Providing a hearty, healthy, nutritious lunch in a clean, sanitary lunch box or other container for both hubby and the kids was a housewife’s daily duty in the 1950s. The guidelines included the following:
“It should be abundant in amount for a hungry, healthy individual. A little too much is better than too little.”
“It should be chosen with regard to nutritive needs of the individual, and in relation to the whole day’s food.”
“It should be clean, appetizing, wholesome, and attractive.”
Food Selection
Solids and liquids were both included in the lunch plan. Guidelines urged housewives to choose at least one item from each of the following groups:
Milk — in food, such as pudding, or drink.
Bread — whole grain used in sandwiches.
Meat, Cheese, Eggs, or Fish — used in sandwich fillings, salads, or main dishes. Left over meat loaf, pot roast, and other food items were often used in sandwiches in the 1950s.
Fruit — whole or diced in salads or desserts.
Vegetables — used in sandwich fillings, salads, main dishes, or whole. Crisp, raw vegetables preferred.
Surprise – cookies, nuts, raisins, or other special treat.
What Season is it?
~ In winter, include something hot, such as soup, coffee, tea, or hot chocolate in a thermos.
~ In summer, include cool, refreshing items such as lemonade, fruit juice, iced tea, or iced coffee in a thermos.
Tips
*Remember to include utensils, napkins, and straws.*
*Provide spicier, more flavorful food for hubby and milder but flavorful food for the kids.*
*The goal in the 1950s was to keep packed lunches appetizing, varied, and balanced nutritionally.
Menus
Cream of tomato soup
Ham sandwich with mustard and lettuce
Celery sticks and olives
Fresh pear
Cookies
~
Cheese sandwich with ketchup and lettuce
Tossed vegetable salad and dressing
Pickles
Whole orange
Cake
Hot cocoa
~
(The first lunch box set was produced by the Aladdin Company in 1950 and featured Hopalong Cassidy.)
The National School Lunch Act, signed into law by President Harry Truman in 1946, provides school lunches in public schools for a fee or for free. I don’t know nowadays how many kids still bring their lunches to school. I remember kids getting teased when they reached a certain age who still brought their lunches to school. My favorite part of lunch in school was the chocolate milk that came with the cafeteria lunch. And, in high school, we used to sneak off campus and hit the local Taco Bell. Many adults eat in the company cafeteria, if one is provided, or order fast food. But some adults still bring their lunches to work.
~
Information retrieved from The American Woman’s Cook Book, 1952 and the Internet.
Dawn Pisturino
September 19, 2022
Copyright 2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
Brother Bear groaned. “I don’t wanna baby-sit! Sister Bear always gets me into trouble!”
“Now, now,” said Mama Bear. “I have to take Baby Bear to the doctor. I’m counting on you to take care of Sister Bear.”
“Can we make chocolate chip cookies when you get home?” Brother Bear asked.
Mother Bear laughed. “We’ll see,” she said.
After Mother Bear left with Baby Bear, Brother Bear turned on the TV so Sister Bear could watch her favorite cartoons.
“I’m hungry,” Sister Bear said. “Can I please have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”
Brother Bear made a face. “Okay – since you said please.”
“You’re the best big brother in the world!” Sister Bear said.
Brother Bear went to the kitchen. He made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and put it on a green plate. He poured a big glass of milk. He carried the green plate and the glass of milk into the living-room for Sister Bear. Sister Bear was gone!
“Sister Bear!” Brother Bear called. But nobody answered.
Brother Bear put the green plate and glass of milk on a table. He ran down the hallway to look for Sister Bear.
First, he looked in Sister Bear’s room. There were lots of dolls on Sister Bear’s pink bed – but no Sister Bear.
Then, he looked in Baby Bear’s room. There were lots of stuffed animals in Baby Bear’s white crib – but no Sister Bear.
Brother Bear knocked on the bathroom door. “Sister Bear, are you in there?”
He heard water running.
Sister Bear squealed with delight. “Wheeeee! I love bubbles! Lots and lots of bubbles!”
Brother Bear groaned. What was he going to do? Mama Bear would be home soon. Brother Bear tried to open the bathroom door. But it was locked.
“Sister Bear, open the door!” Brother Bear yelled.
“I’m taking a bubble bath all by myself,” Sister Bear said. “Wheeeee!”
