We live in a society that values speed and efficiency, often at the expense of quality.
When my great grandparents were young, they roasted and ground their own coffee beans, bought flour from a local mill, chopped wood to feed the stove on which they would cook and my great grandmother would spend hours preparing meals, serving them and cleaning up afterwards.
My great-grandparents were not wealthy people, in fact, quite the opposite. They eeked out a living raising tobacco on some rock-infested hillsides in north central Kentucky, raised a huge vegetable garden, and had some cattle they ran. They lived in a small cottage on one of the hilltops in what still is the middle of nowhere. Until the time I was about eight, my great-grandmother did her cooking on a wood-fired stove which made the house unbearably hot. There was no indoor bathroom in the home until I was well into my teens--it was a short walk to the outhouse--for some reason a fact I regarded as a novelty and not an inconvenience.
Despite their sparse accomodations, my great-grandmother made meals that were lavish and large. They had to be. Farming works up an appetite. I have yet to find anyone who could make custard pie the equal of my great grandma--and her homemade apple butter served on warm homemade zucchini bread just can not be duplicated. As hard as the men worked in the fields, my great-grandmother worked in the kitchen, and never, not once, did I ever hear her utter a complaint.
Meals were served at six a.m., noon, and six p.m. On the dot. If you did not come in, you did not eat. My great-grandfather would say a blessing over the food and then everyone would eat their fill. There was talking, and teasing, and the kind of connection that can only be found in family. It was a great way to grow up and I always enjoyed visiting my great-grandmother. I felt safe and loved there.
I give this backdrop today in contrast to our own modern way of living. We stand in front of a microwave where two minutes seems like an eternity to wait for a burrito. Many of our meals are taken by way of a drive-thru window. Venture inside any restaurant and we are bombarded by wall-mounted television or televisions, cell phones, and video gaming systems. The art of conversation at the dinner table seems like one in danger of expiring. Meals at home are served often with family members missing due to other committments or in front of the television or in a rushed resignation to a harried lifestyle.
I guess I just wonder if the cost of all this "convenience" is worth the price we've paid for it. If my great-grandmother were alive today I have no doubt which path she'd rather take.
What do you think?
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