Condoms, Chicken, Magic, and Love

Let’s just say if I were forced to tell the absolute truth I would have to say I believe in magic. Now this wasn't always the case. I’m sure when I was a kid I believed and then I out grew it. But then I lived, and I studied, and I read, and I watched, and slowly and steadily my belief grew.

I think I have a pretty logical mind, sentimentality annoys me more than a little because I am just cynical enough to see it as a form of manipulation more often than not. But still, I have seen some things that I can only describe as magical.

Plus there is the fact that magic was accepted and considered as real as electricity for thousands of years and by millions of people long before I ever came on the scene.

Now I will admit that there is a chance that I know things that all of those people didn't  But then again just the fact that they all believed in it, kind of makes me consider it. I mean is it likely that all of those people were wrong for all of those years, and we as a society are right now? I just wonder.

Like Columbo in the old time TV show, that starred Peter Falk, I bumble and stumble through life but in the back of my mind, like a dog chewing a bone; I am always on the lookout for it; magic.

Today my 15 year old son was hanging around the kitchen while I was frying chicken. (I found legs, and breasts, on sale for .99 cents and brought home lots of it) He was telling me that lately the kids at his H/S have been impressed with his lunches, and have been begging for bites.

“Really?” I asked. I thought back on his lunch for the last few days. I had baked Chicken Breasts, the night before, boned them, and sent the boys with white meat chicken sandwiches with cheese and lettuce, the bread had been fancy deli rolls that were a day old and on sale. Yesterday Marie had boned the rest of the white meat chicken and made a chicken salad, with finely diced celery, boiled egg, pickle, onion, mayo, garlic, paprika, mustard, nothing fancy, just chicken salad.

“Yea” he said. One kid told me he had never seen a chicken sandwich made out of just regular chicken, because his Mother bought the patties, and some of the other kids had never eaten chicken salad that didn’t come already made from the store. They really liked it.

That just made me sad.

But here is the kicker. I know the food isn’t spectacular. My wife is a far better cook than I am but she’s not a Chef, she’s a nurse. As for me, I’m a half ass writer, and half assed home maker. Julia Roberts, I am not.

So now the logical part of my mind kicks in. Is he just blowing smoke up my ass?  I doubt that because being a suck up doesn't earn brownie points in this house, never has and never will; so what would his motivation be for lying to me about this? I can’t think of one so I assume he is telling the truth.

I shoo him out of the kitchen, link my blue tooth head phones, to our Nexus 7, and screen Cruel Intentions on Netflix. But even as I’m watching the movie, breading chicken, turning chicken, and trying to clean as I go, that little piece of my mind is chewing on this bone.

Why is he so grateful for the chicken? Why are the other kids crazy or the chicken? Why is Christopher my Grandson, eye balling the chicken like it’s a prize and begging for a sample? The boys aren't starving. It’s not spectacular chicken.

The evening wears on, dinner is served, the boys go to bed. I run Marie to the Hospital for her night shift, and drive home.

I’m asking myself if this could be magic.

I have a friend who went to cooking school. She used to post pictures of her food on Facebook. I loved looking at that food. These weren't fancy pictures, just snaps with her cellphone, of her accomplishments in cooking school. When she had finished the school, the pictures had stopped. I pulled the snapshots up in my memory and reviewed them. Why had I loved looking at those pictures so much? Honestly, beautiful, professional grade food pictures, are almost as common as porn on the internet, so why were her pictures my favorite?

Obviously because I know her. I know how much she loves her family, I know her Daughter, and I know her Son, and her Husband. I know the love that comes from her hands and went into that food. So it was like I could see the love, I could see the magic. Hmmm could I be onto something I asked myself?

I thought of other times I had personally witnessed the magic of love going into food.

This video I saw on youtube came to mind.

Baking Video

This video is made by a Jewish woman making bread with her friends. The link is above if you want to refer to it. If not, here’s the point, when she is kneading the bread, she knows she is putting love into it. She even says so in so many words.

So maybe the magic doesn't have anything to do with the actual food, but the hands, or even the body.

I thought of some other things that seemed a little magical to me.

By magic I mean the total equals way more than the parts, like when a touch is more than a touch, or a chicken sandwich is more than just a sandwich, or when a woman comforting her infant is more than just some chick holding a kid, or when Rachel's food pictures are more than just pictures of deserts.

Then my mind leaps to other things, like how it’s way more magical to make love to woman without a condom, than with one, or when the Ancient Jews led their livestock into the temple for sacrifice, or when the other ancient tribes and faiths performed blood sacrifice, or when a Bride and Groom first kiss. These things all held magic, they were all more than the sum of their parts, and they all involved personal contact. They all involved a hand, a touch, a sacrifice, something personal given unselfishly, not money, but something more than that something magical.

Then suddenly, something else pops into my mind.

Every meal I fix my Gransons plate first. He is 7 and having him dish his own plate isn’t the best idea. My Son, 15 has asked a few times for me or Marie to fix his plate too. I have always assumed he was joking and flippantly told him to fix his own plate. “You’re grown for goodness sakes.” But now I wonder, is he asking for his share of love, without even being aware of it? If the magic comes from the hands, if the love comes from the actual contact with the food, and he craves it…. And well…..

I think I'll go ahead and fix his plate from time to time.

JS