Dads may have looked like they were in charge, but as anyone who grew up in the early sixties can attest, Moms were the rock upon which the family stood. My Mom was busy, so the instructions for the day were given out at the breakfast table every morning and being late was not an option, ever. Little brother number two had a bad habit of falling back asleep after Mom’s initial morning wake-up call. Breakfast was not going to be served cold by our Mom and she was only going to dish out the daily briefing once, with everyone in attendance. This presented a problem occasionally when lb2 was not in his chair. As the oldest I was dispatched to remind him of his family obligation. Merely pulling off the blanket to expose his eyelids to sunlight ceased its effectiveness after the initial try. It was apparent this kid could sleep through a fire drill. A hard yank on the ankles would land him on the floor and me in hot water because his head would hit with a thud. So, I developed the medium yank which left him dangling off the bed with his feet touching the carpet. This maneuver rendered him upright and me headed back downstairs heading for pancakes. He confided in me years later after returning from Air Force basic training, that his drill sergeant had perfected the same trick and wondered if we had any communication.
Breakfast was always hot and no requests were granted. One ate what was in front of you, all of it, every time. In later years Mom softened her stance on requests when the two youngest which were girls convinced her that they had to watch their weight. However, when the boys were growing up, most mornings, it was fried eggs cooked in the same skillet as the bacon, with toast and fried mush or oatmeal covered in butter and served with syrup or sugar. Weekends were reserved for Pancakes or French Toast covered in sugar or jelly. All of this was washed down with a big glass of cold milk.
With the chores assigned, lunch money dispersed and a kiss on the cheek, we were pointed in the direction of school. We set out secure in the knowledge that we were loved and that a snack would be waiting upon our return. Most afternoons we arrived home to a warm slice of cake or fresh baked cookies. The theory of watching one’s caloric intake had not yet taken hold and we had many friends walking us home. Everyone of them was welcome at Mom’s kitchen table.
