My grand Mother Bare

A cousin has asked me to share memories of my Grandparents Bare. I thought I’d share a few here.

My memories of Grandma Bare are mostly vague. I do recall sitting at the kitchen table with her, Grandpa Bare, My Mom, Dad and sister Anita. The image is clear but the conversation that I remember is from my Mon’s memories more than mine. Anita and I were in trouble. I’m going to claim that she had been aggravating me and I reacted. That has to be true because Grandma Bare came to my defense when Dad threatened to spank me. She told him “You won’t spank him he didn’t do anything.” Dad responded that I was his son and he would if he decided it needed to be done.

Mom remembered this as the first time Dad ever stood up to his mother. She was glad he finally did. Though I didn’t get a spanking that time. Anita probably remembers this differently. I choose to remember Grandma Bare being right.

Thinking about Grandma bare brought a memory of a story Dad told about her. You’ve probably already heard it.

After the family had moved to Oklahoma Grandma Bare was one of the few women in the area that baked light bread (Yeast bread). She would do all the bread baking once a week. I don’t remember how many loaves of bread she would bake, but it was enough to feed the family for a week.

One baking day a neighbor girl was visiting. She had never seen bread like Grandma was baking. He mother always baked soda bread or briskets (which used baking powder). As she was leaving Grandma noticed she was walking funny. After stopping her she discovered the girl had taken every fresh loaf of bread. After retrieving the bread, Grandma’s kind heart took over. She ended up sending the thief home with a fresh loaf.

About Dale

Stories have been a part of my life forever. I have heard them, read them, and told them as long as I can remember. I’ve written hundreds of stories. Bits and pieces of stories. This is my first novel. It is the result of a story that refused to die. It kept unreeling in my mind. After a year of this haunting, I had no choice but to write it. What started as a simple damsel in distress story changed once I met the damsel. As I wrote this set of stories the world I imagined grew. After rewrites, revisions, and letting it bake. I’ve discovered more. More of the politics of the region. More relationships between people. Now as I begin a sequel to this first book, I’m finding more complexity than I ever imagined and more loose strings that need to be explored.
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