The Great Cookie Depression
I love to hear the stories about her childhood.
You know, those old hardship stories
About those old days that were so good.
Anyways, she was telling me one of these stories.
It was late one rainy afternoon.
We were baking in the kitchen.
The smell of cookies and pine-sol filled the room.
Now I’d heard about the outhouse, and washing clothes by hand,
And chopping wood, and the big clincher one, you know,
The one about how she walked five miles to school each day,
Uphill each way
And barefoot in the snow.
But that story she told that day brought home to me,
That her hardships were really real.
She said that when she was a child,
They had oatmeal cookies – with just oatmeal!
That’s right! Just plain old oatmeal
With flour and sugar in them.
But nothing exciting,
Nothing you could really mention.
No walnuts, no peanuts, no almonds, no raisins,
No coconut, or chocolate chips,
Well I cried, “Life is so cruel!”
My tears conveyed how I did feel,
As I imagined my grandmother,
Eating oatmeal cookies with just oatmeal.
But that’s not the end of the story,
She had much more to say,
About The Great Cookie Depression
In those long ago days.
Chocolate chip cookies had no chocolate chips.
There were no coconut macaroons, not one.
No Oreos, or mallow bars,
She’d never heard of a fig newton.
(She thought it was the guy who sat under the tree and had an apple fall on his head)
Anyways, the picture she painted,
Well, that was pretty bleak,
And how much was real, how much was exaggeration,
I’ll leave up to you to think.
But as for me,
Well, it’s certainly changed the way that I feel,
And I can’t see a cookie, without thinking of my grandmother,
Who ate oatmeal cookies with just oatmeal.