Y’all, I’m beginning to think I’ve been remembering the wrong things for nearly sixty years. 😂
Here I am, just sixteen days away from turning 60, sharing little pieces of my life in this 30 Days to 60 adventure. And let me tell you, I’ve got plenty of memories to choose from. I’ve served in the United States Air Force, worked more jobs than I care to count, moved around, made mistakes, learned a few things the hard way, and lived through enough chaos to keep a storyteller supplied for quite a while.
But do you know what’s getting people talking?
The stupid stuff. 😂
Not necessarily the big milestones or the things I thought might be interesting. Nope. It’s the silly little happenings that probably wouldn’t have made the highlight reel if somebody had asked me to summarize my life.
Like Daddy teaching me to drive a standard shift and my adventures involving a rabbit, Park Hardy, and a trip to Tastee Freeze. Or remembering how Kris managed to spill an ice cream cone on Daddy. Those are the kinds of things that stick with you, even when you couldn’t tell somebody what you ate for supper three nights ago.
And then there’s the Pillsbury Doughboy.
Lord have mercy. 😂
When I was stationed at Carswell Air Force Base, we had these machines around base that let us get advances on our pay. They called them Doughboy machines, and I thought they were mighty convenient. I had bought myself a $500 Ford Escort, and between gas, insurance, and trips to the commissary, that little machine and I became well acquainted.
Well, convenient and sensible are apparently two different things.
When it came time to get travel money to go home, I discovered just how much of my paycheck I’d already borrowed from myself. Thankfully, a friend whose last name was Apple made sure I wasn’t spending the holiday weekend alone.
I eventually cut that card up, and to this day, the Pillsbury Doughboy makes me nervous.
Now tell me that isn’t a ridiculous thing to carry around for forty years. 😂
I’ve also been remembering my first job at Mr. Cook in Breaux Bridge, where we’d scrub that hot grill with a charcoal brick and hope there were baked potatoes left at the end of the shift. Mama might have shrimp étouffée, crawfish étouffée, or broccoli with cheese waiting to turn one of those potatoes into supper.
And isn’t it funny how a leftover baked potato can become one of your favorite memories?
I reckon some things just stay with us.
Well, Wouldn’t You Know It…
As I’ve been sharing these stories, something I didn’t expect started happening.
People I don’t recognize have been showing up in the conversations. Some have been laughing, some have been commenting, and some have been sharing memories of their own.
I’ve even had somebody suggest I ought to write a book!
A book, y’all. 😂
And here I was thinking I was just entertaining myself with memories of busted baby teeth, childhood punishments, my adventures in the Air Force, and a machine that made me afraid of a cartoon biscuit man.
I’ve been sharing some of these stories in the Breaux Bridge and Butte La Rose groups, too. Those places are part of where my memories began, so it’s been especially fun seeing conversations happen around them.
What tickles me is that I never know which little detail somebody is going to recognize.
I might remember an entire chapter of my life, but somebody else remembers the ice cream shop, the way we grew up, a place we worked, or something their own daddy used to do.
Next thing you know, we’re swapping memories.
And I’m sitting here laughing because, of all the things I’ve done in almost sixty years, that’s what got us talking?
Meanwhile, Back in the Present Day…
Life hasn’t exactly stopped while I’ve been wandering down memory lane.
AutoZone still expects me to show up. Inventory still needs attention. The laundry certainly hasn’t learned to fold itself, and Bubba and I still have to figure out what’s for supper.
This week I managed to make a pretty good chicken supper with mushrooms, broccoli, and a whole can of cream-of-mushroom soup. I had lunch for the next day, Bubba enjoyed supper, and he handled the cleanup.
That’s about as fancy as we got around here.
And somewhere between work, a chiropractor appointment, a little sleep deprivation, and that supper, I’ve been sitting down to remember what happened forty or fifty years ago.
Some days I can barely remember why I walked into a room, but apparently I can still remember that $500 Ford Escort and the Doughboy machine that got me into trouble. 😂
The human brain is a peculiar little thing.
The Funny Things We Carry
I’ve been thinking about why these silly memories are so much fun to share.
Not because every little happening has some grand meaning behind it. Sometimes something was just plain funny, and it’s still funny all these years later.
But when somebody else remembers something similar, the conversation takes on a life of its own.
One person remembers the place. Somebody else remembers the food. Another remembers getting into the same kind of trouble with their parents.
Before long, we’re not just talking about what happened to me anymore.
We’re talking about what happened to us, in all those different kitchens, neighborhoods, workplaces, and little towns where we grew up.
And I think that’s the part I’ve enjoyed most.
I started this 30 Days to 60 adventure thinking I’d share some memories before my birthday. I didn’t expect some of the silliest ones to bring unfamiliar people into the conversation or have them remembering pieces of their own lives.
But here we are.
Sometimes telling your story helps someone else remember theirs.
Even when your story involves an ice cream cone, a leftover baked potato, or a financially irresponsible relationship with the Pillsbury Doughboy. 😂
Off the Apron
Funny thing about all these memories ~ most of them eventually lead me right back to a kitchen table.
That’s where we heard the family stories, learned a few things we probably weren’t supposed to know, and figured out how to make supper out of whatever was available.
And I reckon that’s why I built The Porch at Your Bowl Connection.
It’s my own little corner of the internet where the conversations don’t have to end when Facebook decides it’s time to show you something else. It’s where I bring together the kitchen stories, everyday chaos, practical kitchen help, and little wins that make life easier.
Because whether we’re laughing about something that happened forty years ago or trying to figure out what to feed everybody tonight, sometimes we just need a place to pull up a chair.
Come explore The Porch at Your Bowl Connection. You might come for a story and discover a little help for your own kitchen chaos.
And if you’re following my 30 Days to 60 adventure, those daily memories are still unfolding over on my personal Facebook profile. You’re welcome to join the conversation there, too.
From the Porch
I wonder how many little stories we carry around without realizing somebody else would love to hear them.
Not the big, impressive stories. Just the everyday ones about where we grew up, the people who raised us, the jobs we worked, and the trouble we managed to find along the way.
Those are the stories I love hearing around a kitchen table, especially when somebody starts laughing before they can even finish telling one.
So pull up a chair anytime. There’s always room for another memory around here.
And if anybody knows where those old Doughboy machines ended up, please don’t tell me. I don’t need that kind of temptation at sixty. 😂
~ Lisa 💜
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