It was about 5pm – we always ate dinner early. I think in Spain people are having lunch at 5pm. Anyway I was always hungry by dinner, despite the ready availability of snacks. And not healthy fruit-based snacks. But I digress. Since this was before my father remodeled our house in 1972, we gathered for dinner in the dining room. It wasn’t a formal dining room, although in today’s real estate parlance I suppose that’s what they would call it. There was a built in corner china hutch. And its position smack between the narrow galley kitchen and the living room pretty much forced the issue – it was the dining room.
Dinner was family-style of course, preceded by prayer. A mealtime prayer of the Simpson’s variety. “Thank God for the food. Amen.” I mean it. Turned out to be chow mein. That was one of my Mom’s exotic meals. While spaghetti was American, chow mein was definitely foreign. As foreign as La Choy’s Midwestern cannery could make it anyway. I always thought it was a little gloppy myself but with enough soy sauce it was not bad. I still don’t order chow mein in restaurants.
“Everyone – I have an announcement” intoned my mother seriously. “We’re going to the Poconos for vacation this summer. ” Already I was feeling let down. When were we going to DisneyWorld? That had been open for a few years already. Oh well. “And we’re staying at a resort called Alvin’s.” Oh. The other foot just dropped.