May 25, 2008
a romantic story
Originally PUBLISHED August 10, 2005
The eventual marriage of my mother and father started with egg salad sandwiches.
My father was a semi-orphan. His dad died when my father was 12 years old, and his mama flipped out, dropped him off with an aunt and uncle (who was a Baptist minister and a shitass), and left Dad to fend for himself while she ran off to God knows where.
Dad had a hard time of it. In all the old pictures I have of him, he's skinny as a rail, but he WAS a strikingly handsome young man.
In high school, Mama noticed that my father never ate lunch at school. In those days, you brought your own lunch or you didn't eat. Nobody made my dad a lunch. He didn't eat.
Mama started making egg salad sandwiches--- one for her and one extra one--- and taking them to school. She walked up to my father one day and said, "I brought more than I can eat. Would you like an egg salad sandwich?"
She started feeding my father every day after that, they became sweethearts and the rest is history. They're both dead now, but I still like to tell that story.
I wouldn't be here today except for an egg salad sandwich.
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