Part of my childhood life took place in a small back water town of Washington. Some days if you talk to me you’d swear I sounded as if I’m from Alabama. This little town boasted the best burger/ice cream joint ever and all of one stop light. My friends and I would sell lemonade over the back fence of the golf course. Her brothers would build army forts in the field behind their house and her dad thought any blue truck driving through the adjoining apartment complex was the Green River Killer. Ok, they were a little more Okie from Fenokee than we were.
When I was in the 4th grade, and after my parents divorced, we moved into the “big city,” yet my grandparents remained in the small town. To this day they spend their summer months in the same single wide of my childhood. Much of my family lived in the small town but within recent years many of them have moved on to larger yet still backwater logging town.
I have fond memories of the small town. My grandparents live near a lake. We would spend countless summers in the lake. Dad would have softball games and on our way out of town we would stop at the local donut shop and he’d buy me apple fritters the size of my head. These days my small little town has changed. The local burger joint is now a physical therapy place and I have no clue what happened to the donut shop. Mega fast food joints have popped up and the town is soon celebrating the grand opening of their very own Mega-Lo Mart.
This morning I thought it might be nice to take the boy out to my grandparents house. They have only seen him once since he came home and that was back in October. We had a nice drive (about an hour) and as we passed things I told him, “that’s where mama went to school” or “that’s where your Uncle Kellan goes to school.” At the same time I thought about all the growing up I had done in that town. I thought about all the good stuff.
As we drove further out into the toolies (because this is officially where my grandparents live, past the farkleberries but not quite to BFE) I started to think about the afternoon. Odds were that my grandmother would try to feed me. What good Irish grandma wouldn’t? I then thought about what my grandma would try to feed me. My guess was a bologna sandwich with salad dressing (Miracle Whip) on Wonder Bread. (I know they don’t make Wonder Bread anymore, but somehow she would be able to find some.)
The boy thought the grandparents were pretty neat when they showed him they had toys. And then the question came, “Leese, you want some lunch?”
“I made potato salad.”
“Alrighty then!” (love my Grandma’s potato salad)
“I’ll make you a sandwich too. What would you like, tuna or bologna?
“I’ll take the tuna.” (I secretly think bologna will kill me)
Grandma then proceeds to pull out bread. A nice loaf of cracked wheat and a loaf of standard white.
“You want me to make the tuna with mayo or salad dressing?”
Damn I’m good.
She also served banana cream pie.