Sunday Dinner

When I was a kid, Sundays meant going to church and eating fried chicken!!!!! We were only a family of six, but Mama had to fry two chickens because we were such pigs. We'd be sitting in church and at about 11:30 my mind would wander to thoughts of the cast iron frying pan just waiting to get busy at our house. Mama would heat up the shortening and fry the chicken up in that good old cast iron skillet over a gas stove. The livers were the first pieces to come out of the frying pan,and they served as the appetizers. We had to sneak one over on Daddy to get to the chicken livers before he did. When we sat down at the table together, we each had our favorite piece of chicken to claim as our own. Daddy and I liked the legs, Mama liked the thighs, Pam liked the back and wings, and I don't remember what Janet liked - I think maybe it was the wings, too. If I remember correctly, Donna Jo preferred the breast. I do remember that she would eat what everybody else had left on their plates! She was our human garbage disposal, and she never gained an ounce. (I won't tell you who was "the bacon snitcher" in the family; I don't want to incriminate myself.)

NOBODY could fry chicken like my Mama!!!!! Our other regular Sunday meal was roast and gravy cooked slow in the oven while we were at church. My Mama's gravy was out of this world! My sister Pam inherited the skills of perfect fried chicken and scrumptious gravy.

A favorite mealtime memory is hearing my Daddy say the blessing. He always said the same blessing, but I believe he always said it sincerely from his heart: "We thank thee, Lord, for this food and all Thy many blessings. In Jesus name, Amen." That was such a sweet prayer, unlike the one my Uncle Wallace used to say to get a rise out of Grandmother:  "God bless the peas....Pass the peas!"

A kid learned manners back then, too. Elbows off the table, napkin in your lap, politely asking the person next to you to pass the salt, never reaching across the table, and absolutely no slurping or burping. Yep, those were the days when Sunday dinners and supper time meant families sitting around the table together, saying the blessing, and enjoying good home cooking while reflecting on the events of the day -- when kids were kids and parents ruled the roost; your neighbors were your friends, and going to church was as natural as eating, sleeping, and breathing. These are my water-colored memories of the way we were...