Sitting in the booth and waiting for a waitress, I couldn't help overhearing a conversation between two senior citizens enjoying coffee at the counter of a small, local diner.
They were reminiscing about grade school days.
"It was a rough time," said one old man, a gent with a loud, crackling voice, his furrowed brow emphasizing the word rough.
"My mom didn't have much, but always scraped things together. She had to pack my school lunch by seeing what she could come up with," the man recalled.
"But one thing I always had was bread," he went on.