K&W Cafeteria Baked Spaghetti
A hug from my mom right after my wedding. Houston, TX 2000.
Mom throwing me skyward in England. 1973.
Me, my mom and sister at my Volberg grandparents’ house in Kingsport, TN. 1973.
Mom visits Elisabeth at her daycare in Jerusalem. 1973.
My daughter put flowers in my mom’s hair when she was in the nursing unit at Carolina Meadows. 2018.
This Mother/Daughter pre-wedding scene from Mamma Mia always makes me bawl. Sorry, y’all.
Yesterday marked the 3 year anniversary of Mom’s death. I’ve been thinking about how sometimes you just need your mom. My daughter went to her school’s Homecoming Dance this past weekend. It’s funny how we borrow trouble and project all sorts of crap from our childhood onto our kids. My kid was fine about it all, she planned to go with friends, but I desperately wanted to BE THERE for her. You see, I have an awkward memory of going to the Junior High Prom alone. It was 9th grade and I had two prospective escorts but they both ended up going with other people so I ended up date-less. Mom was out of town that night (which was rare for her, but I’m glad she got away!) and I was at home planning a night of TV. My best friend called at the last minute and said that she and her date would pick me up if I wanted to go (talk about 3rd wheel). I actually had an outfit because I needed a formal dress for music camp that summer. So, I rallied “Pretty in Pink” style and went stag. Once I was there it wasn’t all that dramatic and I actually had a decent time, but the memory conjures up some hurt feelings and humiliation. This was definitely NOT territory that my father and I usually navigated together. I remember getting dressed by myself in my room, coming downstairs where Dad was reading and saying, “I’m going to the prom. Can I have a ride home later?”. Dad looked surprised, he didn’t even know it was prom night, and said, “OK. You look nice.”. The end.
I really could have used my mom.
And, sometimes, my mom really needed me, like the time she had me get my ears pierced first so she could gauge how much it hurt! Ha ha, the joke was on her because I have a super high pain threshold. I sat in the folding director’s chair at the Piercing Tree in the mall and was like, “No. Big. Deal.” My sister and Mom followed my lead and begged to differ!
I’ve mentioned before that Mom was a surrogate mother to a lot of folks. She was generous with her love and attention. My parents were asked to be guardians for the daughter of some friends, should anything happen to them. I remember being really excited at the prospect of a new sister, completely ignoring the tragedy that would have to happen in order for that to occur. We also “adopted” a young girl in Africa. I’m not sure what organization it was through, probably “Save the Children” or something similar. Much like Jack Nicholson in the film About Schmidt, I, too, had an inner dialog with our sponsored kid. (My favorite line from that movie is, “Dear Ndugu, I highly recommend you pledge a fraternity.” OMG.) I would write our girl letters and assumed that we would meet some point and she would also be my sister. It never happened and I no longer remember her name. It makes me wonder where she is now.
But, I do have a sister, Elisabeth, and she’s great. We zoomed with my father yesterday. We shared photos of mom and read poems. On one hand, with COVID, it feels like it’s been way longer than 3 years since Mom died. On the other, it also feels like yesterday and we are all still figuring out how to live without her.
Dad shared this poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay:
At least, my dear,
You did not have to live to see me die.
Considering now how many things I did that must have caused you pain,
Sweating at certain memories, blushing dark blood, unable
To gather home my scattered thoughts that graze the forbidden hills, cropping the mind-bane,
I cut from the hedge for crook the one disservice
I never did you, – you never saw me die.
I find in my disorderly files among unfinished
Poems, and photographs of picnics on the rocks, letters from you in your bold hand.
I find in the pocket of a coat I could not bring myself to give away
A knotted handkerchief, containing columbine-seeds.
A few more moments such as these and I shall have paid all.
Not that you ever –
O, love inflexible, O militant forgiveness, I know
You kept no books against me! In my own hand
Are written down the sum and the crude items of my inadequacy.
It is only that there are moments when for the sake of a little quiet in the brawling mind I must search out,
Recorded in my favour,
One princely gift.
The most I ever did for you was to outlive you.
But that is much.
Elisabeth shared this poem, “The Death of a Parent”, by Linda Pastan:
Move to the front
of the line
a voice says, and suddenly
there is nobody
left standing between you
and the world, to take
the first blows
on their shoulders.
This is the place in books
where part one ends, and
part two begins,
and there is no part three.
The slate is wiped
not clean but like a canvas
painted over in white
so that a whole new landscape
must be started, bits of the old
still showing underneath—
those colors sadness lends
to a certain hour of evening.
Now the line of light
at the horizon
is the hinge between earth
and heaven, only visible
a few moments
as the sun drops
its rusted padlock
into place.
And, today, I share with you some ultimate comfort food, like the feeling of a hug from your Mom. Keeping with the Piercing Tree mall theme, here is the Baked Spaghetti recipe from the Chapel Hill Mall’s K&W Cafeteria! (To be honest, I’d probably sub out the beef for some Beyond Meat and beans, but that’s just me.) Enjoy! And hug your people.
K&W CAFETERIA BAKED SPAGHETTI
6 ounces uncooked spaghetti
1 pound ground chuck
1 cup chopped onions
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
3/4 cup shredded Cheddar cheese, divided use
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 1/4 cups ketchup
1 tablespoon prepared mustard
3/4 cup beef stock
1/2 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
1. Cook spaghetti according to package directions; drain and set aside.
2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cook ground chuck and onions in a large skillet, stirring until meat browns and crumbles; drain well.
3. Stir the salt, pepper, chili powder, 1/4 cup of the shredded Cheddar, the Worcestershire sauce, ketchup, and mustard into the meat mixture. Simmer 5 minutes. Stir in spaghetti and beef stock.
5. Spoon mixture into a baking dish. Top spaghetti with remaining 1/2 cup shredded Cheddar and the shredded mozzarella.
6. Bake 20 to 30 minutes, or until cheese begins to brown.
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