With all the talk of viruses in the news lately (and a century ago), I think back to the comfort, warmth, and healing provided for many years by the cherry spread.

Mom only used the cherry spread when we were ill.

The cherry spread plus slowly-sipped ginger ale took care of any number of tummy aches and “bugs.” (To this day, ginger ale tastes like medicine to me.)

In many hours of digging, I’ve only found one photo that includes the cherry spread. It looks like it was taken the afternoon on Christmas Day 1961, with a worn-out (but not sick, I hope) Mom stretched out for a snooze. We lived in Milford, Connecticut, at the time.

That’s Harry’s “Al the Alligator” enjoying a snuggle with Mom. Please don’t ask me about the naked doll baby on the floor, because I don’t know. I was three at the time. (There’s also a box with the words “Nurse Kit” near the tree, maybe dolly was waiting for an exam? And a gown …)

Does the cherry spread still exist? Yes, it’s here in our study, on the back of the upholstered chair at my computer. There are the stitches showing Mom’s efforts to add more years to the comforter. It served a second generation here in Indiana and is now threadbare in some many spots, with little squares of quilt batting occasionally falling loose to the floor like autumn leaves.

But the cherries are still there, as cheerful as ever. And the memories of Mom tenderly tucking it around her children will last forever.

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