"...'honour your father and mother' and 'love your neighbour as yourself." Matt 19:19
I have been looking, with increasing intensity, for a stand-mounted mixer ever since I took the gearbox out of one making gingerbread at Christmas. I may have been a bit obsessed with my quest for a mixer. I am far too cheap to spend $300 on a new mixer, so I have been cruising the second hand stores to see what is on offer. Most of what I have found has not been quite right--no beaters, no bowls, wobbly turntable, etc. I knew I had crossed the line from casual shopper to obsessive searcher when I caught myself "putting the word out."
So, I was thrilled last week when my dad called to tell me that they had found a mix master at the local thrift shop. It had a cord, beaters, bowls, everything! Dad and his wife kindly dropped it off and had a visit. The mixer was great, better in some ways than the one we had growing up. It even has a splash cover! I used it to make a batch of corn muffins, and it worked perfectly. Case closed--or it should have been.
I am madly trying to get ready to go back to Haiti on Monday. There are about a million things I have to take care of before I go, but in spite of all that, I've become aware that I still have some unresolved mixer issues. The logical side of me doesn't understand. I was given a perfectly good one already. And, as my daughter has pointed out, I really don't need a stand mixer at all; she does everything with a hand mixer, and so could I. I am going back to a country where a mixer would be the last thing on anyone's priority list--far below tarps, clothes, food, jobs--but yet it lingers in my mind even as I pack and plan.
Yesterday, I was at the bank getting US cash, and thought I would pop into the second hand store next door. I am always looking for suitcases, a 3/4 size (48") box spring (if anyone has one!), and aquarium stuff. On the way out, I passed the appliance section and, to my disbelief, there was a stand mixer. Not just any stand mixer--our stand mixer! A Mixmaster stand mixer complete with the two original bowls, beaters that are not bent, no wobble in the stand, dough hooks, and even the manual! And all for just $20!
Transfixed, I was drawn to the mixer and picked it up. Instantly I understood! This was not just a mixer; it was a memory trigger. That mixer was my mom's mixer with the same beaters I got to lick off, and the same bowl I got to clean out. Those were the beaters I had to straighten in our little shop when I ran the spatula through them.
I know now that, as I head back to Haiti and to families torn apart, I needed that Mixmaster to connecting with my lost family. My mother died of cancer when I was in my 20s. Many of my fond childhood memories include cooking with her. I am really glad I found her mixer but even happier that I figured out why it was so important to find it. Cheap as I am, I would have paid $300 for that old mixer. It is currently sitting on my piano with the family photos, I will find a home for it in a cupboard at some point, but am in no hurry.
P.S. I have about 10,000 songs that play randomly while I work at my computer. In the middle of writing this blog, the Tractors version of "Lord of the Dance" came on. This is the song that my mother wanted to be played at her memorial, and I remember her saying, "Don't let them drag it! It is a celebration! It is dance!" Well, it was played at her memorial, and the organist didn't drag it. But today, as I remembered her yet again, the Tractors took it to a whole other level! She would've like it I am sure! Coincidence?
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