Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Wednesdays were hot dog day. I know this because my mother made the same thing for supper each night of the week and we learned my grandpa F. died (19 April 1972) while I was eating a hot dog. I remember I didn't want to finish it and my sister Susan telling me I should. Other nights my mother made hamburgers, hot dogs, spaghetti (one box each of Kraft American and Italian), macaroni and cheese, Spanish rice, sometimes those hard shell tacos with the mix, and once in a while canned chop suey with the little crispy noodles. When my father came home from truck driving she made him bologna sandwiches and the grossest goulash imaginable (macaroni noodles, hamburger meat, and stewed tomatoes. He hated spices so the food had to be bland.

Almost every night dessert was Jello with canned fruit. Often fruit cocktail, but also cherries and peaches. Breakfast was cereal and Tang orange drink. We had nasty dried milk. My mother was trying to make ends meet with five children on a long-haul truck driver's salary. She loved the innovative food industry products that were so popular in the 1960s and 1970s.

The only thing I make that my mother made is Spanish rice. But I had lots of hot sauce to it.

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