How does this relate to love, or food?
Let me explain.
Some of you know I am an avid reader - by that I mean four to five books a week, if not more (seriously) - and right now I am reading The Devil's Casino by Vicky Ward.
Well, STFD, y'all. It's extremely well-written and very detailed - I have had to re-read pages to make sure I "got" all the specifics as Ms. Ward goes into so many . . . aspects of the Lehman Brothers (and their subsequent names) beginning, rise and fall. And food enters into it when there are descriptions of all the Lehman perks during their hayday. Executive meals - not to mention the salons and other services proffered - were the norm . . .
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Love entered into my reading of this book, and knowledge of Lehman, when my Daddy told me today: Chris Pettit was a classmate of his at West Point, and that's why I found the book in his office. That put a whole new spin on the bread and butter, steak and martinis - whatever - that were served in that executive dining room in the 80s and 90s.
There is no man in this world whose opinion I respect about a person more than my father's. You know the saying "I'd want him in a foxhole with me?" That's my Dad's type of judge of character.
Is this . . .
Worth all that happened in their demise? That took people out - both inside and outside? Methinks not.
I haven't finished the book yet - let's just say I'm through the apps and cocktail round, but not yet to the entree, or - the bittersweet (I am being generous here) dessert.
Great people do great things; sometimes they have awful and accidental falls or deaths, Chris Pettit being one of them.
Today, I am grateful for the ability to read - to contemplate lunch before work - to have people in my life, my Dad included for sure, who appreciate my weird proclivity for fascinating real-life stories.
Food is temporary in the body - character will out in the heart.
As always, food for thought . . .
Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal
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