I dont like fried shrimp anymore

"Hey mom, want one of my shrimp?"

"No thanks."

"I thought you liked shrimp?"

"I do, just not fried."

"But you like cheese sticks and other fish fried."

"But not shrimp, not since I was like 13."

You see, your Nawna was married to Grandpa Frank. Grandpa frank was illiterate. He couldn't read and he couldn't write more that his name. But even though he couldn't read or write, he liked to think he was a math genius. He put that talent to work every Wednesday.

On Wednesdays, grandpa frank would pick up the Tribune, the Sun times, and the Daily news. He would open to sports section and use his keen reasoning to decipher the the horse race information.

It was all so scientific. the papers lined up next to each other on the silver Formica table. numbers jotted down in the margins. Adding subtracting dividing. and then he would yell out to Nawna --- Hey Ann--- Kingfish is running in the ninth. If the name has royalty like names they are sure to win. You know king queen, jack.

Grandpa would meet grandma at the bus stop, take all of her earning (all except the 30 per week she put away with out telling him) and go off to the races.

There were months we ate nothing but potatoes and eggs and toast-- cause that lousy son of a bitch jockey didn't have his head screwed on right. Or because it rained and that horse ain't no mudder. He would be drunk and swearer and we would stay out of his way the whole weekend. He would then call every person he knew to get a few bucks to go back to the track again-- to see if he could win it back.

Every so often, he did win

He would get home in what seemed like the middle of the night and turn every light in the house on. He brought home several pizzas form Father and Son and baskets and baskets of fried shrimp.

Grandma would then ask him for some money, to buy us a few things that we needed.

We would then spend Saturday shopping on Milwaukee ave. Goldbaltz and Woolworth's and the little dress store and the shoe store. And grandma would treat us to McDonald's. She always had a hamburger fries and a cup of coffee. Grandma loved their coffee.

While we sat at McDonald's grandma would have us go through the bags and tear all the tags off the cloths and through them away in the trash at McDonald's.

Then, as we walked out, she take out the receipts and tear them up too.

"Just in case that crape hanger gets a bug up his ass and wants to return this shit. This way he can't" She would say. Ahhhh Crape Hanger.... I Love That Term!!!!!

It was like that for most of my growing up. When I was 13 I spent more weekends with friends that I had met in high school. It got me out of the house. I didn't have to deal with it. I didn't have to watch the rituals that these people were so comfortable with. It didn't have to be my existence.

But anyway son, fried shrimp just doesn't sit well with me any more.

But I love it sauteed with garlic.