I grew up Southern AND Catholic which meant that Friday night meant Salmon Croquettes (except we called them Salmon Patties). Nothing was sadder than waking up Friday morning and asking my Mom about dinner. She very rarely bought fish sticks at the grocery store. Once in a blue moon she made grilled cheese with tomato soup. It was usually those Salmon Patties.

It was such a sad meal. She served them with canned asparagus, which she chilled. We were not given any ketchup option. Just the Patties.

My Dad always fixed pancakes and bacon on Saturday morning. He was feeding five hungry (starving) kids who had, the night before, pushed their dinner around on the plate until my Mom got sick of watching us.

Her salmon patties went to our big collie mix, Bozo. My Dad, out of pure love for my Mom ate his portion. I never saw him ask for seconds even though he had quite the appetite.

My Dad wasn’t Catholic.