brooklyn with danny and joe

PEAS AND CARROTS AND DAD’S OMELETTES

One of the golden rules at the Walsh’s home was “No wasting food”. Being an adult, this rule is easy to understand. When you are ten, this is a rule that you hate. Let me say this right off the bat, I hate peas and carrots. When I was ten, I hated peas more than carrots, green peas have no value, and they will not even stay on your fork. You can tell me all the nutritional stories you want, peas have no use, except maybe for rabbits, or is that carrots; hell, give the rabbits both. When we ate dinner there was always a vegetable with the meat and potatoes. I tried for years to convince my parents that a potato was a vegetable but they would never buy my pleas. I would get the big dictionary and show them, “Look Mom, it says a potato is a veggie”, my Mom would look at me and say “Eat your vegetables”. There was one vegetable that I loved and that was spinach. Popeye the sailor ate spinach and he was strong, I never understood why I could not eat spinach when the rest of the family ate the rabbit food.

How not to eat vegetables was a topic we spent a lot of time on in the clubhouse, we all agreed that our parents were unjust. What we needed was a plan; we had to figure out a way of getting rid of the rabbit food. Danny talked about hiding the vegetables under the plate; Tony thought a good way was to drink water just after putting the vegetables in you mouth to wash them down. Frank said he loved his mom’s cooking and did not have to eat vegetables. We liked eating at Frank’s house. James just laughed and said “Feed the dog”. “I don’t have a dog, I have a cat and he won’t eat peas and carrots”.

It was obvious to me I would have to find my own way of dealing with the food that made me want to give up eating. The next time I saw the little green balls on the plate I tried to hide them under the plate, was caught and had to wash and dry the dishes. The next time I tried to feed the cat, he looked at the peas on the floor and kept going, I just knew he was thinking, “Are you serious?” After washing and drying the dishes again, I thought of a plan that might just work, all I needed was a little bit of that Irish luck that I was blessed with. The next few days we did not have peas and carrots. I was looking forward to trying out my plan, but we had pizza, hamburgers and spaghetti. Finally on Saturday night there they were, the little balls that no one should be made to eat. We said our prayer of thanks, and the contest was on. The second golden rule was, nobody could leave the table until you finished all your vegetables. I ate everything on the plate except the rabbit food and waited until everybody was finished and left the table. The only people left were my Mom and me, she was washing the dishes and every time she turned around, I would grab a handful of peas and stick them in my pocket. Worked like a charm.

I was so happy, no more eating peas, gone--- first they would go into my pocket, then a visit to the bathroom and down the toilet they would go. No more dreams of big carrots and rolling peas chasing me down the street. The next few weeks I looked forward to all the things my Mom would make, I had a plan and it was working. One night my mom made meat loaf, turnips and peas and carrots. I hated turnips but not as much as my brother Denis did. I had to wait for Denis to finish before I could pack my pockets full of the rabbit food and the turnips, but Denis was not eating. My mom was almost finished with the dishes and I had to make a move soon, Denis had not touched his turnips. This was bad! My brother was thinking about going into the seminary to become a priest, so I knew he would not fink on me, but I did not like giving up my secret. I tried to hide my stashing, but Denis saw me and watched as I asked to be excused to use the bathroom. In and out and I was on my way to play while Denis was still at the table. All the guys got a big laugh about me out foxing my older brother. The next few weeks were great, the weather was warming up and soon we would be out of school and the summer would be here, I was enjoying life.

The luck of the Irish is a myth, and my luck ran out the night the peas were served again. Dinner went as usual; there was roast beef, mashed potatoes, and peas. I was not concerned, I ate the roast beef, which I loved; the mashed potatoes were ok I waited for the rest of the family to finish. Just like clockwork, Carol, Denis and Agnes completed eating, and just my Mom and I were left in the kitchen. I packed my pockets and asked to be excused to go to the bathroom, but Agnes beat me to the one bathroom we had. This was not good because the longer the peas stayed in my pockets the better the chance of staining. I waited and waited, finally Agnes came out and I was headed to the toilet when Agnes cornered me and squeezed my pocket, then Denis was on the other side smashing the peas in the other pocket. I was dead. They didn’t say a word, and when my mom asked what was going on, they just laughed and said something like, “Oh nothing ,we are just kidding with Joe”.

Once I got into the bathroom the damage was clear, I was dead. The peas were impossible to clean. The pockets of my jeans were stained and when my mom washed my pants she always checked the pockets. I thought of all the things I could say to mom, like peas come from pods and I thought they were going to steal my body, like in that scary movie. Maybe I could tell her Agnes and Denis put them in my pockets. No, I knew that would not work; Denis was going into the priesthood and Agnes was the keeper of the LIST. I guess the only thing to do was pick a good time and tell my mom that I was stashing the little green monsters in my pockets.

There is only one other time I can remember that I hated going to the dinner table, and that was when dad did the cooking. I come from a very Irish family and fathers did not do the cooking. Life in the fifties was simple, men worked, women took care of the house. There was a time when my mom went into the hospital and we were left with dad. He still had to work and then come home to make us dinner. This is the story of dad’s omelettes.

We loved my mom and were concerned about her being in the hospital, it would change our lives for some time. Agnes became the lady of the house and did a good job taking care of us, something she would do throughout our lives. Denis was getting ready to go off to the seminary and Carol was still very young. I remember the first time I saw the omelet, I thought it looked like a big yellow pancake. That’s what I thought, we were going to have pancakes for dinner…. I liked pancakes.

The first indication I had that something was wrong were the things sticking out of the pancake. Things don’t stick out of pancakes. I used my fork to move it around, it was a slimy piece of something and I don’t mean a little piece. It went into the pancake and when I pulled it out it had a head, it looked like a slug, I yelled “Dad there’s a slug in my pancake!”.

“That’s not a slug, it is an onion” said Agnes, “That’s a pea” said Denis, with a big grin. What was I going to do, there was nothing on the plate that I liked. “Dad could I have just a plain pancake?” I asked. “That is not a pancake, it is an omelet and I put some potatoes in,Iknow you like potatoes, eat!” My mind was racing, I tried to remember what the guys said about hiding food. I moved some under the plate, I drank so much water with each bite that I was getting seasick. The stashing in my pockets was out, Denis and Agnes were watching me. The meal went on and on, nobody was eating, not even Carol and she ate just about anything. My father made an announcement, “The first one to finish will get a quarter and not have to do the dishes”.

This would be the first time that I turned down money and a chance to get out of doing the dishes. I waited and watched Agnes put the slimy thing in her mouth and swallow; for a quarter, Denis was in the contest but I think Agnes won the race. I was alone, in the kitchen, with the omelet.