Tonight we had Jeremy Burgers, he makes the best burger I have ever eaten and anyone who has had one will agree. He has a gift for making burgers and cooking them, not to long, not to short, just right. But tonight it wasn't the burger that brought on this blog, it was the onion. Strange? Yea, probably if you don't know my family better yet, my Grandaddy. When he had a burger he didnt want a small piece of onion or onion rings or any kind of sissy strips. He wanted the whole slice and it better be thick. Vidalea of course was best, but if you didnt have that any white or yellow onion would do, as long as it was thick.
A few years ago, sitting at Memamas table watching Grandaddy make his burger, I realized the joy he got from that simple act. The bun, mayo, mustard, ketchup, lettuce, pickles, meat and of course the thick onion slice. I cant watch him do that anymore and I bet I'm not the only one who misses having lunch with him. So tonight I have been brought to tears by an onion, not from chopping, slicing or eating one but from the memories of watching my Grandaddy enjoy 'em.