Mert?

In my childhood, our family would have occasional get-togethers with neighbors and family.  The neighbor family, the Childs, and Auntie Dot, Uncle Chris, and the cousins would come over for "Enchiladas a la Mert." 
This was much more than just coming over for dinner.  The lawn was mowed to allow many games of red light green light, statue maker, mother-may-I, etc.  The picnic table, card table, etc. were set up for the feast.  Maybe some festive decorations.  It was truly a party.
There was a feeling of anticipation in the air.  We all knew it would be an epic evening.  The womenfolk would be busy in the kitchen slaving away to prepare our wonderful feast.  The men might have a beer or two and talk shop.  We kids would have the most fun playing in the yard.
There was no such thing as watching TV while company was here.  No video games.  No electronic media to take us away from interacting with one another.  It was a grand time.
A nice summer evening, with friends, neighbors, and family.  Sweet.
Finally, it was Time.  No really.  It was Time.  The call went out for dinner.  Now, keep in mind, our usual dinners of this sort were with the food on the table, we all sit down together, say grace, and please pass the chicken.
Not with Enchiladas a la Mert.  You waited in line for your plate.  Each plate was made with love, an artwork of its own.  It was a beautiful sight to behold (I do like my food....).  A fried corn tortilla, then a layer of chili (nothing special, Denisons or Hormel). another tortilla, more chili, and maybe another layer if you were one of the big guys.  Topped off with one or two beautiful fried eggs.  With some "dippy" in them so when you cut in the yolk runs into the chili.  All garnished with a beautiful arrangement of green lettuce around the edge of the plate.  There was Gebhardts hot sauce for the Dads, and us kids could put on tomato sauce or ketchup if we wanted.  I was more of a purist.  Commando for me.  Nothing else could make that feast better.
Ah, the memories.  My brother Mike, sister Susie, and I all reminisced about our memories and decided we needed to do it again.  We will descend upon Susie's house on Saturday for a reprise of this awesome dish.  I can't wait.
I am sure the lawn will be mowed.  Maybe I can organize some Simon Says.  David
PS  No one really knows for sure who or what Mert is.  But he, she, or it, is memorialized in our culinary remembrances forever.  D