I found another picture I took of my wife Janet the first year we were married 44 years ago. She was in the kitchen. I think this one was posed instead of me catching her in the act of cooking. She usually didn’t dress up to make dinner.
Everything she cooked was delicious; however, it usually was a full afternoon operation. She concentrated on one dish at a time. When she had one done, she moved on to the next. Janet preferred casseroles where everything went into the same pot at the same time. She appreciated when I helped out on my days’ off. My mother had died of pancreatic cancer when I was 14 so I had to learn to cook early. Sometimes I even sent her in the other room and told her to read or watch television while I surprised her with something special.
She had her degree in journalism like I did but half a century ago newspapers didn’t like to hire couples unless they were willing to buy the business. Besides that, the only job a woman could get was on the women’s page writing about weddings. Janet hated that; she wanted to be on the police beat. A few years later she found out about probation officers, got her master’s degree in criminal justice and was happily employed for the 30 years or so.
When she retired she went back to cooking and was good at it again. This time she liked to wrap rice topped by chicken or fish, then green pepper, tomato and onion in aluminum foil. She slid it into the oven at a low temperature, sat down and read a book. She also had a way with Alfredo sauce over just about anything. These dishes created smaller individual portions and healthier meals.
I learned her recipes and I now cook them for my son and me. He’s a corrections officer, following in his mother’s footsteps. If I could get him to cook like his mother I’d have it made.
But instead I think about how cancer can affect every aspect of your life if you let it. Pancreatic cancer took my mother and I had to learn to cook. Breast cancer took my wife and I returned to the kitchen. I would gladly have cooked all the time if I could have Janet back, but that’s not possible. At least I can cook for our son who looks so much like his mother.