Once in a while, I meet my mom for lunch at Don and Millie’s. It’s not the healthiest place to eat, but I can usually find something that isn’t going to drive up my blood sugar. She loves their cheeseburgers. I love their nostalgia. When we are able to, we usually grab a table way in the back of the place—in the corner, behind a wall that sets the table off from everything else. Hanging on the wall is a picture of an old hamburger drive-in restaurant that used to exist (maybe on the same land?).
The picture shows a sign advertising hamburgers for fifteen cents. And it has shows a few guys waiting in line for their food—with “floods” on (pants that are short enough to allow for flood waters). It also shows workers behind the counter wearing those rectangular pointy looking hats that all fast food restaurant workers used to wear.
I love the photo because I imagine my parents frequenting a place like that when they were dating in high school. And having my mom across from me while I look at the picture sort of brings things full circle. I don’t know why, but it’s satisfying.
The picture shows a sign advertising hamburgers for fifteen cents. And it has shows a few guys waiting in line for their food—with “floods” on (pants that are short enough to allow for flood waters). It also shows workers behind the counter wearing those rectangular pointy looking hats that all fast food restaurant workers used to wear.
I love the photo because I imagine my parents frequenting a place like that when they were dating in high school. And having my mom across from me while I look at the picture sort of brings things full circle. I don’t know why, but it’s satisfying.
