Like many in my generation, you probably ate oatmeal for breakfast at one point or another. Sure, we had those sugary cereals (anyone remember Waffalos...) and even half a grapefruit now and then. I guess we ate whatever my mom put before us before we shuffled out the door and headed to school.
I don't remember how old I was, but I distinctly remember a conversation I had with my mom one morning after she placed a bowl of instant oatmeal in front of me and I dug in.
"Mom," I said somewhat casually--perhaps in a smart a-- manner. "How about you get a bowl and we can both eat oatmeal together?" Those were probably not the exact words I used, but the sentiment is the same.
Then my mother said something I've never forgotten.
"Nope--I can't stand the stuff."
I was shocked.
I followed up with why the strong reaction to my suggestion she have some oatmeal for breakfast. She then went on to tell me a story of her youth. My mom lived during the Great Depression. Though she was a child, she remembered the food her mother fed her. She said they ate oatmeal almost every day. She vowed when she grew up she'd never eat oatmeal for breakfast again. I remember thinking if I'd ever seen her eat oatmeal and I couldn't recall a single time she ate oatmeal for breakfast.
Of course, I cannot travel back in time to share the experience she had as a child growing up in Driggs Idaho in the 1930s. I'm 100% sure the food I had for breakfast this morning tasted much better than what she had. It may not have been more nutritious than what she had--I'm sure my food is worse for me than her food was for her. And if I had to eat the food she ate, I'd probably think the same thing.
Sorry mom, turns out I actually like the stuff. Then again, I'd be well served to follow my mother's footsteps more often. She's one of my greatest heroes.
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