I’d been writing a section in my book about my parent’s marriage (think turbulent) when I stumbled across this old photo of a Superior diner. (Incidentally, I don’t even remember where or how I got the photo. If you want rights or know more, please tell me.)
My parents met at this diner called Kitch’s Drive-In (pronounced by locals as Kitch-ees) sometime in the early 1970s. Of course, this photo is from an earlier period—I’m bad at judging cars, 1950s, perhaps?
But it’s funny how this photo looks, at turns, dark and foreboding, or bright and folksy, depending on my mood. And when I think about my father when he met my mother, I see the photo as some kind of poster for a black and white, gritty film noir piece, and the opening scene is where me and my sister’s future began.
Not so auspicious, I tend to think.