Resthome happenings (2 of 3): Memories of children, and a father and a mother.

The other week, this one voluble resthome resident was telling me about when her kids were young.

Her one son used to ask her a lot of questions, she said, like, "When I was in your stomach, could I see your bones?", and, "Why do they build houses in the middle of lawns?".

She also said that her dad was a lawyer and back when he was alive, they used to drive out to a neighboring state to get stinky cheese at these cheese houses that they used to have out by the side of the road ("Are they still there?").

Her dad also liked to eat fish heads.

And, whenever their family would pick berries, her mom would wrap some up in cheesecloth and tie that bundle to that U-pipe that you have underneath the sink, so that every time you went by, you would open the cabinet door and squeeze the berry bundle and get out the juices that would fall into a bucket underneath, that you could then use to make jelly.

"Our hands would all be stained up!", she said, holding out both her palms to me and flexing her fingers, gleefully.