Everybody Needs a Waffle Iron

Years ago for Christmas, after the usual assurances that, if the gift wasn't perfect, we were perfectly welcome to exchange it, yadda-yadda, my grandmother gave us a waffle iron. Because, as she said, everyone needs a waffle iron. Never mind that, in all my growing-up years, my mother never made me a home-made waffle, or that Mikey and I, newly-weds at the time, found the the idea of making waffles borderline insane. So, given her implied blessing, we exchanged it for a Salad Shooter. Because, you know, everyone needs one of those.

Orpha Ogg (Grandma), Darla Hapgood (Mom) and Me!
Only two of us are known to have ever made waffles.

Two years later, guess what we unwrapped? Yep, and we kept that one.

Last week, when my youngest son seemed once again disappointed that our meager breakfast offerings ended with cereal and/or toast, I asked him, "Well, what would you like? Name it, and I'll get it."

He said, "Waffles would be nice."

Bear in mind, my children have not lived poor, waffle-less lives. We've had waffles a-plenty--those nice, frozen ones that taste a little like the cardboard box they came in. But the moment Charlie made his wishes known, I knew I'd be bringing out the waffle iron. And, oh, how yummy the house smelled this morning with the steam pouring out; how beautiful the stack of big, golden waffles piling on the plate. All those years ago, Grandma told me that everyone needs a waffle iron; it wasn't until today that I realized how very right she had been.

Today is Grandma's 92nd birthday. What an honor and a blessing to have her in my life. She is a tiny, strong, feisty woman. Think of a brunette Betty White minus the vulgarity--because my grandma is a lady with hair that has naturally refused to go gray. She's the sole Democrat at the Sunday dinner table, which keeps our conversation clear of politics--partly becasue we don't want to offend her; partly because we're afraid she'll convert us. I've never seen her back down from a fight, but I've never seen her gloat in glory. She loves the Lord; she loved her husband for more than 50 years, loving him with the same giggling spark today even though the Lord she loves took him home 23 years ago. She makes an amazing cucumber salad (which I've never been able to replicate) and these thick, home-made noodles that make you weep for the Old Country--even if you don't know exactly what the Old Country is. And--we serve our noodles on a bed of mashed potatoes. That's right. Carb-on-carb. Take a lesson, kiddos.

I think Grandma has enjoyed a near-century of health and happiness because everything she is can be summed up in one statement: Everybody needs a waffle iron. Seek simplicity. Love your family. Stick to your principles. Eat a good breakfast.

And the next day? Do it again.