{"id":2853,"date":"2016-05-08T17:02:15","date_gmt":"2016-05-08T21:02:15","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.ordinarylegacy.com\/word\/?p=2853"},"modified":"2016-05-08T17:02:15","modified_gmt":"2016-05-08T21:02:15","slug":"a-callahans-mom","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.ordinarylegacy.com\/word\/2016\/05\/08\/a-callahans-mom\/","title":{"rendered":"A Callahan’s Mom"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"CallahansMom2\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Today it was all about the hot dog. And beer\u2026birch beer. And a piece of the past that we shared so many years ago as a young family growing up in Bergen County. For Mother\u2019s Day we dined at Callahan\u2019s Hot Dogs<\/a>. Not brunch, no cooking, no fuss just a hot dog, well not JUST a hot dog it was Callahan\u2019s after all. The snap, the flavor, the birch beer, the music it just all came together like a time capsule broken wide open. It was simple, it was heartwarming, it didn\u2019t include my father but enough trains passed by that we were pretty sure he was on one of them. It\u2019s what she wanted to do for her day.<\/p>\n

Sometimes you get there. Sometimes a father\u2019s daughter can learn to appreciate her mother because a little dog comes along and makes her into a Gramma. The mistakes aren\u2019t forgotten but they are relabeled into something more palatable, something more relatable.<\/p>\n