The Argonne Supper Club

The year I was born, my dad went to northern Michigan to cover his sales area. Since he had stayed in town to await my birth, he went up to the “tip of the mitten” for two weeks. He skied over the weekend and met some other people who asked him if he wanted to join them for dinner at the Argonne Supper Club.
So, my parents have been going to the Argonne Supper Club for more than thirty years. Yikes. Anyway, their favorite thing on the menu is all-you-can-eat shrimp. If someone at the table orders the all-you-can-eat shrimp, everyone who orders shrimp has to get the all-you-can-eat. This is one of the things that is a must on the summer eat-a-thon.
My tiny little mother (a 5’4” size two) says, “I’m going to eat more than either one of you.” And I’ll be damned if she didn’t.
After two platters split between the three of us, I said, “I’m stuffed.”
My father replied, “Don’t be a wimp.”
This is when I realized that I am no longer cut out for the eat-a-thon. While my family motto is “Eat ‘em and beat ‘em,” after living in Japan for a good portion of this year, I can no longer keep up. Uncle.