That Special Breakfast...... Biscuits and Gravy

In this world we all know, and some love, there are many different types of people... At its lowest levels we have different kinds of children.... Daddy's girl, Dad's boy, Momma'a boy, etc. So what? What does this have to do with anything you might ask....... I will grant you this, Not Much. Nothing more than to say that I was as much a Grandpa's boy as any boy could be. I wasn't much older than about 3 at the time, yet Grandpa and I had a special bond, that I don't think would have been equalled by my brothers, had they been older. There were many a Monday morning when Grandpa would walk across the street, and get me, and we would walk back across the street together. Go inside, get our matching Flea Market hats. They were light blue. Grandpa had them specially made. Mine said "Grandpa's Side Kick" on it.... At the time, I didn't have any idea what that meant, other than that my Grandpa really enjoyed spending time with me. His hat said "Andy's Grandpa". I understood that that meant. It meant that he identified himself with me, and myself with him. The hats were so that if we were ever separated, I could just look for him by his blue hat, that matched mine. Many of the dealers knew us by name... Almost as if he had told them about me... "So this is Andy?"

Grandpa really didn't have too many rules, but his biggest was "leave things be"... I would always have that desire to pick up the interesting things that were on the tables, and he didn't want me to break anything, or get into any sort of trouble..... But you know, before all of this Flea Market stuff, Each morning where we were headed to the flea market, we would go somewhere for breakfast.... There was this little "Mom and Pop" type, family owned restaurant in Zephyrhills, called "Friendly Folks", which Grandpa really seemed to like. My first time there I didn't know what I wanted... I mean, after all, this whole concept of ordering food is kinda new to a 3 or 4 year old.... So the waitress figured I would like pancakes, so they got that for me... and Grandpa got his normal Biscuits and Gravy... which I had never tried. Our food came, and I remember distinctly that nice blackness to the bottom side of mine.... They were burned.... but Grandpa told me I didn't have to eat it all.... I curiously wondered what biscuits and gravy tasted like.... and he gave me a bite. Now this wasn't the sort of thing that you really can enjoy totally in the first bite. It takes a little more to really make a believer out of you, but that one bite was all I had. I didn't love it, but I certainly liked it, and since Grandpa liked it, that was good enough for me. From that point on, I always got Biscuits and Gravy. I was hooked. :-D

Probably 8 years later, on a trip with my Papa, my Mom's Dad. Papa and I were in Montana, we had gone into town, that morning and were both pretty hungry. Since we had plans to meet some relatives a little bit later on, and we needed to get some breakfast first, we went to this diner called "west-side". The waitress seated us and gave us each a menu. I remember they had a special , sure enough, Biscuits and Gravy. Papa asked what I was going to have, and I showed him the Biscuits and Gravy, and told him how good it was. He eventually decided to get it, too. The waitress brought us our food. 2 heaping plates of biscuits, covered in gravy. Wow.... It was good. Papa later said that he didn't especially like it, but that it was good, and glad he tried it....

So now, speeding forward 14 years from my first meeting with this wondrous food, and forward 5 years from the introducing of it to my Papa, I have a memory. Perhaps this is an influencing factor in what makes this food special to me. If I take a minute, and slow down to remember my Grandpa, and some of the simplest ways he influenced me. Remembering those special moments spent with some of the ones I loved. Times I will never go back to, opportunities that are gone. Things that I can think back about now, and remember as some of the favorite moments of my life. It makes me wonder if there is a little Andy out there, who wants to be just like me, and if I spent the time to care about him.... How would that change his life?