Like most families in Braidwood in the 1940s and 1950s, meal time was almost always at home except during the school year when lunches were packed in a lunch box or a paper sack. My first two grade school years were at the East Side school…my lunch box also had a thermos of milk. The next six years were at St. Rose in Wilmington where milk was sold in cartons.
Lunch at school was comprised of a sandwich and an apple. The sandwich was either bologna, bratwurst, peanut butter and jelly, or a smashed banana. I always hoped that the lunch wasn’t too big because lunchtime was also recess time when we got to go outside. Lunch was always gobbled down quickly.
The other meals – breakfast and supper – were at home with my family. Breakfast consisted of cream of wheat, or oatmeal, or scrambled eggs and toast. Maybe a slice of bacon. Supper (we called it supper rather than dinner) was the main meal and could feature chicken, spaghetti, or pork chops, or beef and potatoes. Dessert might be a homemade pie or cookies. Eating at home saved money and served as a way to keep the leftovers for another day. The ice box, and then refrigerator in later years, would keep them nicely.
The best summertime refreshment was the lemonade that mom made. She squeezed oranges and lemons (with the pulp), and combined the juice with ice cubes, water, and plenty of sugar. This lemonade quenched my thirst like no other.
The upshot was that eating out was uncommon except for rare occasions. There were, however, those family gatherings in Wilmington or Elwood celebrating birthdays or anniversaries when food was provided for all. But the times when our family “went out” to eat were exceptional.
A Journal Entry I Might Have Written as a 13-Year-Old
Saturday, September 11, 1954
My first week in high school has been pretty good so far but the bus ride is really long. I really wanted to go to the Braidwood High School, but mom thought I should give Catholic High a chance.
I like Saturdays. Paper deliveries are in the morning and I have the rest of the day to myself, except for practicing the trumpet. Mom said that we are going out for fish tonight at Roback’s in Godley. The last time we went there and got catfish, our friends Mildred and Chuck G. almost had an accident. A fish bone got stuck in Mildred’s throat and she almost choked. Mom said it was good that she had a slice of bread with her dinner.
We almost always eat at home, so this will be a treat. Carole Ann (age 11) and Kenny Joe (age 5) also like to go out to eat. It doesn’t happen very often. Mom says it’s too expensive. But Dad would prefer going to Chet’s Pine Lounge in Braceville. Or the Riviera.
Dad also likes to go to Forrest Gray’s Restaurant in Braceville. Forrest is also a State Motorcycle Policeman and maybe that’s why all of the Fatlan truck drivers go there. Or maybe it’s just good food at a convenient location.
Mom and Dad also like to go to Bullock’s Restaurant in Wilmington. As a family, we have been there a couple of times. I have been to Barnett’s after the high school basketball games last year. That was the first time I ever saw a “dumb waiter” that was connected to the downstairs lounge.
This will be the first time that I can remember when the Yankees won’t be in the World Series. The Indians and the Giants will probably start in the Series at the end of the month. That will be on TV but it won’t be as interesting.
Mom said that the Miss America contest will be on TV tonight (for the first time). Neither Mom nor Dad care about that too much. Fish at Robuck’s will be better. (Although I would like to see the “contest.” Super Circus with Mary Hartline will be on TV tomorrow afternoon, and then “Dragnet.”)
In less than a month I will have my 14th birthday. Mom always make an “angel food” cake for me on that day. Mom kids Carole Ann that she gets a “devil’s food” cake on her birthday on January 3rd. Carole Ann thinks that I get preferred treatment. But I don’t think so.
Maybe we can get a Frozen Custard on my birthday, too. I think that Keetsie Davito, a former policeman, owns the place.
Braidwood Beginnings 