Cafateria Food

I didn't eat a single meal in elementary or middle school that was composed in a cafateria Line. I can not tell you specifially why this was such a big "no no" for me, I can only tell you that when push came to shove and after 8 years of giving away green beans, pizza, goolash, chocolate cake, milk, or anything else that came in boxes and was cooked up to fit on a square tray to any and everyone of my classmates, the secret was out. Big Brother was on to me, and I was sent to the nurses office to be interrogated as to why I had been fasting every day since pre-school. I guarantee my story shocked the school nurse in small town Urbana, Iowa when I depicted a horrible dream in which I saw my bilogical father choking to death on a large boiled bratwurst with sauerkraut dangling from his mouth as he was batteling for his life amoungst his peers as the reason for my refusal to follow the herd and digest communist style food on a daily basis. I am also certain that this dream did not take place, and that in fact my father despite him not being apart of my life had no real barring on my emotional state. I was searching for sympathy and emotional impact, and hopefully someone forcing the cards for me to get a sack lunch due to my wild tale of death by dream and bratwurst.



In the end I was not forcefead that day or any in the future to eat food served to me by someone elses mother, just returned back to my assigned seat at the lunch table where little Mikey and Rich were salivating over my pears an sloppy joe. Not easy items to digest as I usually destroyed enough of the food for people to think I had eaten a portion of each essentail food group. I was not anorexic nor did I crave attention, I just liked and will always like a little more variety in life. I also wasn't deprived or without energy as I always seemed to have enough nutrients to stay awake during nap time and look under girls skirts as they were sleeping, and break crayons at show and tell while telling people that i was a third degree red belt. Appropriatley bringing my fathers red robe belt for added proof. I was merely Custard trying to make his last stand without skining anyone else in the process. I just had to face my biggest fear, Financially bankrupting my family by way of the sack lunch prophecy. It couldn't have been to hard to spin, After all I still punched my cafeteria card just like every other Tom, Dick, or Suzy, i Just didn't eat what i considered non-edible food served to the masses with a scent of cholorine lingering in the ambience while I waited. I often wandered if Retarded Rex the Janitor ever caught on to me dumping masses amounts of goverment issued vegetables and other unwanted delicacies into the trash on a daily basis, but he always let me pass in peace, yet not with a little grunt to know he too was on to me.



The toughest part of all this was explaining this situation to my mother. She damn well knew I was a picky person, but had no idea that it was taking on the Ghandi Like measures in order to avoid the conversation of asking for a sack lunch. It turned out she had no problem fixing PB and Jelly sandwiches, deli sandwhiches or any other common brown bag commodities. As any good mother would be, she was only concerned with my health and keen stealth mode resiliency.

Six months after my outting and when vairety was once again starting to turn my milk sour, My step-superdad, who had always carried a briefcase, bought the local grocery store. Four endless aisles of supply and demand at my disposal. I soon began to eat consistent meals safely packed into my pale by my own mother with love, but still wasn't content. In highchool I petitioned the Principal to upgrade the cafateria with a microwave. He agreed only if my parents supplied it and everyone was able to use it. Not a problem. I was learning that if you ask you shall receive the easy way and all the little kids were joining custard now and slaugtering the line as lunch looped lambs. Deli Sandwhiches and Lunchables were now being swapped for microwaveable pizzas and chicken pot pies. I even got a portable lunch cooler instead of a Gi Joe lunch box as i matured into sophmore year so as to keep all beverages and frozen meals destined for the microwave and esophogas cool and fresh. Life was good, I was eating like a King, despite feeling like a fairy princess caring around my manpurse stuffed with edible goodness. All things have a price.

As my cravings for variety grew so did my willingness to search for them. On special occasions I repeatedly remember having my mother drop off food from the local restaurants in order to satisfy my new appetite on game and birthdays. She always did so with a smile, and for that I am humbled. There was even a major coup when the principal tried to take away open campus for us seniors, which allowed us to use our lunch and recess time to explore the small town and it's cuisine. Some people were pissed off because they couldn't fingerbang in there cars or smoke a few cigarettes, I was outraged because I wasn't finally alloted personal pleasure in getting the freedom to taste tenderloins, taco's and toasted cheesestakes from the areas best establishments, a luxury i had been awaiting since adolescence. In the end, after near riots and debate, we the seniors were allowed one friday a week for school delivered feasts of local dinner hall quality. Another small victory.

I am not certain what releveance this recollection has on a person in life or if there is any truth to how our youth molds us into what we are destined to be. I can say since I took a small defiant step in life my appreciation for food in all forms has become immense. I've ate at dinners where one bottle of wine could feed a small village for a week, I've become sex craved after devouring tourtle eggs and nuts from a bull, I've lived off rice and beans for months on end while truly being hungry in a foreign country, desired mom's meals while on the road and all alone, I've nourished myself with handouts from the poor in a third world country hospital as my son was being born, I've ate foie gras while fine dining and moon lighting, yet nothing will ever compare with my hunger to avoid the line that leads us to conform. Nothing in life comes out of waste and nothing is recevied in life without the fear of asking others to share it with you. I probably could have picked a thousand stories from my primary education that people would have expected, this is the one that seems to be the most appropriate. Maybe next on the agenda is the time i refused to eat hot dogs after nudering pigs all day at my friends family farm. For now I'm content with my evolution away from conforming lines and cafateria food.