Oh Olivia, we are going to miss you.

Rest in peace, Olivia.

I still want to know about the biscuits.

2cups of white whole wheat
2tbs of baking soda
1tsp of sea salt
1/4 plus 1tbs lard
enough heavy cream to make it sticky

mix dry
cut in lard
slowly add cream by turning, not stirring

bake on a dry tray at 425 in a preheated oven for 12 minutes.

Honestly, Lena Mae made better biscuits but Olivia made better fried chicken. Both ladies used self rising flour, lard and buttermilk I think. They worked the mixture with their hands until they were satisfied with the mixture. Then they formed each biscuit to the size of a silver dollar, and always seemed to come out perfectly formed, all the same size. Never an odd size and no dough left over too small to use.
Neither woman measured anything, every ingredient was eyeballed and I don't remember either lady ever having to adjust ingredients. But I wasn't there all the time. They both also used smaller baking trays, biscuits covered every inch of the tray. When we were visiting, the ladies made biscuits fresh for breakfast,
lunch and dinner.
Both women doted on the two boys (grown men), it always made me feel good to see. Both sons/nephews lived away from North Carolina so when both were there at the same time both Mother and Aunt were especially fired up.

Hey, I got pretty darn close to Livia's recipe! If you and Mr Glitterbag ever make it to Mrs Bobsal and my neck o' the woods, I,ll bake you a biscuit that will bring Livia to your mind.

Sorry about Olivia. Thanks for an interesting thread.

Thanks Edgar, and Bob I may be heading your way in the fall to see my sister-in-law and nephews. I'd love to to have homemade biscuits again, so I just might take you up on that.

A touching tribute.

Sorry to hear about that GB. 96 is a good age though, sounds like a life well lived.

Olivia's funeral is today, she would not be happy about the rainy weather.we will be saying farewell to an honest to God Matriarch. Mr. G and I plus the daughters, grandchildren, and great grandchildren will miss our formidable rock and her out-of-world fried chicken.

Please, please do. I'm literally up the road. Mrs Bobsal would love to talk to another company retiree.

Sunny days aren't right for funerals, the weather should feel a bit sad too.

Have a drink and remember the good times.

Well, after thinking about it, Olivia would have complained if it was sunny or dreary. No one has a good time at a funeral. However, my husband had some time to spend with his cousin, because the first service was held in Highpoint but the burial was in Raleigh, NC. Its a 90 minute drive between Highpoint and Raleigh so Jane rode with mr. G and they had some alone time.

My husband and his two cousins are the now the oldest generation of the family. The 3 of them can share stories and memories, good and bad, from their earliest years up to today. On my side of the family, all of the oldest family members are all cousins. One correction, my mother younger sister is 74, she was born when my mother was 17. However, as much as much as I love her, she is not a matriarch. You don't meet many matriarchs in a lifetime. Olivia was one, by sheer force of will.

Olivia's death left an empty spot, but it also brought cousins with all their children and grandchildren together. I suppose that is a good circle of life.

I think you're right, they do bring together people that haven't seen each other for years, one down side is that sometimes they're the only occasions when this happens.

I like all of your Olivia stories, glitter.

I have been to two funerals that, if not exactly happy, were jolly in their ways.
One was now long ago, early or mid nineteen sixties. My then boss, an eminent medical doctor of the time, lost his wife in childbirth. There were scads of children already, so tough for all. We who worked for him went to the wake. I'd never been to one before. It was a raucous party - I couldn't believe my eyes and ears. I know he felt terrible - he had been the dad in the room when she died and it was said you could hear his screams far away. But at that wake, there was a kind of honoring of her and bolstering of him that I had no idea could happen in that kind of situation.

The second one was a wake for my uncle (my to-me rich uncle that my mother and aunt had fought with and I reconciled with years later), and the wake was held on their yacht. He had gotten dementia or some kind of senility, as is the way in my family, and his grown grandchildren were all on the boat.. drinkies for all. The family was happy to send him off - this shortly after the well attended funeral mass - with what I take was a lot of relief that his trouble was over mixed with celebration of his life and their lives. My not quite yet husband tied one on, in a manner I'd never see him do since then. Luckily, we were staying at my cousin's place and her husband was doing the driving.
Anyway, those two occasions were different than any other funeral I've been to over a lot of years.

The only funeral receptions I've been to that sort of bug me are those where they barely mention the person who died... but I can see why that happens, people often meeting who have to catch up on their own lives, mixed with people who might not have met the rest.

Rest in peace, Olivia.

Thanks OB, and thanks to all the other posters who joined in. As we live our lives, we all experience the loss of a loved one, a great friend, a beloved pet. These passages are difficult to describe. I won't get maudlin, but every passing presents a different scene/emotion/experience. My father had a stroke that hospitalized him for 6 weeks before he passed. I was with him up to about 8 hours before he died. He seemed so happy, he was talking to friends who visited and he ate a great deal of food they brought, even though he had been refusing food for several weeks and the doctors were asking permission to put a feeding tube. When I got home I told my husband "I think Dad's going to be alright".

About 2 AM, the doctor called to tell me that Dad had passed. It shouldn't have surprised me, but it did. The next morning we made all the arrangements for his funeral and burial, it seemed very odd. My next memory was sitting in a waiting room, waiting for my brother & his wife (very late) for the private first
viewing. They arrived, somebody asked me if I was ready to go see Dad, I told them, no, I'm not. But we went in for the visit. Here's the twist, cooling his heels in the waiting room was my Dad's neighbor of 20 years.

My first though seeing Joe bust in to be the first non-family mourner, was why is he here, but then I noticed his brand new shiny real estate pin glimmering on his lapel even though the viewing room was sort of mood lighting, not too bright, not too dim. Joe stuck to me like glue, he stayed the entire time and at the end walked me and my husband to our car. Mr. G, started the engine and we started to ease out onto the highway. Mr. G asked me if I was OK, I said I was. Slight pause and he mentioned the jerk with the real-estate pin. I remember saying to him, you know what? Dad would laugh his butt off at the ridiculousness of Joe's attentiveness, but now I can't call him to share the laugh about that opportunist at his wake. We laughed because situations like that are the situations my Dad would love to talk about and then laugh at the naked greed.

I didn't intend the above to be a sad story, joe's opportunistic grab struck all of us funny in an inappropriate way. Death brings out the best and worst in people, I don't think I will ever get comfortable with the people who see others people's grief as opportunity.