Lunch
is a very simple affair, usually sandwiches.
Mom puts all of the stuff on the table, and we each get a glass of ice
water (tea is for supper, and soda is a rare treat). The usual suspects on a
lunch table are chopped ham lunch meat, American cheese slices, pickles,
tomatoes, mustard, Miracle Whip, peanut butter, jelly (peach or grape), and, if
we are lucky, Lay’s potato chips. Mom
likes to put chips in her sandwich, and eventually we pick up the habit. One of us is chosen to pray, and then we dig
in. The first round is a luxurious
meat-and-cheese sandwich, each of us putting in orders for our individual
variations and Mom making them for us.
Seconds, if we’re still hungry, is the less expensive peanut butter and
jelly, full, or folded if we’re less ravenous. There is chatter and exuberance
at the table, and even the occasional bit of taboo singing (“If you sing at the
table, you’ll have a crazy wife!”). We
admonish each other to keep our “ables off the tables.” When we’re done Mom clears the food away and
puts the few dishes in the sink, and it is nap time.
Well, for a start, this shall be the home for my Biographical Inventory of Books. After that, who knows?
Monday, January 4, 2021
What Happened (Part 22)
Labels:
autobiography
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