The Bloody Doors Off

Tonight I was reminded of a family tradition. Because there was no such thing as central air conditioning, you had to rely on a window-mounted air conditioner. These were expensive and always went to the nexus of the house, which in our case was the sitting room slash dining room. (We had a rec room in the basement that kept cold in summer.)

I remember my mother declaring, “It’s too hot; there’s no way I’m using the oven tonight. So it’s going to be a cold supper.”

Everyone, I’m sure, has their version of a cold supper. Ours was various slices of luncheon meat, devilled eggs, a tray of sliced cheese (the horror, “sliced”), pickles and olives, cold potato salad, a type of green salad (usually iceberg lettuce — what do you want, we were barely middle-class back in the 1970s), and buns if you wanted to make a sandwich with the meat and cheeses.

I’m sure there was more. And I remember how simple it seemed to prepare.

I know better now.

But I’m extremely thankful for that memory jog tonight.

I could hear my mom again.