My First Lunch Date

By the time I turned sixteen, only one of my grandparents was still alive—my mom’s mom, Grandma Wollberg. Getting my driver’s license didn’t just mean freedom for me; it gave Grandma a little freedom too.

She had never learned to drive—women of her generation often didn’t—so she walked everywhere she needed to go. But once I had a car, I started picking her up on Sunday afternoons. At first, it was just to take her to the grocery store or run a few errands. She was an ideal passenger—never a word of complaint about my driving. She simply enjoyed the ride and the company.

Over time, our Sunday outings turned into lunch dates. Grandma would dress up in one of her nicer dresses and carry her “good” pocketbook. Her favorite place was the tea room at the old Southtown Famous-Barr. The store—and the tea room—are long gone now, but it was something special.

I can still picture the small wooden staircase leading up to the hostess stand, the tables dressed with white tablecloths, real silverware, and china plates. It felt elegant, even to a teenage boy. Grandma always ordered the French onion soup—it was their specialty, and rightfully so. You could smell it the moment you walked in. I’ve had a lot of French onion soup since then, but none has ever come close. We’d usually order the fried chicken too, another dish Famous-Barr was known for.

We never rushed through those lunches. Grandma would ask me about school, and then we’d talk about the past. She was 74 at the time, still sharp and full of stories. I loved hearing about her childhood and our family history—she was the last of her generation, and I knew even then how precious her memories were.

We kept that tradition going until just before her death in 1980. Those Sunday lunches became one of the most meaningful parts of my teenage years. When she passed, it felt like a whole chapter of our family history went with her.

But I hold on to those quiet afternoons, the French onion soup, the stories, the laughter. Just Grandma and me—our little ritual. I’ll always cherish that time.