As a teen, I enjoyed watching my Father eat a supper meal. Let me state, my Mother was a great cook. I could eat my weight in her roast, carrots, potatoes and gravy. Her Swiss steak with red gravy was terrific and the lady could flat out pie-bake! I did not always care for my Mom's menu. When she served up pig's feet, pig tails, beef brains or sauerkraut, I nearly choked on every bite. Later in life, I took a likin' to her liver & onions recipe only to have my doctor caution me that it was not a healthy meal.
My Dad never flinched at any foods Mom put before him. He would gnaw on a pig's tail as if it was a delicious barbecue baby back rib. Watching my Dad eat meals caused me to realize one of hing for certain; here was a guy who went to bed hungry on many occasions in his life and perhaps re-visited the memory during his military stint.
I know this sounds silly but once in awhile in a midnight hour, I find myself longing for one more supper hour of roast, fixings and gravy. I'd would watch my Dad out of the corner of my eye as I tried to make my own bread and gravy 'come out even.'
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