As I clean out my refrigerator to make way for an abundance of Thanksgivng food, I remember my Mother, Mary Madden. A survivor of the depression, she never forgot what it felt like to be hungry. She taught me that wasting food was punishable by a stint in Hell. I wonder if the "wasters of food" just visit Hell and later ascend to Purgatory or Heaven?
If I left anything on my plate, I would revisit it on Saturday when she mixed it all together for refrigerator stew. Mom didn't honor expiration dates or even mold. It all went into the soup.
Today I fnd myself enjoying excellent health. Possibly it's because I've acquired anti-bodies from years of dining on old food.
It's like Kelly Clarkson's song: "Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Refrigerator stew was part of being Madden tough.
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