Teachable Moments

The New York Times recently noted the passing of the creator of Cheez Doodles, Morrie Yohai, a World War II veteran and junk food pioneer who helped shape the Baby Boom generation – literally.

Joy’s childhood was split between England and Canada. She wasn’t exposed to the quality and quantity of junk food that I was in the USA, the Saudi Arabia of sugar.

I was to sugar what Scarface was to cocaine. We liked it white, refined, and as often as possible.

In previous posts, I’ve talked about my family’s addiction to Coca Cola and Charles Chips. But I also loved Milk Duds, Turkish Taffy, Atomic Fireballs, Ju Ju Bees, Necco Wafers, and Sugar Daddies. My parents were enablers. They never said no to sugar.

When it came to veggies, I had trauma. I could handle canned string beans and corn, sprinkled with salt, but I gagged on garden-fresh vegetables. They were squishy and irregular and smelled earthy and did not come in plastic packaging. They were not advertised on TV.

I still remember the first time I tasted vegetables like tomatoes and asparagus. Blech! My first exposure to sweet potato was in the cafeteria in 1st grade. I was revolted, and subsequently instituted a six-year cafeteria boycott, switching to a nuclear submarine lunch box instead.

I decided I wasn’t cut out for vegetables.

So I didn’t learn how to identify or eat them. And the anxiety that I carried around not knowing how to buy, peel, slice, cook or chew fresh vegetables lasted through college.

When I was talking to a friend about his kid’s football team recently, I had a traumatic Little League flashback. I was 9 or 10 years old and playing 3rd base when I got steam-rollered by a massive 12-year old baserunner because of my bad tagging technique.

That could have been a teachable moment, but my father wasn't there to pick me up, dust me off, and coach me on what just happened and how I could avoid being flattened repeatedly. I subsequently drifted, demoralized, out of Little League. Looking back, I realize I just didn't have good sports coaching.

I now see that I could have used some food coaching from my parents as well. When I reached for a Sugar Daddy, they could have said “not now, honey.” When I spit out a Brussels sprout, they could have said “Let’s try again next week.”

These days, I actually appreciate many of the scary vegetables that Joy cooks. I can tell chard from collard greens, and I like Brussels sprouts. I even know what to do with a turnip, if forced.

Too bad I missed out on all that nutrition as a kid.