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Friday, April 03, 2015

I want to get up and jive

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Freedom.

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Easter eggs in a window box.

* I only ever had roast leg of lamb once that was wasn't cooked in a restaurant. It was decades ago, but I remember it like it was just yesterday....

My then boyfriend and I got invited for Easter dinner to the home of an older couple (older than my parents). They lived on what was then the edge of town. The husband was a mason, who had built their one of a kind mid-century modern glass and brick home. The wife was a homemaker. Their children (older than me) were grown and gone.

I met the man in a tavern late one night. Someone I knew came over to me and said, "you got to hear this guy's story." So, I went over and introduced myself. Shortened version, he said about 10 or so years prior, he checked his wife into a mental health institution and then divorced her. But, he wasn't sure if the divorce ever got finalized. And now, in his golden years, he was missing her.

I got his name and number and the next day I went down to the county building and pulled the divorce file. Sure enough, he did divorce her, and the divorce was finalized, but a few days later, the divorce was "set aside." They were still married.

He went back to the institution, signed her out, brought her home, and they pretty much resumed life where they left off. They wanted to thank me for bringing them back together, hence the invitation to Easter dinner.

We got to their house late Sunday morning. He had the leg of lamb roasting on a slow-turning spit over low embers in the fireplace in the living room. The wife was keeping busy dying the living room carpet on her hands and knees with food coloring and a wet sponge.

Oh, that meat smelled so good and tasted even better. I never had lamb as good as that one -- before or since.

A couple years ago, I happened by their house, and was sad to see nothing but weeds and brambles and a few bricks scattered about the vacant lot. The house that he built brick by brick with his own hands for his wife had been demolished.

* Recipe: Roast Leg of Lamb, but not on a spit.

* Wreck my stockings in some juke box dive. (Joni.)

Posted by Marie at April 3, 2015 10:10 PM