Back in the World War II years, we only had real meat once a week. Usually it was roast beef for
Sunday dinner. Mid-week we were limited to a serving or two of Spam or deviled ham, but real meat is beef.

In those days, dinner was right after church, or about 1:00 in the afternoon. The evening meal was supper, and lunch was a light meal on weekdays.

So we had dinner, read the Sunday funnies, listened to the radio, or went visiting. We had no car so we didn't visit very far.

Then in the evening, our father went into the kitchen and converted leftovers, and anything else that happened to be in the 'frige into a wonderful meal that came to be known as Sunday Night Stew. It was never exactly the same, except that it was always dee-liscious.

Funny thing about our father; he was a good cook, but he had never learned anything about cleaning up the kitchen. At least that's what Mom said. He could cook on any kind of stove, or over an open fire, as he often did when we went hiking. But it was always good.

Our parents have both been gone for a long time, but when my sisters and I get together, we always seem to mention Sunday Night Stew.
Howard