I woke up this morning with this song by Frankie Laine playing in my head and thinking of when I left my first husband. I do not for the life of me know why he had picked this song out of all the songs in circulation to describe me. I certainly did not feel like a temptress of any sort as I loaded my worldly belongings in the trunk of a green 1957 (?) Chevrolet Belair. Nor did I shine with pride as I backed the car down the driveway . All the kids were jumping up and down in the back seat. As I look back on that day I realize just how many things have changed.
I would be required by law to have everyone of them in a car seat. That is a good thing that has happened. I stopped and filled the car with gas and then pulled onto 50 Hwy heading east. There were several stops along the road so the kids could pee. Tiny bladders do not understand waiting until a rest area is available. That was alright, because traffic was light at that time. Very few cars were going any distance and we were on a 200 mile trip. At some point I pulled out a package of bologna and a loaf of bread and we had a picnic. And that evening we pulled into my mothers yard. My new life was beginning. Thank God for my mother.
The next morning I faced the fact that I was now on my own and I had a family that needed both a place to live and food to eat. I knew my husband would not help me in any way. In his reasoning, I was the one who wanted out, so it was my responsibility to provide a place to live and everything that this little brood of mine required. I had no skills and no training, but I did have a will to work.
Years ago I had worked at Skaets Steak Shop as a dishwasher, so I went there. I was immediately hired so I had my foot in the door. I knew if I was going to survive that I could not do it on a dishwashers wages. So a part of my first paycheck went to purchase a white uniform. That was standard attire for a waitress back then. White uniform and white "waitress" shoes. And a bottle of shoe polish. With those things in hand I went into the Red Rooster Restaurant and told them I was experienced. I was hired on the spot.
So I waitressed at the Red Rooster in the day and Skaets at night. It was at the Red Rooster that I met a young man who would turn out to be a very good friend of mine and teach me acceptance of all things. We remained friends until his death. It is because of Gibby that I became an AIDS activist. I have always thought people are placed in our lives for a reason and we will learn from them if we are open.
Soon I had money to rent a little house. Working 2 full time jobs left me in a stupor most of the time. So on my way home one day and on the spur of the moment, I stopped at the Red Carpet Resturant. I knew waitress work did not pay as steady as cook wages, so I applied for a cook's postition. I had never even been near a grill in my life, but being a good liar, I landed the job. I quit the Red Rooster and Skaets Steak Shop and went full time at the Red Carpet. That job actually paid insurance! I worked from 2 until 10 at night. Fry cook was fast, hard work and I loved it. But I knew that the heart of any restaurant rested in the hands of the dinner cook. That was my next move. When Emily quit I stepped into her shoes.
It was then that I learned how to cook in quantity. I was still fry cook and cooked the orders, but I also made all the gravies, sauces, potatoes, and home cooked meals. I also made the dinner rolls, cinnamon rolls, hash browns, French fries and anything else required to fill the steam table. I came back at night and backed up the fry cook. I hired a live in girl to watch the kids. Now, this is all background and has nothing to do with what I had on my mind when I started this entry. I was thinking about uniforms.
When I go into a restaurant now, it is anybody's guess what the cook or the waitress (or wait person) will be wearing. Usually it is some sort of t-shirt or shirts that have a logo on them. Back in the day, the waitress could have left the place of preparing and serving food and gone to work at her second job as a nurse. Waitresses wore clean, white, starched uniforms. They wore white, polished, lace up shoes. Sometimes the owner furnished an apron with the logo of the place on it. Nurses wore little white hats and that was the only difference. Time was spent every night getting the uniform ready for the next days work. A dingy uniform would get you sent home. A spot that would not come out better be painted with shoe polish, because a spot meant you were dirty and you were a food handler after all.
Oh, and the smoking thing! Every table, booth or stool had an ash tray. Some times the blue smoke hung in the air until I thought I would choke. It was better when I was cooking because I could keep the ash tray on the shelf between the grill and the french fryier. The smoke was pulled up into the exhaust fan and if I was careful and did not drop ashes on the grill it was a good day.
As you know, that all changed and the ash trays are now collectors items. White uniforms are not to be seen any where and the white shoes are definitely a thing of the past. The kids are grown and gone. The husband is long since deceased.
But my mind still clings to the old days. I go back home and my sister and her partner own Skaets Steak Shop. I watch the cook and I watch the waitresses and I wonder if I could work an 8 hour shift now. I rather doubt it. They do tell me that anytime I want to move back they will find a place for me. That gives me pause, but I think I am better off just staying here where I am and doing whatever it is I do. At least when my back hurts I can set in my chair and when my head nods and I dose off, nobody is disappointed.
