I remember one experience that happened the first week of June of 1952 - just before baby Johnny was born. We were living on Wright Patterson Air Force Base near Dayton, Ohio.
Mother and Dad were finishing up packing Mom’s suitcase to go have the new baby. Karl, Kristi and I were all excited for the soon arrival of a new baby in our family. Then, I saw Mom reach up into the back of the plate cupboard and pull out a small canning jar with money in it. She told Dad she hadn’t bought groceries for the week yet – but he could do it on the way home from taking her to the hospital. Dad put the money in his pocket and left with Mother.
A few hours later, Dad walked into the kitchen with a big, brown 50 lb sack of raw rolled oats thrown over his shoulder. I remember him smiling and being very proud of his wise purchase and with money left to spare!
Well, Karl, Kristi and I must have looked absolutely aghast - eyes big as saucers - because Dad immediately started handing out popsicles from the freezer as he tried to explain that he would be able to stick to a much more scheduled routine while Mother was away if he didn't have to think about menus and fixing complicated meals and then still go to work every day.
Yep, I remember being served cooked oatmeal morning, noon and night every day that Mother was in the hospital.
I got tired of eating only cooked oats for every meal, but I really liked knowing exactly how to set the table each time it was my turn...bowls spoons and glasses for milk...bowls, spoons and glasses for milk...bowls, spoons and glasses for milk.
