This satisfied patron learned the eatery is called Glory Days.
I learned much more about its rich history.
Rosemary, another reader of "Brazil Buzz," e-mailed me about the "glory days" when the building housed a hardware store that carried a well-stocked inventory of hardware, washers, dryers and other appliances for the home, etc.
In the spring, gardeners, farmers and landscapers could count on the store to stock seasonal goods, seeds and associated supplies to do the work. I imagine it was a friendly place to visit too.
The store was owned by the Weber brothers. Later, John Weber, the nephew and his wife, Ethel, took over.
Of the 10 calls and e-mails that received in response to my quest, same as me and mine; all had favorable remarks to say about the food and service offered by dining establishment Glory Days.
I received several calls about the poem and other things mentioned in last week's column that just tickled their funny bones or brought back memories to them.
This Sunday afternoon, Paul Baby and Tootie Mae are catching a nap in the comfort of the recliner.
Both are directly behind me. Together, they saw logs with a dull blade. The older of the two best buddies is an open-breather, if you know what I am talking about.
Don't get me wrong, everything about them is precious. Precious is good. Besides, a little off-key music in the little blue house at the end of the road is always a change, when I don't have time to make my skills with the log saw known.
Our girls will be back in town Thursday. They have an exciting weekend ahead.
After a brief visit with us, Starla's daughter, Lindsay Terry and son Michael's wife, Kayleigh, have another road trip planned. They will be going to Columbus, Ohio, to attend the "Country Living Fair."
The event is sponsored by Country Living Magazine.
The Country Living Fair is an annual event entering into its seventh year.
It is billed, "A Haven of Hominess."
The women will be among an expected crowd of 25,000 visitors: Authors, guest speakers, crafts, ideas galore and more. The fair is said to be good for those whose tastes lean toward the traditional.
My Dora's that I adore asked me to go with them and explore, but Paul Baby holds on tight.
I can't move past the front door, unless the grass needs cut. Just kidding.
My how time flies when I am having fun. Fifty-five years of marriage on Nov. 15, and counting -- blessings.
I may not be the smartest nut in this shell, though I travel back to an old game plan that once worked for me. If I act sick, the savvy shoppers may bring the matriarch of the family a surprise.
The framers of the fair expect 200 merchants and 28 vendors or more to present the best of their wares.
When I was a little kid, truth is, this old kid learned early on how to work the system.
If I knew mom would be walking to town to shop and take care of banking and such, I would pretend to be sick, leaning toward half-dead.
She would put me down in her bad, on dad's side, if it were cold outside. I loved his oversized pillow filled with fluffy goose down. That was the perfect place to rest my sick head.
The living room stove was right around the corner. The heat from that coal stove sure brought extra warmth to the forehead.
I can still see my mother standing in front of that bed. Her little girl moaned and groaned and coughed, too weak to cry. The smell of Vicks VaporRub filled the room.
She adjusted the seams of her hose. She reached under the bed to find her dress shoes. Mom said, "Keep under Thelma's quilt so the Vicks will do its job. I will bring you a surprise."
Well that was enough to make me jump for joy. At that time, that would be a dead giveaway that I was faking to the extreme.
She placed Sandra in the baby buggy and headed up Elm Street toward town.
I got up and watched from the front door window until she walked out of view, beyond the cemetery.
Did you ever jump on a lumpy mattress situated on bouncy steel box springs? It gives a kid quite a lift. I gave the folk's bed a royal workout. I healed every skinny ounce.
When I heard my brother slam the back porch door, I knew he was coming to check on the sick. I dropped down and covered up in a hurry.
He usually delighted in tattling on this "little" devil.
Mom arrived home shortly before lunch. She wasn't a big shopper, but that lovely lady was a good one. That time, she purchased me a comb and brush and a home permanent refill kit.
Although I was feeling well by then, the sickness needed to last a while longer, in case I wanted to use my plan again and it did.
Years later, I confessed to mom that I lead her to believe little Mary Lou was sick, just to get a gift on an ordinary day, once or twice. I couldn't count.
She laughed and told me that she knew that and then she shook her head and remarked, "You were and are something else, but we still love you."
That was good enough for me.
Shortly thereafter, my mother was diagnosed to be suffering from the early stages of Alzheimer's. No more tricks. She was truly sick.
The best gift that I could give her was my love and understanding.
I picked up that plan from her.
She was special, and I loved her.
Now I must do my nails.
I have a medical appointment in the morning. Closing time is now.
I can be reached by phone at 446-4852 or by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.