As a child, I spent my days with my Grandma Is. She took care of me while my mom worked. We would play cards. She read the “Daily Citizen” newspaper from beginning to end and painted her fingernails her favorite bright red color.
Summer days followed a familiar routine. The tv was never turned on (it was only re-runs anyway). I played with neighborhood kids or worked on my coloring books. The best part of the day was lunch…my favorite.
We’d go into the kitchen together, she’d set a small pot to boil on the stove. While it got hot, she sliced 4 pieces of summer sausage and laid out 3 sweet bread and butter pickles in a shallow bowl. Once the water was boiling, she would carefully and precisely measure exactly one cup of noodles. I would cajole her to make a heaping cup…so she would compromise by adding a pinch more noodles.
Once the noodles were done, she’d dump out the water and add butter and salt before adding them to my bowl. A glass of milk in a pastel metal drinking glass completed the meal. Continue reading