Tuna Casserole and Hot Dogs

I recently received the gift I had been truly longing for ... Mom's recipe card file!  I can't tell you how many times I've thumbed through it since ... just looking.

Food carries memories, same as music and smell.

There it was, the Tuna Noodle Casserole recipe.  The recipe that fed us for MONTHS while Dad was away at sea.  Times were tough and money was tight.  Remember gas rationing?  It was the '70's.
Mom made that dish almost every night, alternating between it and hot dogs.  There were four kids and whatever stray people we had floating around our home (there were always other people taking refuge under Mom's wings).

Tuna, peas, noodles, milk and of course, cream of mushroom soup.

We (probably Mom, too) were sick of it quite frankly.  One of us came up with a seemingly brilliant plan to avoid the dreaded meal.  She (not me), would make herself sick ... right back onto her plate!  It was a "memory in the making" let me tell you.  At first, Mom thought she might be truly ill.  Reprieve granted. Let the spoiling begin.
But a pattern soon emerged.
And the punishment was even more memorable.
She was to 're-eat' that disgusting mess, or stay at the table.
Tears, begging, more puking ... Mom was stoic... it was the longest night EVER!

Let's just say, it never happened again.
And for the record, we really didn't have that casserole too often thereafter.

Of course that meant, MORE HOT DOGS!

I hated 'em.
I was worse than she.
No, I didn't puke physically.
I was verbally disgusting.
We were to "say the blessing" ... (it was the Catholic blessing at this time)
I announced with the irreverence which can only be attributed to pre-teens, "I'm not at ALL thankful for these stupid hot dogs!"
There was a hush.
Then, Mom shamed me like nobody's business.
Starving kids in China, my poor father slaving to provide these "stupid hot dogs" and the toil and sweat that goes into parenting ungrateful children ... I'm sure there were images of the pain of childbirth and the  like, but I have put the actual words into the sea of forgetfulness (another gift of pre-teens).

Let's just say that now and for forever more, little Bernados' were much more grateful people, especially at mealtime.