I Remember...

I remember...

Coming home from my paper route at 7 am and Mom would be weeding in the garden. 

Mom sitting in her chair by the dining room bay window reading and eating the white from the inside of orange peels. 

When Mom made fried chicken and milk gravy, we ate the gravy on sliced of bread, not mashed potatoes and I thought that was the best thing ever. I didn't miss the potatoes. 

Roast beef nearly every Sunday for dinner and I made the gravy. Sometimes, I mashed the potatoes.

Potato soup, thin, poured over a slice of Velveeta. Or peanut butter popcorn, or fried egg sandwiches and sometimes waffles for Sunday supper.

Winter evenings at home with all of us in the dining and living rooms, reading, playing or doing homework. (We only ate in the dining room on special occasions.)

Pulling out the couch so we could play behind it, or piling up the cushions to ride on.

Andy making train or race tracks from the encyclopedias that took up most of the living room. 

Mom letting the boys make a horrendous amount of noise banging on pans. 

I remember...

Dad had a glass of Pepsi every day. We got some if we got hurt.

Dad sitting in bed having a bowl of ice cream and doing the OWH crossword before he went to sleep.

Playing catch with Dad.

I remember...

Learning to make tuna casserole and burning the onion flakes the first time, like Mom always did. Mom's tuna casserole had peas in it and biscuits on top. 

And making peach cobbler. About the same as the tuna without the peas and onions. Or cherry cobbler. Dad always poured milk on his helping. 

Making Dad's coffee, just so, with milk and sugar. And the way he always stirred sugar into the milk before adding cereal. 

Making fried eggs for Dad. We carried the water in the lid to dump in the egg pan so the yolks would be covered. 

I remember...

Black walnut and lemon custard homemade ice cream with the hand crank until we got an electric one. 

Andy having a huge bowl of chocolate malt-o-meal cooked cereal for breakfast and Mom letting me eat leftovers on days I couldn't face an egg for breakfast. 

Leaving with Dad at 7:30 to ride to the high school instead of taking the bus. Dad taught social studies there for 34 years. 

Teaching Tim his letters and numbers and how to ride a bike. 

I could go on an on.