When I was in junior high school, my family lived on Merchantile Street in McKeesport, outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. One Friday night, my friend Myrna slept at my house. The next morning, my parents, Ethel and Bill, made us breakfast. My mother made six dippy eggs- one for each of us and I guess two for my father. My father made bacon and toast. When we were ready to eat, my mother passed the platter with six eggs to Myrna, who exclaimed, "Oh My Goodness! I can't possibly eat all of these!"
But she did. Nobody said a word. We were so startled, none of us knew what to say.