"When you sat down with my family for the last meal before Sunday morning, you pretty much knew what was coming. Mother would walk toward us from the old cook stove armed in one hand with a large kettle and flourishing a ladle in the other. We waited in uneasy expectation. It was Saturday soup night and Mother had cleaned the refrigerator." So begins another collection of Polly Rogers Brown's memories of life from the early 1940's to the present,...