Cookies Are A Part Of This Story
As I was preparing for a road trip recently, I pulled out my recipe for oatmeal coconut cookies. They took me back to this story.
On a bright midwest fall day of my senior year of high school, I first laid eyes on Willie. Walking from the college locker room to the soccer field with his teammates, I spotted him immediately. Tall, his face framed with bronze curls, his shoulders square, he bounced on his toes and smiled at me as I watched him go by. For the next several years, I nursed a huge crush, hoping to run into him in the quiet of the ceramics lab where we both worked or at the library. And, every now and then, I did. But I knew I was nothing more to him than a passing schoolmate.
That winter, though, brought the biggest blizzard of the quarter century. And it created the perfect storm as a gateway to getting to know Willie. Back on campus, the deluge of snow made us rebels. Willie and I, along with a couple of friends, planned an illegal dance in the student union. With his music collection and my initiative, we pulled in 400 students, gyrating, bumping, sweating, until the dean of students shut it down. We were both called in to face the music and had to pay penance by writing some articles for the college paper and promising to never organize an illegal gathering again. All of sudden, my crush became an ally. We had to spend time together rehashing the events. Willie and I went out for coffee late at night, saw each other at parties, and I wasn’t one bit surprised, though delighted, when he called to say he was going out to Colorado in early summer and didn’t I need a ride to Santa Fe to see my aunt? Why, yes! Yes, I did!
In preparation for the trip, I baked some oatmeal coconut cookies, a recipe I had discovered at my aunt’s house. I knew that for the two day drive we would need some food to munch on. We started out in his old navy blue Dodge Dart with two extra passengers. We dropped them off in Nebraska. As we continued along the way, I pulled out the bag of cookies and they were well received. We ended up in Colorado Springs, where his aunt and uncle received us with open arms, assuming that we were “together”, even offering us a bed to share. He went on to a pottery internship, I took the Greyhound down to Santa Fe and my aunt.
When I came back from New Mexico, we still had a 1,000 mile drive in his beat up car, back to the midwest, with plenty of time to talk. Somewhere in Kansas, we got waylaid. We were just five miles outside of the town where we were planning to spend the night with a friend. It was pitch black except for our headlights and the town lights in the distance. All of sudden, we saw a baseball cap lying on the dark pavement, and Willie veered to the left just in time to avoid hitting a vehicle with no lights, stopped in the middle of the road. I opened my door and below my feet, I heard a moan and saw a figure lying at an odd angle. We heard then saw a truck barreling down behind us and barely had time to pull out a flashlight and flag it to a stop. “There’s a bad accident. Can you drive into town and contact the police?” We stayed until the police arrived, and then, too emotionally and physically exhausted to continue, stopped in at the only motel in town. “We need a room, please.” The clerk looked at us suspiciously as Willie signed us in, and under her breath, asked me why I chose one with such a crazy last name. That night, we slept together, that is if you could call it sleep. We lay side by side, never touching, each in our own thoughts, neither of us making the first move to embrace. It would have been the perfect night for that, except that it wasn’t. It would only have been two souls coming together in need, rather than two hearts coming together in love.
Next morning, we started on the long road back. We had plenty to talk about and lots of time. At some point, I remembered the cookies. Somehow they had gotten stuffed under the front seat. After two and a half weeks, they still looked good. I opened the plastic bag, pulled one out, offered it to Willie and took another for myself. We both took bites while looking at each other. “Wow, these are good,” he said. And before we knew it, we had eaten the rest of the bag up. There’s more to this story but this is all the space I have today…and here’s the recipe, if you want to make some cookies for a road trip.
Oatmeal Cookies That Are Different
1 c. butter
1 c. brown sugar
1 c. white sugar
2 eggs
2 c. shredded coconut
2 c. rolled oats (I use regular)
1 t. baking powder
1 t. baking soda
2 c. flour
Cream butter and sugars. Mix in eggs. Mix in coconut and rolled oats. Add the flour, baking soda, and baking powder. Shape into balls, place on greased cookie sheets and bake at 375 degrees for 10 to 12 minutes or until edges start to brown.
