As a young woman, Susan Katie Leeper moved to Oklahoma City, OK where she and her sister Marybelle worked for the National Cracker Factory. They rode the street car to and from work. Both were members of the Capital Hill Methodist Church and sang in the choir.
Katie, as she was known, left her career to be a full time housewife and then mother of seven children. She loved to cook and exchange recipes with family and friends. She was always up before dawn (waiting to see God make a day) setting her yeast to rise on the back of the stove, out of the draft, she would say.
While making breakfast of ham, biscuits, red eye gravy, eggs, maybe fried mush and yellow tomato preserves, she would say grace. She never ate a meal without first thanking the Lord for His bountiful blessings.
Many years ago, Katie’s two daughters, Kathryn and Pauline, took she and grandpa (Omer), to Tennessee. As they left the city of Knoxville and drove through the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains, old memories began to return. Aunt Mag went along to point out familiar places - such as the Thorn Grove Cemetery where the family was buried. The old church and school was not far away.
As they entered the gate, once again Katie was home. She began to reminisce. “Yes, there’s the old maple tree, oh, and right here was the weeping willow.” On down the way there was a meadow, she said, “papa used to cut hay there.”
They walked to the top of the hill, “here is the barn grandpa built with a root cellar underneath,” she said. “Out back is the cedar lot where our wonderful black friend, Uncle Ben helped us shear sheep. We children loved playing on Sunday afternoons, making hats and pinning them together with thorn needles.”
She continued, “and down the hill was the spring house where the milk and butter were kept cool with the spring water that ran gently around the crocks. Sometimes mother would send me to get the milk, and I would eat some of the cream that had risen to the top.”
The cooking was done on Saturday as the family attended church on Sunday. Her great grandpa was a minister so sometimes there was a wedding in the parlor.
Katie loved to ride horses; drove a surrey with fringe on the top. She loved long dresses, picture hats, and boots. She was truly a Southern Bell. Grandpa used to say that Katie didn’t have a girl as pretty as she was.
Fifty years flew by and suddenly grandpa Williams was gone. Grandma and Gin (their youngest daughter that had downs syndrome) moved next door to grandma’s daughter and my mother, Kathryn (Williams) Crouch. In the evenings mother would go next door and sit in the porch swing – grandma wanted to talk about her life. It seemed as though the last few months before she passed away that her life was all she wanted to talk about.
Early November, 1978, the evidence of fall was everywhere - shorter days and cooler nights. There was a full moon that would reveal the foliage turning their brilliant oranges, reds, and yellows. Grandma and mother had been potting flowers before frost. Grandma noticed a tiny rosebud next to the ground and said, “that little one will never make it before frost.” Mother said, “oh, come on Katie, let’s rest a minute and get something to drink. We sat down and looked out the picture window of my living room, and I noticed an unusual concerned look on her face as she watched the dogwood leaves flutter to the ground. She seemed lost in thought. I have heard her say so many times that life is like leaves fluttering to the ground, we have no promise of tomorrow – it pays to be ready. She got up, put on her bonnet and hurried home as she had a few outside chores to tend to before cold weather.”
Grandma then turned her thoughts to preparing Thanksgiving dinner as her children were coming home. She loved the holidays and took great pains to prepare for them.
Mother recalls the following day. “The very next morning, the Master tapped mother on the shoulder because it seemed as though she was needed. She had labored and cooked for fifty years and a place was being prepared for her where there would be neither heart aches nor pain – and her eternal rest was in order.”
While mother drove grandma to the hospital, a day or maybe two was what was expected for her stay there. Little did any of the family know that she would never go back to her little home again. We would never smell the aroma of her beans simmering on the stove nor pies baking in the oven. But the most important thing we would all miss was the heavenly smell of her hot rolls rising in a warm place – then of course baking in her oven. All of those duties that she performed with love from the bottom of her heart would never again be reality. Only memories. In a few short hours, grandma was gone.
As the days passed her meager possessions were divided among the family. Pictures were looked at and gone through, and we all just stood there in shock at what had just happened. Then, everyone was gone and mother was alone in grandma’s house. She opened a kitchen cabinet door and found in a box - all grandma’s cook books and recipes. As she looked through them, an idea came to mind – to compile these recipes into a cookbook in memory of Susan Katie Williams.
I will put in my own words what my mother Kathryn (Williams) Crouch said in the first cookbook she compiled, “Grandma, you have had your coronation, your earthly responsibilities are accomplished, and I your granddaughter, Vonda (Crouch) Straughan want to honor you with an updated edition of the first OUR DAILY BREAD cookbook. It is called, OUR DAILY BREAD Fifth Generation. Mother and I will honor you by submitting not only your recipes in two different cookbooks, but five generations later adding the recipes of yours and grandpa’s children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and great great grandchildren - so that we can use these recipes for our families as you have for yours.”
Lovingly,
Vonda (Crouch) Straughan, granddaughter and
Kathryn (Williams) Crouch, daughter
