I wasn’t even in the first grade yet, was probably four or five years old. My twin brother and I were visiting our grandparents on their farm just outside of Vevay, Indiana. It was summer and it was hot—too hot to take a road trip to a grocery store in Vevay to meet a woman on a pancake box, but my brother and I had no choice. Aunt Jemima was coming to town and my grandparents were looking forward to meeting her.
To read “Meeting Aunt Jemima,” click here.
(Photo from MTS)