The Great Cookie Depression
My grandmother lives
with us.
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,
No M&M’s.
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.
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