So my father, who is not and will never be, politically correct - has been at a wedding in Canada.
He has hearing problems, perhaps due to a genetic condition, perhaps due to shooting guns at one point in his life when he was a spy in training. A period in his life he refuses to talk about.
I always asked him about it when I was a kid just so I could hear him say… “If I tell you I’ll have to kill you.”
I asked my father why he wanted to get out of the spy business. He said, “I missed my mother’s cooking.”
“But dad, you hated your mother’s cooking.”
He laughed. ”I was the only person in the armed services who preferred army food to my mother’s cooking.”
So back to Canada. I guess the bride’s family (in Canada) is very orthodox, as in orthodox Jewish. My father said after the wedding ceremony, before they sat down to the big celebratory dinner, the cantor sang a prayer that lasted 45 minutes. My dad, who was plotzing, (look it up), couldn’t hear a word of it. When the cantor finished, my father stood up and called out, “I didn’t hear any of that. Would you mind repeating it, from the beginning?”
That’s my dad. A very spiritual man who takes organized religion with a grain of salt. (That one’s for you, Tom.)
We weren’t allowed white bread, ever, growing up. My father said this about white bread - “White bread is for Catholics. If a cannibal ever came to this country and ate a Catholic, he’d say… hmmm, tastes like white bread. If he ate a regular Christian, he’d say… hmmm, tastes like whole wheat. If he ate a Jew, he’d say… Rye bread. Must be a Jew.”
The only time we were allowed store-bought white bread - and this had nothing to do with Catholics but rather my father’s insistence upon whole grains and homemade - was when we went fishing. Then we could use leftover stale bread from my grandfather’s store. The fish loved those little dough balls.
I’ve lived all over the county - spent time in Paris - now I’m in California, which as you know, thinks of itself as the unofficial Country of Bread. However, in my humble opinion the best bread in the entire world is made by the one of the most obscure bakeries in the world, The Lithuanian Bakery in Omaha, Nebraska. No joke. This bakery makes the best bread in the world.
Look here - Lithuanian Bakery
Check out the Sourdough Rye and the Pumpernickel.
There are mornings I wake up and crave that Sourdough Rye like a junkie craves her fix. When we lived there my dad brought a loaf home almost every day. That and Dorothy Lynch Dressing - you gotta be from the Midwest to appreciate the addictive nature of Dorothy Lynch Dressing. It’s impossible to find in California. I keep a secret stash in my garage.
All right, gotta get the dog - he’s working today - and I have to get hold of my parents to discuss travel plans. Laters!
P.S. I was 20 years old before I tasted my first Oreo cookie. Hard to believe, I know. Around my house, if you wanted a cookie you had to make it from scratch. My dad has always been ahead of his time when it comes to food. And he made us drink water. We were only allowed ‘pop’ or soda if we were near death.
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Your dad sounds hilarious. I can’t believe he had spy training, I don’t blame you for bugging him for details. It sounds like he’s led quite the life. I used to love white bread until I started to buy whole wheat and realized how filling it was and better tasting compared to white. Now if I try to eat white bread, it just leaves a nasty after taste in my mouth. Thankfully over here is like bread heaven, I’ve never seen so much variety, though I still can’t force myself to eat black bread, whatever that is even made of.
Oh your dad sounds like a hoot! I don’t know where my mom went wrong. White bread was the only bread in our house. DH grew up not knowing what white bread tasted like either.
Haaaa! That is hilarious! (his joke after the cantor was done singing….). I am still laughing!
We never had white bread growing up either. Only whole wheat. When I went to France for an exchange program while I was in high school, I was super excited to eat “real” French food. My French family wanted me to feel right at home, so they served me sandwiches on Wonder bread w/ mayo. (Had never eaten either before). I didn’t have the heart to tell them not all Americans eat Wonder bread, so I just sucked it up.
Your dad sounds just like my father-in-law. He would say the most inappropriate things and never understood what the problem was. Great post.
Stephanie - living with my father was never dull - and he is still a pistol. He does this stuff on purpose.
Oh those nice French people, Penny. How long do you think they had to search before they found Wonderbread? We weren’t allowed Mayo either. My cousin ate white bread with Mayo and my father said she was crazy. He said, if I ever catch you eating white bread with Mayo you are dead to me.
Some people just love the texture of white bread, Amber - it does have a long and glorious history. Worth reading.
Yes, Delilah - he had spy training. I think he was going to be sent to East Germany, but he really won’t talk about it. I’m a big fan of whole grain bread - but that Lithuanian Bakery? OMG! The best!
Your dad reminds me a lot of mine. He loved that line about if he told me he’d have to…
I nearly fell over about Catholics/white bread, Christians/Wheat, and Jewish/Rye. Hilarious.
Ciara - LOL! Yeah, my dad can be pretty off the wall. You’re dad must be quite a bit like mine.
Yep. My dad is like that. We had the cheapest day-old bread because we were poor. I didn’t know we were poor. I thought everybody ate the same thing. Personally, I never cared for white bread unless I made it myself. I usually make honey/oatmeal bread. Sometimes I toss in grated veggies like carrots or zucchini. I like breads with “body”.
Your father sounds like a pretty fun guy…It is interesting how the things that happen as we grow up teach us a lot for the future.
Very true, Savannah!
Yeah, Anny - you ate peasant bread just like us! I’m quite partial to peasant bread.
Ha, but you forgot to tell us how the congregation responded to his question! I went to a wedding recently where the mother of the bride (I was there for the groom) made a totally ‘fire and brimstone’ speech about the sanctity of marriage with a disapproving look on her face the whole time. It really did feel like an attack on the congregation. The bride’s side of the church sat there quietly, perhaps nodding in agreement. The groom’s side (oh yes, my family takes its religion with a big pile of salt LOL) were whispering back and forth ‘Did she really say that?’ ‘I can’t believe she said that!’ ‘Does the groom know what he’s marrying into?’ among others!
But my personal favourite was when I took my mother to the ballet. As the first male dancer came on stage in his tights, my mother said, in a stage whisper I’m sure the whole opera house could hear ‘You can see EVERYTHING!!’
Your dad sounds like a very wise and funny man.
He can be pretty goofy, Sandra, but he’s grown wise over the years. Used to be a trouble maker.
Good question, Ciara. He was there for the groom too - the groom’s family laughed. Not so sure the bride’s family found his comment funny.
Bless, but that is why we are around, as husbands, fathers and grandfathers it is our purpose in life to embarrass our suffering wives, children, and grand children and not take one blind bit of notice …
Bread. don’t care what colour or shade, toasted going slightly cold and BUTTER gawd, no wonder I’m a fat git, but then they do say recognition of the problem is the first step to recovery —- nonsense
xxxxx
Well Tom, some bread must have butter. I put butter on my toast before I spread on the peanut butter. Makes it way better!