Fried eggs for dinner.
I lived in East Stroudsburg PA 6 months after we were married. I was newly pregnant and 22 years old. I had lived with my Mom from day one and away at college had the mighty meal ticket. I tried to make "meals" for my husband but honestly I had NO F*&^ing clue where to start. There were ramen dinners, spaghetti and lots and lots of fried bologna.
My Father used to go back and forth between PA and NJ periodically for meetings at the firehouse. Our home was halfway between. Dad would stop by and visit for a few minutes then I would ask if he wanted coffee? "sure, Ill take a cup." I would get a new pot going and then sit again at the kitchen table to chat about the news from wherever he had been. I would pour his coffee and he would ask me to make it "like yours" I always had whole milk and real sugar in the house. Real butter and real eggs were rationed sine his cholesterol and waistline were growing since his retirement. Anytime he would visit he would check the fridge with a peek and then shut it again. I think he did it out of habit but he always seemed to know what was going on.
This one morning I remember him showing up and having his cup of coffee with real milk and sugar. Then he said something I wished would never come.
"Suz, how about two eggs and some toast?"
"huhh?"
"Yeah two eggs over light with toast, and a little bologna on the side fried up with it. OOH YEAh that sounds good"
My heart began to pound, I prayed there were no eggs, there was bread and I knew there was bologna since I lived on it that year.
"OK Dad, Ill give it a shot, scrambled eggs and toast it is."
"Uh no, over light, now lets go you can do it."
Frying pan, real butter, two eggs, four slices of bologna, two slices of bread. salt and pepper.?
Lots of salt and pepper.
I began the heat on my brand spanking new almond colored electric stove with blue duck decor.
The butter melted and and I grabbed the two eggs. I so wanted him to go away and not watch what was to come. I knew it would be ugly.
He stood behind me now.
"You can do it, just dont break the yolk when it hits the butter, be gentle with it Suz, treat them LOVINGLY"
Dear God help me.
I cracked the first egg and dropped the contents LOVINGLY into the butter and all parts remained- intact.
YIPPEE.
Now just do it again.
Crack, drop lovingly into the butter. JOB DONE>
No not even close, I have to get the toast in, "Dont forget the toast Suz, get that in while we watch the eggs"
SHIT SHIT SHIT.
Now toast in, eggs are starting to brown the dges and the yolk is in tact. just scoop the babies out and drop on his plate and DONE.
" Now get the spatula and get ready to turn them over and DONT BREAK THE YOLK."
"Wait put it on its yolk and dont break it, youve got to be kidding me right?"
"No Suz, this is easy just do it, NOW before they burn and get tough"
Quick slide the spatula under and quickly flip and gently put it on its gelatinous head without breaking the bubble.
The first one went over and unknown status of yolk. My untrained eye didnt know that lack of bulge meant demise of yolk.
"hmm, try again" came from behind me.
Next attempt, scoop, slide and "skate" the egg across the butter pond.
"Yeah that was it Suz, you got that one."
Now Get them both off before they cook.
quick
Toast is up, Dad butters them.
I gingerly lift the eggs from their comfy spot.
Place them on a plate and realize one has survived and one yolk has met its demise.
My Dad never mentioned that I didnt get the bologna in the fry pan. He ate his eggs, and dipped the toast in the yellow puddles created in the one egg. He cut up the other egg and placed it on his toast like a sandwich.
He sipped his light and sweet coffee and washed down the whole shebang with a benson and hedges cigarette at the kitchen table.
"Not bad, Suzie my girl, not bad at all."
"We'll get it, dont you worry."
We had pancakes and eggs for dinner tonight and I practiced my over easy eggs. 3 of the 4 survived. I think I intentionally broke the last one for Dads sake. I figure he is somewhere saying, " Hang in there my Suzie, we will get it right."
I know we will. Just keep moving.
BTW- tonights eggs were good, real good.
Just not the same.
I can sit here right now and almost feel him looking over my shoulder as I type. I know he wants to pat my shoulder, I know he is nearby sometimes, so close I can feel him. The past few days he is a whisper away. I have been whispering to him and I think he hears me. Why?
BECAUSE I SAID SO,
ON ACCOUNT OF BECAUSE,
I WANT IT TO BE SO.
He has been gone long enough and I have learned my lesson to not take people or events for granted. So, now it is time to let him answer me when I talk, let him talk to the kids, let Jack have a grandfather, a real grandfather. My Mom deserves a good night sleep and a real laugh.
My nephew needs his Pop to show him how proud of him he is and for Pop to say something none of us could have thought of to give him courage.
