Long before Lawrenceburg, Indiana sold its soul (what little it possessed) to riverboat casino gambling, the only place to eat in town was Frisch’s Big Boy. Since the restaurant, at least this incarnation of it (my brother Eric explained to me that this the third version of Frisch’s, all at about the same location), is located on US 50 it seemed like the perfect place to eat. So, Sandy and I, after leaving Rising Sun (more on that later), we met my Dad, Eric and my sister Annie there for supper. It was a good meal and a much better time. The Big Boy sandwich, especially with extra tartar sauce (thanks for the reminder, Eric), still tasted the same. We had a nice chat and Eric reminded me that we’re the only family to win the local father-son golf tournament with both sons. The funny thing is that I clearly remember Eric and dad winning it, but somehow completely forgot my part in the story (room for lots of pop psychology there). We had a wonderful time and dad talked about the time he spent the summer harvesting wheat in Oklahoma, which he described as the longest summer of his life. The restaurant looked very different (it had curb service when I grew up, but the food tasted the same (and I suspect some of the hamburger paddies and buns probably date from my days in high school). I’ve included a picture of Sandy with the Big Boy himself, although I don’t know if it’s the same one my friend Jack Schultz swiped (in an epic adventure only he can tell).