Cremation
“To old to cut the mustard,” singing slightly of key, “To old to the mustard anymore.” I can’t even remember the tune but the words strike me from time to time and I can’t help but laugh when I make a sandwich and struggle to get mustard out of a jar with a steak knife and these words come popping back. Sometimes it’s just eating a pickle or a hot dog and thinking, “my grandfather would love this.” Food seems to take me back more than anything. I love to cook and love to eat so in some ways this is rather strange. Much of the things he liked to eat I still have trouble even thinking about consuming. Many of them, however, were just overly simple and ordinary. His specialty dish, or at least his most commonly cooked, he usually ate for breakfast. We called it a stir-fry back before I knew what a stir-fry wa
