{"id":4640,"date":"2016-07-15T04:29:41","date_gmt":"2016-07-15T11:29:41","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/?p=4640"},"modified":"2016-07-15T04:30:49","modified_gmt":"2016-07-15T11:30:49","slug":"food-wars-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2016\/07\/food-wars-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Food Wars"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Dad

Dad and firstborn Bryan<\/p><\/div>\n

The food wars started innocently enough.<\/p>\n

Dad tagged along with Jim and I and our three-month-old firstborn for a cookout at Robin and Lanie Roberts\u2019 farm house near Loudonville, Ohio.<\/p>\n

I glanced across the newly mown backyard at Dad. His hair still dark blond at fifty-seven, was pulled back in his customary ponytail. He let out a \u201chidey-hi\u201d then a random whistle.<\/p>\n

I shot a look at Lanie. I never thought about Dad\u2019s Tourette-like vocal emissions; they were just one of the things that made Dad \u201cDad.\u201d Tonight I could have done with a little less Dad-ness.<\/p>\n

Lanie lifted her brows and shot me an infectious grin. Maybe she had a nut or two hanging from her family tree.<\/p>\n

Robin passed Dad a burger in a bun.<\/p>\n

\u201cI saw some lamb\u2019s quarter growing along your front walk.\u201d Dad disappeared around the side of the house.<\/p>\n

\"Photo<\/a>

Photo by KristianneKoch.com<\/p><\/div>\n

I shot a who-knows look at Jim, scooped up the baby and we all followed Dad.<\/p>\n

Sure enough, Dad squatted down and ripped weeds from the Roberts\u2019 front yard and deposited them in his sandwich.<\/p>\n

Maybe if we\u2019d just eaten the dang lamb\u2019s quarter that day, Dad never would have made it his mission to guilt us into healthy eating\u2014according to his ever-changing \u201cnew light\u201d on the subject. If Dad came late to hippiedom, he blazed the way for the baby boomers\u2019 swerve toward tahini and hummus.<\/p>\n

One Sunday night years later, we circled the dining room table in our Indianapolis parsonage. The kids, in grade school, tucked into their favorite meal\u2014pizza and ice cream\u2014a Sunday night staple I instituted to link Sundays and God with happy feelings\u2014much like Mom had marched R.J. and I to mass at St. Michaels in Miami and then to The Golden Nugget for pancakes.<\/p>\n

Dad held his arm out for the children to examine. \u201cSee all those white spots?\u201d<\/p>\n

David peered at Dad\u2019s arm as he chewed a big bite of pepperoni pizza. Bryan reached for a second piece. Annie and Luke looked up from their plates.<\/p>\n

\u201cThese spots are the poison coming out of my body from all the white flour and sugar I ate all my life.\u201d Dad pushed the salad around his plate, a little smugly, I thought. \u201cAnd dairy creates mucus.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGross,\u201d Bryan commented.<\/p>\n

\"Photo

Photo by Maja Petric<\/p><\/div>\n

\u201cAre you hitting the Rainbow Gathering this summer?\u201d Jim said to rescue dinner.<\/p>\n

Dad took off on one of his pet topics, the annual Woodstock of free thinkers, minus music and clothing.<\/p>\n

Even though I\u2019d already observed that males are born nudists, I was more concerned at the moment about Dad\u2019s ruining dinner than ruining the kids into rainbow people.<\/p>\n

The next day when I looked for leftover pizza to feed my offspring for lunch, only one and a half pieces remained on the cookie sheet. If Dad was out in his camper hacking up a loogie, he deserved it.<\/p>\n

This was war. I plotted a birthday cheese cake, Dad\u2019s coveted, but contraband desert. Nothing would silence Dad\u2019s food filibusters, but the more food sins I could coax him to commit, the less compelled I\u2019d feel to care whether he approved of me and my parenting.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I started to fix PB & J sandwiches, but discovered Dad had cleaned us out of peanut butter. Maybe he spread it on the pizza to make it healthy. Half way through serving the kids grilled cheese with the black crumbs scraped off\u2014my specialty\u2014Dad walked in eating a bowl of beans.<\/p>\n

\"Photo

Photo by Sonja Langford<\/p><\/div>\n

\u201cMmm. Never met a bean I didn\u2019t like,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

The kids launched into, \u201cBeans, beans, the magical fruit. The more you eat, the more you toot. The more you toot, the better you feel. So, let\u2019s have beans for every meal!\u201d<\/p>\n

