In 1965, when we moved to Alexandria, Louisiana for me to work out at England Air Force Base we rented a garage apartment. It was owned by a wealthy optometrist and it really looked good. The furniture was very nice and had probably been used at one time in his huge mansion that was situated in the next block. However, it was a very cold place. They had obviously not put any insulation in the walls or ceiling and we nearly froze to death in that place.
One time the pipes froze up in the kitchen with the heaters going. Our eldest was an infant so we had to take extra measures to make sure we kept him warm. I believe we borrowed an electric heater from Granny Mac and used it in the bathroom to help keep him warm. It was a very cold winter that year and we soon found out that a place that looks nice versus having a quality of life are two different things.
We didn’t have a television set. We listened to the radio quite often. We played cards. And, we would go out to the movies on buck night. This meant we could watch two full length movies for one dollar at the drive inn movie theatre. When it was cold we would have to run the car some to heat it up and then turn it off for a while. We kept the baby all bundled up so he was fine but with the windows being cleared, then fogged, cleared, then fogged, it could be quite a hassle but it was entertainment and we typically went maybe once or twice per month.
On payday we would treat ourselves to a hamburger basket at this wonderful little roadside hamburger joint. They made hamburgers the old fashioned way and served them with curly fries. I guess it was like a reward or something but we used to so enjoy eating at that place. This was long before there was a fast food place on every street corner. Today we can never make up our mind where to eat because we’ve run out of our ability to enjoy the food. Back then it was a treat, now it is more or less ingrained in our everyday approach to life. Big difference. Now when we get in the car she says, “Okay, this time you decide where we are going because you always make me decide.” I respond, “I don’t really care and to tell the truth I would just as soon stay at home.” Then I hear, “We don’t have anything out to fix and I’m too tired so where do you want to go?” Finally, I say, “Okay, you will have to tell me because I don’t know and I don’t care”. And, so it goes, if ever there was a great example of how familiarity breeds contempt I guess our situation with fast food places is it!
Speaking of hamburgers, when I was a kid there was this little eating place in our town called the Wagon Wheel Café. It was owned by Reba and Jack Malone and the food there was out of sight. When I got old enough to mow yards or do other odd jobs for pay I would often treat myself to a cheeseburger, fries, and cold milk down at the Wagon Wheel. I would sit at the counter on a padded round swivel stool and watch Reba work her magic. They had the old fashioned greasy grill and when she made a burger the smell alone could cause you to nearly fall out of your chair. It was better than good for a kid who mostly had peas, okra, and cornbread each day. And the milk was something special. It came out of one of those canister dispensers which kept it so cold it frosted the glass. Our refrigerators could not do that and most of our milk at home was cool at best but this was like a dream milk, ice cold, along with the burger and fries. It was worth every penny of the hard earned $1.25 they charged.
As I grow older the simple things in life have become more important to me. I can remember feeling quite big headed about being announced at a high visibility downtown business club. And, I still love to eat in places known for very fine dining. However, it would be ever so wonderful if my wife and I could recapture some of those days when we were dating and would drive up to Florien, Louisiana to this little hole in the wall and order our hamburger baskets, without onions of course, we were dating! We called that our Sunday afternoon eating place even though we ate in the car. It was our place. The old saying used to be that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but in this case I think my way to her heart was through the “hamburger basket“. More later……………..
Friday, September 14, 2007
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