Kraut Cabbage, Plastic Forks, and Bread Sacks

Yesterday I stopped by the market and saw a wagon full of enormous cabbages.

I mean enormous.

Alaskan-sized cabbage.

The kind of cabbage that looks like it ought to have its own zip code.

The sign said, “Kraut Cabbage.”

And instantly I thought of my mom’s family.

And especially Mom’s older sister, Aunt Louise.

Aunt Louise never married. She worked as an aide in a nursing home all her life. She didn’t have much money. She lived simply. Very simply.

I don’t remember her always coming to our house for Christmas. I think that began after one family vacation when we decided to stop and see her in Minneapolis.

All ten of us.

In her tiny apartment.

We poured in, hugged her, said hello, filled every chair and probably most of the floor.

It wasn’t a big deal to us.

But it was to her.

She cried.

Not dramatically. Just those big, gentle tears that come when somebody is happier than they know what to do with.

And when we left, she held on to us just a little longer than usual.

That Christmas, Dad drove up to Minneapolis and brought Aunt Louise to our house.

And after that, she came every year.

Which is when the gifts began.

Aunt Louise loved giving us presents.

Not normal presents.

Aunt Louise presents.

She would gather us all around and hand someone a carefully wrapped package.

“Guess what it is!”

We would shake it.

Feel it.

Make guesses.

She would grin.

Then we would open it:

Bread sacks.?!?

A whole year’s worth of bread sacks she had saved for us.

Another year: plastic silverware from the nursing home.

Used plastic silverware.

Washed, of course.

Aunt Louise had standards.

One year it was a can of coffee.

I don’t even remember whether anyone in the house needed coffee.

That wasn’t really the point.

The point was the game.

“What do you think it is?”

“No, guess again!”

And then the grand reveal.

At some point we stopped thinking the gifts were strange and started looking forward to them.

What had Aunt Louise brought us this year?

A coffee can?

Rubber bands?

Seventeen perfectly good plastic forks?

Christmas wasn’t quite Christmas until Aunt Louise had gathered us around and made us guess.

I think what we loved about this game was the joy it brought Aunt Louise.

And she loved it!

Her face lit up!

She gave every gift as if she had just handed you a new bicycle.

Which brings me back to the cabbage.

I stood there yesterday looking at those enormous kraut cabbages and thought Aunt Louise would have known exactly what to do with these things.

She would have shredded the whole thing, salted it, packed it into a crock, and let it sit until it became sauerkraut.

And then, of course, she would have brought it to our house for Christmas.

Probably wrapped.

And we would all have had to guess what it was.