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The kitchen was the center of the house; it was where life lessons were learned By Elaine Welles On warm summer evenings, we’d open the kitchen window — wide. The Kushners’ window next door would be open as well. When the baseball game was on the radio, I’d sit by the open window and listen. Not that I was that interested in baseball, but it was like stereo, because the Kushners would be listening to the game, too. Much living went on in that kitchen on West Stiles Street. My grandmother was always doing something in there, from making a meal for many, out of very little, to washing clothes on an old wringer washing machine. To get the clothes dry, you had to put them through two cylinder rollers, and squeeze the water out. Then, we would hang the clothes in our backyard to dry. Biscuits from scratch(Whatever happened to bluing? Those little blue squares that went into the wash to get the clothes white?) Grandmom made biscuits from scratch. She sprinkled the flour on the table, put in lard (I think), kneaded the dough and rolled out the biscuits with a rolling pin. Her biscuit cutter was fashioned from a small can, with the top removed. Nowadays, biscuit cutters come already made, in all sorts of shapes. So, how come I don’t make biscuits today — or not much of anything else, for that matter? When I want biscuits, I go to the dairy section of my supermarket. Grandmom would prepare dinner at a certain time in the late afternoon, so that all who were home at the time could have it at the same time each evening. Sitting down to dinner with the family was the norm for us then. Life lessons learned Preparation took teamwork, such as getting out the dishes, setting the table and cleaning up when the meal was done. No leaving dishes on the table or in the sink. At least once a month, we cleaned the refrigerator (when we got one to replace the icebox, which we had painted a bright red, with black highlights). Grandmom or Mom or both took everything out of the refrigerator, threw away what was not usable and washed down every part of that appliance. Once, we had to wash down a wall, because wine my uncles were making blew up in the middle of the night. Not only were cooking and other domestic skills learned in that kitchen, but life lessons as well — about orderliness, cleanliness, cooperation, good behavior (“get your arms off the table”) and respect. I don’t know why the kitchen was the center of our house. Maybe it was the food. Maybe it was because we could have cake and cookie batter when Mom was baking. Maybe it was because I liked watching Grandmom can tomatoes and peaches. Maybe it was the love that was exchanged and nurtured through all those interactions in the kitchen.