I have some pretty good memories growing up. My Dad uprooted us from Cleveland to rural Georgia when I was three. Well, all of my extended family ( grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc...) still lived in Ohio so this meant a fifteen hour car car ride every holiday. Although that ride REALLY sucked, one of the many travel "bright spots" was stopping at Frisch's Big Boy on the way. You could determine that you were getting into Yankee territory when you started to see the signs on the highway.
Okay, not that the food was memorable in any way, but they always had Big Boy comics . This would give my sister and I something to fight over in the car for the remaining seven hours. Very important arguments like : Who got "the good one" without any grease stains. Now, my sister and I fought over a lot of important things over the years, but those comic book fights were some of the most impassioned. These fights ranking only second to who got more of the little plastic steak markers at the Western Steer ( you know the blue, red, and green plastic markers that said "WELL", "MEDIUM WELL", "RARE" to denote how the steak was cooked). By steak, I mean a piece of brownish meat with black "grill lines" printed on it. Actually, it just now occurs to me why my Mom got so mad at the fact that we would take those little stakes off of other people's plates after they had left their tables. It now also occurs to me how stupid I was as a little kid.
"hey there...big boy", 2008
6" x 6", oil on gessoed panel
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