G...H....I...

G = Golf My oldest brother really was into golf. He practiced constantly, had lessons with a golf pro and built his own set of clubs. Being a most generous, big-hearted guy he also built me a set of left-handed clubs and built child-size clubs for our nephews. I practiced with him in our field hitting orange wiffle type golf balls, I went with him to the driving range, and we golfed on the local public course.
I did enjoy it. I wasn’t very good at it, yet, it was fun. Golf is also one of the most frustrating sports ever invented. On one hole, you can drive the ball perfectly, by the wonder of a good gust of wind hit a fine approach shot, and then make your putt. Then sadly that will not occur again for the remaining 17 holes. It’s enough to make one throw their sand wedge (get a good spin on it you can get good distance) and yell toned-down obscenities that make the foursome of little old ladies the next hole over gasp......or so I hear that happens......

H = Hoagies As has been alluded to previously in this blog, I come from a maternal lineage of great cooks. Blessed be. My Aunt Jean made the very best homemade pizza and would come over to her sister’s, my mother's, house nearly once a month in the winter season and gift us with this delight. It was a family tradition that we honored frequently.
Just as we had pizza in the winter, in the summer the meal was hoagies. We would drive down the hill, through town, and up the next hill to pick-up my Aunt Jean. On the way home, we stopped at the local butcher shop, Brestensky’s, and bought fresh lunch meats and cheese. Next, was a visit to the local deli where we purchased homemade hoagie rolls and onions and pickles (lettuce was from our garden). Back home, Jean would set-up in the kitchen and create a culinary assembly line that included her homemade “hoagie sauce” which was the perfect closer --- think of the sauce as the Jason Grilli of hoagie making. The hoagies were incredible, yet, even more was the centerpiece of our home and lives together which was gathering at table as a family.

I = Ice Cream My mother and I welcomed the warm weather and the season of summer by having the “first banana split” of the summer season. During the long, lazy, hot, bright days of summer the regular stops at one’s favorite, local ice cream stand is mandatory for the season. How great is an ice cream cone licked and chomped on a summer’s evening?

sj;