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What better way to spend a cold, wet December day than making cookies with friends. Today, it was downright cold here in SF…and by cold, we mean 45-55. (Yes, I know its freezing in the east, but hey, I saw my breath tonight!)

Fortunately, my friend Pamela, from my photography class, invited us to join in one of her favorite holiday traditions–a big table, crowded with friends, who are all decorating fresh sugar cookies. Oh, and I tried an Old Fashioned for the first time, made “the right way” by Pamela’s husband.

Between us, Jeff and I made a couple dozen cookies. And we had a warm indoor-afternoon with friends old and new.

The rest of the day was fairly typical. We woke up a bit later than normal, because we had been out late at my firm’s local holiday party–at the top the St. Francis peering down on Union Square. Breakfast, haircut, and a bit of shopping at the Warming Hut, right at the Golden Gate Bridge. Out at the bridge, we regretted not having our camera, because the white caps were quite dramatic, and the waves were splashing up onto the roadway.

Tonight, the wind and rain are quite heavy, so we’re huddled in the living room by the fire, watching The Sound of Music…and eating cookies of course.

Louise Etter Clifford. My brother and I always called my mother’s mother ‘Ginger Gramma’–after her bounding Chesapeake Bay Retriever named Ginger. My grandmother’s home in St. Michaels, Maryland was a cozy one-bedroom cabin–a summer cabin turned all weather home–built by my grandmother and grandfather and family. The property became fondly known as Whiskey Hill (we simply called it “the cabin”) and was situated right on the wide, salty waters of Edge Creek (a fantastic tributary of the Chesapeake Bay).

My brother and I felt at home in St. Michaels. We spent winter holidays in front of gramma’s fireplace playing cards, and long summer vacations crabbing and swimming in the creek.

My grandmother was a generous woman–at least from the perspective of a well coddled, oldest grandchild 🙂 Gramma infused me with a love of reading, a love of cooking (and a well equipped kitchen), and a love of the Orioles. She also fed my early interests in computers, by giving me my first computer: a Sinclair ZX81 with a whopping 1K of memory and a tape drive. That computer taught me more than any Windows box I’ve owned since.

Christmas was one of my grandmother’s favorite event holidays. She prided herself at having just the right gifts on hand, hand-picked for the individual. Nothing elaborate: Cheez-Its for my dad, cocktail hotdogs for my brother, a bird ornament for my mother, an Orioles trinket for me. She would collect odds and ends throughout the year to put in Christmas stockings. She loved to hear the stories of how each and every gift was used. She loved a good story, and would tell everybody she saw.

I could go on and on and on. I’ve got a gazillion stories.

In August, we held a memorial service and family day. The memorial service was at the Quaker Meeting House in nearby Easton. Afterwards, the family gathered at the cabin–we’re talking 50 people–all talking, eating crabs, and laughing. It was the best party at the cabin in years, and my grandmother is busy telling EVERYBODY about it in heaven.

The pictures below, start with three showing the catching, steaming, and eating of the crabs. Then there is shot of one of the multi-generational tables. Finally, there is a post-party shot of the calm at the cabin.

Sallie Coe Smith. My Aunt Sallie was my father’s father’s sister. Ever since I can remember, she lived in a beautiful, turn-of-the-century home in Edinburg, Virginia, which is a lovely town nestled in the Shenandoah Valley. On hot summer days, my grandmother would walk my brother and me to Aunt Sallie’s to swim in Stoney Creek, which was a stone’s throw from her front steps. Stoney Creek was one of those small, cold mountain creeks with smooth round rocks under your feet. Just enough current to let us drift a bit.

I remember that Aunt Sallie was an active leader in the community–the Methodist church where my grandfather ministered and the Edinburg community library are two in particular. I remember that the grape vine behind her house was always full. I remember that Aunt Sallie loved cats. I remember she loved history, and that her walls were covered with mementos from the White House, where her husband worked.

When Aunt Sallie died this year, the family held a memorial service at the family church. This is a small, local parish, and every pew was filled. Afterwards, there was a light luncheon in the church hall, with food made by church members.

The family held a small ceremony at the cemetery, where Aunt Sallie was buried next to her husband, and next to my grandmother and grandfather. Then we gathered at Aunt Sallies home for family memories, walks down to Stoney Creek, and many laughs. The highlight for me was teaching my nephew Wade (4 years old) to take pictures with my digital camera–you should have seen the smiles he captured.

Two photos below. One is a photo of a photo of my Aunt Sallie. The second is a photo of the old railroad bridge across Stoney Creek–growing up, my brother and cousins and I were captivated by this bridge and would walk up to it every time we visited Aunt Sallie…although I don’t think we ever crossed it.

Nancy R. Buck. I met Nancy my first year in San Francisco. She ran the photo lab for City College at Ft. Mason. What began as a weekly tutorial in how to develop film, what filter to use for the proper print contrast, and the art of dodging and burning, quickly evolved into a deep friendship. Each week in the lab, we would share a mango iced tea or a mint chocolate cookie from Greens and discuss the latest must-try hamburger joint.

Then Nancy became family. She would visit with Jeff and me to see our latest garden project. She looked after Dobie and Buster while we were on travel. She shared tips on where we could get good gelato. And she joined our holiday dinners when our families visited.

Nancy had a passion for trying and doing…everything. Nancy had as many hobbies as you could cram into the one bedroom Russian Hill apartment where she lived for 30 years. In addition to being an accomplished photographer, Nancy made jewelry, studied horticulture, played instruments, was a voracious reader, loved food, and had a passion for travel. Her apartment was a museum–with a carefully selected collection from her extended travels in Africa, Europe, and Asia.

When Nancy died this year, it all happend so quickly, that we barely had time to say goodbye. But in the process of visiting Nancy in the hospital, and helping her family to put her affairs in order after her death, Jeff and I became close with some of Nancy’s friends from other parts of her life. Its like Nancy planned it this way.

At our most recent holiday show, Nancy’s absence was evident. But so was her lasting impact. Friends that she brought together through her life gathered and toasted her memory…and made plans to visit together again.

Below, is a picture from Nancy’s memorial service on the Bay. Below that is a photo from the “after party” at Paradise Bay on the harbor in Sausalito–John, Regina, Jeff, Suzette, Joyce, Pat, and Susan offering a toast to Nancy (some of us with an awesome rasberry mojito, which Nancy would have LOVED!!)

The hustle and bustle of December, a fast-approaching Christmas, and 2006 save-the-dates already being penciled in have all brought 2005 rushing back to me in a similar blur. Facts fade quickly and memories blend together. This is what I am thinking about at midnight tonight–unable to sleep–a flood of recollections and a fear that I may not ever capture them.

I lost three people in my life this year. My dear friend Nancy. My Aunt Sallie. And my Grandmother.

So, I’ve decided to jot down some stream of conscious memories, before 2006 reprograms those brain synapses with the latest celebrity breakup or infuriating political drivel.