“Oh my sweet Saturday, I have been waiting for you for six long days”

My errands started later than I expected because my seamstress was running over a half hour behind the time. She did call to say her lateness was for good reason. She was totally right. Eniola had made jollof rice for me, one of my favorite Ghanaian dishes. Hers, though, is Nigerian. There is a running argument between Ghana and Nigeria as to whether or not each has the best jollof rice and in which country the dish originated. Eniola is from Lagos. She thinks I need to visit and expects I will when daughter goes to Nigeria to be married. She promises me a tour.

The sun was out when I woke up this morning. I was so excited to see it. Later, of course, it disappeared, but I can happily report it reappeared just as I was getting ready to leave. It is still around and playing a bit of hide and seek with a few puffy clouds. It is 45˚ and windless.

When I was a kid, Saturday was my favorite day of the week. I had my Rice Krispies with morning TV then had the whole day to do what I wanted. Sometimes I went to the matinee. Other times I rode my trusty steed, my bike, all around town. I had no destination, just the excitement of the journey. My house was perfect for its closeness to the nearest towns on two sides, and I remember riding down unfamiliar streets and crossing into the other towns. When traveling to one, I’d pass a golf course and always stop to hunt errant golf balls. I don’t remember ever finding any. I window shopped in at the stores different than ours. There was even a small park right in the middle of the square where I stopped and rested a bit. The best was the train station where the trains still ran. I could have stayed there all day.

When I’d get home, it was usually late afternoon. I’d put my bike in the cellar and do nothing except maybe watch TV or read until suppertime. I never had to ask the menu. Every Saturday it was the same, a New England Saturday night supper. The baked beans were B&M from a can. The brown bread too was B&M from a can. I didn’t know anything about the bread except it was brown. I think if I knew all the ingredients I probably wouldn’t eat it. The hot dogs had no distinction. The rolls were top loaded, a very New England thing. I usually ate a couple of hot dogs.

Saturday night we really had no bedtime. We’d watch TV and go upstairs when we were tired. That was never really late. Usually we had an exhausting day but it was always the best day.

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2 Comments on ““Oh my sweet Saturday, I have been waiting for you for six long days””

  1. Bob Says:

    Except for the dinner menu my kid Saturday’s were similar to your Saturdays. When I began Studying for my Bar Mitzvah I had to attend Saturday morning services at our Synagogue and the Rabbi took attendance of the Bar Mitzvah class. This was a huge obstacle to my Saturday morning TV viewing since video tape was to come a couple of decades later. Unfortunately, as soon as I pleased my parents by becoming Bar Mitzvah I immediately resumed my Saturday morning TV habits. I knew then that I would be at best be a Reform Jew 🙂

    Today the sun is shining with temperatures in the upper 60s. From now until Memorial Day the weather in North Texas is spectacular when it’s not raining.

    • katry Says:

      Bob,
      Our supper is the same one all my friends’ families had which is why I call it the New England Saturday night. B&M is the key. I chuckled at resuming your Saturday rituals and deciding you’d be a Reform Jew. At least you got the big thing done first.

      Another nor’easter coming our way. I could get 8″ which I shouldn’t complain about as we haven’t had any snow.


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