BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

This blog is really about nothing. This is not to say that any of my previous blogs have been about something, however, this particular running off at the keys is pretty much about more nothing than any of the previous nothings… Or somethings… Or nothi-somethings… Well, you get the idea.

As the title suggests, it is about the ever important PB&J. Yes. The iconic peanut butter and jelly sammich.

Now, as sammiches go, the PB&J is just about the closest you can get to the land of childhood comfort foods. At least, for my generation it is.

You see, while we tail-end baby boomers (Yeah, I was born in the last year of what qualifies as the baby-boomer generation) never dealt with anything quite like the depression, we DID see a horrendous recession. We remember only being able to buy gas on Sundays. We remember hamburger being a luxury, and steak a far out dream affordable only to the elite… And, yeah, we even remember when the expression “Far Out” was cool… Along with other hallmarks of the era such as “cool”, “keep on truckin'”, and “lid” (not that I was ever…ahem…intimately associated with what a “lid” actually was… ummm… ahem… that’s my story and I’m sticking to it…) Of course, there I go digressing again…

My point is, back then, money was tight. When the company for which my father worked at the time went on an extended strike (read several months) money got even tighter. Dad was against the strike, but he walked the line for strike pay, and picked up other work where he could so that food stayed on the table and bills got paid. Mom worked too. It was the beginning of a different era – two parents, both with jobs. Life was changing drastically.

So, with money tight – and at times non-existent – even the truly wonderful childhood memory of the fried bologna sammich was relegated to specific occasions. Yes, SPAM/Treet, and fried bologna were more often than not a staple on the supper table. Don’t get me wrong. Mom and Dad made sure we ate, and ate as healthy as we possibly could. We kept a garden and had fresh vegetables. But, it wasn’t at all unusual for the aforementioned processed animal parts to be the center of our entree on the supper table. And, to set the record straight, let’s remember that I happen to like SPAM/Treet and Bologna, so I wasn’t complaining. Still, I also like turkey, steak, fish, etc…

But, back to the PB&J. That particular sammich became the common lunch. Not just because it was something kids would gladly eat – well, most kids anyway – but because it was cheap and relatively nourishing. You could get a large jar of Peanut Butter (actually a legume, not a nut, for those keeping score), a loaf of bread, and jar of jelly for next to nothing. Even better for us was the fact that we had fruit trees and grape vines in our back yard, so Mom made jelly and put it up, further reducing the overall cost.

There you had it – Cheap, full of protein, and even a handful of vitamins. Yes, a dab of sugar too, but hey, we were kids…

So…why all this sudden nostalgia? Simple. I just had myself a PB&J while standing over the sink and thinking about where my current manuscript is heading plotwise. Unfortunately, Mom and Dad are both gone, and I have no homemade jelly or preserves, but I made do with the storebought kind.

Of course, being an old guy who tries to be health conscious, the jelly was low sugar and the bread was whole grain instead of the “too soft” white bread with a bunny on the package that had been the staple in my youth… But, it still had the same effect, and it transported me back to my childhood.

As I stood there eating it, however, one other thing came to mind… The fact that our economy is crashing like a 1 year old who is just learning to walk, and now in my late forties I am witnessing the same things I saw when I was in my single and early double digits. Maybe even worse…

Up to, and including a PB&J for lunch…

I guess my daughter will get to tell this same story years from now… For my money, that’s a damn shame.

More to come…

Murv

In the 1986 Michael Mann film, Manhunter, based on Thomas Harris’ novel Red Dragon, there is a scene where a sting operation is being set up and one of the FBI agents says to Investigator Will Graham, “Let’s walk the route…” Basically, the idea was for them to walk the path Graham would be taking during the sting in order that he be familiar with it and hopefully not get himself killed.

Well, I walked the route last night… Not the route Will Graham (William Petersen) walked in the movie…No, I walked the route Special Agent Constance Mandalay walked in the last pages of The End Of Desire. I’ll try not to give away too much, as I know some readers of my blog have yet to get their hands on TEOD, and are hoping it will be in their Yule stocking (Good luck to you on that – I’m pulling for you!)… Suffice it to say, I “walked the route.”

The Saint Louis Zoo does in fact have a special light display every year at this time. It is called “Wild Lights”. And, each year as a family we go there, pay our modest admission, and wander around the zoo in the dark looking at all the wonderous displays. Hence, the reason (with some minor name changes) it was featured as part of the climax in The End Of Desire.

Anyway, last night was our annual pilgrimage, and it was the first time I had been back to the display since writing TEOD (naturally). So, I walked Mandalay’s route…There was a crowd of folks, as usual, enjoying hot chocolate and the various light displays…But, for me, it was like moving slowly through a dream. The fictional scene replayed in my head, projecting itself onto the canvas of reality before me. Non-existent players in this world were suddenly very tangible, if only to my eyes and no one else’s.

For a scant 30 minutes, fiction became reality in my own personal world.

It was, to say the least, an interesting experience… Of course, we know that my characters talk to me all the time, so I suppose I should have expected it.

Yeah, I’m pretty disturbed. But we already knew that, didn’t we? 

More to come…

Murv