Mabel Lewis's Comfort Jell-O

Reader Contribution by Chuck Mallory
Published on February 25, 2013
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Do you remember the first time you experienced real grief when a beloved relative died? Maybe relatives died in your young childhood, but you simply saw a lot of crying and didn’t really feel what happened.

My first experience was when “Unk” passed away. I was a teenager. It wasn’t a tragic accident. Great-uncle Lloyd, simply “Unk” to us, was 94, lived at home, and hadn’t experienced ill health. His heart simply gave out. Later I decided his longevity was due to him having “just a snoot” of “medicine” before bed each night. Today we’d call this a shot of whiskey. My people come from Kentucky, remember, so a good bourbon runs in our veins. Sometimes literally.

Young “Unk” with his cousin Edgar Botkins at the “baptizin’ spot” on the Salt River in north Missouri.

Unk would even tell us he was heading to the store for his “medicine”-really the liquor store, of course. That’s how Baptists lived back in the day. The churchgoers didn’t criticize him: after all, it was his “medicine”!

That morning of his demise, I headed for his home, which he shared with his daughter, Georgia Ruth. Unk and Georgia Ruth had outlived Unk’s wife, great-aunt Laura, and Georgia Ruth’s two siblings. With Unk gone, only Georgia Ruth was left. The living room was crowded with women comforting her, and arriving with food and hugs. Her kitchen table was laden with casseroles, pies, and, of course, desserts made with Jell-O. The talk was the many stories of Unk, some when he was young, both funny and sad. They also each told how they’d heard the news.

“When I told Marshall,” one farm woman said, “he went over to the fence and stood with his back to me. I know he was crying a little.” That one shocked me. I never thought of the big, strong farm men I knew as people who would cry. I would see it soon, though; the 1980s farm crisis was about to occur.

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