The other day we were talking about non-dairy creamer, so I'm going to post the most relevant story I've got. It's about milk, but close enough...
Because of milk, I learned to be an independent thinker.
In Catholic school, everyone wore the same uniform. They told us this was so we wouldn’t follow the crowd and become slaves to fashion. Somehow everyone dressing in the same clothes from the dark, dusty store downtown was supposed to make us individuals.
But what really taught me to think for myself was the milk count. Everyday in first grade the teacher had to take a count of who wanted chocolate, white and skim milk. It was kind of Vatican version of just in time inventory. When the teacher called out each type of milk, you would stand and she’d count the number. It was just like Catholic Mass, you can’t just sit the whole time. Stand up, sit down, kneel, stand up, shake hands, eat cracker and so on. It’s like one of those Bavarian dances in slow motion. But I digress.
Of course, all the “cool” kids got chocolate milk. White milk was definitely not cool. And skim milk…well, let’s just say you were the first one going down in dodge ball. (Remember: this is the seventies so bacon and eggs are still part of the food triangle and “fat free” means there’s a two for one sale on Crisco.) At first I stood up for chocolate milk. However, this was not the same drink you stirred up at home or ended up with after a bowl of CoCo Puffs.
Go to the Dollar Store. By the largest bulk bag of chocolate you can find…avoiding any brand names. Melt that down, and mix it with milk at least one day past the expiration date. This chocolate milk tasted worse than beet juice and Zima. But I digress.
So that’s why I made the fateful decision one October day to stand up and be counted for white milk. At first my friends assumed my parents were making me drink white milk, like the kid who couldn’t eat the cupcakes you brought in for your birthday. I told them it was my own decision, and that the chocolate milk tasted worse than beet juice or possibly some type of clear malt beverage. Incidentally, one of my friends grew up to work for a major brewery – but that’s another story.
Now, this created a dilemma, because they found it embarrassing to have a “white milk drinker” at their table. Luckily, Father Dennis happened to be walking by at the time. Father Dennis was known as one of the hip priests. (Today that has an entirely different meaning but I digress.) My friends said: “Father Dennis, we like having Dom eat at our table, but he’s drinking white milk.” Father Dennis was in a hurry at the time, so he just said “Hey, at least he’s not drinking skim milk.” So I kept drinking white milk and I kept sitting at the table. I always suspected my friends didn’t really like the chocolate milk either but weren’t brave enough to stand up for white milk.
Remember: In the milk count of life, always stand up for your beliefs.
PS. Now I only drink soy milk. I can't imagine where that leaves me in the social hierarchy.
Because of milk, I learned to be an independent thinker.
In Catholic school, everyone wore the same uniform. They told us this was so we wouldn’t follow the crowd and become slaves to fashion. Somehow everyone dressing in the same clothes from the dark, dusty store downtown was supposed to make us individuals.
But what really taught me to think for myself was the milk count. Everyday in first grade the teacher had to take a count of who wanted chocolate, white and skim milk. It was kind of Vatican version of just in time inventory. When the teacher called out each type of milk, you would stand and she’d count the number. It was just like Catholic Mass, you can’t just sit the whole time. Stand up, sit down, kneel, stand up, shake hands, eat cracker and so on. It’s like one of those Bavarian dances in slow motion. But I digress.
Of course, all the “cool” kids got chocolate milk. White milk was definitely not cool. And skim milk…well, let’s just say you were the first one going down in dodge ball. (Remember: this is the seventies so bacon and eggs are still part of the food triangle and “fat free” means there’s a two for one sale on Crisco.) At first I stood up for chocolate milk. However, this was not the same drink you stirred up at home or ended up with after a bowl of CoCo Puffs.
Go to the Dollar Store. By the largest bulk bag of chocolate you can find…avoiding any brand names. Melt that down, and mix it with milk at least one day past the expiration date. This chocolate milk tasted worse than beet juice and Zima. But I digress.
So that’s why I made the fateful decision one October day to stand up and be counted for white milk. At first my friends assumed my parents were making me drink white milk, like the kid who couldn’t eat the cupcakes you brought in for your birthday. I told them it was my own decision, and that the chocolate milk tasted worse than beet juice or possibly some type of clear malt beverage. Incidentally, one of my friends grew up to work for a major brewery – but that’s another story.
Now, this created a dilemma, because they found it embarrassing to have a “white milk drinker” at their table. Luckily, Father Dennis happened to be walking by at the time. Father Dennis was known as one of the hip priests. (Today that has an entirely different meaning but I digress.) My friends said: “Father Dennis, we like having Dom eat at our table, but he’s drinking white milk.” Father Dennis was in a hurry at the time, so he just said “Hey, at least he’s not drinking skim milk.” So I kept drinking white milk and I kept sitting at the table. I always suspected my friends didn’t really like the chocolate milk either but weren’t brave enough to stand up for white milk.
Remember: In the milk count of life, always stand up for your beliefs.
PS. Now I only drink soy milk. I can't imagine where that leaves me in the social hierarchy.
Filtered water and soybeans.
But otherwise your point is sound.
On a seperate note, I find I don't *drink* milk anymore now that I am older. I *eat* it in my cereal all the time, but very rarely drink a glass of it. I wonder why that is.