The Milk of Kindness

There is probably something in the world that tastes amazing but we refuse to try it because it doesn’t look appetizing to us. Anonymous

When my daughter and her family moved east, they left an unopened carton of milk designed for people who have issues with lactose. The producers say they want people to be able to “fall in love with milk again.”

I have never considered myself a snob, and I have never been one to throw away perfectly good food. I had lunch in a restaurant with a parishioner many years ago who had no desire to take his leftovers home. He said, quite matter of factly, “I ate this meal and enjoyed it once. I don’t need to eat it again.” I knew it would be uncouth (and probably not just a little weird) to offer to take it myself, so I let it pass. But letting that food go to a dumpster just seemed so grossly indecent (to me). 

So now the cow is on the other foot, of course, as Mama Karma has gifted me with sixty-four ounces of nutrition that I, frankly, don’t want to deal with (and which won’t expire for another month or more). I grew up in a family where we were not encouraged to eat what was put in front of us; we were EXPECTED to eat what was put in front of us. We were not encouraged to try new things; we were EXPECTED to try new things. 

As a consequence, there is virtually nothing I won’t try, and most things I eat, I enjoy. Yes, I enjoy liver and onions. Yes, I enjoy broccoli and brussel sprouts and – stop the presses – baby green lima beans. I think escargot is overrated (if you use enough butter, garlic, and wine, I am sure banana slugs would taste delicious, too) but if escargot is being served, I’ll do my duty and take my share.

The problem with new things, of course, is not their newness, but the mental barriers we erect to avoid dealing with them. I have done enough laundry in my life to appreciate the chemicals that get my whites their whitest and colors their brightest, so I’m offended by products that are touted as being “new and improved.” They may well be better, but my mind (or what’s left of it) isn’t convinced. I can’t bring myself to wash in cold water. I can’t. I won’t. I refuse with all the stubborn stupidity I can muster, for to change might suggest the way I’ve always done things wasn’t right, or isn’t the best way to do them. It’s a silly attitude when one thinks about it, but that’s what keeps therapists in business, isn’t it?

We don’t feel that way about all new things, though, do we? Or at least I don’t. I compare my sixty-five inch high definition television (which is properly termed “monitor” in modern parlance) to the thirteen inch black and white set I grew up with back in the days when programming ended with the National Anthem, followed by hours of a static test pattern, and I’ll admit I have no desire to go back to the way it was. My ability to send and receive instant messages online with speeds measured in gigabits per second compared to the “blazing fast” .056 megabits per second (56k) of dial-up is nothing less than miraculous!

So our response to new things tends to be more of a subjective mind-game we play than an objective analysis of what is set before us. It really isn’t the newness of a thing, but the attitude we bring to what’s new. If I’m convinced I’m not going to like something, I can pretty well guarantee it will live up or down to that expectation. Perhaps that age-old parental admonition to “try it before you decide whether or not you’re going to ‘like’ it” is worth revisiting, for my experience had been to actually appreciate most of what they “made” me eat in my youth.

What is true of food may also be true with other aspects of life, but we’ll explore that next time we meet up here in this, our valley. For now, I’ve got to go have a bowl of cereal with some moo-juice.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of newly released: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)