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?”
“Sure Gram.”
“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.
Nice.
Rural backwater town dwellers: Putting the ‘r’ in “Warshington”.
I’m one myself.
How many tears fell from her eyes when you said goodbye?
My Grandma made the best bologna sandwiches with buttered white bread and american cheese… man I miss her.
Great Post
That is a great post… Your hometown sounds much like mine (and it’s weird- I still sound like I grew up in Alabama! Imagine how that works?!;))
Thanks for sharing – it’s great to take a trip down memory lane
my daddy still will not eat anything but Wonder Bread…and he is almost 80 (I was an “accident”). they still make Wonder and he buys a new loaf every 2 days because it has to be really smooshy and fresh 🙂
Oh, Grandma food. My Grandma passed away back in 1986, but her molasses cookies were to die for.
mom, she totally didn’t cry the entire time we were there. She welled up a little when we were talking about Eric (my cousin) but other than that she didn’t cry at all.
For the rest of you: My brother and I take bets on how many words into the table blessing she will get before she starts bawling at major family gatherings.
My grandma always made egg salad sandwiches. She’d wrap them in wax paper for us to take on the drive home. I miss her.
I think it’s great you got to take your son to the place of so many of your childhood memories – what do you know, you can go home again! 🙂
When I was little I always told my mom I wanted mashed potatoes like Grandma made. She couldn’t ever get it right until I told her that Grandma’s had lumps!
And BTW…I love the “white bred” caption! Does that have something to do with the Alabama part?
Brings back similar memories for me! I learned to swim in the lake, Grandma’s garden and helping her, the fact that Grandma MUST. FEED. EVERYONE. and oh her home grown tomato sandwiches (organic LONG before organic was ever heard of in her tiny little town).
Me? I grew up in a small town that was suburbs of a big city, I mean, I remember the BIG news of the year being a McDonald’s opened up next to the interstate. LOL The drugstore owner and pharmacist knew us by name, and we always got a lollipop (dum-dum) when we went in (and it wasn’t just for prescriptions as it was the only place in town to have cards).
Reminds me of the scrambled egg on white bread with a side of chicken soup lunches my grandmother made…not my favorite meal but a very fond memory.
We have wonder bread here! I saw it today in the grocery store.
What a nice drive down memory lane…with a few improvements. Gotta love the cracked wheat!