Ladies working at Mother's Cookies |
My Aunt Carrie and Uncle
Martin lived on Kennedy
Street (click the name Kennedy Street to view the story) for several years, then the federal Government took out their home
and hundreds of other buildings to construct the i-880 Nimitz freeway.
Aunt and Uncle were paid a
fair price and purchased another house with a large lot somewhere around 89th
Avenue. Uncle Martin built a small
cottage behind his home for his parents and they enjoyed living there for many
years.
One day my Aunt called my
mother on the phone and told her that the Mother’s Cookie Factory on 81st Avenue
sold large bags of broken cookies every Saturday for 25 cents a bag and did she
want some.
Mother always baked homemade
cookies and we never purchased the expensive store bought kind, but this was an
adventure as well as a bargain.
Mother told my brother,
sister and me to get into the car and we would see what we could discover.
My Aunt met us at the factory
and a long line was already forming as ladies waited for the signal that the
cookies were available.
We didn’t go inside the
building, because the cookies were sold by a worker at the door. This method kept the line moving quickly.
My guess was the bag must
have weighed close to five pounds and inside were almost whole cookies of
oatmeal raisin, taffy sandwich, mini chocolate chip, iced raisin, filled wafer
and iced circus animal cookies.
We enjoyed those cookies in
our lunches and didn’t mind a bit that they were broken.
Lake Merritt Oakland, California |
May we always give thanks for
blessings no matter how small, even for a bag of broken cookies.
2 comments:
Yes, Hazel! There is joy too in small things:)
Have a blessed Saturday to you!
Good point. The very best things in life that can't be measured are the ones that mean the most. Much wisdom in your words, Hazel. Thanks.
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