hunger

How to Raise Healthy Eaters in 5 Easy Steps

My mother was a child-rearing genius. She taught me her fool-proof plan for raising healthy-eaters, though she never sat down to delineate it for me. She was too busy trying to get dinner on the table. I’ve done that for all of you. You are welcome.

  1. There were five of us kids. Mother’s food budget was minimal. She put the food on the table, believing no child starved with food available. We ate like pigs in slop because should we we tarry, one of the other pigs got it. It would be a long, hungry time till the next meal.
  2. Kids don’t eat what isn’t there. She only bought and served nutritious foods, which we hated, by the way, but not as much as hunger. Our diet was based on vegetables supplemented by a modicum of chicken. Mother checked the markdowns and specials first. Though she bought many dented cans, she inspected them carefully for leakage, swelling, and signs of spoilage. It must have been a great disappointment, but she never managed to poison any of us. I often showed up at the table disgusted again to see beans, peas, greens, corn, rice, potatoes, corn, squash, spinach, tomatoes, and a tidbit or no meat on the table, again. A time or two, I tried turning my nose up at it. Mother’s response killed that. “Fine, maybe there will be a little left for supper. Now start on the dishes while we eat.”
  3. Leftovers were snacks. That meant, you might get a leftover biscuit, piece of cornbread, or flapjack if you beat the other kids off the bus. You had to be pretty hungry to go for flapjack. Mother’s flapjacks were disgusting. Sometimes, if she caught it on special, Mother bought peanut butter and saltines. We burned through those in a day or two. We made quick work Once in a while Mother made popcorn, but that was a family snack to be shared by the whole family while watching “Gunsmoke.” Remember “Gunsmoke?”
  4. Dessert was rare, usually reserved for Sunday’s and holidays. No cake, pie, cookies, lingered long. On rare blessed weeks, she went by the bread store to pick up a box of day-old bread, pies, cakes, hot dog buns, and various and sundry cast offs. One of my fondest memories is finding a lone, moldy Twinkie near the bottom of one of those boxes. I sat on my brother and ate it without chewing. If by some miracle a goody survived the initial family attack, the last piece had to be saved for Daddy. God help the misbegotten fool dared go there.
  5. Finally, she shared her pain when company dropped in for the WHOLE weekend polishing off the carefully stewarded foodstuffs that would have barely let her squeak through till payday, anyway. We needed to know that she would have to kite a check to get some dry beans, flour, shortening, and that a couple of chickens in the barnyard have a date with destiny this week. It stimulated our flagging appetites!

Sometimes, I’d hear Mother’s friends complaining that their kids were picky eaters. Once, just once, I’d have loved to hear her defend us saying we were, too, but, no! Invariably she’d crassly complain, “My kids eat anything I put in front of them!” She had no pride at all.

Bumps in the Road

Though I most frequently talk about the amusing things our family experienced, of course there was another side.  Mother is a lovely lady, cheerful, fun-loving, and totally centered on her family, still at ninety-six.  She is and always was, scatterbrained, a trait she generously shared with her children.  It provided comic relief in otherwise hard times and sometimes precipitated hard times. I know now Daddy was bipolar, though he never went off the deep end.  As a young man, he was a binge drinker and gambler, though he gave it up to save his marriage.  Before setting out to establish a farm in his early forties he was always hunting or hanging with his cronies.  When I was a small child, Billy and I frequently got to tag along.  It was heaven! Upon his return from work we rushed joyously rushing to meet him shrieking, “Daddy’s home! Daddy’s home.” Then we’d likely be off for an adventure. Unfortunately, for his older two girls, Daddy made a point of  establishing an emotional and physical distance as we approached puberty.  He wanted no hint of inappropriate behavior in his family.  God only knows how he was influenced by his early life. 

About the time Daddy was nine, his sick father had moved into the home of his own mother. Suffering with a brain tumor, he lay abed for four years, unable to do anything for his poor family.  That grandma wanted nothing to do with her daughter-in-law and the starving children.  The fourth of seven, Daddy, along with his two older brother’s, took any work they could get, often for nothing more than the chance to put their feet under someone else’s table.  Daddy said one day he chopped bushes all day for a bag of meal. 

None of his father’s family wanted to be saddled with their ravenous appetites either.  They were all struggling. Daddy told of helping his uncle with the harvest one late fall day.  The three barefoot boys got there before daylight, hoping for breakfast.  Their shoeless condition was not slovenliness.  They’d have gladly worn shoes had they had them. Sadly, his aunt was plunging the breakfast dishes in hot water as they shuffled up to the back door.  She’d had no intention of feeding them, shooing them out to the field with Uncle Robert and their cousins. At noon, Annie Mae sent one of her girls to the field with a bag of biscuits slathered with cold gravy and a jug of water.  The biscuits were bland but filling, but the boys had been hoping for milk, and maybe a cookie or a pear

The weather turned about four that afternoon, a cold sleety rain.  The hungry boys followed their uncle to the house, looking forward to a hot supper and a cozy bed for the night.  Their mother wouldn’t be worried, knowing they were at Uncle Robert’s.  Surely, Uncle Robert would hitch up the wagon and bring them home in the morning.  They didn’t have shoes or coats!  In the days before their Daddy got sick, they’d often stayed at Uncle Robert’s with their cousins.

