My dear mother passed away four years ago from a stroke. Shortly after her death, I wrote this poem about her special coleslaw. Enjoy the poem and give the coleslaw a try - it is much better than store bought.
Mom's Coleslaw by Lisa Haneberg
Never a very good cook -
colorless shoe leather roasts,
canned creme corn,
ketchup saved the day.
Mom had three masterpieces -
sweet dark mushy baked beans,
tart apple pie stacked high,
fresh tasting coleslaw.
Slice then cube green cabbage,
dice snappy red apples,
chop ribbons of sweet onion,
together with a pinch of salt.
Mix mayonnaise with a splash
of milk to dressing consistency
add a tablespoon or two of sugar
coat cabbage, apples, and onions.
Mom used to make coleslaw
whenever the family gathered.
She chose a cobalt crystal bowl
to show off the slaw’s milky
elegance and simple taste.
Mom set a fine dinner table,
fussing over the feast’s
plates and platters.
As we cleaned out mom’s condo,
my sister handed me the blue bowl.
My turn to make Mom’s Coleslaw.
I think she’d find it strange that cabbage,
mayo, milk, sugar, and apples
would fuel memories,
a flood of salt,
and a tender sense of her near.


