Life lessons from Chubby (my dad) and other smart folks I’ve met on the road.
1959. David’s Buffet, Cincinnati, Ohio.
Me? An 11-year-old eating machine.
Picture the most awesome salad bar in the universe. We’re not talking salad (in the cucumbers and sprouts sense of the term).
Heavenly hash. Deviled eggs. Creamy potato salad. Rich melted cheese sauce (with a few strands of macaroni).
It was gastronomic sin . . . a calorie rich, stuff-your-face paradise for big boys like me.
I had just returned to the table, my plate fully filled. Mom, Dad and Linda (my sis) were all there.
Chubby looked up and asked, “Greg, where did you grab the ladles that stick out from each bowl?”