Fried Bread by Patricia Frolander Limp hand-me-down dresses hung on her depression-poor frame. On weekends she wore coveralls, the bottoms rolled up to accommodate her short legs. Her daddy walked away one day when she was eight so Mama married his brother. A year later Baby Sister became her charge. While older siblings argued over who milked cows, separated milk, churned butter, fed chickens and pigs and hoed the garden. Mama’s kitchen was her domain. At age twelve she assumed command of the wood stove, creating macaroni and tomatoes, venison stew, pork hocks and beans, but fried bread became the family favorite. Eighteen, tall and blonde, she married her sweetheart—buried him twelve years and two children later. She cooked for a wealthy family, tended bar, met a man, and left her kids with her maiden sister-in-law. Bright lights, hard men and harder whiskey took their toll. At her funeral, all agreed, none could compete with her fried bread. Gyroscope Review 26 !