Was That It, or Was It Pizza Night?

Was I the only one who grew up with red-checked tableclothes?

Not for every day, mind you, but for picnics and “Italian” nights. Since I don’t really like spaghetti, I’m thinking it must have been mom making her version of pizza. Which was: get a can of pre-made biscuits – the kind of can you hit on the countertop and it pops open – then flatten the biscuits til they’re really really thin. Then, add tomato sauce and cheese. Into the oven and it was pizza and Pepsi night.

It was my favorite night.

There were picnics too – not one that stands out for me – just generically spreading the tablecloth on the ground along with whatever food mom had cooked. I don’t think we ate sandwiches but I do think we ate things like potato salad and burgers. Did mom cook all that at home? She must have.

Have you ever thought about how one photo or one item or even a random comment will bring back memories – at least snippets of memories? How that stuff gets stored in the brain is a mystery to me but no more a mystery than how we happen to chance upon a memory with just a tiny trigger.