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At age 6, Mom introduced me to the concept of Lent. My kid reaction was typical. “I hafta give up WHAT? For HOW LONG?”
When it came to food, I was always a weird kid. Texture mattered more to me than taste. I hated anything sticky!
My fetish wasn’t limited to food. My first grade teacher could only make me apply glue at gunpoint.
Time marched on. Catechism taught me Lent was a season of self-evaluation and spiritual growth. I still didn’t get how giving up sticky sweets, which didn’t appeal to me in the first place, would improve my character.
Then I discovered the Lenten “perk!” We were expected to go “meatless” on designated days. But we could eat FISH!
I LOVE FISH! My grandfather joined the Navy at 16, and was primarily stationed at the Philadelphia Naval Yard.
Fisherman’s Wharf turned G-Pa into a seafood gourmet. When my dad attended college in Philly, G-Pa introduced him to more fishy favorites.
During summer vacations, G-Pa and I discovered more of Neptune’s bounty.
I had dislikes.
Mackerel was just icky, and squirmy calamari squished.
Mussels made me feel like I was eating an eyeball. And I shunned trout because I’d never eat something that got caught because it wanted to eat a worm!
But delicious stuff remained: Haddock, sole, cod, shrimp, shark, scallops, crab and lobster!
Working at our church fish fries seemed the next logical step. Waitressing may have been a bad choice because I don’t always play well with others.
When a lady requested crab cake with mac ’n cheese, I delivered her meal promptly.
“I ordered crab cake,” she roared. “This ISN’T IT! Take it back and bring what I asked for!”
Humiliated, I slunk back to the kitchen where a wiser, veteran worker put the plate under a heat lamp. “Wait five minutes and take it back.”
“Did she expect frosting and birthday candles?” I snarled.
When I returned the same dish five minutes later, the Gorgon smiled.
“This is more like it!”
After stints as an applesauce dipper and a halushki scooper, I became a cashier. Three or four of us greeted customers, filled order forms, passed them to the waitresses, took cash and made change.
Dozens of mind-numbing summer jobs had prepared me for accurate change-making. I found my “fish niche!”
And then came 1999, the year the government minted new quarters celebrating the 50 states.
I never expected this seemingly harmless idea to bite us on our fannies.
Our prices were average by local fish fry standards: $7.25 for fish dinners; $7.50 for shrimp or crab platters.
“Dear, I’ll take a baked fish dinner with baked potato and cole slaw.” A lady untied her babushka and removed a $5 and 3 $1’s from her wallet. “And, for my change, could I have one Maine quarter, one Delaware and a Kentucky?”
People never fail to amaze you! The craze caught on and we finally had to post a sign saying “We regret that we are unable to honor requests for specific coins in change.”
Lenten regulations say only one full meal may be eaten on Good Friday. I plan to hop over and eat mine at Red Lobster.
See you there!
Michele Bender
Related Photos
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Michele Bender submitted photo
Discussion
MICHELE M. BENDER | Something fishy’s going on around here
- Michele Bender
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MICHELE BENDER | Old enough to know better
Sing along …
“Happy Birthday once more, I just turned sixty-four.” -
The beat goes on
In 1957, my stage-struck mom took my friend Jere and me to see the movie “South Pacific.” It featured awesome scenery, colorful costumes, catchy show tunes and unforgettable characters. It rolled the best of stage and cinema into one package. We were hooked!
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MICHELE BENDER | Springing into action for Easter
Happy Easter!
People expect certain routines at specific holidays.
They count on fireworks and sparklers on July 4.
Easter demands a basket of colorful eggs and candy. -
MICHELE M. BENDER | Dream a shorter dream
Denise stopped by and caught me napping. “How can you sleep with that bright light on?” she asked.
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MICHELE M. BENDER | Wedding wackiness
February brings bridal fairs. Bargain-hunting grooms prowl Valentine ring sales, while brides-to-be lose all touch with reality.
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MICHELE BENDER | It was hit or miss
Did you know they still crown a “Miss America” every year?
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MICHELE BENDER | Cat-titude creates cat-tastrophes
I often receive feedback from readers. In 2011, my friend Rick said he read my Christmas column to his kids, and they were concerned about the fate of Miss Kitty.
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MICHELE M. BENDER | Every elf for himself
I’ve never been much of a shopper, even at Christmas. I’m certainly not one who’d stand in an icy, dark parking lot at 4 a.m. with some bunch of wingnuts waiting to purchase a Cabbage Patch doll.
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MICHELE BENDER | It’s hard to zest a plastic lemon
At Thanksgiving, we count our blessings and express gratitude. You readers can be thankful that I’ve never invited you to dinner.
Some folks have eaten at my house and gone on to live healthy, normal lives. Others, however, tell frightening tales of grisly inedibility. Savory and usually recognizable holiday dishes have emerged looking like weasel intestines and tasting worse. -
MICHELE BENDER | Let’s see a big smile
I confess! I’m a “floss-aholic.” I buy flosser pics (little plastic pics with floss stretched on one end) and keep them in the drawer beside me. I floss after eating anything.
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