Rhubarb always reminds me of Dad. Don, our neighbor on Oak Street, frequently gave us rhubarb from his extensive gardens. Mom would prepare it with HUGE amounts of sugar.
After Mom died, we discovered that rhubarb was something Dad really enjoyed. We cooked some up for him and then he learned how to prepare it himself. There weren't too many things he cooked "from scratch" in quantities for one person (His Navy and Scout experiences provided ample opportunities to cook for large numbers of people). After Dad died we found lots of rhubarb that he'd cooked and frozen in the basement freezer.
I found the following in a note from a visit with Dad June 10, 2003, a few months after Mom's death. After tasting rhubarb I cooked for him, he said it was "just right. Sour enough to not quite take the enamel off your teeth!"
Dad had some definite opinions about food - what combinations were acceptable. Click here for his comment about a salad Mom's mother made for him (only one time). If I'm remembering correctly, Dad felt chocolate pudding didn't belong in a pie and neither did rhubarb. 
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