Claudia Mercer
My mom was the one of the best cooks in Mantua. I loved hearing the sounds as she worked in the kitchen. I loved the smells that always drifted into the living room as we played or read (and fought - much to Mom’s chagrin). I was always called to set the table; that was my job. We knew it was close when that happened. Then came her call to wash hands; then grace. Then we passed everything and began our delicious dinner. She always made weekend dinners special. It wasn’t one memory. It was a collective memory of being nurtured in such a loving way. I enjoyed her cooking always. After I left home she always came on the weekends and cooked for us.
Mom was on a committee at Mantua’s Saint Joseph Church that gathered parishioners recipes and made a Parish cookbook. Sales of the book went to a Parish in Haiti that Saint Joseph’s sponsored.
The most important memory I have of my mom was when we were having a serious conversation and she told me how much she respected me. I think that meant more to me than, “I love you.”. I will never forget that moment.