Whatever Floats Your Boat!

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day—or so we have been taught. It makes sense to me that upon arising, it may have been ten or more hours since our last meal, particularly if we somehow manage to refrain from snacking during the evening.

As a side note, the Romans ate just one meal a day, early Europeans believed it was a meal for the rich, and it did not become a morning institution until people moved into cities during the Industrial Revolution and worked on a regular schedule, with breaks dictated by employers.

Back to our family.

Growing up we always had eggs, cereal, and occasionally, pancakes. I liked scrambled eggs, toast, and tea. Dad liked spaghetti.

The three of you began your mornings with waffles (with the addition of mini chocolate chips for Casey), oatmeal with raisins, or cold cereal such as Kix, Cherrios and the oh-so-unhealthy, Lucky Charms. Time permitting, we would prepare French Toast (with a touch of cinnamon and vanilla) or pancakes.

Before Casey discovered chocolate chip waffles, she loved nontraditional morning meals. Like Bryce who once asked for macaroni and cheese and turkey after one of his sleepovers, young Casey liked tuna melts and New England Clam Chowder.

It was not until our trip to London that I learned about waking up to baked beans, tomatoes, and blood pudding, aka blood sausage—made from onion, pork fat, oatmeal, and pork blood! (Incidentally, Dad took a liking to it, but surprisingly not me.) To each his own.

It was therefore with great interest that Kelly discovered that Lily not only resembles her Aunt Casey physically, but she also shares her childhood morning eating habits. Kelly believed that Lily just had little interest in breakfast. After all, some adults are not fans of any morning meal. But as soon as Mommy placed a plate of last night’s leftovers in front of her, Kelly discovered that Lily just did not like what she had been served. Suddenly, she had a huge appetite.

I suggested that perhaps Lily would enjoy a tuna melt. Casey told me to give her a jar of peanut butter and a spoon. Maybe she would like some baked beans and tomatoes.

 

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How Did We Survive?

As I have watched our old home movies, I can’t help but wonder how we Baby Boomers survived. A prime example is my homecoming. Anyone who has ever spent a night in the hospital knows that no matter how healthy you feel when being discharged, it is impossible to leave without being wheeled out by a hospital employee.

When we have babies today, they ride home snuggled securely inside a safety-approved car seat, so it was with surprise that I viewed my homecoming in 1955. Not only was Grandma not seated in a wheel chair, she strolled out unassisted while holding the hand of my cousin Nancy. She walked behind a nurse who was holding me.

Where was Grandpa? I assume he was behind the lens of the camera, filming the momentous occasion rather than helping Grandma. Scene II showed Grandma climbing into the front passenger seat of our Chevrolet, and then holding out her arms so that she could hold me for the ride home!

1955 Homecoming

Four years later when Aunt Ar was born, safety concerns improved slightly. During that homecoming, my sister was shown in the arms of my grandmother, who was seated in the back seat of the car. I guess that showed a little concern.

It was not until sometime between 1977 and 1985 that all fifty states adopted individual laws regarding child-safety seats, so we were all fortunate to have survived those rides in the car unrestrained. Still, I wonder what Grandma did when taking us out when we were babies or very young toddlers, without any car seats to prevent us from rolling onto the floor. Perhaps she did her shopping when Grandpa was home. There is no other explanation to me.

It’s time for another phone call to Grandma. I hope she remembers.