I was eight years old and finishing the second grade when the World War II Armistice was signed on the deck of the USS Missouri.
With the war had come rationing of every item I can name – bread, sugar, coffee, meat, poultry, gasoline, tires, and the list continued from hither to yon. The only thing I recall the quantity of is gasoline – three and one-half gallons per week. Period.
Why I remember that shall always remain a mystery because we didn’t own a car.
In November 1945 I rode from Missouri to Southern California in the back seat of my uncle’s 1941 Plymouth.
We settled in Pasadena, four blocks from a Farmer’s Market, an open-air produce outlet offering everything imaginable.
I suppose Mom was equally impressed because she often served a giant head of lettuce cut in quarters with a tablespoon of mayonnaise on top. For a third grader life couldn’t get any better.
Fast forward 71 years.
I prepare many of the meals at our house. One of my delights is a ham and cheese sandwich with mayonnaise and all the lettuce two slices of bread will support.
I might make myself another sandwich with lettuce, of course.