(biscotti yellows of the peanut butter)
By Anthony Buccino
T |
hat distinctive smell of pizza and french fries on Friday mornings always signaled the school week was nearly over.
A few minutes in the lunch line, and one or two classes, and it's onto the weekend.
Not only the children felt this way, but some adults went to four years and more of college, got certified and are allowed to cram an adult meal into their gullets in 20 minutes or less.
Now, that's dedication.
As one who brown-bagged it 99 percent of the time, I often pitied the bus kids who had to buy the hot lunch in the school cafeteria. Theirs was an endless stream of mystery meat in brown gravy with vegetables no one could identify.
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