While digesting the Sunday newspaper, I often like to make a stop at the school lunch menus for area schools. Its interesting to see what culinary mastepiece my nephews will be enjoying in the coming days. I get an inside view of my nephews' school lunch experience when they visit my brothers' office right after school. Sometimes I will ask them what they had for lunch and how it tasted. Menu items that sound delicious often get a mere "it was OK", while other entrees receive an immediate thumbs down.
There is a definite difference between menus for public schools and private schools. The private school students are often dining on tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches or hot dogs and chips, while public school students have more processed foods - nacho boat and french toast sticks.
You may wonder why I have such an interest in school lunch as I am a bit more mature than the average school aged teen. Well, I remember back in the day when I was a fresh faced student staring down macaroni and cheese and hamburger gravy over instant mashed potatoes. There were definitely favorites on the menu, like hot dogs and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. There were also infamous lunch choices that no one ate willingly such as tater tot hotdish (or as we called it, tater tot snot squish -- sorry for the squeamish!) and weiner bean hotdish. Those were the days before government regulated nutrition, salad bars and nachos.
Cold lunch was not always an option, but occasionally I was granted permission to carry my Strawberry Shortcake lunch box to school filled with a summer sausage sandwich. Lucky cold lunch students could make trades amongst themselves and sometimes I would even score a twinky!
I have been reading an blog written by an elementary school teacher called Fed Up With School Lunch. This teacher has challenged herself to eat school lunch for a year while anonymously documenting her meals and taking pictures of her tray on the sly. Fear of job loss has kept her from revealing her identity, so there is no identifying informtion or school location hints. I have enjoyed reading her critiques of school pizza, chicken nuggets and kid friendly fruit cups. From her comments, I have decerned that she prefers organic foods and eats very little meat at home. Being a steak fan who thinks that organic is code for "expense", I take some of what she writes with a grain of salt.
However, she makes a great point when she observed that the average lunch break at her school is only 13 minutes long. Talk about hog and jog! These children have thirteen minutes to stand in line, get their food, find a place to sit, eat, put their trays away and get back in line to go to their classroom. I can't even imagine what would happen if they have unpeeled oranges on the menu!
I believe that it's important to feed our school students a nutritious, kid friendly, tasty meal. I also know that doing all three at once is almost impossible.
When my after school kids come to church on Wednesday afternoons, snack is the first item on the agenda. They are ravenous! We try to provide more than just a cookie or a cupcake because some of the children have passed on an unpopular lunch choice and haven't eaten since breakfast. Their favorite snack is pizza with a sweet treat on the side. I have seen them consume everything in sight and come back looking for more.
I'm sure we all have those school lunch stories -- the good, the bad and the ugly. So, speak up! I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Requiem for Rosemary
A very special person passed quietly from this world on the nineteenth of Febrary. My Aunt Rosemary, having suffered from lymphoma for over four years, went softly on that morning to meet the Jesus she spoke about so often. She was a shaping influence in my life, especially in the last ten years, making me wake up, take notice and welcome each day as a gift.
As a child, I saw very little of my extended family. My father's churches were too far for a weekend visit and most major holidays are also busy times for the congregations he served. The few memories I have of my aunt center around her home at the edge of the Badlands outside of Belfield and in her studios. Rosemary was a professional artist, enjoying several mediums with which she expressed her love for God's creation.
Her curiosity spurred her to experiment with different techniques and I have one of her "practice" pages of watercolor that she used to practice with alcohol and table salt. The salt made fireworks patterns on the watercolor. Although meant to be a scrap, it would look handsome matted and framed. Rosemary once told me that she had created a sculpting "clay" with wonderbread and Elmer's glue as she felt that was the only realistic use for wonderbread. She was very involved in the art community and designed the cover for a recent art show that featured Christmas elves.
Getting reaquainted with my aunt took place during a marathon after Christmas road trip to my folks' home in South Dakota about five years ago. I drove late into the night and we talked. Her extravagant vision of the simple was truly amazing to me. She didn't simply enjoy a sunset. The detail of the sun's rays against the field, the birds' flight plans and the cooling as the sun was put away for another day opened my eyes to the world around me in a new and amazing way!
Rosemary was a musician and we gathered at my parents' piano in the evening, my stumbling accompaniment and our voices blending singing until we were hoarse. A few years ago, following the Spirit's prompting, she wrote a Mass. She was quick to point out that God created the Mass; she was just the instrument through which it was given. I was gifted a handsigned, embellished copy of this music. Playing the triplets and the somber repentence measures gives you a glimpse at her relationship with her Jesus.
Much of the time I shared with Rosemary in the last few years was spent at her hospital bedside. The first diagnosis of lymphoma was met with courage and her brave willingness to face the chemotherapy with her typical humorous response, "let's get this circus train rolling!". That was the visit that I donned tights and wings to present myself to her as a fairy. My brother will likely never forgive me as we attracted attention at the elevator from a man who could hardly contain his bursts of laugher until the doors closed.
She would greet me with "hey, girlfriend" as I would enter her hospital room after a long day. Sitting beside her bed, we talked about everything -- sketchings and projects she wanted to do, food, family and even funeral requests. No subject was off limits and she always believed that I could handle any conversation topic she threw out. After a while, I believed it too. While it was hard to think about my life without her here, I knew that it was another adventure she would embrace with a passion.
