The family sang at a funeral in Kentucky this week. The chapel was packed. Over five hundred people signed the guest book. We wound up the hill to the cemetery for the graveside service and military rites, then we gathered at the Baptist Church for diner with the family. As a small girl Lois lived in a small house just across the creek from the church. I went to the food table hoping to find scalloped corn. There was none, but the green beans were like nothing you will ever eat out of a can. We sat down and Lois gave me a bite of her banana pudding and said, “This is the way they make it down here. You’ve never had better.”
I tried a bite. It was good. I try to eat in moderation, but I did go back to the table for some banana pudding of my own. The fellowship hall was crowded. My sister in law was looking for a seat. I said, “Sit there with Lois. I will stand up.”
Lois said, “No, she can sit over there. You sit here with me.”
I said, “No, let Lavonne sit with you. I’ll find another spot.”
Lois insisted. “No, Ken. Sit here with me.” I thought it was unusual for her to insist on making a place for me, because she lives so far from her sister. They don’t see each other that often.
Finally she said, “Well, here. If youre not going to sit with me, at least give me a bite of your banana pudding.”
I love it when Lois wants me to sit with her. I think I have discovered the key to her heart. From now on I am going to carry around a plate of good, old-fashioned, Kentucky-style banana pudding. I’ll never be lonely again.
Kentucky, August 2009