Brother Bear heard Sister Bear splashing in the water. He heard the water running in the bathtub.
I have to get in there and turn off the water, Brother Bear thought.But how?
The window. Could he climb through the bathroom window? He decided to try.
Brother Bear ran outside and found the bathroom window. It was open. But Brother Bear was not tall enough to climb through the window.
He found an old wooden chair. He placed it under the bathroom window. He stood on top of the chair. Now, he was tall enough to climb through the window.
Sister Bear laughed when she saw Brother Bear climb through the window. She blew bubbles at him with her bubble wand.
The water in the bathtub was beginning to run on the floor. Bubbles floated everywhere!
Brother Bear turned off the water in the bathtub. He was mad.
“Look at the mess you made!” Brother Bear shouted. “Mama Bear’s gonna be mad!”
Sister Bear began to cry.
Brother Bear opened the bathroom door. He heard a noise in the kitchen. Mama Bear was home.
What should he do?
Brother Bear grabbed some towels from the linen closet and threw them on the bathroom floor. He cleaned up all the water with the towels. Then he pulled the plug in the bathtub.
Sister Bear laughed as the water went gurgle-gurgle down the drain. She climbed out of the bathtub. Brother Bear dried her with a towel. He helped her to get dressed.
Brother Bear took Sister Bear to the living-room and put her in a chair.
“Here’s your peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” Brother Bear said.
Mama Bear came into the living-room. “How did it go?” she asked.
Sister Bear became excited. “Brother Bear let me take a bubble bath all by myself. And he made the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the world. I love Brother Bear!”
Mama Bear looked happy. “You did a good job, Brother Bear. Let’s go make chocolate chip cookies.”
Dawn Pisturino
May 2008; March 31, 2022
Copyright 2008-2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
Maya Angelou: “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
COVID-19 put the whole world into a panic. There’s been a lot of verbal abuse, finger pointing, bullying, outright lying, extreme government overreach, hysteria, hypochondria, anxiety, hostility, and fear to last a lifetime. Everybody’s life has been upset in one way or another, with no end in sight. We’ve seen people at their worst.
The question is: if the pandemic ended tomorrow, how would we heal the broken relationships, reverse the mistrust that people feel, overcome the lies, forgive the hurtful words and accusations, and unite as a people? The damage has already been done. People turned on each other like rabid dogs. Some people are still expressing their hatred; their desire to hurt others; their need to segregate; their willingness to kill others who don’t comply with their demands.
The long-term social effects of COVID-19 — and the inept and malicious way in which it has been handled — is a mountain we still have to climb. Will you trust your doctor again? Your teacher? Government bureaucracy? The CDC? DHHS? NIH? The president? Congress? Facebook? Twitter? Big Pharma? Corporate America? The twisted media? The unions? Your interfering ex-friends? Your spying neighbors? Your stressed-out boss? Divisive family members? Attention-seeking celebrities? Will you ever trust ANYONE again?
Will you ever feel safe again? Feel healthy again? Or will you live in fear of the next germ that shows up to affect our lives? Will you still douse yourself in hand sanitizer and wash your hands 10 times a day? Will you still stay 6 feet away from everybody, thereby preventing new relationships into your life? Will you keep popping the tranquilizers, sipping the booze, smoking the weed to alleviate your anxiety? Will you suffer from permanent social anxiety and fear as a result of your experience with the pandemic?
What about the children? Will they be able to trust our authority figures again? Their teachers? Their parents? Their pediatricians? Will they have long-term anxiety and lung problems from wearing masks all day? From social isolation? Inadequate learning? Have they lost valuable social and language skills that would have contributed to their success in life?
And who’s addressing these issues? And does anybody really care?
Dawn Pisturino, RN
January 31, 2022
Copyright 2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
After nine years of marriage, Mary knew that the holidays were not a good time to ask her husband for a favor. Money was tight. The children were out of school. Her husband’s large, extended family had decided – at the last minute, of course – to honor them with their considerable presence at Christmas dinner. Christmas Day was only a week away, and Mary felt frazzled, overwhelmed, and out of sorts. She lay down on the small double bed in the master bedroom to take a nap.
