Writers Tricks of the Trade Vol. 5, Issue 4 | Page 18

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IT COULDN’T GET MUCH CRAZIER THAN THIS (CONT’D)
groan. She kept up a chant of "Oy Vey" the whole time the inspector was there. It
was an award-winning performance, and I remember it to this day. The poor
inspector took one look at Ma and said "Oh my, she is very sick, isn’t she?" He gave
her a comforting pat on the arm and said, “We’ll bring him home to you as soon as
possible. Don’t worry, Mrs. Schwartz. Just hang on.”
After he left, my mother got up and went back into the kitchen to finish cleaning the
chicken!
And, as for Meyer? They granted him a two week furlough and he came home a
week later.

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Talking about food, in my generation food was boiled or roasted. Our stove in the
kitchen was heated by coal. It had an oven and on the top were four burners. Under
each burner there was a cavity that had to be filled with coal. The heat from those
burners was used to keep the oven hot. Then when the coal became ashes, the
ashes were removed and fresh coal was put in. So you see why we only had the two
choices of boiling or roasting. We didn't have the ability to broil or barbeque food. It
took many years before gas or electric stoves took over.
As for the vegetables, the basic standards were carrots, celery, onions, potatoes,
tomatoes, cucumbers, cabbage, and beets. We had plenty of apples, pears, peaches,
grapes, oranges, bananas, or whatever other fruit was in season, and my mother
generally bought that fruit from the fruit vendors who drove horse-pulled wagons
through our neighborhood.

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Okay, let’s get back to life back then.
My brother Joe was drafted into the navy. He was a little more fortunate than Meyer
and was stationed at Great Lake, Illinois which wasn't too far from Chicago. Being
that he was stationed so close, he managed to come home about once a month, and
he always brought at least one other sailor with him so his pal could enjoy our crazy
family. Somehow we managed to put up his friends and they enjoyed my mother’s
home cooking and some of Ma’s loving attention.

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JULY-AUGUST 2015