Floorboard Pie

On my recent trip to California we (mom and others) were able to go by the home of Fred and Carol A. My mom and Carol have been friends for about thirty-five years now and when we lived in the same small northern California town during the 70's, I remember the two of them, as well as the rest of our families, spending a bunch of time together.

That's Psycho Mom on the left and Carol on the right.

As I recall, I hadn't seen Carol or her husband for at least 20+ years, but as I walked into their home it was like putting on my favorite pair of jeans. They're the ones that always feel just right no matter what the occasion.

You may have something or someone similar that you think of. Perhaps you haven't thought about them for quite some time either, but whatever or whoever they are doesn't matter; it's the warm comfortable feeling you get from them when you "put them on".

Fred is a gentle, soft spoken man. As honest as a summer day is long and he is the type that would give you his last dollar, even if it meant he would go hungry because of it. He's an average sized man in stature, but when he grabs a hold of your hand as he greets you, it's like shaking hands with a grizzly bear. It's a handshake that in one firm squeeze, tells you of his unwavering integrity.

Carol reminds me a lot of my mom. She'll invite you into her house with a big hug and an even bigger smile and from the minute you walk in she makes you feel welcome. She has the greatest sense of humor a person could possess and her laugh is infectious. The kind of laugh that fills the room and makes everyone around want to join in. If there was an award for being a great person, she would win it hands down.

I could go on and on about how wonderful these two people are, but I think you get the general idea. Suffice to say, think of the nicest person(s) you know and you have Fred or Carol.

We sat at their kitchen table and reminisced about days gone by when one particular story that has always been near and dear to my heart came up.

Carol had been telling my mom not once, but many, many times about a delicious cherry pie recipe she had come across. It was supposed to be one of those "the best thing since sliced bread" kind of pies. After hearing Carol rave about how good this pie was, mom did what any good friend would do. She said, "If this pie is as good as you say it is how about making one and bringing it over so we can judge for ourselves how wonderful it is."

Little did mom know that this was precisely what her best friend would do. Some time later, days or weeks I'm not sure, carol called mom on the phone and said, "Gerry, I just wanted to make sure your at home, because I have something I want to bring over for you."

Now whatever time had passed, it was long enough for mom to have not been automatically thinking, "It must be the famous cherry pie I've heard about."

"Yeah, we're here," mom replied.

"I'll be over in a little bit," Carol said.

At the time I was probably about seven or eight years old, so I'm sure I was questioning my mom as to who was on the phone, when she would be coming over and what she was bringing, in that order. I no doubt had my nose pressed up against the front window of our house in anticipation too.

"Mom! . . . She's here!" I would have said.

Now generally when someone says they are bringing something over, you kind of expect them to get out of their vehicle and come up to the door. Not this time. She just sat there in her pick-up at the front of our house.

After a couple of minutes mom came to the window to have a look. Carol was still sitting there just as she had from the moment she arrived. After another minute passed we decided to go out to make sure she was alright.

Carol was sitting in the drivers seat with a rather disgusted look on her face.

Through the open passenger side window, mom asked, "What's the matter?"

"Open the door and you'll see." was her reply.

So with me by her side, mom opened the door and there on the floorboard of her pick-up lay an upside down cherry pie! She told us that a little old lady (probably not an exact quote) had pulled out right in front of her at about two miles an hour causing Carol to hit the breaks . . . hard. She watched in slow motion as the beautiful pie that she had just finished making slid off the seat next to her and did a perfect 180 degree flip, landing with a splat on the rubber floorboard.

Not missing a beat, I darted into the house only to return with a couple of forks in hand. I was not going to let this unfortunate mishap keep me from enjoying a home made cherry pie! We all carefully, had a few bites and a lot of laughs that afternoon. I tell you, I have never enjoyed a pie more in my life.

From that day on that would become known as floorboard pie.