Saturday mornings when I was a kid were so memorable. I was about four, and my mom was a nurse and was working third shift some weekends. So, Dad would get him and I out and about so Mom could get a good day’s sleep. The weekends varied on what we would get into. We almost always went over to visit Pap (Dwain) and Gram (Margret) Perry Saturday mornings. I loved weekends with Pap and Gram.

Other Saturdays consisted of Dad just doing yard work, and I’d ride my dirt bike around our little less than a half-acre home on Roosevelt Ave., or help Dad work under a car on his famous piece of brown cardboard that laid on top of the tiny stones in our driveway. Any Saturday with Dad was the best, but the one I remember the most is this:

It was about 8 a.m., we would pack up the truck and leave to head to our cabin in Blossburg. My little JR 50 Suzuki dirt bike was all loaded in the bed, helmet packed, and Dad’s dirt bike stood proudly next to mine. Mine always looked so little next to Dad’s. Before we headed up old RT 15, we stopped into good old Weis on Lycoming Creek Road. Man, I loved walking in there in the early mornings. You could smell all the fresh donuts baking. It was like walking into a piece of heaven that greeted you with amazing sweets. Dad would grab us each a donut to go, and we would head back to the deli to grab a hoagie for lunch that was wrapped in cellophane. In the back of the bed of the truck with the bikes was our blue and white Playmate Igloo cooler. Dad still has that bad boy to this day. He always packed sodas in there on ice and placed our hoagie on top to keep it cold. Tastykakes and a bag of chips were always a must too. He took good care of me! As we headed up RT 15 Dad always had me count the mountains to get there. It was about 45 minutes from home and I never minded the drive. Eddie Money would be playing on the cassette player and I just loved being with dear old Dad. There were three big tall mountains that stood alone on the way up. After the third one, I knew we were almost there. Dad would unload the bikes and always wanted to mow grass first and get that done. He would get my bike started up for me, and I would ride out on the paths till he was done working. We’d eat lunch then off we would go on a ride on the bikes. Once our day was done, Dad would load up, and we would head off the mountain before sundown. On the way home, we would talk about what mom would have ready for dinner.

To this day, the smell of those donuts at Weis or looking at their premade hoagies takes me back to those Blossburg days. The sound of Eddie Money or any good 80’s rock takes me back to those days. Dad gave me the love for some good old fashion rock and roll. Can’t beat Bon Jovi, Def Leppard, Tom Petty, or Phil Collins. Just to name a few that I grew up on. Nowadays, my Dad is a traitor. He is all country now, but whatever. *giggles* His daughter still holds those songs in her heart as “Weekends with Dad Memories.”

Isn’t it funny how food, music, and smells can trigger a memory? I think it’s pretty awesome how they all can come running back to us. Memories. Precious memories.
Creole Beef Casserole
• 1 can (10-3/4 ounces) condensed cream of chicken soup, undiluted
• 2 cups (16 ounces) sour cream
• 1 small onion, chopped
• 1/4 teaspoon pepper
• 1 package (30 ounces) frozen shredded hash brown potatoes, thawed
• 2 cups (8 ounces) shredded cheddar cheese
• 1-1/2 pounds ground beef
• 1 cup ketchup
• 1/4 cup packed brown sugar
• 3 teaspoons Creole seasoning
• 1 teaspoon garlic salt
• 3/4 cup crushed cornflakes or crackers
• 1/4 cup butter, melted

In a large bowl, combine the soup, sour cream, onion and pepper. Stir in potatoes and cheese; transfer to a greased 3-qt. baking dish.

In a large skillet, cook beef over medium heat until no longer pink; drain. Stir in the ketchup, brown sugar and seasonings; spread over potatoes. Combine cornflakes and butter; sprinkle over top. Bake, uncovered, at 350° for 40-45 minutes until bubbly.