It was Sunday afternoon. Betsy, 6, and Lauren, 8, were busy decorating sugar cookies in the kitchen. Their childish laughter rang through the house, a happy reminder of Christmas. Mary’s 12-year-old nephew, Jordan, lay on the carpeted living room floor playing video games. An occasional triumphant shout blended with the sound of video gunfire. Earlier in the day, he had announced his decision not to participate in any of his cousins’ childish activities. He was too old to decorate Christmas cookies, he declared; although Mary noted with a smile that he was not too old to consume half a dozen with a tall glass of milk. But he was a good boy, and Mary was happy to have the extra baby-sitting money. She had agreed to take him for the entire week while her sister was in the hospital having gallbladder surgery.
Mary wasn’t quite sure where her husband Todd had gone. He had left early in the morning before everyone was awake, leaving a note on the kitchen counter that he would be back later. She figured he was doing last minute Christmas shopping at the mall and would come home soon laden with packages. The children would greet him at the door, demanding to feel, prod, shake, rattle, and listen to each gaily wrapped gift. Then they would carefully lay them under the decorated artificial pine tree in the living room and continue to feel, prod, shake, rattle, and listen to them every day until Christmas.
Mary prayed as hard as she could that he would not go overboard spending their hard-earned money on Christmas gifts. They simply could not afford it, especially when they were expecting their third child in a couple of months.
Mary ran her hands over her swollen belly and sighed. She was not prepared to face another round of baby bottles and diapers — even if this one was a boy. She was tired and disappointed with her life. The constant pressure to pay bills, the ever-present fear of Todd being laid off, the nagging worry over providing an adequate future for the girls — the stress was tearing her apart and wearing her down. And soon there would be one more responsibility to face. She just didn’t feel up to it.
When Todd came home, she would beg him for this one favor: one of them needed to get sterilized. She didn’t care which one, but somehow, they had to come to some agreement. She didn’t want more children. They couldn’t afford anymore. She wanted to provide for the ones they had already.
Outside, the wind began to howl, and the softly falling snow grew thicker. She could no longer see the trees through the bedroom window. She shivered and drew the blanket tighter around her swollen body. Please drive carefully, she silently prayed.
* * *
“Mommy, mommy, we’re hungry!” cried the girls, jumping onto the bed.
Mary groaned and rolled over. The bedroom was dark. She glanced at the neon orange face of the alarm clock on the nightstand. Six o’clock. Todd should have come home by now.
Reluctantly, she got up and followed the girls into the kitchen. She grabbed a box of macaroni and cheese and a can of green peas out of the cupboard and began to prepare dinner. While she waited for the water in the pan to boil, she grabbed her cell phone and called Todd. She heard a few distant rings, then nothing. She tried again with the same result. Damn this snow, she cursed under her breath. She reached for the portable phone on the kitchen counter. No dial tone. Damn! She slammed down the receiver. There was no way to get hold of her husband.
“Mommy, when’s daddy coming home?” whined six-year-old Betsy, clinging to her shirt.
“I don’t know, sweetheart. We just have to be patient. Go into the living room with Lauren and Jordan. Dinner will be ready soon.” But inside, Mary did not want to be patient. She wanted to scream, Where is he? A feeling of dread came over her. Todd would have called if something was wrong — if he was able to call. And that’s what was worrying her. He had no way to communicate with her.
She poured the dry macaroni into boiling water, then placed the peas into a bowl and set it in the microwave. She set the dial for three minutes and waited. In the living room, she heard the familiar voice of Burl Ives singing cheery Christmas songs on TV. If only Todd were here . . .
When dinner was ready, she poked her head through the living room door to call the children to the table. The room was dark, and one of them – Jordan, probably – had plugged in the Christmas tree lights. Their soft glow filled the room with radiant colors. Mary smiled, allowing the gentle peace of Christmas to fill her heart. A small delay, that’s all. He’ll be here soon.
“Dinner, everyone! Put the video on pause and come to the table.”
The two girls ran to the table and scrambled into their chairs. Jordan pushed the pause button, then walked slowly into the kitchen and sat down. “When’s Uncle Todd coming home,” he asked glumly. “I want to play video games with him!”
“Any time now,” Mary responded cheerfully, dishing up a plateful of macaroni and cheese. “So, Jordan, it sounded like you were winning this afternoon!”
He took the plate from her hands. “Aw, I do okay.”
Outside the wind howled, and Mary thought she heard a faint knocking sound. Could it be . . .
