Back on topic.
Smokehouses.
1969.
Pop was flying a C-54 out of Tan Son Nhut in the Nam.
I was in the 6th grade living in Dundee, MI.
I was playing the clarinet trying to get next to Maureen Bondy.
Mom would give me a coupla' dollars and I'd jump on my Murray Stingray with the banana seat, sissy bar, ape hangers, and rear tire slick and go uptown to our local butcher.
It was a butcher shop that just happened to also sell bread and milk.
I'd pickup 2 gallons of milk, a coupla' loaves of bread, 5 pounds of hamburger, and 2 huge colbase and come home with change.
I'm 100% bohunk from both sides of the family.
The guys at the butcher shop made the best hungarian colbase I've ever tasted and we ate A LOT of it.
The best part I remember about the joint is that it never smelt like butcher joint.
Even though they literally butchered whole carcasses.
The place always smelled like smoke.
I can still smell it.
I remember a friend that year turned me on to Iron Butterfly.
Ina-Gada-Da-Vida.
My brothers burned down grandma's barn.
Pop came home.
Maureen Bondy.
MAUREEN BONDY!!!!
