I am not hungry. No, I have not been dieting. I did not eat a big breakfast. I had a half apple, golden delicious, with a cup of French-brewed coffee. I had coffee with God while reading and meditating on the book of Ephesians this morning. Then WHAM! Out of nowhere, I started thinking about food.
I was thinking how deliberate mothers, and grandmothers for that matter, are about feeding children their fruits and vegetables. I really do applaud that, I truly do. I struggle to get my husband to eat fruits and vegetables so it is like having a child at the table sometimes. :) Then I tried to get my head back into my childhood. The older I get, the more random my memories, but, like the song says, one thing 'does' lead to another.
It was the canned age, although we did grow some vegetables in the garden. Mom could cook all the canned peas she wanted but I hated them. On the other hand, I loved the raw peas from the garden and when I was supposed to be shelling them...I confess I ate nearly as much. We had fresh carrots right out of the garden. In fact, my Dad would pull one up (while we walked with him in the garden, having to endure his narrative on all he planted and how great it was coming up), wipe the dirt on his pants, hand it to us and we'd eat it. In those days I did not eat onion in any form and thought it was so yucky when Dad would pull up a big onion and eat it right before supper. And I was seated next to him, smelling his breath for about an hour, or so it seemed. After getting a nickel to try a radish, I found l liked them dipped in salt. The same with rhubarb, only dipped in sugar. That was a treat and it was great when the rhubarb was coming in. We helped Dad plant potatoes and loved red potatoes out of the garden with lots of butter. We lived on the farm then, and I was in the fifth grade when we moved there. When I was born, Dad was a hired hand in the little house. Now we lived in the big house on just a few acres.
I remember the bleak years when we lived in town. Dad was working a couple jobs and mom was an LPN at the local hospital. We did everything we could to save money. But we didn't like it. Dad would mix our milk into a pitcher that was half milk and half water with powdered milk. A sandwich was one piece of bread folded over with a half piece of bologna or peanut butter or jelly...not both. We had Campbell's tomato or chicken soup or a sandwich for lunch and sometimes supper. If Dad was home for supper, we would have meat, usually a hamburger casserole of some sort. I don't remember having a lot of meat until we got a little older. When Mom made Kool-Aid, she added less sugar than called for. Little things helped us get by in the lean times. Our Grandma Ben would send money every year before school so we could go uptown in Moorhead, Mn. to Anthony's and get one new dress for the year. It was so exciting! Then Dad would take us all to get new shoes and winter coats, grumbling how we had grown and how much it cost him.
On the farm. Mom baked more, or I remember it more. And while I was thinking of Mom and food, it occurred to me how she showed her love for me in her cooking. I didn't like nuts, so there was always a row at the end of the brownie pan with no nuts. I didn't like cheese so when the other kids were getting toasted cheese sandwiches, I got toasted peanut butter...yum...I don't make it now (because I like cheese now) but I remember the buttery warm taste in my mouth! I didn't like onions so she would omit them or cut them so small I didn't notice. I didn't like coconut so if she put that on the frosting of a cake, some was left off. She went out of her way to provide something we would all eat and enjoy!
Remembering food did not make me hungry, but it made me mad. In those days leftovers were eaten. Unfortunately, sometimes we end up throwing them out and I think I am the most wasteful human being on the planet. Or, we let something go bad (past the date or getting green fuzz on it) without finishing it or even opening it. In my goal to shop and plan in advance, I am sometimes more wasteful, whereas Jim tends to stop at the store several times a week for fresh meat and what we may like with it. I hate to think of people going hungry while I could have a food orgy in my kitchen. So, I hope to be better, give more food to the hungry, buy less food, throw out less food and maybe in the process, I can even save some money like my hardworking parents did. I can do this, with God's help and I praise Him for His blessings of abundance and the Holy Spirit that nudges me to do the right thing.
