She’s Helaine’s Child

My phone rang as I was leaving the station tonight. It was Stef with cookies baking in the oven. Roxie was supervising.

When she lived here Stef needed a map to find the kitchen. It’s been established beyond a reasonable doubt she didn’t know where the sink or dishwasher were nor the purpose of either.

That was then, this is now.

She’s seeing people tomorrow night. Tonight it’s bake to impress.

Butter cookies with raspberry jam centers were rising in her kitchen at the base of the Hollywood Hills. She will impress! Even I was tempted to drive to Hollywood Blvd. for a taste!

It’s interesting to see how as Stef gets older traits from Helaine and me (mostly Helaine), well hidden during the tumult of her teen years, are beginning to show.

Sorry Stef, you’re powerless to stop this. They’re in full bloom now. Baking cookies is something you do because it was something Helaine did. You’re Helaine’s child! Nothing wrong with that.

At one point the timer on her oven began to beep. This is intense work performed with surgical precision. The cookies needed her attention. Stef removed the baking tin. The clock continued to wail.

“Hey, MacGyver, defuse the bomb,” I begged hoping she’d silence this ‘successfully designed to annoy’ noise.

We spent most of my ride home chatting as she baked batch-after-batch and Roxie looked on.

“Roxie’s not sure what’s going on,” Stef said.

No, Roxie knows. I’d be attentive around that scent too!

It’s a good night to be a dad. It’s a good night to be Geoff.

Whomever gets those cookies had better appreciate them.

7 Responses to “She’s Helaine’s Child”

  1. Susie says:

    The cookies look delish! I can almost smell them. I am glad that you had such a wonderful conversation with your daughter. I love my phone conversations with my Dad. But I think, in the past, I drove him a bit crazy. “Hi Pop! How are u? Want are r u doing? Watching TV?” At the time, a show whose name I can’t remember was very popular. Someone died but why?? “Pop, what do you think happened? Is it murder?” My Dad shares his opinion and then says “So why are you really calling?” “Oh! Well..” I respond “My toaster is on fire. Flames are pretty high. What should I do?” My poor Dad. “UNPLUG IT!” he yells. I already did I say but the flames haven’t quit yet. “Get it away from anything else flammable!!” Good idea and I do. The flames subside. I imagine my Dad’s heartbeat slows down too. Eventually. I have to be honest, with me for a daughter, sometimes I’m surprised he’s lasted this long.

  2. NancyB says:

    I moved to California to be with my future husband back in the 80s. From that first week after I left until we moved back to CT 8 years later my father called me every Wednesday night at 11pm his time/8pm my time. Usually short and sweet but it was our connection. Enjoy your conversations!

  3. DorisC says:

    I love that my son calls me a few times a week to chat. (I taught him well; how to cook; laundry check his oil ect) we discuss what we are making for dinner (he cooks, the girlfriend does not). He makes his own sauce, bakes ect.
    Those cookies look mighty familiar….we make those at Xmas time, but I drizzle melted white chocolate over them. I feel very blessed to have a son that likes to call, and has grown into an adult that I enjoy talking with.
    Glad you did not fall asleep on the way home after gardening in that intense heat!!!!

  4. Wudz says:

    My weekly Santa Fe/CT Skype video calls with Penny are the high point of my week. And now that she’s had her first child . . .

    Somehow knowing you and Helaine I’d say your use of the word “tumult” describes nothing more than ripples in the water.

  5. Barb says:

    So you are telling me there is still hope? :) Thrilled to hear they come around! I am touched by your sharing of your relationship with your daughter! Thanks for Sharing! :)

  6. Elayne says:

    You’re a good dad. Wish I had a dad like you!

  7. Laurie says:

    My dad is my hero. Bigger than life. A brilliant musician, avid reader and awesome cook and baker. I wish I could talk to him more on the phone sometimes. But alas, my dad is deaf and won’t wear his hearing aids. If it ever comes to that, Geoff, wear your hearing aids.

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