A SNAPPY TALE
I have six siblings. We were so poor that our mom couldn’t always afford lunch meat or peanut butter for our sack-lunch sandwiches for school (and we certainly couldn’t afford the 25 cents per day for the hot lunches). Once in a while my “sandwich” consisted of applesauce between two slices of buttered bread. It never became a family favorite.
Back then, plastic wrap or plastic sandwich bags to protect the sandwiches didn’t exist. The only choices were aluminum foil (too expensive), waxed paper, or waxed-paper sandwich bags (neither of which kept the air out). Mom would save the plastic bags that store-bought items came in and use those to protect our sandwiches.
I had a friend who always bought the hot lunch, but he didn’t like it when they had spaghetti, so on those days he would give me his quarter so I could buy the hot lunch, and he would take my sack lunch in trade.
On one such “spaghetti day” I returned to our usual table with my tray of food and found my friend’s face a vivid shade of red and the other guys at the table doubled over laughing. I had failed to caution my friend to always unwrap the sandwich inside the lunch sack before pulling it out.
That day, my frugal mother had protected my sandwich in a plastic bag that had once protected a brand new girdle.
Copyright © 2017 by John Arthur Robinson