Last night, I made some pea soup for the Shabbos mean, and it brought back some memories.

In 1977, my family went down to Los Angeles to visit with my grandparents, and to pick up grandma’s old car for my older brother, Stephen (The Bear Who Swims).

It was a 1963 Chevy nova.

Given that Stephen, who was relatively new to driving, was going to do some of the driving, and the fact that the Nova had never really done highway driving, we went north along the Pacific Coast Highway. 

Just off of the PCH, in Buellton, California, is a restaurant which is renowned for its pea soup, Pea Soup Andersen’s.

We were in the area around dinner time, and my dad decided that we would eat dinner there.

I don’t remember what I had, except for the soup, which was truly first rate.

What sticks in my memory was what happened after dinner.

I tried to get some toothpicks out of the toothpick machine, but it was jammed.

I tried to unjam it, and when I turned it upside down, because it appears that a toothpick was stuck underneath the roller, the top came off, spilling toothpicks all over the floors.

While the tres of the family remained in the booth, staring at me in poorly disguised amusement, I had to flag down the waitress and apologize.  (I did unjam the machine)

I’m still getting razzed by my brothers over this, after almost 44 years.

Family, nu?