FAMILY – PIZZA FOR BREAKFAST

This Is How Old I Am

Let’s go way back…

We from the Gen X generation love to reminisce. We grew up with a terrific music soundtrack to our lives. Think: Rolling Stones, Bob Seeger, Queen, AC/DC.

Pop culture included Civil Rights. Space Exploration. And Peter Max.

We watched the end of the Vietnam War and this country’s First Earth Day. Movies included The Godfather and the summer splash hit… Jaws.

Later, in our high school years, we quickly found and loved: Prince, Madonna, Michael Jackson, R.E.M, Billy Idol.

And we can’t forget disco’s funky hits that made us want to dance: Donna Summer, The BeeGees, KC and the Sunshine Band.

SIGH. I do enjoy daydreaming about that era.

I will readily admit those times are still so close to my heart. My friends from that generation can still picture those moments in time and feel the actual vibe that was generated.

Like others, I still feel that those memories are a mere 10-15 years ago.

Except they were definitely not!

Those times were decades ago. A different zeitgeist. A long-gone past that lives on in our recollections. I cannot deny… that life is from many moons ago.

Some days, I may feel 28 years old. Others, I feel like I’m 42.

But to truly think back to when I was young (let’s be honest!), it was a looooong time ago.

This Is How Old I Am

Here’s a sampling of how long ago those memories actually area. Enjoy this peek from the past…

This is me with the full baby cheeks. My mom looks like she hasn’t had much sleep. My older sister looks grumpy as usual. And will you check out that refrigerator?! (Or did we actually call it an “icebox” when back then?)

A few years went by, and I could get around on my own. Here I am at my grandparents’ home in Roseland, blowing bubbles with my sister, Kim. Do kids blow bubbles like this anymore? Or is it all done with a large bubble wand?

But that’s beside the point. Here, I want you to check out the TV tray with the cabbage roses on them.

And what about that PLYMOUTH? Hubba hubba.

Later that same year, my sister and I posed with our parents, Howard + Dorothy. My mom was expecting our baby brother at this time.

Folks, what do you think of the lamp from Sears Roebuck? We were a stylish family.

Adding a few more years and – VOILA – I had an adorable baby brother named Holden. I was trying to be the star of the show and show off my teeth. But it’s the high-chair that stands out here. When have you last seen one of them??

Almost one year later, we visited the Morton Arboretum on a splendid Fall day. My mom still wonders how she got us all dressed up and out the door in those days. I tell her it’s because she’s AMAZING.

My question here: what do you think of our coats? I thought we looked divine. I wish folks still dressed this way.

The Arts Scene

Both of our parents “dug” culture. Mom dressed us up and we all went to see the unveiling of the Picasso in Daley Plaza – Chicago.

We lived in the era when mothers sewed our Halloween costumes. Here, I was a princess. My sister — a drum majorette. Holden was a cowboy. And our dog Fido played himself.

What talent my mom has! Her creativity always impresses me.

Okay, some years went by and the family took one of many road trips. This time we landed in Missouri to see Tom Sawyer’s famous whitewashed fence. Again, we were very fashionable. Ahem.

Back to Reality

And here we are today — its 2025. Not too shabby, for all I’ve seen.

In fact, this past weekend, I saw an 80-year-old Rod Stewart show us his groovy moves in live concert. He’s still got it! And I’m glad I was here to see him.

Rod Stewart – Still sexy at 80!

What do you think?

Thank you for reading – PIZZA FOR BREAKFAST

The Soggy Suitcase

Enjoy this previously published post from PIZZA FOR BREAKFAST…

This story is as told to me by my father-in-law – Bill – who always has a fond memory to recall from days spent visiting his grandmother in southern Illinois.

When I was a boy, my grandmother lived in southern Illinois in a small town named Nokomis. I visited her there every summer. In fact, I didn’t spend any of my childhood summers in Chicago. Instead, my father drove us downstate in his 1938 Dodge to visit his mother at her modest home. It was an enjoyable way to spend the hot summers, away from the crowded city and, instead, enjoying the rural life.

Since I was the only grandchild, it was natural that my grandmother doted on me. She didn’t speak much English, and consequently, I quickly learned the Slovak language from her (her native tongue). While in Nokomis, I learned to catch and clean fish, raise chickens, and collect coal in the neighboring town for use in Grandma’s stove.

I hunted for squirrels and rabbits too. My love for the outdoors grew, and I had unique opportunities that I wouldn’t find back home in my own neighborhood.

When I grew older, my parents put me on a train by myself for the visits to my grandmother. I didn’t mind going alone. I expect I was about 11 years old at the time. It was a good experience for me and helped me to be independent.

My Travel Buddy…

It was a couple years later, when I had the company of my Uncle Steve along for the ride. I can recall it was the summer before he entered the U.S. Naval service in World War II. Together, we headed to Chicago’s Union Station, where Uncle Steve and I boarded a passenger train. Once we were downstate, rather than wasting a good amount of time back-trekking from the St. Louis stopover, my uncle asked the conductor if we could hop off earlier in Coalton, Illinois (an unscheduled stop).

