Saturday, August 13, 2016

August 12, 2016

The garden is almost a paradise.

Thought of the first times I had certain foods. Pizza was available at drive-in movies, but it was too “Italian,” or perhaps too expensive, for my father to allow it. But mother got one of those home-made versions, which she made. It tasted like dark sauce on cardboard. I couldn’t see the attraction. I remember sitting in the dark in the corner of the room, by the telephone, eating, thinking “so, this is pizza. It’s not the sort of thing people like us like.” I really did assume my indifference was racial.
Sherbet– at my cousin Donnie’s. He was my cousin but already grown-up and married. Couldn’t believe my taste buds. The most delicious thing in the world.

Fritos with my grandfather at one of his fishing vacations at a lake in Pennsylvania. It tasted brown and worn and exotic. I thought “this is what adults eat.” I wanted to like it because my grandfather did.

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