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Joel Gersmann

It was always a thrill to have dinner with Daddy. We ate at 6:30. That was something to look forward to. After bookkeeping for the day in Daddy's accounting office, Mother came home with Daddy at exactly 5:30. The front door to our home would nervously fly open. Mother walked to the stove to cook the evening meal while Daddy sat at the kitchen table to read his local paper. Whether or not Mother worked at the office, Daddy demanded dinner. Mother had less than an hour to cook, so her process was pared to formula. Daddy was hungry; he wanted to eat now. Nothing else mattered. That was final. more

Jun 30, 2011 2:00 PM Isthmus 35