Back then, such a request wasn’t unheard of (times were indeed simpler). The conductor notified the engineer of our request. When we approached the town of Coalton, we could hear the train’s engine slowing down just enough. That’s when Uncle Steve and I jumped off early with our bags and waved Thank-You to the train crew. From that spot, we could see my grandmother’s house in the distance.

And So, Another Summer Goes By…

We enjoyed that season together before my uncle was deployed — fishing and hunting were favorite past-times for both of us. As is typical, we made a good haul and had plenty of fresh meat and fish for our meals.

My grandmother stored our skinned rabbits on her back porch, ready for stewing and preserving. When it was time for us to return to Chicago, Grandma wrapped up a dozen or so rabbits in newspaper and packed them away in an old suitcase for us to enjoy at home.

It was much later that same afternoon when Uncle Steve and I were seated on the crowded train when we both noticed spots of water on our knees. We didn’t know what to make of those suspicious droplets. Finally, glancing up toward the overhead luggage rack, we realized our suitcase was leaking.

The rabbits were thawing out!

Uncle Steve immediately signaled the conductor to come over. In a nervous tone, he asked how much time we had before the train reached Chicago. I kept my 13-year-old mouth shut and willed the train to move faster.

It was warm on the train — I certainly don’t recall any air conditioning back then — and we had several more stops until we were home free.

We made it to Union Station without further incident. From there, we hurried out of the station into the humid summer evening and anxiously waited for a bus home.

All in all, we had a pleasant visit with my grandmother, but we were exhausted when we arrived home. Like most travelers, we just wanted to change out of our travel clothes and roll into bed.

But regrettably, we still had an exceptionally soggy suitcase to unpack before doing so.

**Bill’s 95th Birthday Party – May 2025**

Thank you for reading – PIZZA FOR BREAKFAST

Things I Learned From My Grandmother

The other day we ran out of tartar sauce at home. I know this is a big deal for my husband — since he loves the sauce whenever I make fish for dinner.

No problem… I recall watching my Grandma Martha whipping up her own version of tartar sauce when she was visiting us. She grabbed the mayo and pickle relish from our ‘fridge, stirred them together, and we had the tastiest, tangiest sauce for our dinner that night.

“Wow, look at you, Grandma!” I cried in teenage-like wonder. “How do you know how to do that?”

Grandma chuckled. “How do you think things are made? You can do it yourself and not bother with buying everything pre-made.” She shook her head and went on with her dinner preparations.

Needless to say, I was impressed!

Grandma taught me other things as well.

During my high school years, typing and shorthand were part of my curriculum. Since she once worked as a secretary for the airlines, Grandma had some advice for me. “Now, remember,” she advised. “Speed will come with time and practice. For now, be sure you focus on accuracy while typing.”

Of course, I can’t say I liked this advice… since I typically like to rush through things. But we all know she was correct… exactness is critical, especially since taking time to go back and correct my typing mistakes took unnecessary time.

Grandmas are good for reminding of these fundamental practices.

I adore a solid IBM Selectric!

I also learned a bit about dating from my grandma.

“You know, I kept dating other fellas even after I got engaged to your grandfather,” she confided to me one afternoon. “I figured I wasn’t married yet, so I still had every right to see other men.”

“Grandma!” I gasped. I could only think of my kind grandfather, who had no idea (or did he?) that his fiancée was still kickin’ it with other gentlemen.

Grandma just smugly smiled to herself. Even though it was many moons ago, I could tell she was satisfied with her decision and that’s all there was to it.

Grandma was full of surprises.

Another time — years earlier — our grandparents came to our home to “babysit” us while our folks vacationed in Germany. One evening, as my sister and I sat up late on a school night watching television, Grandma came downstairs in her flannel nightgown. What did she have in her left hand — of all things?? … a wooden rolling pin!

Immediately, she started chewing us out for not being asleep in our beds. I started laughing at the irony of her raising the rolling pin over her head, threatening to use it on us. Do people really use those things? I thought to myself, giggling over the scene enfolding before us.

But Grandma didn’t find it funny one bit. Still waving the rolling pin, she chased me and my sister until we ran upstairs and out of her rage. I guess Grandma wasn’t messin’ with us that evening.

Grandma was a good cook.

Like most grandmothers, my grandma was a good cook. Our entire family loved her homemade potato pancakes, Lithuanian sausage, and a bowl of steaming sauerkraut. My mouth waters each time I envision those delicious meals at her table.

Grandma make some kick-ass orange juice as well. When we’d visit her home in Florida, she’d get up extra early to squeeze oranges for us, using the ripe oranges right off the tree in her backyard. Talk about FRESH! I can’t begin to explain the difference between fresh-squeezed juice and something from the grocery store. There’s just no comparison!

Grandma had a lemon tree as well. She took the fresh-squeezed lemon juice and used it when making her beloved lemon meringue pies. Mmmm! That tartness hit just right on your tongue. A bite of that creamy dessert had the perfect amount of sour, with sweetness to balance.

What a delight that was!

Oh, how I miss it.

But most of all, I miss her.

Myself, Grandma Martha Johanna, and my daughter on Grandma’s 99th Birthday

Thank you for reading – PIZZA FOR BREAKFAST