Milk at a Speakeasy
Yesterday, my mother was telling me about being contacted by a distant relative who was trying to put together some information about the family. My mother was able to find a picture from the wedding of this woman’s parents, and it was a photo she’d never seen before. It got my mother and I talking a little bit about our family history, and prompted me to remember a story my grandfather told me. It’s a story my mother didn’t know, either, but it sounds plausible.
“If Grandpa told you, it’s probably true,” my mother said. “Nana is the one who would have made up a story.”
Here goes. I will try to avoid my tendency to embellish, since I know so little.
When my grandparents were dating, my grandfather took my grandmother to restaurant. Well, he thought it was a restaurant. But it turned out that it was a speakeasy. My grandfather told me that he was embarrassed to have taken a nice girl like my grandmother to a speakeasy, so he ordered two glasses of milk. Apparently the bartender thought that was extremely funny, and went to the corner store to buy milk so he could pour two glasses for my grandparents.
I really hope that story actually happened, because it’s kind of awesome.