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| - May 4, 1960-- In the small town of Westboro, Louisiana, a young African-American boy named James "Jackie" Johnson was playing jacks in his front yard, when suddenly, the delectable scent of freshly-toasted waffles entered his nostrils. Immediately, Jackie looked up and scoped his surroundings for the source of the smell. After some investigation, young Jackie discovered that his next-door neighbor, an elderly woman, Marilyn Tawson, had a steaming plate of golden waffles on a plate on her kitchen table. Enticed, Jackie crept along the side of her house, and, once under the kitchen window, slowly raised his head up to look at his syrup-covered prize. Just then, Tawson came over to the window and looked around, forcing Jackie to dive down for cover and desperately hope she did not see him. Un
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| abstract
| - May 4, 1960-- In the small town of Westboro, Louisiana, a young African-American boy named James "Jackie" Johnson was playing jacks in his front yard, when suddenly, the delectable scent of freshly-toasted waffles entered his nostrils. Immediately, Jackie looked up and scoped his surroundings for the source of the smell. After some investigation, young Jackie discovered that his next-door neighbor, an elderly woman, Marilyn Tawson, had a steaming plate of golden waffles on a plate on her kitchen table. Enticed, Jackie crept along the side of her house, and, once under the kitchen window, slowly raised his head up to look at his syrup-covered prize. Just then, Tawson came over to the window and looked around, forcing Jackie to dive down for cover and desperately hope she did not see him. Unaware of her spectator, Tawson shrugged, and returned to her business. "There must be some way to get her out of the room," thought Jackie. After a minute of brainstorming, an idea popped into his head, and he snapped his fingers in delight. Jackie got up and raced around to the front of Tawson's house, rang the doorbell, and sped back to the kitchen window. Tawson left the kitchen to see who was at the door, and, acting quickly, Jackie climbed in the kitchen window, grabbed the plate of waffles, and climbed out. Just as Jackie had exited the kitchen, Tawson entered the room once more, and glared at the now-bare spot on the table where her breakfast once was. "I thought I just left my waff--" she said to herself, before a senior moment overcame her. "Whaaaa? What am I doing in here again?", she said to herself before wandering off. Meanwhile, Jackie had run to his own backyard, and, under cover the porch, greedily scarfed down his golden-toasted spoils. They tasted so good, so unbelievably, amazingly, astoundingly good, that Jackie could barely bring his mouth away from them to take a breath. After finishing off the last waffle, Jackie sat back in the moist, dew-covered grass, and breathed a sigh of pleasure. These things, these "waffles", as they called them, were unlike anything he had ever tasted in his entire life. Better, even, than the 4ยข licorice candy pieces that his mother had often bought for him on trips to the grocery store. Jackie loved licorice dearly, and so, to find something that tasted even better-- that was simply amazing. Later that day, when Jackie's mother returned home from work, Jackie asked his mother to teach him how to make waffles. She obliged, happy to see her son finally taking some responsibility around the house. When she had taught him how to make a batch, Jackie sat down at a table, a plate of waffles in front of him, ready to taste his creation. After taking a few bites, he found himself let down instead of happy. The waffles he had made were ok, but they weren't as grand as the ones he had tasted that morning. So, Jackie took it upon himself to create his own recipe for waffles, one that would one day make him and his waffles world-famous.
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