I scrunched my nose, making note to give him a wide berth the rest of the day. Dad was king of smells. His rotting fruit and vegetables marshalled every fruit fly in a half-mile radius. And garlic was a god\u2014curing everything from warts to cancer. Dad could ward off a herd of vampires.<\/p>\n

I handed Dad a Tupperware of potato salad I was trying to get rid of.<\/p>\n

Dad shuddered and told me potatoes were poison.<\/p>\n

I shrugged. Last visit meat had been Satan. Meat made a comeback this year\u2014particularly pepperoni, I\u2019d noticed.<\/p>\n

Photo by KristianneKoch.com<\/p><\/div>\n

Dad retrieved his stash of black bananas from the freezer and fired up the Ferrari of juicers he\u2019d just bought me\u2014that would reside in the garage until the next time he visited. He rallied the kids for single-ingredient banana \u201cice cream,\u201d his salvo in our war.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is good,\u201d Annie said. Luke looked at her skeptically, then took a bite from his bowl. He took another bite. Bryan and David watched their siblings down Grandpa\u2019s frozen treat and reached for their own servings.<\/p>\n

Dad offered me a bowl.<\/p>\n

I looked up from the cheesecake batter and shook my head. \u201cI never met a banana I liked.\u201d I looked at Dad\u2019s water glass. \u201cYour water looks dirty.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s got cayenne pepper in it\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEew!\u201dJust when I thought Dad couldn\u2019t surprise me\u2014<\/p>\n

Dad launched into the health benefits of cayenne and I went to my happy place in my head.<\/p>\n

I would never drink cayenne water\u2014or take silver pills or chlorine drops, or any of Dad\u2019s weirdo health fads. At thirty-seven I\u2019d long ago given up trying to please Dad.<\/p>\n

\"Photo

Photo by Webvilla<\/p><\/div>\n

Noticing my disinterest, Dad shook his head. \u201cEverywhere I go people view me as a great teacher. Why can\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Guilt and regret ricocheted around my ribs like a wrecking ball.<\/p>\n

Dad wanted to live to 300. He wanted us to live to 300.<\/p>\n

I wanted to die younger and get to the good stuff\u2014heaven. If pizza and ice cream got me there a few years earlier\u2014and happier\u2014so be it. I wanted Dad to experience an ET connection with Jesus and enroll in heaven with the rest of the family.<\/p>\n

Our philosophies diverged in Robert Frost\u2019s yellow wood, both of us believing ours was the road less traveled by, the one that would make all the difference.<\/p>\n

Dad spent the afternoon teaching Annie how to safely cut carrots and juicing the peck of carrots he\u2019d scavenged from the dumpster behind Kroger.<\/p>\n

\"Bryan

Bryan and I in back; Annie, Dad, Luke, David in front<\/p><\/div>\n

After dinner we sang Happy Birthday to Dad and cut the cheesecake.<\/p>\n

He muttered between bites about how many weeks it would take him to detox after his visit.<\/p>\n

I looked around the table at my Captain Crunch and Fruit Loop loving kids. Someday they\u2019d marry healthy eaters and reform. But Dad would die of liver cancer in his eighties and not get to enjoy the behavior he may have birthed in them\u2014and me. Now that I have no one to rebel against, I eat healthy.<\/p>\n

At fifty-seven, I\u2019ve gained a little wisdom. I wish I\u2019d realized that Dad and I were both seeking an answer to our question\u2014Am I enough?<\/em>\u2014from the most important person in our lives. When my kids were teens Dad once told me I was a good mother. But I honestly can\u2019t say if I ever gave Dad a single yes<\/em> to his question.<\/p>\n

If I could have one more conversation with Dad, I\u2019d tell him he was the most important person in my life.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The food wars started innocently enough. Dad tagged along with Jim and I and our three-month-old firstborn for a cookout at Robin and Lanie Roberts\u2019 farm house near Loudonville, Ohio. I glanced across the newly mown backyard at Dad. His hair still dark blond at fifty-seven, was pulled back in his customary ponytail. He let […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3530,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false}}},"categories":[2,572,66],"tags":[63,22,136],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\nFood Wars - Ann Lee Miller<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2016\/07\/food-wars-2\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Food Wars - Ann Lee Miller\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"The food wars started innocently enough. 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