Spaghetti on Mondays

I just delivered that woman's fourth set of twins, said a teary-eyed doctor outside a hospital delivery room in Iron Mountain, Michigan on January 10, 1970.

This is a comedy.

Dad was a mailman and moonlighted as a janitor to support us. He faithfully delivered the mail everyday for thirty years, and neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow, nor the birth of another set of twins could stop him. Mom was the homemaker, worked as a school lunch cook, and helped Dad at his night job - all while working other part time jobs to help make ends meet in bare-bones budget. Whether it was hybrid milk, rummage sale clothes, or washable cloth diapers, Mom knew where to cut corners to save a buck, especially if the corners were on a bell-bottom jean hemline.

This is a story about the 1970s and great neighbors, good meals, bad fashions, free Thanksgiving turkeys, and the greatest sedative of all - television. Toss in a neighbor striking out Babe Ruth, Jesse Owens racing a horse, a cataclysmic Christmas Eve comet, a Dallas Cowboy Super Bowl ring and a relative passing away at a Frank Sinatra concert, and, well, you have our tale.