Grief comes to live with us all eventually, and she needs no invitation. In this previously recorded holiday episode of Great Grief, Nnenna Freelon appreciates the quiet moments shared in the kitchen with her late father and wonders aloud how to curate her space for the holidays now that grief has made a home in her home.
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Episode Transcript:
[Audience applause]
[Music]
My daddy's in the kitchen. When my father passed in 2012, it was his quiet kitchen spirit that I mourned. Food was his language of love and he bequeathed that love to me. Now, my father was an experimental cook. He also didn't go by a recipe and he would improvise in a heartbeat. This too, I learned from him. Now, hold up. Not all of his kitchen explorations were successful. I remember when he discovered tarragon.
[Audience laughs]
He used it too much and with wild abandon so that we all learned a lesson. A very little bit of tarragon goes a long way.
My dad was a quiet man. An introvert in a family full of extroverts. I don't know how he made it on through. I loved being in the kitchen by his side. In those moments, it seemed we didn't need to speak.
I want to read you a poem I wrote, which I read at his funeral.
He's in the kitchen dreaming, big old yellow bowl.
Stirring love and sunshine, dish of heart and soul.
Although his eyes are closed, his kitchen door is swinging wide.
With each and every one of us safe and warm inside.
We never knew the measure of all that he put in,
this little something extra in his salt and pepper grin.
Oh, daddy's in the kitchen, mixing sea and sky.
Charlie's blue plate special flavored with goodbye.
Thank you, daddy. Daddy,
For all you gave to me.
Your simple gift of loving, the sweetest recipe.
Growing up, our holiday home was full of spirited conversations, and I mean spirited. Laughter and lots of music. It's really difficult to get a word in edgewise with that crew. But what I treasure, oh my gosh, is the quiet my dad and I shared late at night after the talking had ceased and folks had gone to bed or moved that card game over to the edge.
The tree was twinkling and Nat King Cole was playing on the record player.
[Audience laughs]
Some of you young people are like, "What's a record player?"
[Audience laughs]
The turkey was roasting in the oven and the greens and cabbage and rutabagas was simmering on the stove and what passed between us, it wasn't language. It was a shared embrace. This memory, I treasure and it's richer than any pan gravy.
♪ Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. ♪
♪ Jack Frost nipping at your nose. ♪
♪ Yuletide carols being sung by a choir and folks dressed up like Eskimos. ♪
♪ Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe help to make the season bright. ♪
♪ Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow will find it hard to sleep tonight. ♪
♪ They know that Santa is on his way. ♪
♪ He's loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh. ♪
♪And every mother's child is going to spy to see if reindeer really know how to fly. ♪
♪ And so I'm offering this simple phrase to kids from one to 92. ♪
♪ Although it's been said many times, many ways, Merry Christmas to you. ♪
[Piano improvisation]
♪ They know Santa's on his way. ♪
♪ He's loaded of toys and goodies on his sleigh. ♪
♪ And every mother's child is going to spy to see if reindeer really know how to fly. ♪
♪ And so I'm offering this simple phrase to kids from one to 92. ♪
♪ Although it's been said many times, many ways, ♪
♪ Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas to you. ♪
[Audience applause]
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Grief is in the kitchen. She can be found in that rich sensory landscape. Cinnamon, clove, allspice, nutmeg can take you right back there. My grandmother's kitchen. My father's kitchen. My father mixing up his special barbecue sauce. Why is it that everything had Lawry's seasoned salt in it?
[Audience laughs]
I mean everything. It was a thing there for a while.
[Audience laughs]
But you know what I wish? I wish I'd paid more attention to my grandmother's biscuit-making. She didn't use a biscuit cutter, she used a particular glass jar. I don't know if the jar made it… I don't know why it… I don't know. Because I have biscuit-making materials that I have bought at quite a great expense, and I cannot make my biscuits light and fluffy like she did. And these biscuits were always the first to disappear. There were rolls and other things, but the biscuits got gone. And so I had to have a strategy of my own.