By all intents and purposes I should be lonely, but I am not. I have the cat and the dog. I have the geese and the weeds. I have the sun in the morning and the moon at night. ( I guess you know to click on anything underlined and printed in blue.)
I would be required by law to have everyone of them in a car seat. That is a good thing that has happened. I stopped and filled the car with gas and then pulled onto 50 Hwy heading east. There were several stops along the road so the kids could pee. Tiny bladders do not understand waiting until a rest area is available. That was alright, because traffic was light at that time. Very few cars were going any distance and we were on a 200 mile trip. At some point I pulled out a package of bologna and a loaf of bread and we had a picnic. And that evening we pulled into my mothers yard. My new life was beginning. Thank God for my mother.
The next morning I faced the fact that I was now on my own and I had a family that needed both a place to live and food to eat. I knew my husband would not help me in any way. In his reasoning, I was the one who wanted out, so it was my responsibility to provide a place to live and everything that this little brood of mine required. I had no skills and no training, but I did have a will to work.
Years ago I had worked at Skaets Steak Shop as a dishwasher, so I went there. I was immediately hired so I had my foot in the door. I knew if I was going to survive that I could not do it on a dishwashers wages. So a part of my first paycheck went to purchase a white uniform. That was standard attire for a waitress back then. White uniform and white "waitress" shoes. And a bottle of shoe polish. With those things in hand I went into the Red Rooster Restaurant and told them I was experienced. I was hired on the spot.
So I waitressed at the Red Rooster in the day and Skaets at night. It was at the Red Rooster that I met a young man who would turn out to be a very good friend of mine and teach me acceptance of all things. We remained friends until his death. It is because of Gibby that I became an AIDS activist. I have always thought people are placed in our lives for a reason and we will learn from them if we are open.
Soon I had money to rent a little house. Working 2 full time jobs left me in a stupor most of the time. So on my way home one day and on the spur of the moment, I stopped at the Red Carpet Resturant. I knew waitress work did not pay as steady as cook wages, so I applied for a cook's postition. I had never even been near a grill in my life, but being a good liar, I landed the job. I quit the Red Rooster and Skaets Steak Shop and went full time at the Red Carpet. That job actually paid insurance! I worked from 2 until 10 at night. Fry cook was fast, hard work and I loved it. But I knew that the heart of any restaurant rested in the hands of the dinner cook. That was my next move. When Emily quit I stepped into her shoes.
It was then that I learned how to cook in quantity. I was still fry cook and cooked the orders, but I also made all the gravies, sauces, potatoes, and home cooked meals. I also made the dinner rolls, cinnamon rolls, hash browns, French fries and anything else required to fill the steam table. I came back at night and backed up the fry cook. I hired a live in girl to watch the kids. Now, this is all background and has nothing to do with what I had on my mind when I started this entry. I was thinking about uniforms.
When I go into a restaurant now, it is anybody's guess what the cook or the waitress (or wait person) will be wearing. Usually it is some sort of t-shirt or shirts that have a logo on them. Back in the day, the waitress could have left the place of preparing and serving food and gone to work at her second job as a nurse. Waitresses wore clean, white, starched uniforms. They wore white, polished, lace up shoes. Sometimes the owner furnished an apron with the logo of the place on it. Nurses wore little white hats and that was the only difference. Time was spent every night getting the uniform ready for the next days work. A dingy uniform would get you sent home. A spot that would not come out better be painted with shoe polish, because a spot meant you were dirty and you were a food handler after all.
Oh, and the smoking thing! Every table, booth or stool had an ash tray. Some times the blue smoke hung in the air until I thought I would choke. It was better when I was cooking because I could keep the ash tray on the shelf between the grill and the french fryier. The smoke was pulled up into the exhaust fan and if I was careful and did not drop ashes on the grill it was a good day.
As you know, that all changed and the ash trays are now collectors items. White uniforms are not to be seen any where and the white shoes are definitely a thing of the past. The kids are grown and gone. The husband is long since deceased.
But my mind still clings to the old days. I go back home and my sister and her partner own Skaets Steak Shop. I watch the cook and I watch the waitresses and I wonder if I could work an 8 hour shift now. I rather doubt it. They do tell me that anytime I want to move back they will find a place for me. That gives me pause, but I think I am better off just staying here where I am and doing whatever it is I do. At least when my back hurts I can set in my chair and when my head nods and I dose off, nobody is disappointed.
By all intents and purposes I should be lonely, but I am not. I have the cat and the dog. I have the geese and the weeds. I have the sun in the morning and the moon at night. ( I guess you know to click on anything underlined and printed in blue.)
