Yesterday's run was a real boost for me. It was a 6 mile hilly run (and that last hill was a magnificent piece of work that had me drooling out of the side of my mouth and almost collapsing). I felt strong the whole way through (even during the drooling episode). It's all coming back to me - this strength in my running that has eluded me for so long. My run probably had a boost directly related to it being our TNT Mission Day. Our route start and end was lined with posters of the people we run for, the people who have lost their lives to a blood cancer...as you can guess it's quite emotional. Our coaches gave us a pep talk..
...and our honored teammates spoke during our potluck. One of our honored, in particular, touched my heart because he is about the same age as my cousin, Michael, who passed away last year. I so wished it was Michael standing up there speaking to us about how our efforts in fund raising had helped him to be able to be with us on this Mission Day. But that is not how it is.
As a child growing up in a large extended family, I have lots of great memories, but one of the best is of weekend breakfasts at my Grandpa Frank and Grandma Ruth's house. I remember the smell of bacon and the crackling of the oil in Grandma's skillet and her filling plate after plate after plate of food for all of her children and grandchildren. My favorite part of this breakfast? The Floppies! I guess they are kind of like a crepe, but isn't "Floppie" much more fun to roll off your tongue?! I remember all the men, my dad and uncles, and how many floppies they could eat (amazing!) and I loved the taste of the butter and syrup together with the smooth feel of the floppie on my tongue.
After Grandma Ruth passed away, Michael stepped up to fill the role of Floppie flipper. So at family gatherings, he did what we've always done in the Glazier family and he rolled out the big skillet, a huge tub of Margarine and got to it. I so wish somewhere in someone's drawer there was a picture of one of those mornings from way back when of a Floppie breakfast, but I did manage to get a picture of Michael during one of our last family gatherings - our fun family camp out the summer before he got sick again.
Oh...now that's a drool I don't mind sharing with people. Bring on the floppies and let me salivate while I wait in line for them.
My Aunt Cathy decided the tradition could not end with Michael and she has taught his son, Parker, to make floppies and so we continue on. Sometimes it's the smallest thread of tradition that can keep the family quilt together...
When you think of your family or your childhood, what tradition do you love the most?