Some of you, that read this blog, may remember this cookie jar. It belonged to my grandmother. When I got married in 1969 she asked me what I wanted as a wedding gift? I told her that I wanted nothing , ... but someday I would like to have her cookie jar.
I first remember this jar when I was turning five years old, and I couldn't quite reach it without climbing onto a chair. My grandparents lived in a large one story white framed house on south Travis street in Sherman, Texas.
Also in that kitchen, I remember, for the first time, seeing Jesse, my grandmother's black maid. Jesse was a full bodied, big bosomed lady (who actually to my young eyes... sort of resembled the cookie jar) and I can tell you that I came to love them both.
Jesse must have worked for my grandparents for over forty years. She actually got too old to clean. But, not being one to accept charity (and needing the money) she continued to come one day a week. I have a vision of my grandmother (elderly herself by now) slowly helping Jesse out of the car and into the house. Jesse would try to mop the floor, but in actuality the mop seemed to be supporting her weight...keeping her from falling.
My grandmother always dropped Jesse downtown, when she finished. Jesse would run her errands, pay her bills, and be sitting on a bench, on the courthouse square, waiting for my grandmother to return and take her home. Well, in the last few years it was my grandmother who ran Jesse's errands and paid her bills. I loved Jesse and my grandmother... and I miss them both. Looking at the cookie jar brings back all kinds of sweet sweet memories.