Hold That Bag

I finished up my "everything" bagel while reading in the paper (yes, the "paper") about a study of children's lunches performed in Houston by "researchers." The story failed to mention who these "researchers" were or who paid for their ever-so-thorough examination of 337 children's lunches. Any guesses? 

Paragraph after paragraph reported how many cups and ounces of fruit, vegetables, grains, meat, dessert, soda and a partridge in a pear tree-- nope, wrong holiday-- appeared in lunches the children brought from home versus lunches sold in the school cafeteria. They found that miscreant parents gave their kids lots more sodium and fewer Brussels sprouts than the lunch ladies did. Imagine parents failing to meet federal guidelines! The nerve! And kids throw some of their lunches away, so they don't get all the calories the parents pack. And how much of those goose-stepping, guidelined institutional lunches is thrown away? Huh. It wasn't mentioned. 

But the last paragraph made me spew my half-caff, fresh-ground coffee. "Now that schools have improved the quality of lunches they serve, it's time for policymakers to turn their attention to parents and others who pack lunches at home, the researchers concluded." Excuse me? We've already heard of at least one child having her home lunch confiscated at school. What's next? Inspection of home kitchens? Government-approved shopping lists? Brown bags treated as contraband? I wonder how the reporter wrote that last bit with a straight face. I think I might have have made it the lead, something about government tentacles and their never-ending reach. Time to chop them off with a freshly-sharpened chef's knife.  

Better, thanks.

     Tonight I said to my husband, “I feel happy.” What with a lot of family turmoil of late, it’s been a while since I felt that way, and it took me by surprise. It’s the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and we had pizza night early so college sophomore son could indulge before heading back to school Sunday afternoon. Amateur pastry chef son-in-law made dough for several pizzas, and darling daughter did most of the assembly. We baked the concoctions in the gas grill on our fabulously remodeled porch, and three young guy friends came by to help with the eating.

     A tablecloth and a jug of flowers remained on the teak table from Thanksgiving dinner. The kids ate snacks and played “Settlers of Catan” there all afternoon. I think I am slow to remove the last signs of the Thanksgiving feast, because it was so good. We had three tables on the porch to seat 20 people, both relatives and friends. Brother-in-law smoked a turkey. Darling daughter roasted sweet potatoes. We heated up a spiral-sliced ham and mashed stacks of russet potatoes. Husband mixed up world’s best stuffing. We had chocolate pecan and mincemeat pies and apple galettes. (Layer apples with spices and butter on a pastry crust, fold the edges in and bake.) I made basil-infused lemonade because a niece requested it. When the pitcher got low, she joked she would take bids on the last glassful.

     Two years ago, Thanksgiving dinner included me, husband and one son. This year, we had college son; darling daughter, her husband and two-year-old; oldest son and his four children; bro-in-law, his wife and two daughters, a friend of one of theirs; mother-in-law; and another family of four, good friends from church. The grown cousins enjoyed catching up. Two-year-old grandson gave six-year-old twin girl cousins fist bumps, and they pretended to be knocked over backwards. He giggled.

     The weather was perfect for sitting on the porch. The homemade cranberry sauce turned out nice. We had good wines. But in the end, the best thing I could think of to say about the day was that it was… normal. I know “normal” can be pretty bad at holidays, with anger and old grudges, so I guess what I mean is that this is the way it ought to be. No single thing made the day so fine, but we were all together, and a lot of unpleasantness was ignored or left behind or just overshadowed by kindness and sharing and love. I’m thankful for that.