As a child in the 60s, I recall spending many days in that big house at 1215 W. 3rd street with my aunt and uncle and their many foster children I still call my cousins. Neither of them drove and we ate three home cooked meals every day for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Needless to say, we consumed a lot of food.
I also recall the Ford Country Squire station wagon with the fake woodgrain on the sides that delivered the groceries every week mainly because all of us kids were tasked with bringing the multiple brown paper bags in the house, emptying the bags, folding the bags, and putting them neatly away.
Black Covid-19 