[Audience laughs]
♪ I learned to smuggle a few away before the table was set, before the platter was laid out. ♪
♪ It was the only way to make sure I could have one for breakfast. ♪
[Audience laughs]
♪ I hid a biscuit. I hid a biscuit. ♪
♪ In the bread box? Mm-mm. Somebody surely would find it there. ♪
♪ I hid a biscuit. I hid A biscuit. ♪
♪ In the fridge? No. No, they'd find it. ♪
♪ I hid a biscuit. I hid a biscuit. ♪
♪ In the cupboard underneath a cup? ♪
Yep.
[Audience laughs]
♪ A biscuit for breakfast just for me. Just for me. ♪
A couple of times my brother would say, "Where'd you get that biscuit from?"
"Never you mind. If you helped out in the kitchen, you'd find out."
♪ I hid a biscuit. ♪
I need to use the entire bowl of my life to stir this thick batter and I want to use my wooden spoon. My favorite one. You know the one with the burn marks from a close encounter with a stove. I need it. There's nothing quite like it.
Over the years, I've bought new spoons, fancy spoons made out of steel and plastic, and one rumored to be silver that was a gift. And I was always hopeful that they would be good or almost as good as my burned-up wooden spoon, but they weren't. The others just didn't sound right against the sides of the bowl. No. Give me my scorched spoon and that wide yellow bowl and I will give you cornbread that's like cake and cake that's like heaven.
Anybody here know how to make coconut cake? I'm asking for a friend.
[Audience laughs]
I see no hands. Okay. Anybody know how to make a real, real pound cake? Uh-uh. I see no … Somebody's shaking their head.
[Audience laughs]
No pound cake, huh? Fruit cake? Somebody's like, "What's fruit cake?" Believe me, everybody wonders. Nobody knows what fruit cake is.
[Audience laughs]
♪ I struggle. ♪
I struggle with whether or not to decorate the house. For a long time it was a tradition that we all enjoyed, but things have changed. My life is different now. But how do we sit with change? I knew one thing. I didn't have the energy to do a tree and decorate the house, even though those things used to bring me great joy. But the drag was, I felt like I should do it.
So, I went so far as to drag the box of decorations out of the closet. I opened up the boxes and that was my undoing. A wave of emotion swept over me. You see, each decoration was a memory. A frozen time stamp. And I'd never thought about it like that, but there in the box was the evidence and I couldn't stop my tears and so I didn't. But I did put the box away. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Never mind, y'all. Maybe next year.
That was two years ago. I pulled it out again this year and it still was a no. But I am growing curious. Can we create new rituals? New traditions? Is that okay? Must we abandon all of what used to be? Turn away? I've asked myself this question so many times. You see, I know something needs to shift, but I don't know how or what.
I've been thinking about memory and how it can carry you to places that are familiar and that those familiar places are sometimes painful. Presents wrapped under the tree, the sound of boots crunching through ice, the smell of yeast rolls baking in the oven. All these thoughts whisk me someplace far, far, far from 2023. And music most of all has the power to transport.
When I was a little girl, we always had a Christmas play, and it was always the same Christmas play. I always tried out for the role of Mary. So many, many times. But I never got chosen. These are things that I discuss with my therapist.
[Audience laughs]
A shepherd watching her flock was as good as it got back then. A sheet and a length of clothesline for a belt was all I needed for my costume. But I got to sing this song.
♪ Children, children, children. ♪
♪ Children go where I send thee. ♪
♪ How shall I send thee? ♪
♪ I'm gonna send thee one by one. ♪
♪ One for the itty bitty baby who was born, born, born, born in Bethlehem.