Yeah all this over a fried egg tonight.
Shit I wonder what tomorrow will bring.
I know he is near lately, I feel him alot, and think something is gong to happen.
My Father used to go back and forth between PA and NJ periodically for meetings at the firehouse. Our home was halfway between. Dad would stop by and visit for a few minutes then I would ask if he wanted coffee? "sure, Ill take a cup." I would get a new pot going and then sit again at the kitchen table to chat about the news from wherever he had been. I would pour his coffee and he would ask me to make it "like yours" I always had whole milk and real sugar in the house. Real butter and real eggs were rationed sine his cholesterol and waistline were growing since his retirement. Anytime he would visit he would check the fridge with a peek and then shut it again. I think he did it out of habit but he always seemed to know what was going on.
This one morning I remember him showing up and having his cup of coffee with real milk and sugar. Then he said something I wished would never come.
"Suz, how about two eggs and some toast?"
"huhh?"
"Yeah two eggs over light with toast, and a little bologna on the side fried up with it. OOH YEAh that sounds good"
My heart began to pound, I prayed there were no eggs, there was bread and I knew there was bologna since I lived on it that year.
"OK Dad, Ill give it a shot, scrambled eggs and toast it is."
"Uh no, over light, now lets go you can do it."
Frying pan, real butter, two eggs, four slices of bologna, two slices of bread. salt and pepper.?
Lots of salt and pepper.
I began the heat on my brand spanking new almond colored electric stove with blue duck decor.
The butter melted and and I grabbed the two eggs. I so wanted him to go away and not watch what was to come. I knew it would be ugly.
He stood behind me now.
"You can do it, just dont break the yolk when it hits the butter, be gentle with it Suz, treat them LOVINGLY"
Dear God help me.
I cracked the first egg and dropped the contents LOVINGLY into the butter and all parts remained- intact.
YIPPEE.
Now just do it again.
Crack, drop lovingly into the butter. JOB DONE>
No not even close, I have to get the toast in, "Dont forget the toast Suz, get that in while we watch the eggs"
SHIT SHIT SHIT.
Now toast in, eggs are starting to brown the dges and the yolk is in tact. just scoop the babies out and drop on his plate and DONE.
" Now get the spatula and get ready to turn them over and DONT BREAK THE YOLK."
"Wait put it on its yolk and dont break it, youve got to be kidding me right?"
"No Suz, this is easy just do it, NOW before they burn and get tough"
Quick slide the spatula under and quickly flip and gently put it on its gelatinous head without breaking the bubble.
The first one went over and unknown status of yolk. My untrained eye didnt know that lack of bulge meant demise of yolk.
"hmm, try again" came from behind me.
Next attempt, scoop, slide and "skate" the egg across the butter pond.
"Yeah that was it Suz, you got that one."
Now Get them both off before they cook.
quick
Toast is up, Dad butters them.
I gingerly lift the eggs from their comfy spot.
Place them on a plate and realize one has survived and one yolk has met its demise.
My Dad never mentioned that I didnt get the bologna in the fry pan. He ate his eggs, and dipped the toast in the yellow puddles created in the one egg. He cut up the other egg and placed it on his toast like a sandwich.
He sipped his light and sweet coffee and washed down the whole shebang with a benson and hedges cigarette at the kitchen table.
"Not bad, Suzie my girl, not bad at all."
"We'll get it, dont you worry."
We had pancakes and eggs for dinner tonight and I practiced my over easy eggs. 3 of the 4 survived. I think I intentionally broke the last one for Dads sake. I figure he is somewhere saying, " Hang in there my Suzie, we will get it right."
I know we will. Just keep moving.
BTW- tonights eggs were good, real good.
Just not the same.
I can sit here right now and almost feel him looking over my shoulder as I type. I know he wants to pat my shoulder, I know he is nearby sometimes, so close I can feel him. The past few days he is a whisper away. I have been whispering to him and I think he hears me. Why?
BECAUSE I SAID SO,
ON ACCOUNT OF BECAUSE,
I WANT IT TO BE SO.
He has been gone long enough and I have learned my lesson to not take people or events for granted. So, now it is time to let him answer me when I talk, let him talk to the kids, let Jack have a grandfather, a real grandfather. My Mom deserves a good night sleep and a real laugh.
My nephew needs his Pop to show him how proud of him he is and for Pop to say something none of us could have thought of to give him courage.
Yeah all this over a fried egg tonight.
Shit I wonder what tomorrow will bring.
I know he is near lately, I feel him alot, and think something is gong to happen.
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