Please visit my site on Blogger for today’s post in honor of my mother’s birthday. ❤️
That’s me and my Daddy. I remember that kitchen though we moved quite a few times. I still get nostalgic when I see linoleum. 😉
But such sweet memories. It all started with a conversation about a food addiction I had in high school. One day my parents went off to church, leaving me home not feeling well. I was old enough to open a can and heat something on the stove but didn’t care for many soups. Then along came this sweet old Italian man with a brilliant dream and a master advertising agent.
Perhaps it was that magical moment in time of being left alone, with a whole can of this cheesy pasta delight with no one to fight me for it. With a handful of Saltine Crackers on the side, I was in heaven-and hooked for an entire school year!
I have lots of these food memories, mostly times inspired by, and shared with, my Daddy. So I figured after I talked about it to hubby the other day that he would run into my old Italian chef at the grocery store and bring him home for dinner. 😏
I think I’ll wait for a night when I’m really feeling the need for comfort. Then I may just eat the whole can. 🙊
And, speaking of food memories with my Dad, here are a few more. None of them is healthy but all of them are sweet. Thanks Daddy!
Best thing about Saturday mornings at least once a month! I could eat half a can at a time. Oh my..
I have no words and couldn’t bring myself to share an actual image of the product. As my hubby would say, “Just another version of lips and ears…”
(We ate it on bread over mayonnaise-open faced style!)
And there were a few things eaten in my house that I can barely talk about and certaintly did not partake of
Can you say “hog head cheese” or “Sardines”? Salted buttermilk?! 😱
Wait! I have to go brush my teeth now. Happy, healthy eating folks!
Thank goodness for Chef Boyardee! And my Daddy. 💕
I’ve never told him this, but I rely on Dan to supply the #SoCS prompt for me each week. I get the notice for his post first, check it out, copy the link and get mine going. Oh, hi Dan! Thanks for the reminder of the reminder. The truth is I love the ‘If We Were Having a Beer’ stories so much. Congrats on hitting one thousand posts (and congrats to the weary Editor too) 😏
Now, back to that prompt. When I first saw Linda’s prompt I thought it said, ‘earwig’. That word conjured up horrific images of me From my childhood, blissfully watching TV on the cool clean floor on a hot Saturday night until abruptly having my world explode when someone shouts, “stinkbug!” which, in my family, means “earwig”! Then it was mayhem as my Dad went for a shoe and we kids flew in four different directions. Sometimes we even missed Flipper saving Bud. Or Sandy saving Bud, or Bud and Sandy saving Flipper.😱
Then this image flew into my brain.
Rabid Rod Serling (Dan) fans will know the series and the episode immediately. But those of you who don’t can watch it here.
THE most frightening episode of Night Gallery for me. Ever. Wait. Maybe it was the spider that kept crawling up from the sink-only bigger. Or maybe the dummy that came to life. Or maybe….you get the picture.
Well, when I looked twice and realized it was, in fact, ‘earworm’ I breathed a sigh of relief because, God knows, I didn’t want to relive those horrific memories!
Now, darn if I didn’t just post an earworm story Here two days ago.
However, it seems I normally wake up with a new earworm every few days so today’s magical mystery tour brings us to the song that was in the movie last night, The Keeping Hours, oddly enough recognized by another blogging friend a few days ago. It was a fvaorite of mine in the 70’s. You can check out Jill’s blog Over here if you like. The song?
And, now here’s the really strange part about all of this-(cue Twilight Zone intro music) This song has long been my “cure” tune to rid myself of an earworm song. Please don’t ask for the science behind it but just know that it works. Perhaps the slow pace, the concentration it takes to sing the lyrics, or just the fact that it puts me into a meditative romantic place. It works. Every time. What word were we talking about? I’ve forgotten now.
Happy #Free48 guys! Go out and make it memorable. Hugs from me and the bugs!
A life honored.
Happy Father’s Day to all the great Dads out there, both in and out of my own life.
My childhood was sweet, largely due to my father. My Mama and I were close but it was my Daddy I connected with the most. He was my hero. He still is. He met my mother through family. She and his sister were roomies, kind of a Lucy and Ethel setup; and their stories were funny. But this is not their story. At that time my Daddy was in the Navy, and my Grandfather met my mother, deciding she was the right woman for one of his five sons. They corresponded via mail while he was still enlisted and fell in love when he came home after his service.
I loved (and still do) to hear his stories about those Navy days. Being enlisted between conflicts allowed him to travel on a carrier ship as store clerk and see Japan, Hawaii and the Phillipines. But his heart was lost when he went to Alaska. I think part of it remains there. He always said he would go back but, sadly, life did not allow for that dream to play out thus far. He is 82. If I had the means I would take him myself!
Growing up with my Dad was about honesty. He didn’t mince words and taught me early how to laugh at myself. What’s not to love about a man who will don a hula hoop just to show his kids how it is done?
Or take his kids to the park on a Sunny California Sunday.
I loved to hear my Dad talk about his growing up years, happily lost in the glow of the 50’s, his stories so good I actually envied him that time of innocence before the glare of Vietnam bore down on the 60’s. His high school was the oldest in Baton Rouge.
My Dad grew up on the river in Louisiana, his father a fisherman, and his parents had a small grocery store in town in later years. He told us all of his ‘poor child’ stories with the rich joy of someone who loved his life in spite of its challenges. Every Christmas we heard about the lean years when he got firewood in his Christmas stocking and the one time he got new pencils. He described their walking to school and taking a shortcut through the wet woods and hearing water mocassins hissing with each step.
He described the flooding of their little house when thr river crested beyond its banks and having to leave until it receded. Then his Mama would just sweep out the mud and debris and start all over. He told me how he and his brothers often had to go to town to fetch his daddy before he spent his paycheck on frivolous things. I think he liked to gamble a bit.
A closer look will show he has holes in those shoes right at the toe. They were hardworking, loving people. The 50’s were prosperous compared to their own growing up years.
I always remember my Daddy smiling through it all. I can still hear the chinking of his cane knife on Saturday morning as he hand trimmed the grass from the sidewalk after he mowed. It was my job to fetch him glasses of ice cold water, even though my mother scolded that drinking cold water in the heat would give him a heart attack. I always got him what he wanted because this was the man who would bring me a glass of ice water in the middle of the night if I called out. I loved the sound of the ice tinkling in the glass as he swirled it, making it cold for me. To me that is what love sounds like. He was always there for us, for the big moments, like a first step…
He still mows his own grass at 82 and still has the same smile.
My mother passed away some years ago and he has had another wonderful lifetime with my stepmother and friend, Ruby. Coco, their puppy in this photo, is gone now too but they have a new ‘baby’ named Sprinkles. He treats his puppies with all the love and adoration that he treated us growing up. I have too many photos and too many memories to share in one post but we love you Daddy. Never forget that!
Happy Father’s Day! 💕
And here are a few other great fathers I know. If you tap and hold the photos you can read the captions.
Too many hours, minutes, days and weeks
mark the passing of time between a life
with you in it and this one without any trace
of your face,
your smile so kind, my mind
has found a way to let go.
No more sorrow creeping,
seeping from my veins like
poisonous regret for all
the things unsaid-
instead I fled onto
another road leading
from the familiar.
Yet no road, no future,
pleasure or pain
can restrain a foolish heart’s
memory and hope as now
and then, once again
my heart whispers your name
and the longing the same
as, the wistful mists clear,
I feel you near, memory sweet.
I feel less alone,
like going home and understand
wherever I go, whatever I do,
remains the thought that leads back to you.
Happy Valentine’s Day everyone….keep dreaming.
Copyright words and image