Breakfast

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Barb’s breakfast, as well as mine, have changed over the last half-century we’ve shared this meal. It’s often different from what had as kids.

Barb’s father usually prepared breakfast for she and her siblings – eggs, oatmeal, toast, and jelly. He was often operating on autopilot, still exhausted from the previous day, and his vision was sometimes not yet 20/20. That was when she found egg shells.

My mother fixed mine, and it was sometimes eggs and baking power biscuits. Other times it was hotcakes and whatever syrup was on sale.

As we compared the meals of our youth, I thought of my paternal grandfather.

His breakfast began after the morning chores were finished – feeding four-hundred hogs and counting his one hundred head of cattle, give or take new calves born during the night. His meal never changed – two eggs, one pork chop, a sixteen-ounce glass of water, an eight-glass of orange juice, a small bowl of stewed tomatoes, and a cup of instant coffee. Before starting on his eggs he always drank the water down far enough to add the orange juice and then stirred in two spoons of sugar. After his breakfast proper was finished he added two spoons of sugar to his tomatoes. And then he was finished.

I’m wondering how he would have reacted to our breakfast this morning – El Monterey Burritos heated in a microwave and then drenched with Pace Picante Sauce, and Starbucks Coffee?

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