Sister - Only My Sister Loves Me But She Could Be Jivin' Too

Growing up my sister R was always my best buddy. We were two years apart and shared an intricate sense of humor equipped with special languages and facial expressions, impressions, you name it.  She got me and 53+ years later there are only half a handful of people I can say that about.  I thought she was my gift from God and still do.  She has cool hair and great big eyes that well up and create mass amounts of tears when she cries.  She loved swimming in the lake just like me and used to throw major fits when we had to get out of the water, prompting my dad to invent the 1/2 hour warning call.  We'd make each other laugh in the backseat of our old station wagon so hard I thought I'd surely pee my pants.  We were always giggling and both were cognizant of intricate goofy little traits in adults that we'd share by impersonating them.

We shared a major fancy for fishing and used to catch night-crawlers the eve before a Sunday expedition with our mom and dad.  We'd be so excited to go but sometimes our dad's drinking would prompt the need to postpone travel of any kind.  Those were some sad sack days.  And only R really knew how disappointing it was.

R loved music and was moved by it deeply just like me and we both had the illusion that we had authentic soul to the extent that we loved to show our skills on the dance floor at the Mexican halls with our James Brown impressions.

We both loved and semi-idolized our older sister T.  She was a bit more normal and captain of her cheer-leading squad in high school.  She seemed to fit in a lot easier and had loads of friends where as we tended to be more the heads in junior and high school and hung on to our small band of misfits.

Our family was like two families, although I never really got that until I was much older.  Three siblings, a sister and two brothers came together around the same time about 65-68 years ago and then 8 years later, another sister, and then 6-8 years after that, me and Rachel.  Then, about 9 years down the road we adopted a little brother, my uncle's son.  The first siblings had to work in the fields picking vegetables and fruit.  The boys had it rough and there weren't many luxuries.  By the time Rach and I got around, my dad was working as superintendent for a construction company and there was still not a lot of money but things were just about to break with the opening of my parents' first restaurant and changing our lives forever.  In our teens we moved to a really cool house on the other side of town and my sister and I were exposed to new horizons and lots of really good food.  We loved to go sample the local fair when possible and had our favorite spots.  I never shared this passion of eating with my other friends or boyfriends.  They couldn't appreciate say the sweet jubilation you'd get from your first bite of a Zoli's grinder.  Sister knew even though it was more comfortable to eat their pizza at home, in order to really get the full monty, you had to feast upon it there at the restaurant when it first came out of the oven and like nimble surgeons we quickly added the dried hot peppers, grated fresh Parmesan cheese, and oregano to the plate before digging in.  You ate pizza at Zoli's with a fork because this was the ultimate and no one in town could compare.  It was high end pizza.  And the older male Hungarian waiters understood all of that.  Respectfully sister and I would wear our best jeans and cowboy boots for the occasion.


At times growing up it was almost as if I knew exactly what my sister was thinking. We always shared the love of food and through the years a little spark of an idea was always there to someday perhaps have a small food business together. Years ago when my father sold the family restaurant and even though I was no where near the mental space to be able to jump in and do a damn thing about it, it was me and my sister Rachel that looked at each other and knew we 'kinda blew it'. It would have been another life, but what a life if say all the siblings would have come together and took over that place. It had built a reputation and all the groundwork was already laid. It was poised to grow and the food was awesome. Due to the difference in all our ages, I imagine we could have really grown in more ways than one in the food offerings through the years. It is what could have been as they say. But its not a sad story because like I said, I was a major numb nut at the time and had no desire to be in Fort Wayne, let alone involved in my parents business. And I'm lucky that I was able to live in San Francisco and New York and get my ass kicked so hard by all these assholes great experiences.

So now with the past in mind, and the future in the unknown, I continue to hold excitement about small business possibilities. But not just that, how great would it be to get up for work, turn your own key, put on some sweet music that makes you feel great and make food for a living!? I have loose ideas, experiment with 'offerings', chili powder blends, brownies, salsas, breakfast bars. I still don't know what the hell I'm doing but my productivity is up like 90% from 5 years ago... when I did absolutely nothing about squat, just complained about everything.  I still enjoy complaining mind you.  I'm not one of those success stories you read about, I'm just an aging girl that likes to cook and just might do something about it someday or die trying.  My sister dreams too and it would be such an amazing accomplishment if we came full circle and joined together some day in a food venture.