My, oh, my! Blueberry Pie

Does anyone remember the book, Blueberries for Sal? It is a lovely children's book, by Robert McCloskey, with blue and yellow colored cover art, as well as black and white illustrations. From 1948, it's nostalgic scenes of the family car, Sal and her mom in the kitchen, and picking berries on the hill (*spoiler alert* - Sal gets separated from her mom, and at the same time, a bear cub is also separated from its mom - nobody gets eaten, except the blueberries), remind one of a simpler time.

It also reminds me that I love blueberry cobbler, but my family doesn't. Every now and then, I have to make some, preferably when other people will be around to eat it.


I get both fresh blueberries (from the grocery store, usually, though there is a blueberry farm nearby, that allows you to pick-your-own, that I would like to try) and canned blueberry pie filling, with yellow cake mix and a stick of butter cut up over it. It is superb, warm and bubbly from the oven, with a little Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream over it.


I remember a time when I couldn't have all the blueberry cobbler or pie that I wanted. Nobody could. A time when there was just enough for everyone to get one piece... and that one piece was like a sacred right that no bond, even blood, could break.


~*~
It was a hot summer night. A night so hot, that tempers could flare up to the surface just like molten oatmeal in a pan on the stove - calm on the surface, until it suddenly bursts forth in a violent eruption.

Linda, for whatever reason, had not eaten her pie... her blueberry pie. Suddenly, like a dog in search of a flea to scratch, she had an overwhelmingly compelling need to seek out and consume her rightful dessert.

All that stood between her and the purple, golden-crusted confection, was the secret of its location, and a younger sibling, Herman.

When she could not immediately locate the object of her desire, *she lashed out, first with an accusation, "You ate my blueberry pie!"

He innocently replied, "No, I didn't, " then without warning, the maligned grabbed a section of the formerly hidden, stain-producing fruit concoction, and defensively smeared it on his accuser's new white blouse, "here's your PIE!"

She reached for the only weapon available to her, the implement with which she had chosen to use to consume her pie, her fork!

In a movement, that brought to mind the shower scene of "Psycho", she lashed out - the glint of the cold steel catching the light, momentarily blinding its intended victim- and stabbed him in the arm!

A stunned silence transformed the room to an almost church-like hush, with undercurrents of panic and remorse.

Like a woodsman's axe at rest, the fork stuck out of Herman's forearm. We all stood transfixed by the carnage... shocked at the violent attack - red blood, white shirt, and blue berry stains.
~~~

*Not surprisingly, this is not the "version" that Linda remembers.

Some might say that my version is a wee bit melodramatic and historically inaccurate. I say, let the facts speak for themselves: She was wearing a white blouse. Blueberry pie residue was found on the said shirt. A fork was sticking out of Herman's arm.

So, if you find yourself in a blue(berry) mood, eat some pie... but use a spoon! ; )