With family members away at war or working evenings, social engagements were kept at a minimum. And young folks would quite often eat with other families.
In the days of World War II, my mother worked at Riley's Café, now the Villa Marina apartments at 43rd Avenue East and East Madison Street. She worked the evening shift so I sometimes ate dinner at the cafe. These experiences left me with many memories of dining rituals.
EATING WITH FAMILIES
I was invited to dinner with a schoolmate's family and was greeted with smiles and friendliness as I entered the small home. It had been a houseboat brought to land a few years before.
When we were seated at the makeshift table, we held hands and said grace.
Looking around the table, I noticed that nothing matched. The glassware and plates were different shapes and colors. The tin cup I drank from had numbers on the side; it was a measuring cup. No big deal. It was a time when the war effort was the No. 1 priority.
I was happy to share that meal and see how other people coped with life.
I did notice there was a star in the window, but I never asked about it.
Many families said grace; others ate at warp speed so they could hover around the radio to catch up on the latest news of the war, which I found depressing because just months before, I had lost my father to it.
After Lowell Thomas Jr. signed off, a comedy show featuring Jack Kirkwood kept us in stitches for 30 minutes, which was a welcome relief.
After that, everyone joined in and did the dishes. It was good being around that many people. I missed my own family unit, but I found these folks to serve as comforting replacements.
People quite often shared a meal with others for companionship. I was invited to dine with a family consisting of two classmates, an older sister and their mom. The father had not only been away at war, but like my dad, he was not coming back. His star proudly hung in the window.
During dinner, we all talked, and it made me happy to see how well they carried on. Conversation included school topics and what we were going to pursue when we reached adulthood. I think the more their mother made us talk, the less she thought about their own loss.
A RARE TREAT
One night, I had dinner with a friend's family at their home and joined in the conversation, talking about school and the classes I liked best.
They served corned beef and cabbage, but the only reason they had it was because they had a meat ration card. Any meal with meat was a rare treat.
As we feasted on the great food, my buddy filled a teaspoon of horseradish to the brim. This was the strong stuff without the other ingredients to dilute its pungency. He then inserted it into his father's mashed potatoes.
We stifled our near total laughter as his father lifted a forkful of potatoes to his mouth. The moment of truth...how would he respond?
He responded real loud, but the words didn't make any sense being as how the horseradish had truly taken his breath away.
He was red, and he was mad! There was total silence as he left the table.
When he returned, he continued to yell, and this time we understood the words, some of them being of the four-letter variety.
We just sat there mouths open, not moving, as he shook his finger at us.
Suddenly, his words broke up, tears flowed from his eyes and he started to laugh. The laughter grew louder and louder, and ever so cautiously we joined in. Soon, the room resounded with laughter.
There was too much love in that family for horseradish to make a dent in their unity.
My friend apologized to his dad, and soon, it was on to ice cream and homemade apple pie.
GOOD EATS - AND DRINKS
When not at a friend's house for dinner, I would eat at Riley's. My favorite meal was a hot beef sandwich covered with gravy and a glass of milk that today would taste somewhat like liquid butter.
Riley's was a popular place, as well as the Quality Café. Riley's had the hot roast-beef sandwich or hamburger steak and pan-fried chicken. The Quality not only served full dinners, but had a jukebox that played the latest tunes.
Both restaurants served beer: Rainier and Olympia. I found out later that the reason Oly was the most popular was because the dots on the back side of the label numbered from one to four foretold how well you would do on a date: One meant just conversation, two meant a little more closeness and three and four were just left to the imagination.
As far as wines of the day: the red variety included loganberry and pink rosé, and for white, there was a lovely, sweet wine with a sticky finish and lingering aftertaste known as Thunderbird, or T-bird for short. It was known to cause personality changes or, in some cases, out-of-body experiences. At the very least, you were out of your mind to even drink it.
SPECIAL MEALS
One school chum lived with his family in a small home that was later turned into a two-car garage.
We ate with lightweight metal forks that screeched across the tin plates as scoops of food were taken. There was a pitcher of powdered milk on the table with an obvious layer on the bottom that had to be stirred once in a while to make it indistinguishable.
A special dinner at another friend's, whose grandparents raised cattle, was prepared at their acre-sized home. We all helped set the table, and I noticed my friend's mother taking out a package of really red meat to pan fry.
When we sat down to dinner, there was no talking - just happy T-bone steak-devouring sounds. About every other bite of meat was a delicious piece of rich fat that was a tasty treat in itself.
It was at that meal that I learned the bone was especially flavorsome sprinkled with salt, so I gnawed away.
When you didn't have the meat ration card, there was always Spam. No one knew what the Spam animal looked like, but if it was pursued by an enemy, it certainly wasn't for its flavor.
With all the shortages at that time and an income level about par for all, there was a togetherness created with little or no class distinction. A common bond formed that created the basis for our Madison Park neighborhood, lasting to this day. I hope we never lose that quality.
Richard Carl Lehman is a Madison Park resident. Send e-mail to him at mptimes@nwlink.com.
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