For the love of cobbler


For The Recorder

This week, my daughter's husband had a birthday, and we took him to CP's for dinner. We did the same thing last year. But, in the intervening time, my wife, who just turned 84, was being treated (successfully) for the early stages of bladder cancer and I just had a skin cancer lesion removed from my arm. The meal was perfect -- too much food, good service and the price was right. As a result, three of us left there with styrofoam boxes, which were turned into lunch the following day.

Last year, I noticed that my wife was sitting down consuming a warm meal, which is a rarity for her. The meals we have at home are about 3/4 of the way through before she sits down. Her reward at home is a scoop of cold mashed potatoes, covered with lukewarm gravy, and whatever happens to be left in the way of an entree ... and she wouldn't have it any other way. We never have to worry about her burning her mouth on the food -- it's nice and cold when she gets it.

I have to do a little checking. All you married men, follow me into the bedroom. I look in my closet and I find seven shirts washed and ironed, on hangers, ready for me to wear. Six LL Bean sweaters -- same story. Seven pairs of pants, same story. Now I'm getting a little nervous. I'm opening a chest of drawers. The first drawer has six handkerchieves on the right hand side and nine pairs of socks on the left. The second drawer contains nine t-shirts, and in your case, eight pairs of jockey shorts or boxing shorts, but in my case eight diapers. I close the door and I'm not feeling too good, so I politely look at her half of the closet, which is actually only 25 percent of the closet. There are four dresses in there, a couple of shirts, and two or three blouses.

They look very familiar. Do you know why they look familiar? Because she bought them for herself in the early 1990s. If you look in her drawer, you might find an extra pair of panty hose. Now I am not embarrassed. I am ashamed. You guys that are still with me might want to know how to mend your fences. You should go up to Lincoln Avenue, go to Fariello's, and get a pound of those good chocolates -- or go to Paul Damiano's and get an orchid corsage. Now, you get a small card with no writing on it and you probably want to know what to put on that card. You only need three words. I'll tell you what mine are. "Just because ... Jim".

The end results of my effort are being placed in front of me as we speak. Warm peach cobbler in a soup bowl, covered with whipped cream.

You will notice that I do not submit political or religious contributions. I would like to break that rule for the following:

Al Sharpton, Eric Holder, Valerie Jarrett, Elijah Cummings, Jan Napolitano, Harry Reid, Nancy Pelosi, J. Kearney. I just want to ask you one question: Would you buy a used car from any of these people? Just asking.

See you next Saturday when we can cover the one religious phase of my life covering 76 years.

Thank you for your patience.

JAMES SHERIDAN is an Amsterdam

resident and frequent contributor.