As I sit in the hospital room I find myself wanting to travel back in time to the happier days of my childhood. On a hot summer day Mom would give me some money and I would ride my bike down a red dusty road to the grocery store. Our town had one store so the selections were quite limited for its shoppers. I could smell the hickory smoke coming from the smoke house in the back. The African American gentleman was great cook and a real magician when it came to barbecue. He could take any cut of meat and turn it into something delectable. I can remember consuming many spicy barbecued chicken legs and soda - truly a feast for the gods.
I selected two of the individual bottles of clam juice and hopped on my bike. When I got home my Mom quickly consumed one. I could never understand why she thought clam juice was so good. I thought the gray fishy smelling liquid was totally disgusting! But now I understand-it was the closest she could get to her memories of the San Francisco Bay area now that she was living in an tiny town in East Texas with a population of 699.
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