CHAPTER 17
One Friday evening, after having walked that dirt road five days a week for several weeks, Mary sat down to plan her first Saturday’s meal for the family; from the very beginning she’d planned all meals a day in advance, making sure everything she needed was available. On that Friday evening, her first Saturday’s menu was set and she was standing around the kitchen for no real reason when Mary Jean walked in. Mary noticed, even before Gert passed, that Mary Jean was the quiet one, never talked much, and just watched everybody and everything in her midst.
After surveying the various foods set aside on the kitchen table for the next day, Mary Jean appeared disturbed about something; finally, she looked away from behind her tousled hair.
Then she spoke just above a whisper; “We don’t cook on Saturday. We eat hot dogs on Saturday! Hot dogs an’ orange drink.” She spoke with conviction, never looking at Mary straight on.
“My Lord!” exclaimed Mary in mock horror. “Ya mean to tell me yall child’n eat hot dogs!
Lord! Lord! I never...” Mary glanced at Mary Jean and kept talking, trying to evoke more conversation from her, but it was not to be. Mary Jean had spoken and she was done. Mary began removing food from the counter and placing it back in its original spot on the pantry shelf. Mary Jean watched intently but said nothing; she left the kitchen when the last sweet potato was returned to its crate among the others. Mary Jean seemed content that her few words mattered.
On Saturday, just as Mary Jean revealed to Mary, hot dogs were the meal of the day. In fact, Fred started that tradition long before Gert passed away. He felt Gert needn’t have to cook seven days a week. So he decided to treat the children to hot dogs on Saturday, thereby allowing Gert a day of rest from the oven.
Of course, the children felt Saturday was the best day of the week. They didn’t have to eat all of the same foods like turnip greens, corn bread, peas, and beans that they’d eaten all week long. For them, it was a huge treat to see those red, juicy hot dogs swimming around in the big pot and the bottled Orange Crush sitting on the kitchen table one day a week.
And they had a loaf of white Colonial bread with which to eat their steaming hot dogs.
They would slice the hot dogs down the middle and lay them flat onto one slice of bread and place another slice on top to complete the sandwich. The red food coloring from the hot dogs stained their white bread but it mattered not. This was the one day of the week when Fred didn’t have to say, “Eat all yo food.”