My last visit with her took place about three days before she passed away. She was no longer responsive, having suffered a stroke. A couple of friends filed in to her room and introducted themselves. They knew us from her conversations about us, bragging about her "curly haired ball of wonder" as she often referred to me. Those moments were beautiful as they began to us how much they loved her. She has the gift for making everyone in her midst special and it was evident that these people came to thank her for being part of their lives. One man stood by her bedside and prayed the Rosary as we cherished that time with her. When the time came for me to leave that last evening, he asked if he could stay a bit longer, no doubt wanting a few more minutes with that amazing woman.
Rosemary was often perplexed that people sought her out, like a sage on a mountain top. I wasn't surprised at all. She had so much wisdom and she was so accepting of each person that came into her presence. I, too, will miss making those mini pilgrimages to sit at her feet and soak up her affirming advice.
Her funeral mass was quite large and it would have given her joy to hear the music and be in the company of her many, many friends. They came from all walks of live, people in business suits and farmers, children and the elderly coming to pay their respects to this wonderful woman. The lunch after her funeral service was provided by the cafe where she had worked. Vast amounts of mashed potatoes, gravy, vegetables and cheese buttons were enjoyed as people laughed, talked and remembered.
In the spring, Rosemary will be laid to rest in a small country cemetery. She picked out the spot and talked about how beautiful it was there; so peaceful and quiet. Her God fashioned that prairie place, perhaps knowing that she would rest there.
As a child, I saw very little of my extended family. My father's churches were too far for a weekend visit and most major holidays are also busy times for the congregations he served. The few memories I have of my aunt center around her home at the edge of the Badlands outside of Belfield and in her studios. Rosemary was a professional artist, enjoying several mediums with which she expressed her love for God's creation.
Her curiosity spurred her to experiment with different techniques and I have one of her "practice" pages of watercolor that she used to practice with alcohol and table salt. The salt made fireworks patterns on the watercolor. Although meant to be a scrap, it would look handsome matted and framed. Rosemary once told me that she had created a sculpting "clay" with wonderbread and Elmer's glue as she felt that was the only realistic use for wonderbread. She was very involved in the art community and designed the cover for a recent art show that featured Christmas elves.
Getting reaquainted with my aunt took place during a marathon after Christmas road trip to my folks' home in South Dakota about five years ago. I drove late into the night and we talked. Her extravagant vision of the simple was truly amazing to me. She didn't simply enjoy a sunset. The detail of the sun's rays against the field, the birds' flight plans and the cooling as the sun was put away for another day opened my eyes to the world around me in a new and amazing way!
Rosemary was a musician and we gathered at my parents' piano in the evening, my stumbling accompaniment and our voices blending singing until we were hoarse. A few years ago, following the Spirit's prompting, she wrote a Mass. She was quick to point out that God created the Mass; she was just the instrument through which it was given. I was gifted a handsigned, embellished copy of this music. Playing the triplets and the somber repentence measures gives you a glimpse at her relationship with her Jesus.
Much of the time I shared with Rosemary in the last few years was spent at her hospital bedside. The first diagnosis of lymphoma was met with courage and her brave willingness to face the chemotherapy with her typical humorous response, "let's get this circus train rolling!". That was the visit that I donned tights and wings to present myself to her as a fairy. My brother will likely never forgive me as we attracted attention at the elevator from a man who could hardly contain his bursts of laugher until the doors closed.
She would greet me with "hey, girlfriend" as I would enter her hospital room after a long day. Sitting beside her bed, we talked about everything -- sketchings and projects she wanted to do, food, family and even funeral requests. No subject was off limits and she always believed that I could handle any conversation topic she threw out. After a while, I believed it too. While it was hard to think about my life without her here, I knew that it was another adventure she would embrace with a passion.
My last visit with her took place about three days before she passed away. She was no longer responsive, having suffered a stroke. A couple of friends filed in to her room and introducted themselves. They knew us from her conversations about us, bragging about her "curly haired ball of wonder" as she often referred to me. Those moments were beautiful as they began to us how much they loved her. She has the gift for making everyone in her midst special and it was evident that these people came to thank her for being part of their lives. One man stood by her bedside and prayed the Rosary as we cherished that time with her. When the time came for me to leave that last evening, he asked if he could stay a bit longer, no doubt wanting a few more minutes with that amazing woman.
Rosemary was often perplexed that people sought her out, like a sage on a mountain top. I wasn't surprised at all. She had so much wisdom and she was so accepting of each person that came into her presence. I, too, will miss making those mini pilgrimages to sit at her feet and soak up her affirming advice.
Her funeral mass was quite large and it would have given her joy to hear the music and be in the company of her many, many friends. They came from all walks of live, people in business suits and farmers, children and the elderly coming to pay their respects to this wonderful woman. The lunch after her funeral service was provided by the cafe where she had worked. Vast amounts of mashed potatoes, gravy, vegetables and cheese buttons were enjoyed as people laughed, talked and remembered.
In the spring, Rosemary will be laid to rest in a small country cemetery. She picked out the spot and talked about how beautiful it was there; so peaceful and quiet. Her God fashioned that prairie place, perhaps knowing that she would rest there.
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