What’s That Smell?

[Day Ten: Happy (Insert Special Occasion Here)!

Today’s Prompt: Tell us something about your favorite childhood meal]

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I am laughing here; serious hee haw laughing. These last days have been like a big ZERO for me. Then I click on today’s Twist n Shout Prompt. HAPPY it says. Oh, fuck yeah! I can do happy. “Insert special occasion,” and I think I can even do that. And then, I read the next line. “Today’s Prompt: Tell us something about your favorite childhood meal. HEAD – DESK!

Somewhere, somehow, somebody in that dark abyss of B.U. they’re trying to get me. Though I can’t quite figure what they’re tyring to get me for? to do?

Let me tell you about my eating habits when I was but a babe, and on up until I was old enough to make a decision to not eat!

I must have been so wee (somewhere between 2 months and 3 years) that I have no recollection of this, but have been told the story enough times, that I feel like I really lived it. But it goes something like this. At lunch time one day in the projects, my motherΒ made hotdogs.

Culprit one

Whatever else was with it, is immaterial. The hotdog is the star of this show. So little Fim gets some part of a hotdog to knosh on. Then well, it’s nap time, or take the babies for a walk in the strollers. I’m told, my mother discovers she’s got a freaking chipmonk for a daughter. You know what I’m talking about… the stuffing whatever in the cheek, and carrying it around like a baby roo in a pouch. So apparently, I’ve decided, no way jose on the hotdog, and maneuvered it over to the side of my mouth, and went sleepy-bye with it still there.

That should have been clue one. Baby Fim doesn’t like hotdogs.

Next comes the chicken incident. I’m a bit older, and we’re living in Jamaica Man, and my mother is making dinner, and serves up chicken. Again, this is a story I’ve been told has happened. Maybe even more than once. A plate with chicken pieces cut up (I’m sure) on it,

stupid chicken

sits before this little girl, and she’s not having it. In so many words, she says, “I don’t want stupid chicken.” It probably sounded more like, “I don’t want tupid chicken.”

You see where this is going right? Or not.

Okay, so let’s flashforward to that supposed happy meal (and no, I doubt McDonald’s, or which ever fast food place served that up, wasn’t even in town yet).

There isn’t exactly a meal, a particular meal I recall. There is an occasion, however, which I remember with great fondness. Thanksgiving. It wasn’t about the food. It was about the milling around in the kitchen with my mom and her friends – Ruthie in particular – and all the food getting made, and happy chit chatting, and the aroma of all manner of food being cooked. It was the EXPERIENCE. These were happy holidays. The table was pulled out, to fit not just the four of us, but the extra people who somehow made this occasion better, happpier.

thanksgiving-table

Ruthie always made the biggest, and bestest salad. My mom, had every kind of vegetable grown for this time of year. And biscuits were overflowing from baskets.

basket of biscuits

Everybody would be passing plates around, and I would be piling mine high with the veggies, the biscuits. Okay, yes, maybe there was a favorite food in there. Candied sweet potatoes! Point is, I never took turkey. I don’t even talk turkey.

So I’m not surprised that as I grew older, my meals never included meat.

We won’t go into the fact that later on, evil people came into my life and insisted on eating meat. Yes, I’ve had my times of supping on the dead. But I’ve gone back to the Veggies, and am there again now.

So, one happy meal, I couldn’t say. But the memories of Thanksgivings past, were never about the meal. It was about the company. And, if the bolded ‘aroma’ up there didn’t clue you in, it’s how the house filled with such delictible and tantalizing, yummy scrumptiousness. In fact, I could sit and revel in the scent of cooking and get filled up on it, more than the actual eating of it ever did. Just call me ‘One Who Waits.’

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13 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. platosgroove
    Apr 17, 2015 @ 13:42:43

    “Supping on the dead”. Cracks me up. The aroma of the cooking and the buzz of conversation and laughter make the meal. Whatever the prompt I still hear your voice in what you do. It is becoming a familiar and welcomed sound.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  2. StaceAlive
    Apr 17, 2015 @ 17:10:55

    I too loved the “supping on the dead” but most of all I like your style. There is a happy energy that flows out of it, tinged with some sadness though. Well done you

    Like

    Reply

    • Fimnora Westcaw
      Apr 17, 2015 @ 18:20:59

      Thank you! I appreciate your feedback! And it’s exciting to actually see that people think I have a style. You know, we can’t see it ourselves, sometimes. And, as is true, into each life, a little rain must fall. But that just feeds the growth, I like to think!

      Like

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  3. calensariel
    Apr 17, 2015 @ 18:21:45

    I can only say A freakin’ men to that!. Thanksgiving is like Christmas only it’s the people who are the presents. I’ve always felt that way, too. Brought back so many memories.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    • Fimnora Westcaw
      Apr 17, 2015 @ 18:48:13

      Yeah! While I was writing, the memories were flowing! And since this was about my childhood happy mean, I didn’t get into the stories about some of the other quite extraordinary Thanksgivings I remember, from when I moved out to Colorado in the 70s. I was living with this elder woman, who was renting me a room in her house. Well, then Thanksgiving rolled around, we all gathered at her son and daughter-in-law’s place; they were hosting exchange students from all over the world. And each of them brought a dish from their homeland. What an interesting and very happy time that was as well!

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  4. hollycarter184
    Apr 17, 2015 @ 20:22:27

    Thanks for the beautiful picture of your delicious memories! I could almost feel your memories coming to life as you told the story. I’m a carnivore myself but dont mind at all seeng all those innocent veggies getting gobbled up….hah! And, yes, isnt it true the people are the real star of any gathering! πŸ™‚

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