The Ketchup Junkie

I have never met either of my Grandfathers. They both passed away either before or just after I was born. I don't know the exact dates to be honest. I had a great uncle who took over the grandfather role in my life. He was my Uncle Lindo and he was awesome. He took us for rides on his motorcycle. He would pinch our cheeks and say "bella bella" and sneak us money every time he saw us. He always gave my brother more money than my sister and I because 'he was a boy'. He was old-school Italian and that's just the way it was. It still makes us laugh.

In his final years, he lost his marbles a bit. He would go to the mall every day and steal stuff. Not actual merchandise and he was by no means a criminal, but he stole things like napkins, straws, little packets of honey. He was a condiment hoarder. When we would visit we would see piles and piles of his food court treasures and he was more than happy to share them with us.

Where am I going with this? Well, this morning my sister and her husband left for Cuba. Awhile back I told her that when I went to Cuba, two things were noticeably absent from their cuisine; ketchup and peanut butter. While they did have some sort of disgusting ketchup imported from China, it was no Heinz, that's for sure. She is a ketchup junkie and I knew she would miss it as much, if not more than I did.

A few days ago I got this email from her:

"I went to McDonalds for lunch today so I could get some more ketchup packets. I have 14 now. I'll go one more time this week to get a few more. That should last me a week in Cuba. Now I just need to go somewhere for breakfast so I can get some peanut butter....."

I told her how much that made me laugh and she replied: "I know. How very Uncle Lindo of me".

No doubt. I bet he's doing cartwheels in heaven right now.



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