Open for Business

Every year, right after school let out for the summer, Mom and Dad would line the back of the station wagon with sleeping bags, blankets and pillows, tie down the luggage to the roof, add one gray and white cat, one excited family dog and two, still in their pajamas, sleeping kids to head for the family cottage in Maine. We would arrive in the morning, with the dog barking, huffing, puffing and whining the final ten miles until he was released to race down to the lake for his first summer swim.

Oftentimes, my cousins from New York would arrive within days. I know I shouldn’t have favorites but Steven was always my hero. Each year I would anxiously await his arrival and he would usually stay for a month. Because he lived in Long Island and I lived in New Jersey during the year, we didn’t get to see each other that much. Maine was our special place and we spent a lot of time brainstorming ideas to keep us busy during the long summer days. Most of our time was dedicated to getting his brother and my sister, Todd and Elizabeth, in trouble. This usually backfired. We also devoted a good amount of time devising ways to acquire their money. To us it seemed reasonable since all they ever spent their money on was candy. We were their dental hygiene super heroes. So, out of concern for our siblings’ pearly whites and our financial well-being, the greatest money-making scheme was born.

Steven and I spent an entire afternoon in the cellar of the cottage creating a restaurant. The summer kitchen was there on the off-chance that we had a heat wave. Using old construction paper and colored pencils, we painstakingly created multiple copies of our menu. Our enterprise was named “The Nickel and Dime” and the menus boasted items priced at five cents and ten cents. I was the chef because I could scramble eggs and make toast. My specialty was sliced hotdogs sautéed in a ketchup, mustard and brown sugar reduction. We were ready as our first customers came through the door. They were our parents who travelled from all the ways upstairs just to inform us that we could not charge for food since we did not purchase it. This was a major setback.

“I have an idea,” Steven announced as I sat dejected on a nearby chair. He emptied rusty nuts, bolts and nails from an ancient coffee can into a kitchen drawer and wrote “TIPS” across it in black magic marker. We placed the can near the door and were quick to point it out to our first real customers, Todd and Elizabeth.

Business went well for a week. Then, our cousins from Boston, Jennifer and Carolyn, arrived for a day visit. Their mother, Aunt Kathy, was the scariest person I knew. She was very strict and never smiled. Anything that was fun was too dangerous or had germs or was illegal. In hindsight, she was probably right. Carolyn and Jennifer saw our fine dining establishment and wanted their own business. Steven rented a corner of the cellar to them where they sold Styrofoam art. Todd and Elizabeth were still the only customers. Suddenly, the cellar door burst open and we saw the most terrifying sight: Aunt Kathy stood in the doorway, her hands pressed firmly against her hips. We were pretty sure she wasn’t a customer.

“If you kids don’t quiet down I’m going to give you each a good crack on your fannies,” she hollered, giving us the evil eye. The Wicked Witch of the West couldn’t have put it more clearly.

“But Aunt Kathy,” I ventured. “I already have a good crack”. The silence was broken and all of us laughed, except my aunt. She blushed and furiously retreated, slamming the door behind her. We were left alone for the remainder of the day and once again, we were open for business.

Sarah’s Secret Sautéed Weiners

3 hot dogs sliced into 1-inch pieces

½ cup of Ketchup

2 Tablespoons Yellow Mustard

2 Tablespoons Brown Sugar

Mix all ingredients in a frying pan over medium high heat. Bring to a simmer and cook until the sauce has thickened (usually 5-8 minutes). Serve immediately.