When I was 15, "We Are the World" was one of the more popular songs and charitable events. It was written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Ritchie, and it was performed by a supergroup of popular musicians, calling themselves "USA for Africa." My parents liked the effort so much that they pinned a posted of the group in our basement. It was a statement, of sorts, announcing to our guests that we not only supported the efforts, but were fans of the song. I'm not sure if my parents actually gave money to the charity, but I know I made an effort to "give."
During dinner one night, my mother served us Brussel Sprouts. She may not have been aware that you could actually buy fresh Sprouts, steam, and serve them to your family. Frozen, was her vegetable preference when it came to peas, corn, lima beans, etc. I have yet to find a person who likes frozen (albeit, cooked at some point) Brussel Sprouts. If you know someone, they must be genuinely unique.
When I refused to eat what was on my plate, I was told I could not leave the table until everything was gone. I waited it out. I figured the longer I sat, the more likely my parents would buckle. I knew I wasn't going to. No luck. As they cleared their plates, I was left alone with seven Sprouts staring at me. My parents enjoyed a bowl of ice cream for dessert, figuring the sweet tooth in my would cave. Not so easy.
After nearly an hour, my mother said the following: "Just eat them. There are starving people in Africa..."
I'd heard that sentiment before. Most kids probably have. As I sat and contemplated my situation, a thought came to me. I got up from the table, walked down to our basement, grabbed an envelope from my mother's desk, sauntered over to the "We Are the World" poster, and jotted down an address. Back at the dinner table, I put each of the Brussel Sprouts into the envelope; licking it closed with authority.
I handed the envelope to my mother and said, "Can you mail this for me?"
Taking the envelope and looking down at it, my mother smiled. And then she laughed.
Victory, and a bowl of ice cream, was mine.
This made me smile. What is it with brussels sprouts? My mother has a similar story, of sitting over cold brussels sprouts late into the night because she couldn't leave the table until she ate them. Are they that awful? Is there some restaurant somewhere that does them well? If there is, I'm buying. Though you may have to buy the stamps if we end up sending 'em to Africa.
ReplyDeleteI actually love them now, but they have to be cooked fresh. I like them steamed. I like them grilled. I will eat them...yes I can...I will eat them Sam I am...
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