Seminary . . .

I have rewind the hands of the clock to tell this story.  

When I left off, I was 6 years old and my mom was making us white shirts with iron on letters.

Today's story takes place when I was an only child so I must have been 1 or 2 years old.

Mom and I went out to lunch today at a Mexican restaurant.  I ordered Huevos Rancheros.  When the plate was delivered to my table, they had included a slice of tomato with my order.

I did not eat the tomato because I have a love/ hate relationship with tomatoes.  As I admitted this to my mom, she told me the story about when my father attended seminary.

That was brand new information because I never knew my father had attended seminary.  She told me that she would drive him to seminary and luckily some people would allow her to come over so I could nap.


Afterwards she told me of our neighbors would grow vegetables.  He would drop them off at the front door so we ate a lot of free produce.  One of the veggies, he grew was tomatoes.  She would make a lot of stewed tomatoes out of those tomatoes.  Maybe I ate too many of those tomatoes when I was a child so now I do not like tomatoes that much.

Today I learned some new details about my childhood.  I never knew my father had attended seminary.