“Hey! Somebody’s at the front door!” Jordan shouted. “Maybe it’s Uncle Todd!” And he was off and running before Mary could stop him.
“I wanna go see!” shouted Lauren.
“Me, too!”chimed in Betsy; and both girls raced into the living room.
“Wait!” Mary cried. “It could be a stranger!”
She hurried after the children. Jordan flipped on the outside light and opened the front door. In the doorway stood a State Trooper wearing a heavy jacket, thick boots, and gloves dusted with snow.
“Mrs. Abbott?” he inquired gravely.
Mary’s heart sank. “I’m Mrs. Abbott.”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you like this, but I’ve got some bad news for you.”
Tears welled up in Mary’s eyes, but she held her voice steady. “Won’t you come in, officer?”
“Thank you, ma’am. It’s mighty cold out here.” He stomped the snow off his boots and entered the foyer.
“Ma’am, I’m awfully sorry to tell you this –“
“The children, officer –“
“Yes, ma’am. Maybe we can send them into another room for a few minutes.”
“Children, you heard the officer. Go back into the kitchen and eat your supper.”
“Aw, I want to stay here!” Jordan grumbled.
“No, I need you to go into the kitchen. Now!”
Jordan mumbled something under his breath but turned and walked away. The girls reluctantly followed.
“As I was saying, ma’am, I have some awfully bad news for you. Your husband, Todd Abbott, was killed in a car crash an hour ago. He missed the turn down on Miles Creek Road and slammed right into that old oak tree in the bend. He died instantly from the looks of it. An ambulance took him to Mercy Hospital. He’s laying in the morgue there. You’ll need to come identify the body as soon as you can.”
Mary stared at him in horror. “No! It can’t be!” she cried. “It can’t be . . .”
* * *
In the days that followed, Mary stopped living. She refused to get out of bed. Taking the sedative prescribed by Dr. Lawrence, she kept herself sedated, locked in her room, lost to the world, oblivious to her own existence. All she wanted was to sleep – long, deep, and hard – until all the agonizing pain and suffering deep inside had shriveled up and disappeared. She wanted to blot out all the memories of her life, every thought and feeling, and to never think or feel again.
* * *
“He’s dead,” Jordan said quietly, bursting into tears. “I’m never going to see him again.” The two girls, not fully understanding, began to wail.
“I want my daddy! I want my daddy!” they screamed in unison. “Mommy! Mommy!”
“Shhh . . . Hush now, my darlings. Grandma’s here.” With a heavy heart, she drew the little ones close to her breast and held them tight. They sobbed hysterically, wetting her sweater, until sleep overcame them and offered a temporary shelter from their grief.
* * *
After three days, Mary emerged from the darkness of her bedroom. Stumbling down the hallway in her old flannel bathrobe, she made her way to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of black coffee. Her hands shook slightly, and her mother stared at her in shock.
“Mary, you look terrible! Come sit down. Do you want some eggs?”
“No, I’m not hungry.”
“Then come sit down and talk.”
“I don’t think I can do that yet.”
She stood over the kitchen sink and stared out the window. The day was crystal clear with a cloudless, vivid blue sky. Bright sunshine made the clean white snow sparkle with millions of tiny diamonds. It was a perfect winter day, just right for making snowmen and snow angels and drinking hot chocolate; sledding down Jackson Hill; ice skating on Fisher’s pond; building snow forts and throwing snowballs.
“He’s gone, mother, and I don’t know what to do. How can I go on? He was my whole life. And the kids — good Lord, what kind of god takes a wonderful daddy like Todd away from his children? I don’t understand it. It’s too cruel. Those kids are never going to be the same again.”
“They’ll get through it, Mary — and so will you. You’ll do it because you have to — for the sake of those little girls — and the new one that’s coming.”
Mary turned around angrily. “I don’t even want this child! Do you know what I wanted to do? I wanted one of us to get sterilized. I don’t want anymore children! I can’t even provide for the ones I have. How am I going to support three children working part-time at the video store? Todd’s life insurance will help, but there’s the house payment, and now we need another car, and the utilities, and food — and how am I going to pay for medical insurance? I don’t even know if Todd’s medical insurance is going to cover the delivery, now that he’s gone!”
