My formative years were spent in an industrial blue-collar town with a mixture of European immigrants. Even though it was not for religious reasons in our house we always had fish on Fridays like most of the families in our town.
I always hated those fish Fridays because it seems every time we had fish, I was the only one in the family lucky enough to get the tiny hidden bones tucked between the flesh. How I remember chewing, chewing, chewing every bite until my jaws ached just to be sure that I wasn’t going to swallow a sharp bone that I was sure would puncture my stomach, causing the end of me. Friday’s were definitely not my favorite days.
But, in spite of my memories of those torture fish Fridays of long ago, I guess life habits are hard to break. You would think a sane person would have left the bony protein behind as I waved good bye to that industrial town. ‘Forget about it’ as my good Jersey shore friends would say, I still have fish on Friday. It is the only thing I eat with both a head and eyes.
Now I do feel lucky to have lived near the ocean most of my adult years. At least once a week you will find me at the local fish market, or at the dock waiting for the fishing boats to come in after a day at sea. I’ve shopped in the Pike Market in Seattle, Fulton Fish Market in New York and browsed markets all over the world. For me, there is something to say about the fresh saltwater smell of fresh fish. Most of the markets have powerful fans to whirl away the strong smell, but I like it. It reminds me of my love of the sea.
Well, today it’s Friday. Arthur and I left the beach this morning to take the fifteen minute ride into Miami to the Casablanca Fish Market where all sorts of fresh fish can be found.
Crazy as it seems, I still love the smells every time I open the Casablanca door. I love the noise and the eclectic mix of people who stream in, hovering over the various days catches.
The simple pleasures of life that mean something are getting easier and easier to find for me. As my grandson would say, ‘it is a big time senior citizen adventure!’
Come on, Kid. It sure beats Snapchat.
Copyright Sandra Hart©. All Rights reserved.
Sandra's Hart My Over 60 Lifestyle Journey 
My uncle who grew up in our industrial town and lived to be 96 use to call these “Senior Citizen Adventures” and activity. I hope I’ll be walking and can continue to do all these “activities” for years to come and yes it is better than SnapChat.
On another note, we both grew up in that industrial town on the banks of the Ohio River. As your family and many other families there sat down to break bread on Friday night, our family being of the Jewish faith sat down to a meal of roasted chicken, chicken soup and other traditional Friday night dishes. Friday dinners were my favorite meal. We never had fish on Friday night until one day I brought a girl friend home, who happened to be Catholic, for Friday night dinner. I told my mother we had to have fish for dinner that night. She complied. You should have heard the reaction from my brothers. What’s this. Anyway, I still like roasted chicken dinner and all the trimmings. Great memories.
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What an interesting post. Thank you so much for reminding me. We were very fortunate to grow up with so many friends with diverse beliefs and backgrounds, weren’t we! I never thought about our differences at the time. It just didn’t matter, did it? We are both who we are today because of that rich environment along the Ohio River. As much as I couldn’t wait to leave, hindsight has given me understanding of how wonderful our lives growing up there was indeed.
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Hindsight ….such a valuable acquisition ….♡
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Isn’t that so true.
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