I cleared clutter off the dining room table and put away a coat that had been draped over a dining room chair. Returning to the kitchen, I placed a bowl in the dishwasher, closed it and turned it on. The sound of a vehicle pulling into the yard made my cats run to hide. A swirl of cool spring air accompanied my younger grandchildren as they trooped into the house. Luke sniffed appreciatively as he commented, “I can tell you have a loaf of bread in the oven. It smells great!”

Hugging Luke, Jacob, Gemma and Blaise, I announced, “You can eat some of the fresh bread as soon as it cools off a little.” My daughter Niki followed the children into the kitchen, carrying a large pan. Smiling, I instructed, “My bread is finished baking, so I’ll take it out. Then you can put the pork and sauerkraut in the oven. I’ll turn the temperature down, so it doesn’t dry out.”

Niki turned and spotted a loaf of sweet bread on the kitchen counter and asked, “What’s this?”

I explained with a shrug, “I saw a recipe for rice bread on Instagram the other day and I had to try it. I put dried fruit in it.” Seeing the questioning look on my daughter’s face, I added, “It’s ok, but I’ve thought of a few tweaks I could give the recipe to make it better. I’m going make it again.”

When Niki left for her appointment, I gathered art supplies and sat down at the dining room table with my grandchildren. I explained, “I saw an interesting craft on Instagram the other day and I want to do it with you.” For the next hour we made spring blossoms using white, absorbent paper and Q-tips. After putting spots of marker color on the petals, we put the stems into water and watched as dampness spread and made the color bleed beautifully out to the ends of the petals. The craft was fun, and we enjoyed the rainbow streaks of color.

I’ve become inordinately fond of Instagram and spend more time than I should perusing its contents. On the surface, Instagram looks like a bunch of stupid jokes and funny pictures. Seventy-five percent of it is mindless entertainment for the mindless. But every so often an interesting recipe pops up, some offer a solution to cleaning blackened fry pans, a way to perk up houseplants, new gardening ideas, and cute crafts to work on with the children. While digging through all the Instagram muck, it’s good to keep in mind that not everything found in it, even if it looks reasonable, should be tried. Intelligent discretion needs to be followed.

Every time I find myself sharing nuggets of information that I’ve gleaned from Instagram, I remember my mother and how she loved to try recipes and crafts she found in her much-enjoyed women’s magazines.

Mom bought her favorite magazines each month when she made a large, stock-up-the-larder grocery shopping trip. I often stood with her as she studied the store’s display of magazines near the check-out register. Most of the time, Mom bought Woman’s Day, Good Housekeeping, and The Saturday Evening Post. Each evening for the next few weeks, she relaxed in her favorite living room chair as she read every page.

In the 1950’s, magazines had fewer full-page ads. They were jam-packed with recipes, party ideas, weight loss diets, trending fashions, and short stories. Mom and Bernice, the neighbor lady, must have discussed what they read and would often make some of the recipes.

Sometimes, the magazine recipes were made for family meals, but at other times, my neighborhood cousins and I would get other unexpected treats. One fall, when Mom put on a Halloween party for me and my neighborhood cousins, I knew she was using an idea from one of her women’s magazines. The decorations she put up were wonderful, but the special booth-of-horrors that she put together made the occasion an experience to remember. She enclosed a corner of the basement by hanging bed sheets, then tacked sewing threads to the rafters inside it to produce the sensation of cobwebs as we walked through them. On a small table inside the booth, she set dishes of peeled grapes, cooked spaghetti, and jelled Jello.

Blind-folding each child in turn, she led us into the booth. The faux cobwebs made us shriek. Then she guided our hands into the dishes. The peeled grapes, she told us, were eyeballs that Doctor Ben Casey had removed from patients. The room temperature spaghetti was guts, and the jiggly Jello were brains. We screamed our heads off but absolutely loved it.

Another nugget that I’m sure came from one of the magazines was an afternoon snack Bernice made for me and her four youngest daughters. Ordinarily, we didn’t get snacks, but that day she made a plate of sandwiches using store-bought white bread. The slices of bread           contained peanut butter, slices of banana, and walnuts. We were shocked by the never-tried-before combination of ingredients but loved the sandwiches!

Decades later, I used Mom’s Halloween party idea for my own children. Ideas like that never get old. Women’s magazines are not like they used to be, so I seldom look at them. When I discovered Instagram, I thought it was just goofy pictures but soon found content that interested me. Like Mom, I enjoy trying out recipes, sharing information with friends, and looking at pet pictures. Some things never change. I am a daughter like my mother.

Happy Mother’s Day!