I think I mentioned last night that I was not home yet, as we had just made it back to my parents' place in far western Kentucky. Well, after six days and about 1800 miles, I'm finally back at my house! But, before I left town this morning, my parents asked me to join them for breakfast. Now, any other day (or any other time in their lives), they would have meant in the kitchen at their table. No longer.
A few years ago in my parents rural community, one of the local churches started serving breakfast one Saturday morning a month. It was a good way to get folks in the door in a more casual setting than Sunday church and a good way for the members of the community to share the local news and enjoy breaking bread together. Over time, other churches got on board with the idea, too, and they all sort of worked out a first Saturday, second Saturday, etc. rotation. Then, back in the fall, the local Masons realized that in those few months with five Saturdays everyone is left without an option for breakfast. So they've started their own, hosted at the Woodmen of the World building. Today being one of those fifth Saturdays, we headed into town (in three cars, mind you...out there a carbon footprint is a fossil you stumble upon while walking in the woods) for breakfast. Each sponsor charges a little bit for your meal and they all donate to local charities. Given my past life of charging $50 or $75 a plate for a fundraiser, I have to confess that $5 for the plate of food we received seemed a little low to me.
So what did Saturday smell like? Country ham and sausage, eggs--scrambled or fried to order, biscuits, gravy--red eye or traditional, coffee and juice. To borrow a line from a current commercial, it was certainly a good start!
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