“Careful, Mary, or that baby will grow up knowing you resent it. It’s not fair to blame the child for what’s happened.”
“I’m sorry, mother, but I do resent it! I didn’t want it in the first place — and now, with all this — I just can’t handle it!”
“It’s still Todd’s baby, Mary. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
* * *
The small bronze box on display at the front of the memorial chapel was engraved with these words: “Together Forever.” Two hearts intertwined, and Todd’s name, birth date, and date of death were engraved inside one of them. Mary gazed tearfully at the 8 x 10 color photo of her husband displayed next to the urn and fingered the thin gold wedding band hanging on a gold chain around her neck. Someday, she promised, my ashes will be added to yours, and we will be together forever.
She lit a small votive candle and placed it before the framed photograph. Then silently, reverently, she reached out and touched the smooth glass inside the frame, mentally stroking the familiar features of her husband’s face. Together forever . . .
She hugged her swollen belly and felt the child inside her move. If it’s a boy, I’ll namehimafter you. Todd Douglas Abbott. He might even look like you! I hope he looks like you, she prayed. She closed her eyes and wept.
She remembered the day when the doctor called to tell her the good news. Congratulations, Mrs. Abbott, you’re pregnant! She had been angry at the doctor and angry at Todd. The doctor tried to reassure her that everything would be okay, but she refused to listen and hung up the phone. She crawled into bed and stayed there all afternoon, crying about her condition. When Todd came home from work, she lashed into him with angry words, blaming him, and calling him names. Instead of fighting back, he merely looked at her with a deep sympathy and understanding that calmed her down, then took her in his arms and reassured her, like the doctor, that everything would be okay. He promised her that everything would be okay . . . and now he was dead. How could she ever forgive him for lying to her? Most importantly, how could she ever forgive herself for despising him and hating this child?
Somebody touched her gently on the shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mary.”
She turned around and looked into the deeply lined, tear-stained face of Todd’s mother. “It’s all so horrible,” Mary sobbed, throwing her arms around her.
“Yes, it is.” Todd’s mother hugged her warmly. “He was my baby, Mary. I couldn’t have anymore children after he was born. It made him more special, somehow. Just like your little one. He’s Todd’s last gift to you — the best gift! Love him, Mary; really love him. Just like you loved Todd. Because there’ll never be anymore of him in this world.” Her voice broke, and she wiped the tears from her eyes with a handkerchief.
The best gift. The words echoed in Mary’s heart. Suddenly, she understood. Looking down at her swollen belly, the agonizing pain and anger melted away, and a deep love filled her: love for her husband, her family, and this beautiful child who would carry on Todd’s legacy. A bright spark of hope lifted her up, releasing her from her fears. She grabbed her mother-in-law’s hands and placed them over her belly, tears streaming down her face.
“We’ll love him together,” she said softly.
Dawn Pisturino
Copyright 2007-2021 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
The first line of this story was provided by The First Line as a writing prompt.
Translation: “Mother’s Day: I only found an artichoke, but my heart’s in it!”
On May 12, 1907, Anna Jarvis of Philadelphia held a memorial service for her departed mother in Grafton, West Virginia. This simple act of devotion started a trend that spread to every state in the nation.
The second Sunday in May was declared a federal holiday—Mother’s Day— by President Woodrow Wilson in 1914.
It became customary to wear a red or pink carnation to honor living mothers and a white carnation to honor the deceased.
The greeting card companies seized on this opportunity to promote sending flowers, cards, and gifts. In her later years, Anna Jarvis resented the commercialization of Mother’s Day and lobbied to abolish the holiday.
Whether we honor our mothers with store-purchased items or handmade goodies, the idea behind Mother’s Day is still valid. My mother worked hard all of her life. She was unhappy and stressed out much of the time. But she tried her best to love us, protect us, and give us what we needed.
One of my fondest memories is a rainy night in 1965. The school chorus was giving a concert, and the streets in L.A. were flooded. I was afraid that my mother wouldn’t be able to attend our performance. But somehow, someway, she made it, and I always remembered that. Her efforts let me know how much she cared.Â
She’s gone now, and I miss her, but she suffered from chronic pain and a severe heart condition. Death brought her relief. And I try to remember that even as I wish she were here.
HONOR THE ONES YOU LOVE EVERY DAY OF THE YEAR. I wish now that I had done more for her.
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