I’ve been in the habit, lately, of having nothing in the morning for breakfast, but a piece of rye bread and a coffee. If someone were to see me painted from within a story, I think this detail would say a lot. “Every morning, the woman ate one slice of rye bread and sipped on a coffee.” It says volumes. Rye bread. It’s something a New Yorker eats like its a religion – rye bread and bialys and bagels. For example, Wifesy hates rye bread. Clearly, she is not from New York. She has introduced me to the breakfast burrito. This also says a great deal about her origins. It indicates her Californian roots. To me, a breakfast burrito is Mexican for breakfast. (Ew.) …
Tagged: ancestry, bronx, children, comedy, entertainment, essay, family, food, funny, gay, grandparent, great grandparents, history, humor, humour, kids, lesbian, lgbt, lifestyle, memory, new yorker, parenting, past, postaday, rye bread, Shopping, stories, style, take me out to the ball game, write, writer, writing