Full Circle: A burger with my mother

Penguin and his Mother in the early 70s

Wendy's sign *

The first fast food restaurant I remember eating at was Wendy’s. It was before I entered first grade, so I must have been four or five. I have many memories of this period of time, living in a home off Kirby Drive near the River Oaks section of Houston. I remember passing the Wendy’s on our way to Piggly Wiggly on Westheimer Road, where Mom liked to do her grocery shopping. This is the same Piggly Wiggly I grabbed a candy bar from the impulse area while Mom paid for her groceries. She didn’t see it until we got home. I got a good lecturing and she drove me right back to that Piggly Wiggly and made me give the candy back and apologize. I cried.

With my face still red and wet from streaming tears as we quietly drove home, we turned into the Wendy’s parking lot. I had learned my lesson about taking things without paying. My reward was a cheeseburger and fries. We shared a chocolate frosty for dessert.

Newsprint table *

I was just learning to read and I wondered at the newspaper print on the tables. I asked Mom if people came here to read the tables. She glanced down and said probably not. From my seat, I could look out at the Wendy’s sign. The Wendy girl looked like a girl I knew from school. They both had red hair and freckles, but my friend didn’t have pig tails that defied gravity and stuck out from her neck like wings.

After being introduced to Wendy’s, I started to notice their commercials. “Hey, look, Mom,” I’d exclaim, “it’s that place where we ate...with the newspapers on the tables.” She wasn’t as excited as I was. I had to ask why the people in the commercial kept wiping their mouth after every bite. This was a new concept to me, still learning that using my arm wasn’t the way to do it. Their gimmick was burgers so juicy, you had to wipe after every bite. Good ad campaign if I still remember it 47 years later.

"Hot and Juicy" *

Mom didn’t make a lot of money when I was that age, so eating out was a treat. Her favorite place was the Purple Cow, a little hole in the wall on Shephard, which didn’t last long (and I don’t think has anything to do with a new brand of restaurants with the same name). Mom also loved Taco Bell and I loved Jack in the Box. I don’t remember the food there as much as I do the square building...a literal box! And that silly clown with the round face atop colorful metal strips where his neck should be. Mom also frequently commented on loving Sonic. We shared an adoration of the tots and cheese. 

Jack in the Box in the 70s *

We didn’t go to Water Burger. I was fine with that. I never understood the appeal of eating at a place called Water Burger. It was a few years later I realized that it was actually Whataburger, a Texas treasure. No one ever seemed to pronounce the ‘what.’ It was always pronounced ‘wot.’ I may be the only Texan who actually calls it WHATaburger. I also have no memories of Mom taking me to McDonald’s, but when one went into the small Texas Panhandle town where my grandparents lived, they took me there every summer.

These restaurants from my youth remain favorites to this day, even if it’s rare that I frequent most. I still love the square meat patties at Wendy’s. Taco Bell, while far from TexMex, still satisfies the occasional late-night craving. The Ultimate cheeseburger at Jack in the Box is about my favorite of any fast food burger. Sonic still has half-priced burgers on Tuesdays and those tots and cheese are so good—they never need ketchup.

The old speaker box clown *

As I got older, it was rare that I ever ate at fast food with my mother. If we ever did, it was usually Taco Bell. I think it was thirteen years ago when my Mom moved to Florissant, Colorado, just west of Woodland Park. Woodland Park was the closest town from our family mountain ranch. It had a Sonic, where I think she and I ate only once. We also recently ate at the new Arbys. There was a Taco Bell, but I hardly knew it—it wasn’t on the main highway and we never ate there. Wendy’s was in a prominent place in town. It was in the parking lot of one of the grocery stores, of where she took her dog to get groomed, and of our favorite Asian food restaurant. For 13 years, I’d pass by that Wendy’s and never go inside. We simply never ate fast food when we spent time together.

My mother lost her fight with cancer in March. She had a seizure in January, which was her body’s way to inform us that the cancer had entered her brain. She was never the same. For several weeks she was unable to speak and had lost control of her right arm. This happened just as I came down with a flu, so it was nearly a month before I could fly up to Colorado to see her. She was doing much better in February. Knowing her time was limited, we had several great conversations. We talked about life and dreams and art and family. We watched movies and ate ice cream together. She had improved so much since her seizure that as I flew home, I just knew that I’d be buying Mom gifts for Christmas in 2020...2021 was questionable, but 2020 looked good. I was wrong. Three weeks later I watched as the beautiful woman, a goddess in my world, took her final breath. My heart has never been so broken.

How I remember it *

My mind floods with so many images of my mother...so many memories...so many GOOD memories. During her last visit to Houston in October of 2019, she stayed at my house. We had a wonderful visit and I drove her to our old apartment near River Oaks. It’s now an up-scale home goods store. What was once my bedroom now displays crystal wine glasses and serving ware of fine china. Where once was my mother’s bedroom is now a cash register. She was amazed. She could envision where all the walls used to be, the front corner where we had our Christmas tree, the wall where the TV used to be, the kitchen with the pantry doors that she started to paint – a project that would last quite a while. The place where I learned to ride my bike, where I posed for a photo on the morning I started first grade, where I would cuddle with my mother on the couch to watch The Wizard of Oz, and the space where I was once lectured on the wrongs of taking candy from the Piggly Wiggly without paying was now teeming with socialites looking for over-priced plate sets with matching linens, glasses and flatware. During our visit to the old homestead, she actually gave me a pair of wine glasses that I now treasure. They were on a shelf in the area that was our garage.

This space was our home. My bedroom was in the middle and the living room beyond. Mom's room was in the foreground.

While looking at some of the photos I’ve taken in this year, I came across those from my February visit to Colorado. One makes me smile every time I see it. It’s a selfie I took at lunch. My smile matches hers. She looks so happy. So content. And then it hit me; and when it hit me the flood gates opened up and my tears filled the room. The selfie was taken at that Wendy’s in Woodland Park: the very last restaurant I would ever share a meal with my mother.

The day the photo was taken, I awoke and went into the kitchen. As I made a cup of coffee, Mom announced that for lunch, she wanted to go to Wendy’s. I nearly dropped my coffee. I have no memory of eating at a Wendy’s with Mom since I was a kid! She heard no complaint from me in having lunch there. In fact, I turned the tables and bought her lunch. She could only eat about half of a double bacon burger. We split the fries but not the chocolate shake. That, she finished on her own!

Penguin and his mother at Wendy's, February 2020.

I continued to look at the photo through the prism of tears and wondered if she planned that. It felt like maybe she had, but did she remember that my first fast food experience was Wendy’s? Was it her design that our first and last fast food burger would be at Wendy’s? It’s not like we ever went there, so it was strange. That cold February day in Colorado was the first time in 13 years that I’d stepped foot in that  Wendy’s. I’m almost certain that on her part, it’s just a coincidence. But it sure seems like providence that she suddenly had a hankering for Wendy’s that day. Or maybe it was her way of giving me one more fantastic memory. A magic memory. Another bond that only she and I can share.

Gone are the newsprint tables. Gone are the commercials of people dabbing their mouth after each bite, and the Wendy’s Mom first introduced me to on Westheimer is also gone - more upscale retail stores in its place. But just like that first visit we had in Houston circa 1972, I’ll never forget taking her to lunch in Woodland Park, and the smile on my mother’s face after her hot and juicy burger. The last burgers we'd ever eat together.

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*Not Penguin photographs