Average Goodies

The prodigals are starting to roost; mine are simply expanding their domains in healthy, though sometimes stormy ways.  Normal stuff, so the fatted calf is quite safe to become a nice chubby milk cow.  Thank you prodigals, for lavish, constructive exuberance.

Perhaps it is time to invent new ways of celebrating the expected, which is after all the original question of the responsible son in the old story; why him and not me?  He was lost, his brother steady; they both got to chow down, but I understand the question and I comprehend the purpose of the parable.  Still, celebrating those who are steady and trustworthy seems fair.  Their lives may not be dramatic, but their accomplishments are usually remarkable.

We rarely celebrate the incremental.  Barring the tortoise and the hare, we often celebrate the quick, marveling at the young author, singer, medical student....rarely at the mid thirty or forty, center of the pack people who make up the lion share of the population.  Average is disdained.  Why? Lower than average - well, I won't even go there!

When my children started in school, I recall a meeting of parents of the elementary school. They were concerned about helping their children cope if they came in number two in the class; two.  I waited a bit as they voiced further concerns, until I finally mentioned that "ONE person is number one, one is number two and everybody else is in between until we come to number, last.  They are all wonderful children, children being the key word, and they are all of equal value as human beings. I could have chilled a martini with their stares; I could have used a cool one just about then also.

As we gather for the national celebration of dinner, my turkey will be a simple roast, the Cordon Bleu need not fear competition; it will be average.  My stuffing, which I should refer to as dressing, but I hate that word, will be a repetition of the last twenty years.  I will use canned, jellied cranberry sauce and Pillsbury rolls, because we love Grands biscuits.  The pies will be homemade and the crusts' edges will be oddly shaped.  Our wine will be inexpensive and our butter salted.  This will not be
gourmet, but it will feel good.

With any luck our average dinner will follow a tremendously winning Eagles game. Then, our average day will end with  a screening of  "It's A Wonderful Life."  We will be glowing with typical, average, national warmth; prodigiously.