I’m guessing here that I’m not the only one whose life saunters merrily along until that moment when I discover after opening the refrigerator door that the contents have become a no man’s land of chaos and unidentified life forms packed so skillfully together that the remaining spaces could be measured only by a micrometer.
My thrifty nature is responsible for much of the problem. If, for example, there is a cup of cooked rice left from chop suey, a smidge of spaghetti sauce, a fragment of mushroom omelet, the mere memory of a pork chop, or crumb of cheese, my brain concocts an instant fantasy of gourmet creations for later, worthy of the Food Channel. If I were to turn loose the contestants on the cable cooking show, “Chopped” on the contents of the fridge on any given day, their resulting culinary creations could probably feed a small village for several days.
If I had the time and inclination to clean out the fridge contents today, I would have to discard such things as a jar of capers from 2008, which has no doubt capered its last, a container of what may be either plump raisins, or old radishes, and some geriatric celery too old and limp now even to stand on its own without crutches.
I’m certain that there may be bacteriologists somewhere, who if they directed their full attention and funding to the study of that fridge’s contents, might find cures to any number of current diseases, not to mention the discovery of any number of fascinating new illness-causing microbes. Who knows? So before I roll up my sleeves and put on my medical mask to clean out the many remnants and recollections of those former meals, maybe I should pause to consider the possibility, however remote, that something like that little container of expired tomato soup could provide a cure for cancer or diabetes. Who am I to dismiss such a possibility by throwing it away? I’ll clean the garage first.
Finally, I would like to think that when I die, if my body is found at home, having expired from starvation due to an empty but perfectly clean refrigerator, my dream would be that the fridge is at last pristine in its lack of any leftovers and that those who find me will be impressed beyond measure if they look inside it. “Well, this guy was certainly clean and organized, Pete. Look at the inside of this fridge. There’s nothing there. Cleanest one I’ve ever seen!” JB
About John
About John
John Bolinger was born and raised in Northwest Indiana, where he attended Ball State University and Purdue University, receiving his BS and MA from those schools. Then he taught English and French for thirty-five years at Morton High School in Hammond, Indiana before moving to Colorado, where he resided for ten years before moving to Florida. Besides COME SEPTEMBER, Journey of a High School Teacher, John's other books are ALL MY LAZY RIVERS, an Indiana Childhood, and COME ON, FLUFFY, THIS AIN'T NO BALLET, a Novel on Coming of Age, all available on Amazon.com as paperbacks and Kindle books. Alternately funny and touching, COME SEPTEMBER, conveys the story of every high school teacher’s struggle to enlighten both himself and his pupils, encountering along the way, battles with colleagues, administrators, and parents through a parade of characters that include a freshman boy for whom the faculty code name is “Spawn of Satan,” to a senior girl whose water breaks during a pop-quiz over THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. Through social change and the relentless march of technology, the human element remains constant in the book’s personal, entertaining, and sympathetic portraits of faculty, students, parents, and others. The audience for this book will certainly include school teachers everywhere, teenagers, parents of teens, as well as anyone who appreciates that blend of humor and pathos with which the world of public education is drenched. The drive of the story is the narrator's struggle to become the best teacher he can be. The book is filled with advice for young teachers based upon experience of the writer, advice that will never be found in college methods classes.
Another of John's recent books is Mum's the Word: Secrets of a Family. It is the story of his alcoholic father and the family's efforts to deal with or hide the fact. Though a serious treatment of the horrors of alcoholism, the book also entertains in its descriptions of the father during his best times and the humor of the family's attempts to create a façade for the outside world. All John's books are available as paperbacks and Kindle readers on Amazon, and also as paperbacks at Barnes & Noble. John's sixth book is, Growing Old in America: Notes from a Codger was released on June 15, 2014. John’s most recent book is a novel titled Resisting Gravity, A Ghost Story, published the summer of 2018
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My thrifty nature is responsible for much of the problem. If, for example, there is a cup of cooked rice left from chop suey, a smidge of spaghetti sauce, a fragment of mushroom omelet, the mere memory of a pork chop, or crumb of cheese, my brain concocts an instant fantasy of gourmet creations for later, worthy of the Food Channel. If I were to turn loose the contestants on the cable cooking show, “Chopped” on the contents of the fridge on any given day, their resulting culinary creations could probably feed a small village for several days.