Graham Cracker Sandwiches and Overlapping Memories of the Heights

In our house we made our own frosting for cakes and cupcakes—either buttercream with butter, confectioner’s sugar, a drop of vanilla and water; or for special occasions, cream cheese frosting. No wedding cake fluff for us.

If there was any left, Mom let us make graham cracker sandwiches—two squares sealed with icing. Always welcome, like Rice Krispie treats or no-bake cookies. (Remember those?)

Certain scents and foods can transport me back to my childhood in the Heights.

Surprised my grandson with graham cracker sandwiches this week which triggered memories of Mom’s large kitchen and her horde of sugar-hungry children.

Mom was a great baker—homemade bread; cookies; cherry, rhubarb, or apple pies—and taught me how to make them, too. Rhubarb was picked from houses near us as it first appeared, excellent for sauce or pies, especially with fresh strawberries.

Tart (Montmorency) cherries showed up frozen, canned, in pies, in jams. One bite of cherry pie and I’m back on Caroline Street, moaning about picking another bucket of cherries for Mom (who was, by the way, slaving away in the kitchen with our deliveries).

Oatmeal cookies with maple extract were a wintertime favorite, along with Ovaltine or Bosco chocolate milk.

The aroma of roasting turkey stuffed with dressing is a time travel technique for reliving The Pied Piper of Hamelin movie with Van Johnson in the afternoon and The Wizard of Oz at night, after dessert. In those days, favorite holiday movies and programs were available once a year.

The only time appetites were more robust was when we went camping. We were always ravenous in the outside air. Could hardly wait for that frying bacon and eggs on the Coleman stove to be transferred to our camping plates.

The smell of newly-mowed grass takes me back to Tiger baseball afternoons in the endless summer days, or so they felt.

The Heights wasn’t always a childhood home, though. Dave and I married, bought my parents’ house, and raised our children there, as well. Seeing the Auburn Heights Elementary fall festival through adult eyes was like reliving the magic. Same for Halloween trick-or-treating and flares that lit the edges of yards up and down our streets.

We had our Christmas tree in the same spot as Mom and Dad’s, and pine scent means the excitement of the season and the anticipation of Christmas morning.

Lilacs in the late spring wind together the girl, wife, and mother. Angel food cake with strawberries and whipped cream frosting means another birthday. Bread fresh from the oven calls for apple butter. Hot dogs split and grilled with cheese are Dad’s Saturday Dreams. I didn’t realize at the time how young he was, how young both my parents were.

Time doesn’t only march forward. It can wind around and return to younger days with one whiff of something from childhood, or one bite of an old favorite.

All this from spreading frosting on a graham cracker for my grandson this week.

Graham cracker sandwiches, the key to time travel.