Different Foods For Different Likes
It's a funny thing
When you think about foods,
Some people eat different things
To suit their changing moods.
Kids usually eat
Just the things they've always liked,
While certain teens prefer
Only foods that have been spiked.
Chinese sit on the floor
Eating egg rolls and cooked rice;
But to the Spanish in their wide-brimmed hats,
Enchiladas are quite nice,
There's the cook in fancy restaurants
Making fine recipes for "Turtle Stew "
And then there's my Mom at home,
Concocting some famous "Leftover Brew."
There's that fat guy going to Bishops,
To get Ambrosia Pie just for fun,
And the other guy going to McDonalds for his
Twoallbeefpattiesspecialsaucelettuse cheesepicklesonion
Onasesameseedbun!
Now there was Euell Gibbons in the forest,
Eating his "wild hickory nuts,"
But I heard he had an ulcer,
And should have stuck with Pizza Huts!
I could go on and on
About foods, drinks, sweets and such,
But I think I'd better quit now,
While I still have the "rhyming touch"!
Lauren Isaacson 8th Grade February of 1976
Feb. 10, 1976… I made my class a great big valentine out of poster board. It's an owl… Whoo's wishing you a Happy Valentine's Day? Me
Youthful love is, indeed, quite intense. I bestowed my familial love upon my sister-in-law, Norm's wife, who also became the companion that my mind so desperately demanded. In her I found a depth of friendship which had always eluded me; perhaps I needed to grow to understand what I sought. Those aspects which captured my affection were mutuality, understanding and compatibility which required no stimulus to evoke, but evolved through one's inherent, natural character as demonstrated to the other. Conversation traversed the boundaries of the menial and insignificant, while activities were relished simply because of my fondness for her and, of course, my brother.
In addition to the above characteristics, Tracy and I shared common interests in sewing, drawing, and outdoor activities; we were also both thin-limbed, and although she had gained weight by the time I knew her, she remained thin. I appreciated having a person to whom I could unabashedly express my indifference toward food; even before my operation I viewed mealtime as a hassle and a must for survival; to this she could sympathize knowingly. Tracy could also relate to my lack of womanly fat deposits which naturally accompanied a thin stature, and we swapped horror stories and lamentations about the tactless and mentally (dispatched) people we had encountered who enjoyed taunting at that which our figures still lacked. We generally wrapped up such conversations by admitting that thinness was an advantage. We were not hampered in any way by excess baggage; nothing flogged violently if we ran, nor did anything cascade over the sides of a chair as we sat. We could easily see our feet, and were confident that old age would find few sagging extremities. Such were our consolations.
I relished the time I spent in Tracy's company; she helped me through the year of chemotherapy by planning activities each week for us to pursue such as running errands and shopping. I most enjoyed the invitations to stay over night at Norm and Tracy's house, for the best entertainment was conversation. I loved the casual atmosphere that permeated their house, for it seemed to whisper "the simple pleasures are the best." They lived quietly, in a modest house, feeding their equally modest income into house payments, grocery bills and gasoline for their $400 Belvedere. It was a life which yielded the serenity begotten of honesty and hard work; no phantoms of debt wailed in the late hours of the day, and sleep came easily. Goals were sighted, then realized, slowly, one by one; they spent no money that was not yet their own, but nothing appeared to be wanting in their lives. I admired their way of life and wanted to one day establish a home based on such simplicity and love.
When I stayed over night, the living room couch was my bed. It faced the kitchen and in the morning, I could survey the pre-dawn preparation of breakfast. If it was a week day, Norm would appreciatively stuff three or four blueberry muffins down his throat and, grabbing his lunch bucket, stride out the door to his motorcycle. Weekends provided a more leisurely breakfast schedule, and everyone rose at generally the same time. Often Tracy fried pancakes as the plates were laid upon the table and the powdered milk, butter, and a bottle of imitation maple syrup were extracted from the refrigerator. Norm and Tracy bought the least expensive items at the grocery store, which included the substitute for milk and a cheap brand of syrup. These two aspects of the simple life were the only ones which I did not find appealing, and vowed I would always buy fresh milk and decent syrup even though my canned fruit would bear a bargain label. I guessed every way of life had its flaws.
Feb. 13, 1976… It's Friday the 13th… watch yourself today… Don't walk under a ladder; if you see a black cat, walk the other way! Only kidding! I'm over at Norm's right now. I had 1 egg and 3 bran muffins (pig). Tracy gave me 4 spoons (wooden) for my hope chest, that Norm made at (work)… I feel real good this morning. Maybe I'll take a walk! Maybe I'll even take my camera and take some pictures.
Staying at Norm and Tracy's house always put me in a good mood, for I was with my favorite companions and most important, I was understood. I felt so at ease in their company that, amid life's pain and uncertainty, living was still worthwhile. Living, in fact, was really great sometimes.