Remembrances of My Father

Rick Bragg, writing in The Prince of Frogtown, says the author Willie Morris once told him about his father, "There is no place you can go he will not be." That's certainly true for me today... my father's birthday. Reminders of my father, Jim, are everywhere, especially in my kitchen.

My father was a gentleman and scholar, as they say, more than a cook, but I will never forget the little things he did to show he cared.

Because I didn't share his love of soft boiled eggs, he would scramble mine. Once in a while, I can come close to replicating his, cooked in butter with a touch of milk, salt and black pepper, which he always served with perfectly crispy bacon and freshly made Minute Maid orange juice. Since his long illness and passing, I have yet to taste a glass of sweet tea with lemon that even comes close to his, though.

Sometimes, it's a a couple of chocolate-covered graham crackers or bowl of hot cereal... my sisters tell me that before I was born, he would make different kinds so each of my five siblings could have their favorite. Like his mother, he had a sweet tooth... donuts, Hershey bars and ice cream were a must in our house. I still can't have a bowl of Neapolitan, Spumoni, French Vanilla or Cherry Bordeaux without thinking of him. And, I doubt I will ever meet anyone that appreciates a good peanut butter sandwich more than my father.

Years ago, when my mother made something that didn't appeal to either of us (tongue comes to mind), he took me out for a burger and fries at Jon's Drive-In (hopefully still standing in Mount Pleasant, Michigan).

Of course, my father is the reason why I've never made my daughter eat even a single thing she didn't want to. If that's spoiling, then so be it.

Thanks, Dad... you were the gem of the ocean.