My computer has been in the shop for a week. It needed the cmos battery replaced so it should have been a quick out-patient procedure. Mr. Aitch’s computer went from out-patient to ICU. It’s still not ready to be discharged so we decided to bring mine home today.
I’ve had lots of time to come up with some posts but I’m not comfortable posting with my iPad. I’ve done it before but I’m not happy with how the page looks. I should have written them down anyway because I can’t remember any of them now. Today’s post comes from a conversation Mr. Aitch and I had at dinner this evening.
In 1964 our aunt took my sister and me on a vacation to the New York World’s Fair. Traveling with our aunt was not unusual. Our dad saved his vacations for hunting or fishing so our mom and aunt (mom’s sister) would take us on vacations. Oh, our aunt hated to be called “Aunt” so we called her what the rest of the family called her: Ebby.
Anyway back to the World’s Fair in New York…
Our mom and brother went to visit a friend of hers so they didn’t accompany us on this trip. I don’t think driving to New York City in the summer of 1964 was on my mom’s top ten things to do. Ebby’s friend, Lois, was teaching in New York City this particular summer and was renting a cottage in Patchogue on Long Island. I don’t remember all the facts about this but I remember what I thought was important. We could drive a few miles and cross a bridge to Fire Island. I have lots of memories about this particular vacation but the one that came to mind tonight was about a meal we had at a “fancy” restaurant.
Now when I was growing up, eating out was very special and we only ate out two or three times a year. Sometimes our mom would let us go downtown to Defrance’s Drug Store for a treat at the snack bar (I always got a hot fudge sundae) but those times were few and far between. Drive through wasn’t invented yet nor was there a fast food joint on every corner.
One evening Lois took us to Three Village Inn Restaurant (I believe it was in Stony Brook) and we had to dress up. In dresses. I remember ordering a steak and a glass of milk. Our food came and it was good but the milk didn’t arrive with our meal. My sister and I wondered what was up with that. We only had water to drink.
The waitress brought our milk when we placed our order for dessert. (Guess what I got.) I remember thinking that maybe the “rich” people drank their milk with dessert and not with dinner.
We later learned that the waitress forgot to bring our milk with dinner. So much for an eleven-year-old’s imagination.