I asked my sister if Granny Hopper’s refrigerator, pronounced frigerater in Chilton County, was still working. My sister said it was the best one in the house. Granny’s frigerater is a 1953 Westinghouse. It looks like a giant tombstone with a big pull handle.
If that frigerater could talk, it would have 70 years of
stories. I remember as a small boy
visiting Granny. The first thing daddy
would do is go to the kitchen, check the stove for gumbo, and open the frigerater. It amazed me that daddy would do that
especially if Granny was not at home.
Remember when people did not lock their doors.
When I married and moved from home, I understood the freedom
dad had going into Granny’s frigerater.
I would go back home and open mom’s frigerater. There you could find all sorts of
goodies. It is fascinating to stand in
the frigerater door and stare.
They are like treasure chests. I can hear momma hollering, “Bobby, shut the
frigerater door.” Sometimes there were
too many choices, but I remember there were plenty of times that the frigerater
was empty. Maybe we stare remembering
all the good stuff that we have removed from the treasure chest.
Frigeraters are like shrines. Covered with notes, pictures, and magnets
they become sacred. I know that every
time I remove a sacred object I get in trouble.
If I accidentally knock off one of the sacred objects, I panic until I
return it to its holy position.
Some people have no respect for holy shrines. I remember returning home from an evening out
with my mouth watering for homemade boiled cookies. (That is chocolate, oatmeal, pecan
cookies. It is called boiled cookies
because you boil the chocolate.) We called them "cow patties" in Vacation Bible School. They do look like them. They
were spread out across the table. While
we were out, my brother and his friend were lifting weights in my
basement. They got hungry and went
upstairs for refreshments. They spied
the boiled cookies and decided they needed testing for consumer safety and
realized they needed some fresh, cold milk.
Walking in the dining room and kitchen, there was evidence
of shrine desecration. Preliminary
inspection revealed missing cookies from the wax paper where they were placed to
cool. Further inspection revealed that
the frigerater had been entered and a gallon of milk gone. In addition, a bunch of bananas were missing
from top of the frigerater.
I finally deduced that there was no shrine violation, but in
fact, my little brother and his friend were energized and much stronger due to
the freedom to enter the frigerater. It
tickled me that my little brother had the freedom to go into our
refrigerator. He had been going into our
frigerater since he was twelve years old. He will be sixty-three this month. Going into our refrigerator reveals an act of
intimate relationship that my brother had with us.
I think staring into the refrigerator reveals not only a
longing for what inside but reveal something deeper. The human heart longs for relationships
Randy Frazee calls it “Refrigerator Rights.” He says, “A person with refrigerator rights
is someone who can come into your home and feel comfortable going to your
refrigerator to make a sandwich with your permission.” The first thing I do when I visit my brother
is look in his fridge.
Rick Howerton says, “People in our lives with refrigerator
rights are the ones most apt to let us know they need our help, and they’re the
people to whom we feel connected enough to ask for assistance.”
My prayer is that my friends have “Refrigerator Rights.”
Two are better than
one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his
fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another
to help him up. Again, if two lie
together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone? And if one prevail against him, two shall
withstand him; and a threefold cord is not quickly broken (Ecclesiastes 4:9-12 KJV).
Bear ye one another's
burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ (Galatians 6:2 KJV).
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