January 16, 2002

School lunch: Food for thought

By GARRET LEIVA
Herald editor
       Although many consider breakfast the most important meal of the day, the hour known as lunch has created more stick-to-my-cerebellum memories.
      Like any remembrances, some are finger lickin' good while others still give me mental heartburn.
      As part of my job, I often find myself back in school; this time writing in a reporter's notepad instead of big line paper. Thankfully, I'm not graded on my present penmanship. Twenty-some years later, however, some school smells are still the same: hallways emit Mr. Clean, libraries permeate musty hardcovers, gymnasiums reek mummified tube socks and cafeterias vent hot lunch trays and Hostess Ho-Hos.
      In life we tend to label people: Republican or Democrat, introvert or extrovert, for instant replay or against it. In elementary school there were two types of kids - hot lunchers or brown baggers (or lunchboxers).
      During my early elementary days, I carried a lunchbox to school with Captain America, Spiderman and other Marvel Super Heroes guarding my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Unfortunately, "Moose" was no mere mortal - he was the bully of bus 75-6. "Moose" ransacked sack lunches in seconds and marauded metal lunchboxes just as well.
      No one said boo about "Moose" and his strong-arm tactics, although more than a few tears were shed. After all, you don't tattletale on a guy who started shaving in the sixth-grade.
      While toting a lunchbox made you a slower moving target, it did have one advantage - trading. If mom packed pickle pimento again you could barter with Billy for his P&J. Perhaps you could even taste of the forbidden fruit of monosaccharide instead of a Granny Smith apple. Brown baggers could horse trade for Twinkees while hot lunchers ate mystery meat that might have been Mr. Ed's cousin.
      Unfortunately, around fourth-grade, my wheel and deal license was permanently suspended - I became a hot luncher.
      My divided plastic hot lunch tray guaranteed one square meal a day; as in square chicken, fish, and hamburger with bun. The rest of the squares were filled with canned fruit, vegetables and, on rare occasions, Thank You brand pudding - which I was actually grateful for. If you dare mix your green beans, applesauce and milk in a gastronomic protest, you would incur the wrath of the lunchroom warden, Mrs. Osborne, who would make you eat every last bite for the starving kids in China.
      Switching sides to the hot lunchers was not easy to swallow; much like the green striped hot dogs. Even to this day, the mere mention of goulash gives me the Russian gulag heebie-jeebies.
      Not to sound like the guy who walked to school uphill both ways, but today's hot lunchers have it made. Salad bars, corporate-sponsored pizza, chocolate milk and other food recognized by the FDA as fit for human consumption. Sometimes, I am tempted to grab a lunch tray, but I have fully returned to my brown bagger ways. I even write my name on the outside of the bag so no one at work accidentally swipes my Dolly Madison Zinger.
      Although years away, one day my wife and I will seal our child's fate in the inevitable school lunch dilemma. My fatherly advice: trade up for Twinkees, pass on the goulash and avoid sitting next to sixth graders with shaving cuts.
      Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva can be reached at 933-1416 or e-mail gleiva@gtherald.com