Hungry

I looked in my fridge today, and was greeted with desolation. Rarely has my fridge been so bare. I haven't been grocery shopping in...2 weeks now, and that was a measley $20 trip. I've just been broke lately, what with the car insurance, rent, dental bill, bridesmaid dress, and AAA membership renewal happening in the space of 2 weeks, while I also have a new day job that doesn't pay nearly what I thought it did. I'm more strapped than I have ever been in my life, to say the least. I'm not starving by any means, but these circumstances started a thought that grew into the plight of starving families. How terrible it must be. I may get hungry sometimes or eat once a day to tide groceries over, but imagine the pain of being a parent, having to skip a meal to feed your children. Or, god forbid, having to watch your child starve, and being tasked with explaining why something like sustenance costs money.

That's when I remembered something from my childhood that I hadn't bothered to think about in a long time.

My mom worked at a Catholic Church office when we were kids. Actually, that's the reason we were able to go to the adjoining Catholic elementary school--her boss, the pastor, gave her a tuition waiver or discount on some level. I remember the tuition bills coming in, and seeing my parents stress about it, so they must have had to pay something; it wasn't free.

Every once in awhile, mom would bring home strange bags of foods that we'd never buy--weird stuff like spam, ranch-style beans in cans, odd pastas and mac-n-cheese. I always got really excited about these occurrences, because when you're a kid, different groceries in a giant bag are a treasure to dig through. It's like a surprise present bag. And mom would bring it home ceremoniously. I can't remember if both me and my sister got excited, maybe it was just me, haha. I didn't realize then... I actually don't know exactly when I figured it out, but that food had been donated to the church for needy families. At some point, we qualified under that category.

I've no idea the extent that the church helped us out, or how "needy" we really were, because all I remember about my childhood is that it was beautiful. I never truly wanted for anything. Though, in reality, we lived in a rapidly-shifting ghetto, had some broke-ass vehicles to carpool to school in a high-crime area.

I don't think it'd be right to ask my parents about that period in our lives, because I'm sure it broke their hearts at the time to have to ask for help. I know my parents. Especially my father. He doesn't like asking for help.

I look at my parents now, fairly well-off and able to handle pretty much anything that comes their way financially, and every wrinkle (they wear them well) was hard-earned. They gave me everything I needed, and I might never know their personal sacrifices to do so, as my kids will never know if I have to ask for help.

I didn't need the weight I'm losing, anyway. Everything good in American cuisine was facilitated by the lack of resources, and I'm gettin' creative. Bring on the ranch-style beans; I was born for this shit.