At the “boarding house” where I now live, they go by a fancier name “senior assisted living.” Like my two previous boarding houses, food is good.
While the privileged at my 1950s college days were eating at the fraternity, sorority or team tables, I located a “pitch ‘til you win” luncheon boarding house.
Enroute to afternoon classes—-no well-educated senior signed up for morning classes—-I ate at the widow’s food table. She furnished us a bunch of good salads, meat and vegetables. Without that lunch table, I probably couldn’t have graduated at 144 pounds, six foot three tall.
Six years later, during the Nolan County oil boom when I unloaded hundred pound drilling mud sacks, I discovered “Ma Allen’s” Sweetwater eating table: five meats, four salads, all the iced tea you could drink, and choice of four different pies. My height same 6’3″, but weight rose to 185 pounds.
Now, I’ve found another good boarding house. Requires fancy written ordering that you fill out the evening before your next day’s three meals. Handling that chore. Their full plates fill me. Desserts excellent. Plus whatever you want to drink—-that’s good for you.
At age 93, back at a boarding house. Expect my weight will go up as they indulge my boarding house appetite. I’ll grow back to light heavyweight. Pretty soon, you won’t dare kick any sand in my face.
Photo credit: Southern Boarding House Meals, Roadfood
