Anyone visiting Mary and Charlie was always offered a cup of tea and a sample of the latest from her oven. Be it cake, cookies or my very favorite her fresh baked biscuits as she called them. A biscuit was a large dinner sized bread roll, split open and covered with a generous smattering of butter. For those too young for a cup of tea, fresh milk from the days milking was the offer.
The one year we lived on the farm in Florence, from the summer of 1949 through the fall of 1950, was a special time for me. It was a totally different environment going from living in a city to living on a farm and along with the summer vacations, living on the farm where Mother was born and raised brings back the happiest memories of my young life.
Mary apparently enjoyed having children next door and when ever we could make an excuse to visit Mary and Charlie we would make a bee-line across the small field between the two houses to approach the back door knowing full well a baked treat of some sort was in store. Early on the excuse became “can we go over to Mary’s and read today’s funnies” in the morning edition of the Seattle Post Intelligencer, a subscription that Mary and Charlie always had delivered to the front gate daily. We were always met with a smile and the anticipated offer of would you like a piece of cake or a biscuit as the well read daily paper was retrieved from the top of a small table, just large enough to spread out the paper and corral the treat that Mary retrieved from her small pantry off the kitchen. Such a small narrow space with but a small sink and lined with shelves where she stored all her baking supplies and utensils. Not large enough for cooking for certain so her mixing and preparation was always performed at the large oil-cloth covered kitchen table.
The funnies retrieved and the treat served a quiet time came upon the room as the funnies were absorbed. Occasional conversation would arise as Mary, or Charlie from his usual chair beside the stove, might ask a question about school or how Mother and/or Johnnie might be that day. Always a pleasant way, to spend the time after jumping down from the school bus that delivered us home each day and the time that milking began about four to five PM. But the underlying motivation was always to taste the wonderful product of Mary’s daily baking. The funnies, well they were important, but not as enjoyable the daily treat.
Mary and Charlie might have had a sweet tooth, for fresh baked goods were always at hand and if not baked by Mary, they might have been purchased at the front gate from the bakery delivery truck that would sound it’s horn at the road twice a week. Mary did not bake loaves of bread, only her wonderful bread biscuits, so their sliced bread was always purchased off the truck as he ran his route every day to all the outlying farms in the area.
What follows is taken from something I wrote several years ago about the wonderful memory of the bakery truck. It really was a special event to witness for nothing like this service was ever experienced while living in the city. It was a unique experience and the memory has always remained in a special and pleasant segment of my memory.
Golden Rule Bakery Truck
This was really something special. This was a bakery on wheels from Seattle with routes through the more remote areas of the Puget Sound area. The particular route we were on would bring the service to our door maybe two or three times a week but I could have dealt with it every day. When this panel truck sounded its familiar horn at the front gate of Mary Mills next door it was always an exciting time. I would rush to the road and run the fifty yards or so in order to be there, as Mary would come from the front door of the house and head towards gate at the roadside. As she approached the truck with the script written sign on the side panels proudly stating the name of the company,
then the driver would swing open the back doors of the truck and out would rush the most wonderful smells of fresh baked goods of all kinds. I can still recall those wonderful mouth watering smells to this day and no bakery in my lifetime has ever matched the wonderful memory of this special truck. The bakery goods of all kinds were all in neat packages from bread, to rolls to cookies, pastries and cakes all efficiently packed in tight from floor to roof , from front to back all placed in specially built shelves that the driver would pull out for one to see his luscious products. But the lingering smell was most wonderful on a warm summer morning after the sun had been beating on the steel sides and roof of the truck allowing the aroma of fresh baked goods to build up and concentrate to suddenly be released as the doors were first opened. It was magnificent ambrosia to a young one from the city.
It was probably a purchase by Mother or Uncle John that first introduced me to the pastry delight called a “Bear Claw”. What a wonderful treat this was for someone from the city where such items were a real luxury while growing up in Bremerton. I could never get enough of them and almost every summer day I would hope that today the truck would be stopping at our gate and Bear Claws would once again be purchased. If not a Bear Claw then perhaps something else as sweet and delectable would do just as well but this wish certainly was not fulfilled as much as I would have liked. The driver would only stop at our gate if Mom or Uncle John flagged him down as he reentered the road after pulling away from Mary’s house. Mary Mills was a good customer for the truck stopped faithfully every time for her and if I was within earshot of the unique musical sound of the trucks horn that the driver would proudly blast to announce his arrival at the gate. I would avail myself of every opportunity to be present as the doors were opened on that truck and it was even better than Mary’s kitchen on a baking day.
I missed the farm, Uncle John, the family dogs, Mary and Charlie when we moved back to Bremerton in 1950. Those times on the farm were so very special. Looking back on these times so many years later it is easy to see how Mary especially filled a place in my heart. She became almost a Grandmother figure which is something that never occurred to me early on in life. Only now can I make that connection. Our grandparents were long deceased by the time we were born. I wish the times could be given back.
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