While A Child

I’m not certain if it was 28 or 30 years ago when I bought the small spiral cookbook.

Every September it seems like yesterday.

My granddaughter and I were touring the Smithsonian Museum together. Shortly before returning to our hotel, we did something most women do.

We visited the gift shop.

I can’t recall what the twelve year old purchased, but I zoomed quickly into the cookbook section and immediately selected ”The National Symphony Orchestra at the Kennedy Center Cook Book.”

Since that memorable weekend, every September I resurrect the small booklet for two amazing recipes.

One is a carrot cake recipe that quickly became my husband’s favorite birthday treat; the other, a lemon nut bread that became renowned at the Madonna Heights bake sales.

Neither require any expertise and I claim no credit for the remarkable success of either item.

However, they both share a magic combination of ingredients that never fail, and I am constantly amazed when either or both emerge from the oven.

Perhaps it is their aroma or possibly the weathered and treasured paperback book that instantly brings back a time and place in America now only nostalgically remembered.

It was an era when I was able to bring a youngster, hovering between the innocence of childhood and the sophistication of adolescence into the capitol of our country.

We traveled without fear or concern.

Earlier that week we shared a twilight tour of the Vietnam Memorial. When we emerged , we were both silent and close to tears.

The following morning we proudly basked in the view of the Lincoln Memorial, the White House, and embraced the glory of our beloved country.

The visit to the Smithsonian was near the end of our allotted time in D.C.

Today of course, the youngster is an adult with a family of her own.

Sadly, I wonder if the opportunity she and I shared fearlessly would even be a remote possibility today.

During the years when a child matured, and a grandmother grew old, what happened to our wonderful country?