Not-so-fleeting Aunt Mildred
Many, many years ago, I met a wonderful lady. She was my mother-in-law's best friend, so when my husband's mother died suddenly in an automobile accident, Aunt Mildred adopted us. You see, Eldest Son had been born only six months earlier and she couldn't stand to think of her friend missing out on all the growing-up that was to be done. Out of a heavy loss came a life-long friendship of an odd sort. I grew up in a city and Aunt Mildred grew up on a farm and lived most of her life in the country. While Old Man loved to eat her biscuits, I preferred to watch in fascination as she worked her magic. She made the best biscuits I ever tasted. She kept a two foot tall tin of all-purpose flour under her kitchen sink. When she wanted biscuits, she would pull the tin out, add some shortening and milk, knead a few minutes, working the dough with just the tips of her fingers. She measured nothing. I asked her one day if she would teach me to make biscuits. She told me she couldn'