Useless Old Woman?
By Suzanna Leigh and Marj Watkins
Every once in awhile Marj Watkins says, “Oh, I should write something for The Loop.” She has been writing her “Island Epicure” column since the 1970s and only quit when she reached age 100.
I remind her, “I told them you are retired. You don’t have to write anything.”
“Oh, thank goodness!” she sighs. Today she is relieved, but some days she says, “I am a useless old woman!”
I spent the morning working on her finances, heart in my mouth, so careful with her money now that she has forgotten. By noon, my eyes are crossed and my emotions exhausted. I close the laptop, grab my keys, and head to her house.
“I have been working on your finances,” I say.
She looks at me surprised. “I have finances?” she asks. She who was always so careful to pay her bills as soon as they arrived, who fired the housekeeper I got for her because she thought the woman was charging too much, who played the stock market and won. Who gave hundreds of dollars a month to charities to feed the poor.
Later, Jamila and I are helping her to dress, applying ointment to her rash, anointing her dry skin with aloe vera. “We are taking good care of you,” I say.
“No!” she clenches her fists in mock rage. “All my life I have taken care of everyone else. I don’t need anyone to take care of me now.”
But she does. She forgets to take her medicine, wears the same dress day and night unless we help her change. Needs help bathing. Forgets to put her teeth in until she has a plate of food in front of her and wonders how she will chew it. Before she relinquished her check book, she overdrew her bank account by hundreds of dollars – twice.
She has forgotten close friends’ names, but when Jamila comes in, she opens her arms wide in welcome. “You are here!” She exclaims with a big smile, and her love fills the room. She loves everyone and everyone feels it. She takes it for granted they will love her back.
“When I am here,” Jamila says, “I forget my worries.” Jamila has much to worry about and much to grieve. Her husband is chronically ill and sometimes spends days doing nothing but sleep and pray. She grieves for her home in Syria, now gutted by the civil war, and for her friends buried in the rubble of bombed-out villages.
“But when I am here with Mom,” she says, “I am happy. She is like my own mother.”
Mom can no longer do the things our culture requires of us, but is she useless? Her love creates a sanctuary in her home. She lifts people’s spirits, and her love ripples out to make this world a better place. Is she useless? I don’t think so!
She does still miss writing her Island Epicure column, so I promised I would include a recipe of hers here. This is one of my favorites, from her Gluten-Free Baking Book, first edition. It’s an older recipe; it includes Splenda, which she would never use now. My dad was alive then. He had diabetes and mom had not yet discovered coconut sugar.
Quinoa Sour Cream Scones
Gluten-free and high-protein
Stir together
1½ cups quinoa flour (or sorghum flour)
½ cup garbanzo flour or almond meal
½ tsp salt
½ tsp soda
2 tbsp sugar, coconut sugar, or Splenda
Work in
½ cup soft butter
Beat
1 egg
⅓ cup sour cream
2 tbsp sugar (or substitute 1 tbsp honey to keep them from going stale)
Instructions: Stir liquids into the flour mixture. Turn out onto a floured board or counter. Knead into a ball. Flatten or roll into a disk 1/2” thick. With a floured knife, cut into wedges or squares. Place on baking sheet.
Variation: add 1/2-1 cup dried cranberries for a holiday treat
Bake 12-15 minutes at 425 degrees until golden brown and tests done. Cool slightly on a rack. Serve with tea, hot milk, or coffee. Store cool in sealed plastic bag with the air squeezed out. Refrigerate.
Warm in 225-degree oven to serve later.
