Let them eat toast

Back in the late 60's and the very early 70's I worked at the Red Carpet in Hutchinson, Kansas.  I think I was there a total of 6 or 7 years.  My mind does not retain dates well at all.  The point was that I was not married to Duane any more and needed to work to feed 5 kids.  I was cook, kitchen manager and baker.  I decorated cakes as a side job for extra money.  I also worked in the Bakery down on South Main.  I did that at night.

Any way, if you know anything about restaurant work, you know that it all revolves around the cook.  If the cook does not like you, the orders are slow coming out of the kitchen and might not look quite as neat as other orders, so it is a good idea to stay on the good side of the cook.  My waitresses loved me.  Any excuse for a holiday was reason to shower gifts on Lou.  One birthday I was sent to Wichita to the Charlie Pride concert because I loved that man!  Also that entailed a plethora of 8 track tapes being bought and delivered to my hand by my workers.  I miss the 8 track players.

This morning I lay in my bed remembering those days.  And I remembered that one birthday they gave me a 4 slice toaster because I had mentioned that my toaster no longer worked.  It was a very nice toaster, all shiny and clean.  As luck would have it I kept my empty freezer full of bread because that was more efficient than running an empty freezer.  And bread was cheap.  I think it was 5 loaves for $1.00.

I also had a live in babysitter.  Her name was Janice and she was married to the boss's son who was in Viet Nam at the time.  That is a whole 'nuther story.  She was not the most ambitious person I had encountered, but she did keep the kids off the streets at night.

My regular shift was 5:00 AM-2:00 PM.  Then I came home and had a nap and went to work at the bakery at 10:00PM-till the bread was all sliced and sacked.  On Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday I came back to the restaurant and was back up cook, dish washer, salad girl, or whatever needed to be done.  This one particular night, after I received the toaster, I worked backup.  So I was there from 5-10 and then at the bakery until 11:30.

When I drug myself home, it was almost midnight.  The house was dark and everyone asleep.  I let myself in the back door  and flipped on the light over the kitchen sink.  My eyes fell on a plate full of toast on the counter.  And then another!  The whole counter on both sides of the sink was filled with plates full of toast.  So was the kitchen table!  And the stove!  And the wash machine!

I was still staring at the piles of toast when Sammy came out of the bedroom rubbing his eyes.  He came over and hugged me.  Then the mystery was solved when he said,

"I made you supper!  I ran out of butter, but I thought you could get some more tomorrow."

It is 50 some odd years later and I still remember the look on his face.  He had made supper for him momma.  He was so proud.  I am not sure just how much toast he thought I could hold, but this was a bonding moment.  He and I were alone in the half lit kitchen while his sisters slept and we ate dry toast in the middle of the night.  Probably the best mid night snack I have ever had.

I do not remember what became of all that toast, but I am sure some where there were birds that enjoyed a feast.  (At that time we did not know that commercial bread was not good for ducks, and crows and other feathered things.)

I kind of miss the good old days with the kids, but I rather imagine they are glad those days are behind them.  But just for old time sake I think I will go make a piece of toast for my breakfast.  I actually have butter!

Should I or shouldn't I?

I woke up in a new world this morning!  For some reason I woke up thinking about dating!  Now you must realize that I have had my share of husbands, but they do not really count.  I can not remember ever really dating.  You know the thing where some guy calls you up and says "Would you like to go out to dinner and then catch a movie?"   No, that never happened.  Usually, I meet some guy and the next thing I know I am Mrs. So and So.

I do recall back in Hutch when I met a guy who played lead guitar in a band and he invited me to come and watch him play and then we would grab a bite to eat.  Sounded good, but in the meantime I bought a restaurant and got involved in the cleaning process  and buying groceries so I could open Monday morning and completely spaced that date out and he must have been ticked because he never called again.  And then I married Charlie and we moved to Colorado.  After a divorce or 2 I met Kenny and that is now history.  9 years after he passed, I met a guy named Sherman.  He occupied 2 years of my life off and on until he died in 2012.  I then "hung out" and hiked with a guy named Dan until I decided that was a lost cause.  We went out to eat one night, and of course it was my turn to pay.  When we parted it was with his words, "Next time it will be my turn."  Now that was 4 years ago and I have not seen him since.

So back to the business at hand.  I think I would like to go on a date.  Now, I am not going to run out and willy nilly date some guy.  I think I would like to date a blue eyed man.  I really like the brown eyed men, but I have not had very good luck with them.  3 of my husbands were brown eyed and while I can get lost in their eyes, I find them to be kind of sneaky and not very forthright.  "Eyes of blue; a love that's true.  Eyes of brown will let you down."

Forthrightness is something I value in a man.  Men that have lasted any length of time in my life were blue eyed men.  Duane was around for 10 years.  Kenny lasted 20 years before he died on me.  And dear little Sherman and I were engaged to be married when he drew his last breathe.  The last guy I entertained the idea of dating was brown eyed and I think he stepped off the face of the earth, because I have not seen nor heard from him in a very long time.  Such is the perils of caring for one of the creatures.

So, back to this dating business.  I think I would like to date, but then I remember all that entails.  I may not be up to it.  I do not want to go out at night, because I can not see to drive, so he would have to pick me up at my house and I do not want anyone to know where I live.  I could meet him at the end of the drive, but I am afraid of the dark.  So it would have to be in the afternoon, but then I sleep through Jeopardy! from 3:00-3:30.  So if I could meet him at 4:00 and we could have a 2 hour date that would be good.  See Jeopardy! comes on again at 6:30.  And on the eye color, if he could have one blue eye and one brown eye, that would be perfect.  Oh, and he needs to be over 5'7" and under 6'3".  Any shorter and he can not protect me and any taller gives me a crick in my neck.  He has to have a sense of humor.  He has to believe in God and I prefer a Protestant as opposed to a Catholic.  That is not a deal breaker, just a preference.  One of my husbands was a Catholic.  So was Sherman.  He has to like kids and liver and onions.

Well, I just reread what I had written and I am thinking, I may be better off if I just go to the pound and get a dog.  A dog will have brown eyes.  A dog will love me unconditionally, as long as I don't beat it.  A dog is warm.  Sadly, a dog will shed, but I have looked at my hair brush and I am doing a pretty good job of that myself.

So, I guess, what I am looking for is someone that will take me out to eat.  Entertain me with intelligent inane chatter, pay the bill and then disappear into a puff of smoke.  I am not real sure such a man exists.  If you see one, throw a net over his head and call me.  I just might be interested!  Or not.

This would be my oldest brother, Richard Nichols.  He was my father's oldest son, by his first wife.

 This is William E. Bartholomew who was my fathers second son by his first wife.  Both of them were in World War II and both of them were shell shocked, Richard more so than Gene.  This picture is from an obituary that Sam found on Ancestry.com.  He apparently lived in Seattle, Washington when he died in1973.

I never really knew my step brothers because they were grown and gone when I was old enough to know I had them.  Since Gene was the only one that was not adopted from the orphanage, he tended to check in with dad occasionally.  I do know he had lived for a while with a family named Banks.  It seemed that they were either from Nebraska or close to that area.    An obituary that my son found on Ancestry shows he died in 1973.  So there was a span of about 20 years that he had a life in Washington.  If anyone has any knowledge of him during that time, I would sure like to know.  I hope he had a family that loved him.  Life is strange.

So I guess I will put that brother to bed since I at least know he has been dead for 46 years.  Rest in peace, Gene.