian Gift Shop. While many recipes in that collection were good, and a few excellent, the “Best Carrot Cake Ever” was the only one that became a family favorite.

As a matter of fact, it was the cake my husband (and Jill’s Grandfather) requested every September first, his birthday.

Possibly it is the approach of that significant date on my calendar or maybe it is the current explosion of news about destroyed government property that has resurrected a memory of a twilight excursion in our country’s capitol. Or perchance, it was my friend Pat’s announcement the other afternoon that her favorite dessert is carrot cake.

I don’t really know. Whatever caused a memory of the treasured and abandoned cookbook to return, no longer matters. I now have another copy.

Via the Internet I finally located a duplicate, just a bit dusty, in a small bookstore far from my current home. The volume arrived this morning, intact (although a bit limp), but still containing the amazing “Best Carrot Cake Ever” recipe.

As I read the ingredients, my thoughts waft back to a warm summer evening barely dark but soon to be studded with stars, I relive a moment in time shared with a thoughtful young girl as we viewed the names of 57,939 Americans who died hoping to protect others.

Now I find myself questioning if any current protestors actively engaging in destruction have taken the time to visit this memorable site. It pays honor to young men who should not be forgotten. Neither should the remarkable history of our country, the land of the free and the home of the brave.

“Those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it.”

― Edmund Burke