At the time of this tale, my father would have been nine, my Uncle Bob around seven, and my Aunt Petie (it's either that or her given name, Pearl Ann) about five. Unlike you and me, they were not fortunate to have a mother who had their best interest at heart. As my father often said, his mother was "paid on Friday and broke on Saturday."
As it happened, the three of them found themselves at home alone (not a good sign at that age) with no food and no money. They had not eaten for a couple of days and were beside themselves with hunger. My Dad and my Uncle Bob devised a plan.
Now back when your Granddad was a wee lad, people had milk delivered to their homes by milkmen. Once people had finished their bottles of milk, they placed their empty bottles on their porches for which they would be given a deposit. As you might have guessed, my Dad and Uncle Bob's plan was to steal milk bottles from the porches of their neighbors, get the money from the store, and buy some food.
They were able to carry enough bottles in their still young arms to the grocery store to purchase a loaf of bread, a can of peas, and ironically enough, a quart of milk. When they got home they warmed the peas and dunked the bread in the milk. And they ate like it was a feast.
My Dad was in his late thirties when he told me this tale of his life, and even then, he swore it was still the best meal he had ever eaten.
I believed him.
The End
