Emileeeeee stared down at her salad and sighed. She hated salad and didn't know how anyone could get excited about eating one. She didn't mind a salad that someone else made or offerings in a restaurant. Yes, she could endure that. In fact, sometimes she enjoyed one. But she would seriously prefer to get her food group nutrition from a basic Tootsie Roll Pop than stare down at a plate of shrubbery. Maybe that is why she was as round as a Tootsie Roll Pop. Yes, that was probably why. Yes indeed.
Why was Emileeeeee even concerned about salads? Why would she even think about it lest have it recorded? Because salads almost sent her to therapy quite plain and simple. Yes therapy. Big time. Salads sometimes are notorious for that.:)
It started one fateful eve when Emileeeeee's mother made potatoe salad. Emileeeeee was ten and was just not cranking out the joy for it. In fact every time she put a forkful in her mouth, she gagged. So she tried many things, like stirring it around on her plate or hiding it under the decorative lettuce leaf. She sat there for an hour trying everything but finally her mother sent her to her room and made her take her plate with her.
Ahh "the plate to the bedroom trick". Yes, Emileeeeee had heard tales of this said punishment but had never experienced it. She had heard rumours of starving children in Africa from her parents but they had never issued out such a consequence as this.
It was 6 pm when she went to her room with her plate, with the salad upon it that smelled like feet. She could hear the other kids playing and could hear lawnmowers going in the distance. She wanted to be free. Yes free. Free as a gust a wind running around the yard and not gagging on potatoe salad.
Her mother and her grandmother were fans of "the salad". Her grandmother would call out on a summer Saturday morning to her grandfather working in the garden,
"Fred, could you bring me some fresh tomatoes so I can make a jellied Tomatoe Aspic for supper ?"
Her grandfather would smile and Emileeeeee would make choking noises thinking that her grandmother's recipe for EASY TOMATOE ASPIC would be sitting on the counter and her grandmother would ask her to help cut up the celery. Her grandmother would hum as she boiled those tomaotoes to death to add to lemon jello. She would serve it with a slice of lamb as it was to be served with meat. Then she would make her famous mint sauce to go with the lamb. She used fresh mint from the side of the house that cats, dogs and the homeless had peed on, and everyone would rave. Or how about that Red Hots Salad she made that was made out of candy red hots. She would lovingly add crushed pineapple, applesauce and cherry jello to the candy. Now there was another perfect addition to chicken. I think if the chicken was alive he would have been running "red hot" out of there.
It was 7:15 now, and Emileeeeee had not eaten even a spoonful of the salad that smelled of yucky feet. Her mother looked in on her and her plate and shut the door. She heard her walk away and talk about the starving children in Africa again. Yes, those starving kids would line up to eat two hour old, probably in-the-bacteria-developing-stage potatoe salad. Yes siree Bob. Emileeeeee wished those starving kids were there so she could just give them the plate and go out and play.
Emileeeeee thought about how strange it was that the starving children in Africa didn't exist in her grandmother's world. Her grandmother just gave her something else to eat and didn't know what she was talking about when Emileeeeee mentioned her mother's thoughts on world hunger. Her grandmother and her church group made quilts for needy children but she never saw them packing any salads in the box. But her grandmother did make her eat one monthly portion of liver. The last Friday of the month a huge piece of blubbering liver was placed on her plate at lunch time and she was expected to eat it. She did, of course, because her grandmother was a no-nonsense sort of lady and after she was finished, Grammy would sponge off the spots of liver juice from Emileeeeee's school tunic and send her off with a shot of cod liver oil. Those were glorious days.
It was 7:45 pm and Emilee's potatoe salad looked like a sea of milk with chunks floating around. She opened the window and threw some at the dog but even he would not eat it. He knew better and when he saw Emileeeeee looking down at him, she could swear he was laughing at her. She could hear her mother talking to her father in the living room and Emileeeee knew that she might not be able to sneak out to watch MY THREE SONS that night. Her sister was put to bed at eight and she had to go to bed at nine. When the theme song for MY THREE SONS came on she would quietly slither off the bed inch by inch.She would then slide down the linoleum floor hallway in her flannelette jammies until she could see the TV screen. There she would park herself and watch the show and then run, like no tomorrow, back to bed when it was over. Of course the show was full of commercials for salads. Jello, ringed, macaroni, you name it. It could not be a salad unless it had Kraft mayonaise in it and the mayonaise on Emileeeeee's plate was looking pretty "UnKrafty" at that point.
It was 7:55 and her sister Robin was being ushered into their shared bedroom. Her mother shot her a look that made Emileeeeeee shiver and took her plate away. Emileeeeee would not be playing that night as she was being sent to bed early. She laid there in the dark, thinking that if someone gave her one more salad, it would be time to pack her small brown suitcase and go to places unknown. Yes, places unknown that were free of greeneries.
At 9 pm she heard the MY THREE SONS theme song and slid down the hall. She heard her mother tell her father that if Emileeeeee would not eat salad, she was going to get rickets. Rickets? Where, oh where, was her mother getting her nutrional information from? She had heard teachers talk at school about some kids getting rickets because they didnt drink enough milk. Rickets indeed..I think not Mommie dearest..So Emileeeeee laid in the hall and tried not to breathe so they would not hear her. She just loved Mike, Fred McMurray's son and wanted to marry him. She would never, ever, serve him salads...They would live on love and A and P baked goods like Jellyrolls or Spice Bars. Well, maybe just lick the icing off the Spice Bars.
It was 9:30, the show was over and she slid back up the hall. She heard another Kraft commerical come on and her mother was talking excitedly about making it for dInner the next night. Was it mac n cheese? Was it spagetti?
Of course not..It was a recipe for another jellied salad called RING AROUND THE TUNA. Emileeeeee sighed. She knew what her fate would be. She would be sitting in her room after dinner, watching tuna grow old.
As she crawled up the hall and into bed she was determined never ever to have salads when she was old to decide for herself. If she got scurvy, rickets, polio or gosh-knows-whatever- mysterious symptom, she didn't care. No cottage cheese on iceberg lettuce with a half pear or peach in the middle. No dollop of Kraft Mayonaise in the middle of the peach or pear. She would drink Ginger Ale and would not add it to lime jello with fruit.
But as she started to fall asleep, she might let the Ambrosia Salad be in her world as it had all the food groups she loved.
2 cans pineapple chunks, drained
2 cans mandarin oranges, drained
2 jars maraschino, drained (MORE IF NEEDED )
1 can coconut flakes
1/2 bag mini marshmallows
4 oz. sour cream
16 oz. Cool Whip
Yes, she would go to therapy with a container of Ambrosia salad with her. After all, you really couldn't call it a salad, could you? Of course not. It was more like the candy store of "saladry". It was something the starving children of Africa would never enjoy. After all Ambrosia could never stand that heat..:)
Linda Seccaspina
copyright 2009
Savannah Devilles
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