I remember when I was in first or second grade.
We lived on Christina in Stockton.
An aftenoon snack of snickerdoodles, oatmeal, or peanut butter cookies would often be waiting for the three of us when we came home from school.
When mom made peanut butter cookies she would always ask if we wanted to press them with a fork.
It wasn’t a peanut butter cookie until they were personally imprinted by one of us.
Later, as we grew older, and after breaking several giant glass-sized mayonnnaise cookie jars, with Gene Reiswigs’ handmade wooden lid, were filled to the brim with mother’s cookies, sometimes with our signature peanut butter ones.
/ as told by Brian Robison (mother passed away July 07, 2021)