Again, the heartless Annie Mae met them at the door.  “You boys git on home before it gits any worse.  Your Mama’s gonna be worried about you.” Aunt Annie made it clear they and their appetites had no welcome at her table. Uncle Robert gave them each a quarter and a tow sack full of the corn they’d just helped harvest. He sadly watched his nephews head to their poor home, clearly having had his orders. The shoeless boys cried with misery as they gingerly stumbled the long three miles home on frozen feet.  Daddy vowed then never to turn a hungry visitor away.  He never did.  Mother was often angered when Daddy insisted she come up with a meal for drop-in company, even hours after mealtime.  It’s surprising how often Daddy’s offer was accepted, especially  by ne’er do wells. Meanwhile, Mother fumed at the stove. “Nobody with any raising would expect someone to drop in and be offered a meal!” Mother never had sandwich makings or quick food so a meal meant cooking.

On a further further note, the penurious Annie Mae made each of her own children raise heir own garden contributing to the family larder.  She benefitting further, selling off the excess.

I Want A Bite

imageBilly was about two and a half years old, Daddy and Mother stopped by the A &W Rootbeer Drive-In for a treat after supper one night, way back when the brought those frosty mugs out to the car, no to-go orders. You had to finish your Rootbeer before leaving. We’d already had dinner, so we knew we were getting Rootbeer. A fellow who pulled up next to us ordered a hotdog. In the heat of the July evening, everyone had their car windows down. Billy was always ready to eat! Naturally, when he saw the guy’s hotdog, he wanted one, too. Mother reminded him he’d already eaten and he’d only be getting rootbeer. As the young man raised his hotdog to chomp down, Billy called out, “I wanna bite!”

imageSurprised, the fellow looked over to see a small boy on his mother’s lap, leaning out a car window, begging for a bit. Quickly, he tried to resume his meal. Again, “I wanna bite!” It’s really hard to shut a hotdog hungry little kid up, though Mother tried. I know we would have left if we hadn’t still had Rootbeer to finish and mugs for pickup. After trying a couple more times to eat despite Billy’s plaintive begging, he cranked his car and left.

Rest Your Weary Head: Uplifting Advice for the Heartbroken

victorian angel

Dear Auntie Linda,  I am a first-grade teacher in a small town.  One of the major problems my students face is hunger.  It is not just the children of homeless or jobless people who face hunger on a regular basis.  So many working parents simply do not make enough to provide sufficient food for their families.  If they qualify for free lunch program, at least they get that meal, but come to school hungry and go home in the afternoon to families who can’t consistently provide enough food, not to mention, nutritious food.  If families qualify for food assistance, they will very likely run out before the end of the month.  Churches and food pantries help, but they are facing funding issues as well.  I see hunger in children’s faces every day.  I keep a supply of low cost, nutritious snacks I can slip to a hungry child on the sly, but my budget is limited and I usually run out before my monthly payday.  Friday afternoons toward the end of the month fill me with dread.  It breaks my heart to see little ones going out who will miss their milk and school lunch over the weekend.  I encourage those of your readers who can afford it to contribute packets of nutritious snacks to your school.  It would help little guys so much if teachers could make an opportunity to pass them out to little ones who can’t learn because they are hungry.  Teaching the Hungry

Dear Teaching,  It is a wonderful idea to ask parents or those in the community who can to contribute.  It would be easy enough to have a snack drive or ask parents to add a packet of snacks to their school supply list, if they could afford to do so.  This would also be an excellent community service project.  Maybe the idea will catch on if you ask your school to promote it.  Auntie Linda

Dear Auntie Linda, My only sister has one child, a nine-year-old daughter, who is extremely spoiled.  My husband has always said he’d “love to straighten her out.”  Granted, Megan is a brat.  She whines, is selfish, and has a smart mouth.  Last week Annie called asking to speak to Bill.  She told him she and her husband have a chance to go to Paris and asked if Megan could stay with us for two weeks.  I am not surprised she asked him.  She knows he is domineering and knew it was her best shot, knowing I’d have to talk to him about it anyway.  He’d agreed and it was set up before he hung up.  Bill is not a patient man.  He angers quickly and acts before he thinks.  I know having Megan here will be a disaster.  Our kids tiptoe around him, but Megan will be wide open, since she’s never been disciplined.  She doesn’t even flush the toilet when she’s done.  Bill looks at this like a project.  He is going to straighten her out.  How in the world do I get out of this?  Annie’s Sister

Dear Sister.  Call Annie and tell her your home is not a fit place for Megan.  While you are at it, look hard at your situation.  It doesn’t sound like your home is a safe place for your children either.  Children have a right to grow up free of fear.  They deserve better.  Auntie Linda

Are You Hungry?

gravyThat was the first question Daddy asked every person who entered his house, should they be a friend, relative, or Kirby Vacuum Cleaner Salesman who happened to be hopelessly lost on the back roads of rural Bossier Parish.  Raised during The Great Depression, always hungry, he frequently did a day’s work for no more than food.  He swore if he ever got grown, no one would ever leave his house hungry.  “Are you hungry?  Kathleen will fix you something to eat!”   The burden of his good intentions Continue reading →

Time Out for Smart Alecks

imageMy dad was more creative than factual when making a point.  When there was no dessert, he pointed out.  “My mother or sisters made a cake every day.”

Other times, when we were ungrateful for how great we had it, he’d tell us his family sometimes went three days with nothing to eat but peas.

i piped up.  “Why didn’t y’all eat one of those cakes your mama or sisters made every day?”

He took time out his busy day to teach me the difference in smart and smart aleck.