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The Little Memories

It’s really interesting the older you get the more things you remember. As a child when my parents were “normal” parents (those that know me understand that), I didn’t realize they were still struggling.

Having conversations with Ed, I’m like “didn’t you have breakfast rice?”, “didn’t you have snow ice cream?”, “didn’t you have plain butter oatmeal?”, didn’t you have….?”

We ate mustard, bread, onion sandwiches. Sometimes we pulled wild green onions from our yard.

We ate snow ice cream! It had to be the second snow always because mom said the first snow had to kill all of the germs and somehow that made sense. She would mix together snow, milk, vanilla, and sugar.

We ate rice with milk, vanilla, and sugar for breakfast.

We ate oatmeal with milk, butter, sugar.

We ate bread, mayonnaise, tomato sandwiches.

My youngest brother liked ketchup sandwiches (gross)

We ate a lot of salads (because produce was cheaper then)

We ate a lot of sandwiches too. Potted meat was cheap.

I find myself missing my mom’s chef salads and club sandwiches. I miss her cooking the deer meat that my dad brought home from a week long hunting trip, and although I would not eat the meat, I would eat the onions she made with it along with the burnt flower.

As I’ve learned to let go of the “bad memories”, these are the good ones. I wish my mom were here so I could tell her these things. I wish she were here to make me a club sandwich!

When my mom worked evenings, my dad tried to cook. He struggled with the mashed potatoes. They were either too runny or too thick. They were not like my moms. He tried though.

When they had a little money to spare, I remember we ate at Mr. Submarine on “The Pike” or What-A-Burger (where I ended up with my first job).

These are the memories I like. These are the memories I’ll keep.

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