Aunt Opal's Pickles....... they were the DILL!

It's funny how something as simple as opening a jar of pickles is like opening a world of  memories.

The smell of the garlic, the dill and those DELICIOUS home made pickles.

The memories of being at my Great Aunt Opal's on any of the numerous occasions, and never heading home without at least one (more) pickle.

I remember the summer kitchen and the families working on canning in the fantastic Bootheel heat.

I know now that it was more about the time spent together than it was about getting the pantry full of canned goods. I do know that Aunt Opal's pantry was always full.

Unfortunately all I remember are those damned pickles!!!

When I had first moved to Illinois and would make a weekend trip home, Aunt Op-Op (thanks Matty) would always send me out the door with at least two jars of goodness! I would like to think that during all those trips and all those pickles that I had shared them with Mark at least once.

But I sure can't guarantee it!

I really need to get  in touch with some of the family and try to get her recipe.

Not that my canning could ever compare to hers!

We can't speak of dear Opal and not mention her husband, Roy.

He had a great Baritone voice that you were sure even the Lord heard on Sunday mornings!

I believe it was in the 5th grade, in Caruthersville, that we had to write a report about one of our relatives. I chose Uncle Roy and the story that he told of his time during the war.

About how one of his comrades had stepped on a mine while they were running into a field.

That may have been the first A+  that I ever received on a homework assignment.

I need to check with Mom and Dad and see if they still have the report that I did.

Something tells me they might.

I suppose I should go now and clean the pickle juice off the keyboard.

Aunt Opal and Uncle Roy Gill, you were thought of today. And missed often.

Because of you, we know where the GREAT comes from.