Tuesday lunch

 My friend Bob loves to cook. And he’s really good at it!  He retired from the scrap metal business a few years ago.  A guy he worked with opened a scrap yard in Crystal Springs, the next town south of us.  Bob started going over and helping him one day a week. Not long after that, he started cooking lunch for the employees and customers. I’ve had a standing invitation from the beginning. They have a full kitchen and Bob makes some wonderful meals.  Chicken & dumplings, Mac & cheese, enchiladas, fried chicken. Good old comfort food!  Yesterday was ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn, and pineapple cake!  And it was GOOD!  

At church one day, Bob invited my Uncle Don. He started going with me every week. I pick him and we have a good visit going and coming. Don’s wife, my Aunt Helen, used to thank me and Bob for giving her a break one day a week!  She appreciated it more than he does!  

Don is 92 and is the last surviving family member of my parents’ generation.  His wife Helen was my father’s sister.  She died 2 years ago. He gets so lonely. After his son died last year, he really went into a depression.  But his Tuesday lunches bring him a lot of joy and happiness.  Everyone there loves him, all the girls in the office “flirt” with him, and he gets to see people and be around people who care about him.  It’s the highlight of his week! Last week he fell off his tractor, (I know! What’s a 92 year old doing on a tractor!) so yesterday I called to see if he felt like going. His reply, “Well hell yeah I’m going!  I’m just bruised a little!”  So off we go!  As long as he’s physically able, I’m going to take him to lunch. 

It makes me happy to take him. I always wanted to do things like this with my father.  After my son Dan was killed, Daddy went into a deep, deep depression. He refused to see anyone or take any medication to help.  He withdrew and almost became a recluse. He wouldn’t talk to anyone, neglected the business, and became more and more bitter. Customers and suppliers even started asking me if he was still living. I’d beg him to go with me when the guys would get together and fry fish or cook burgers and have a drink.  But he wouldn’t. I always regretted that. But Don has  always been like a second father to me anyway.  Taking him to lunch isn’t quite the same, but it’s close.  

Love ya Unk! 

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