♪ Children go where I send thee. ♪
♪ How shall I send thee? ♪
♪ I'm gonna send thee two by two. ♪
♪ Two for Paul and Silas, and one for the little bitty baby who was born, born, born, born in Bethlehem. ♪
♪ Children go where I send thee. ♪
♪ How shall I send thee? ♪
♪ I'm going send thee by three. ♪
♪ Three for the Hebrew children, two for Paul and Silas, and one for the itty bitty baby who was born, born, born, born in Bethlehem. ♪
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
I am now coming to understand that my personal history is embedded in these songs. These memories hold grace and healing. Grace and healing wrapped in a song. You see, I've been waiting to feel like singing. And that feeling seemed to be taking an awfully long time to come. Turned out to be just the opposite. Singing even just a little bit made me feel better.
There are presents, y'all, for all of us. For you and for me. Ones that don't require a frenzied shopping trip to the mall. Ones that don't require a maxed-out credit card. Gifts that are treasures beyond compare, that are perfectly sized and suited for your heart. These gifts need no money-back guarantee or offer free shipping. And they don't go out of style. Not ever. These are things that cost nothing and are life-giving and affirming. And you can offer these precious gifts to yourself whenever you feel like it. It's time, y'all.
♪ Time is our most valuable resource. ♪
We don't know how much of it we have and we can't make more of it. But what we can do is meet the moments we do have with gratitude. And so I'm gonna share my gift to me with you.
I can be a very focused person. I have no problem with creating to-do lists. I love to-do lists. And I love ticking off each accomplishment. I think a little endorphin goes off every time I check it off and I do it and I make a nice big one. And sometimes I even reward myself with something I really like. Chocolate. Something I really like. Chocolate.
[Audience laughs]
But only after I've done the hard stuff. But what I dearly miss is daydreaming. Yes, I was that little girl with her head in the clouds. That was me, talking to ants and making up stories and songs. And lucky for me, I had parents who seemed to understand that that's just how she is. There was no grand project, no future planned. It was pure and simple play. And I reveled in those moments when I was little.
So that's my present to me. I'm giving myself permission in this season of my life. It may mean waking up a little earlier in the morning, before the emails and phone begins to clamor for my attention. It might mean saying "no" more often to the demands on my precious, precious, precious gift, which requires all my attention. We'll see how my unto-do list unravels.
Be kind to yourselves. May you experience grace and joy as you walk this season of your life.
I want to leave you with a song that is an old song. I wrote a new set of lyrics because this moment in time requires a new set of lyrics. It's an old carol, a very old carol called "In the Bleak Midwinter." Anybody know it? A couple of people know. Well, I wrote a new set of lyrics and it's very simple. I wrote it for all the babies. There's seven billion of us on this planet and a lot of them are babies. So they're new visitors to this planet. I want them all to feel wanted. I want them all to know that they're safe. I want them all to feel love. So this isn't a political thing. This is a mama thing.
♪ Mary had a baby. ♪
♪ The angel had foretold. ♪
♪ But who believes in angels with wings of silk and gold? ♪
♪ But oh, when she beheld him, her mother's heart knew this. ♪
♪ Her tiny little baby was the first Christmas kiss. ♪
♪ Wise men came to offer treasures for her king, for her king, for her king. ♪
♪ Others came and wondered, what could this baby bring? ♪
♪ Who so loved the whole world he gave his precious gift. ♪
♪ Lying in a manger, the perfect Christmas kiss. ♪
♪ What then can I offer? Tangled, lost, and torn. ♪
♪ I who have no treasure to give on Christmas morn. ♪
♪ Peace on Earth and goodwill to all would be my wish. ♪
♪ On this happy morning, a blessed Christmas kiss. ♪
Peace. Peace. Peace.
[Audience applause]
Andrew Berenson! Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you.
Thank you to all my beloved grief sojourners. Thank you to Andrew Berenson, my accompanist. Thank you to North Star Church of the Arts, OnlyUS Media, and Scalawag Magazine. Be kind to yourselves.
I'm Nneena Freelon, host of Great Grief, the podcast. Keep your ears attuned for season three of Great Grief wherever you get your podcasts.
Scalawag knows that for many of us, our grief is simultaneously never news and the only news.
Listen to the latest season of Great Grief with Nnenna Freelon, available now on all podcast platforms.
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