2002-12-06 - 8:19 a.m.

I remember Carol crying on Christmas Eve. She was my sister, a decade older than me, and I adored her. We were all at Grandma B.'s for the holiday. Carol was a college student at the time and low on funds, so she decided to make Nanaimo Bars for our brother-in-law, Jim's, Christmas present. I don't know if you've ever made Nanaimo Bars, but they are kind of fussy to make. When Carol took them out of the fridge and tried to cut them up into squares, the whole pan crumbled into a gooey mess. Carol burst into uncontrollable tears!


I was thirteen or fourteen, and I remember wondering why she was so upset. I did a lot of baking, and I never cried if a cake didn't rise or a jello didn't set.


Carol has been dead now for eighteen years, and I still remember her shoulders heaving, the sobs wracking her body. She must have felt completely inadequate. "I can't even make Nanaimo Bars!" I would love to talk to her about that now. She was completely unafraid to hide her emotions, unconcerned of what we might think. She became more human to me that day, brought down off the pedestal I viewed her on...but I became more fully human, too.


Thank you, Carol.