Let Freedom Ring — Start with School Lunch

Well, so the election is coming up, or sort of happening, the excitement of an actual election day long watered down by a two or three or four-week voting “process.” Somehow, it’s just not the same thing, sitting down at the dining room table with a black pen and a vote-by-mail ballot, calling the progeny from their rooms so that they can “watch me vote!”

“Cool, Mom. Is there anything to eat?”

Considering that eating is something that we all do, multiple times a day, we could derive greater enjoyment from the process than we customarily do. Afternoon Tea by Steve Henderson.

And speaking of eating, that’s actually what I wanted to talk about today because, oddly, how and what we choose to eat is a determination of how free we are. I know, that sounds loopy, but bear with me:

Yesterday I read a Letter to the Editor from a mother whose son was 35 cents short to pay for his school lunch. The person at the cash register, who was either having a bad day or more likely was just doing the job she was hired to do, tossed the entire tray of food into the trash and waved the kid on.

While it doesn’t take many letters behind your name to figure out that the boy was publicly humiliated (M.O.M. or D.A.D. will do), this isn’t the point of the story. Neither is the blatant waste of something too many people in the world don’t have enough of — food.

What struck me was the mother’s lament that her son had to content himself with a bag of potato chips, and what were school officials thinking in presuming that her son could effectively learn if he weren’t properly fed? I mean, aren’t there all sorts of studies out there about this?

Studies aside, there’s actually an amazingly simple solution to this problem, and it doesn’t involve an additional 35 cents in her son’s pocket:

Pack your own lunch.

The amazing banana goes a long way in any lunch plan. The Fruit Vendor by Steve Henderson.

Years ago, when I was a little tyke with a side-swiped pony tail that represented the only way my mother knew how to do my hair, I sat with half the school in the gymnasium, eating a cold home-packed collation from a battered metal Bugs Bunny lunchbox. The other half of the school, the “Haves,” were in the basement cafeteria, where hot food was served.

Sometimes, on Fish Stick day, I was insanely jealous of the Haves, but this was counterbalanced by Hobo Stew Day, representing a compendium of leftovers that was as appetizing as its name. While every so often I finagled the precious 75 cents from my mother so that I could hob nob with my social betters in the basement, most of the time I ate what she — and later I, as I grew older — prepared: a bologna sandwich, a banana, a cookie, some soup. It may not have topped the nutrition or taste-test scales, but neither did the Hobo Stew, or even the fish sticks, for that matter.

But there was no issue about my being properly fed, or my going hungry because I didn’t like what was being served, because my mother and I were in control of the situation. We, not school officials, not the First Lady who may or may not be out of a job in a few weeks, not the USDA, determined what I ate. And we did a fine job of it.

But nowadays, many people willingly hand over this simple task to an impersonal institution that is not particularly known for its culinary prowess. Why?

Whether it’s because they’re poor (we weren’t rich) or too busy (I never saw my mother sit in the middle of the day) or worried about their children’s being ridiculed for being different (quite the learning environment, there), the result is that yet another small thing that we can do to assert our independence is taken out of our hands, willingly so, because we let it go.

Our freedoms — little and big — enable us to determine where we walk in our lives. Gathering Thoughts, by Steve Henderson

It’s such a mindless, minor job, that its very triviality makes it not seem worth talking about. But that so many people simply can’t see how they can prepare their own child’s lunch — and so many more are told that they unable to properly do so, and they NEED somebody to do it for them — shows that it’s not trivial at all, but a symptom of a much larger problem.

If we don’t remain independent in the little things, how do we expect to keep our freedoms in the bigger ones?

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9 Responses to “Let Freedom Ring — Start with School Lunch”

  1. I love this! Very thought-provoking!

  2. Thank you for this sweet posting. It reminded me of how simple the solutions can be and how sometimes we cannot see those solutions even though they are right in front of our eyes.

    And by the way, I went to a country school until 7th grade. Everyone packed their lunches at our small country school as there was no cafeteria. Consequently, I thought the lunch provided at our big (to me) city junior high school was FABULOUS for those fish sticks sure beat cold bologna!

    Best,

    Pat

  3. Don Fowler says:

    Hi,

    I guess we all remember our youth and how things were. I went to school in cities, I took my lunch sometimes and bought the cafeteria food other times. It depended on what was offered, we also had the option of buying sandwiches, which were more expensive and probably better than what else could have been bought. Now a days, your lunch broght from home will be inpected for complete nutrition. I agree with you about our freedoms, if we can’t be trusted by our government, who can we trust? It seems to me that we have given too much control to the bureacrates and politicians who only listen to those that give them money for their campaigns.

    Don

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    • Thank you, Amanda. I’m glad that you found me.

      That being said, I am in the process of changing my web name, and writing address, to http://thiswomanwrites.areavoices.com/ — I wanted a cleaner, crisper name that fully described who I am, because I am so much more than a middle aged woman! I am in the process of changing things over, and at the moment, only one article is showing up on the site, but I will be transferring over all my previously written articles.

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      Happy day!

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