When I was a kid, I envied the girls who brought their lunches to school. For example, Sharon – pronounced “Shay-run” – brought hers everyday, and her mother often packed in some Cheetos. I wasn’t a Cheetos nut, but I still envied her post-lunch orange fingers. I watched other girls unpack their lunches, and I longed for the day I would do the same.
We were school-lunch-kids. Sixty cents a day. I ate whatever I was served and I ate heartily. It was a square meal. And honestly, I was happy to have it. It wasn’t always great, but it was always filling. I probably complained about it, to go along with my friends in their complaining, but I didn’t mind the food. I really didn’t.
Sixty cents doesn’t sound like a lot, I know. But there came a time – I was in the 10th grade, I believe – when it was more than my family could afford. Without my consultation or consent, my parents signed me up for the free/reduced lunch program.
I’ll never forget the first day it took effect. My homeroom teacher was calling the roll. At the end of checking our collective names off her list, she told the free-lunch-kids to come up and get their tickets. A couple of regulars approached her desk and took the paper. I sat, paralyzed. I couldn’t get up and yet I knew that if I didn’t, I wouldn’t eat that day. I gripped the desktop, anxious, frightened. My teacher asked if there was anyone else, and looked me in the eye. I didn’t blink. She waited a few seconds more, then closed her ledger. She must have felt my fear and embarrassment. She probably also felt pity. God bless her, she didn’t give me away. Not that day, nor any other after.
That’s when I stopped eating lunch at school. At first, friends asked questions and I said either I wasn’t hungry or I was dieting. I was already a skinny teenager, but girls do whack-job things all the time. After a while, no one asked anything more.
I’d be lying if I told you I never experienced the joy of opening a packed lunch. It didn’t happen when I was a kid, but as an adult, Mister has – on more than one occasion – made sure I had something to eat on super-busy days. And you know what? Those sandwiches have been the best I’ve ever eaten. And from time to time, he has even packed some chips.
That guy knows me pretty well, and is fully aware I’m still not a Cheetos nut.
