Early in my relationship with my husband, we were having dinner with his parents one night. His father had prepared pork roast in the crockpot as the main dish for the meal. His mother arrived home from work, so his father began plating dinner for everyone. The pork itself was minimally seasoned, which was how my in-laws preferred it. The aging process apparently wrecks havoc on one’s gastrointestinal tract, and certain spices and seasonings are no longer tolerable. However, my mother in law finished her plate and stood up to go put her dish in the sink. She stopped next to my father in law first, though. She said, “thank you, Bobby; I love pork!” before bending down to kiss him on his balding head. Of all the memories I have of my in-laws, this one is a cherished favorite.