Sundays on Truesdale

It strikes me that on any given Sunday up to 50 people ate "dinner" on Truesdale. There weren't that many plates, there was no dishwasher, the fare was simple, and there was seating for about 8 (because God forbid we would have ever used the "dining room".) But, everyone seemed to get what they came for.

We have had big pasta dinners here in my home in Atlanta and had 30 or more "eat pasta", but the ensuing logistics always overshadow any real enjoyment of the event, at least on my and Denise's part. Just managing the dishes and the "who's kids don't eat what" is daunting enough a memory to prevent us from doing it very frequently. It's a once-a-year effort and we end up swearing not to do it again.

This is what makes me think back to the days on Truesdale. We had the manner of a meal I wrote of above most Sundays. I wish I could say how it really occurred, I am sure it was not as seamless as I recall, but it did seem so routine, and remains a the best of my memories. The "boys" always sat at the table, on the side by the window. It was like a well rehearsed play, with all the "actors" knowing exactly what has to occur, and who should be where, when. What is remarkable is that the meal occurred several times, not at once. Some families intersecting others, some eating, some just having coffee. The flow of people was notable if you think of it.

Often the "fare" was cavatelli that Grandma and Aunt Mary would make for hours on Saturday. Grandma would stand and make them using the ironing board with a board on it. They made mounds of them. Sometimes we had soup as well, the wedding soup with escarole and those little veal meatballs. That soup was awesome. It was hot and just a little oily and always made me feel good.

The red sauce was very different than we make now. Not chock full of meat, but thin and tart. Any real meat that was in it was not typically bought expressly for that purpose. Some of the rabbits, I mentioned in an earlier post would find their way into the sauce and usually some pieces of meat (sirloin, etc.) from meals past. We didn't have loads of Parmesan cheese to put on it, or even real Parmesan cheese at all for that matter. It was really just eating pasta and time with family.

It's funny how in retrospect the "routine" is often what we end up cherishing the most. I learned a lot from those days. How the "kids" relate to each other, their spouses and their mother, the changes that occur as my cousins passed from teens to adulthood and had families of their own. Even the way my mom related to some of my cousins as friends and others as if they were her children. Those days where the best of times for me, and real highlights of growing up.