Question 1 Day 30
What are my earliest memories with food?
My earliest memories with food happen to be when my family lived in Germany. Oh my goodness! I can see the little food cart outside the school that we were allowed to purchase from on certain days. It was a like a corn dog but so not a corn dog. They grilled real, freshly made bratwurst and then incased it in a batter that became hollow next to the bratwurst. They cut off the top and you were then able to squirt ketchup, mustard, relish, into the special batter incased brat. It was so good.
In this same area I would skip school on my lunch break. Okay so yes I skipped school, but I went back so technically I didn't skip school, I skipped lunch. No it wasn't allowed. A kid at school told me about this wonderful little gummy shop that was like 2 blocks from school and if we ran we had time to shop and run back before the next bell rang. I did that several times without getting caught. I can not explain to you the intoxication this shop had over me. It was small, it was like Albanese in the way that there were all sorts of choices all out in jars. It smelt like getting away with murder, and tasted like self indulgence to the umpteenth degree. The main ones I got were the famous coka cola bottles, the cherries, and the green marshmallow frogs. But you have to know that this is where they were made, in Germany. The taste does not translate well through the ones you can now buy here in America. Or maybe it was the taste of gluttony mixed with deceit that tasted so sweet. Because let's be frank, sin tastes good for a spell.
My dad worked his way through the ranks of the Army to become a Master Sergeant so the occasional rations treat were so fun. Please give me a moment before you are shocked. We were little and we didn't understand. My dad would bring them home to show us what it all looked like. We would pick our box not knowing what surprises were in the box. We grabbed and picked like it was Christmas tearing into the little green wrapped containers to see what the special dessert was. I think there were fruit boxes, crackers, and if you were the lucky one a cookie like wafer. It was all to little, all to bland, all to non nutritious. We thought it was a snack but to the men who used them it was life... how little we understood then. I think I will call my dad today, to see how he's doing.
My earliest memories with food happen to be when my family lived in Germany. Oh my goodness! I can see the little food cart outside the school that we were allowed to purchase from on certain days. It was a like a corn dog but so not a corn dog. They grilled real, freshly made bratwurst and then incased it in a batter that became hollow next to the bratwurst. They cut off the top and you were then able to squirt ketchup, mustard, relish, into the special batter incased brat. It was so good.
In this same area I would skip school on my lunch break. Okay so yes I skipped school, but I went back so technically I didn't skip school, I skipped lunch. No it wasn't allowed. A kid at school told me about this wonderful little gummy shop that was like 2 blocks from school and if we ran we had time to shop and run back before the next bell rang. I did that several times without getting caught. I can not explain to you the intoxication this shop had over me. It was small, it was like Albanese in the way that there were all sorts of choices all out in jars. It smelt like getting away with murder, and tasted like self indulgence to the umpteenth degree. The main ones I got were the famous coka cola bottles, the cherries, and the green marshmallow frogs. But you have to know that this is where they were made, in Germany. The taste does not translate well through the ones you can now buy here in America. Or maybe it was the taste of gluttony mixed with deceit that tasted so sweet. Because let's be frank, sin tastes good for a spell.
My dad worked his way through the ranks of the Army to become a Master Sergeant so the occasional rations treat were so fun. Please give me a moment before you are shocked. We were little and we didn't understand. My dad would bring them home to show us what it all looked like. We would pick our box not knowing what surprises were in the box. We grabbed and picked like it was Christmas tearing into the little green wrapped containers to see what the special dessert was. I think there were fruit boxes, crackers, and if you were the lucky one a cookie like wafer. It was all to little, all to bland, all to non nutritious. We thought it was a snack but to the men who used them it was life... how little we understood then. I think I will call my dad today, to see how he's doing.
Then there was the time that my mother first had to answer to the questions from a trusted friend and neighbor of why there were bruises on my arm. I remember not breathing as my friend told her mom after finding out that my dad physically abused me. I was 12. We walked across the military housing apartment parking lot in Germany. I remember her, she was Asian and made the best egg rolls, something else I could never replicate the taste of. We sat in the living room with my mom and she demanded an answer to why there were bruises on my arm. I don't remember any words after the question. I do remember them leaving and my mom crying and laying on the couch. I waited. Waited. I tip toed to her and asked if she was going to make dinner and she yelled as if this was all my fault, "go make yourself dinner from now on, I don't feed you any more." I can't recall what I made if anything but I sat there in the kitchen, door closed, numb, scared, alone, called to be an adult well beyond my years with no training. And I know with out a shadow of a doubt the Spirit of God was calling me though I would not answer for over a decade. He watched over me and preserved my life many times.
There was the country store my parents owned when I was 17. The one I was not paid to run because we were family. The one I decided that payment was a coke, candy bar, and a pack of cigarettes under the table every day. The wages of sin is death and it all started to catch up to me though the catch up took years.
"So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." 1 Corinthians 10:31
There was the country store my parents owned when I was 17. The one I was not paid to run because we were family. The one I decided that payment was a coke, candy bar, and a pack of cigarettes under the table every day. The wages of sin is death and it all started to catch up to me though the catch up took years.
"So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." 1 Corinthians 10:31
Comments
Post a Comment