Two Stories
Baylen’s post brought to mind a pair of stories:
During her illness, my mom was drawn to alternative cures. Polystyrene, chemicals, poisons in the environment — these were the responsible forces. Not age nor race nor luck of the draw. Some malicious third party had brought sickness upon her.
She visited once and picked cautiously at the meal I served. I learned she only ate organic. The additives, the pesticides! These had infected our civilization, laid waste to our populace. Someone on TV had said so.
The next time I was more selective in my preparation. Her visits to Connecticut were a rare thing; maybe a year had passed but she had lost ground. I served spaghetti with homemade sauce.
Look Mom, I said as I set the plate before her. Eat up! The pasta, the sauce — the entire meal is organic.
“Pfft,” she said. “Fat lot of good that did me.”
Next she took a vegetarian cooking class. Meat was the culprit! The additives, the hormones! These had provoked her cells to rebel, gave a reason to the mindless wave chewing through her body, reducing her organs and bones to Swiss cheese.
They made split-pea soup in class. “This is good,” she said to the instructor, “But you know what would make this even better?”
No. What?
“Ham,” she said.
