by Father Mark Goldasich
There’s only one salad dressing: vinegar and oil. And I never eat salad because I don’t like it.
That was one of my “rules” growing up. My folks and I ate supper every night with my maternal grandparents and my bachelor uncle. Sunday meals consisted of homemade chicken noodle soup, one baked chicken and roasted potatoes (I got the wishbone), and Italian bread from Roma Bakery. Fridays were for macaroni and cheese, sardines (no, thank you!) or, on special occasions, fish sandwiches (plain, no tartar sauce) from Griff’s, which were four for a dollar.
This unchanging menu made me a picky eater. I was very much like Houdini in this story:
On one occasion, Harry Houdini failed to make one of the spectacular escapes for which he was so famous. He was carefully searched by some jailers and then tied up with ropes, chains and handcuffs. A jailer then closed the cell door and walked away.
Houdini quickly, almost magically, freed himself from the shackles and then began working on the cell door’s lock. Despite all his best efforts, the lock wouldn’t open. Finally, frustrated and near exhaustion, he leaned against the door, and it swung open so unexpectedly, that he nearly fell into the corridor. The jailer had forgotten to lock the door! (Story adapted from Paul J. Wharton’s “Stories and Parables for Preachers and Teachers.”)
How many of us, like Houdini, are locked into our own thinking? We rarely venture far from what is familiar. We attend the same Mass each weekend and sit in the same spot. We drive the same route to work or school. We order the same meal from the same restaurants we patronize.
In the Book of Revelation, Jesus comes “to make all things new,” to usher in “a new heaven and a new earth,” to call us from the ruts we create for ourselves and awaken us to the magnificence of our life and our world. In other words, we’re called to transformation.
That point is made in a tongue-in-cheek way in this little story:
An Amish family goes to a mall for the first time. Everything is amazing: a food court, music, numerous stores. The grandmother notices two shiny, silver doors that open, and watches an elderly man enter between them. The doors close behind him. A few minutes later, the doors open again and rather than seeing the elderly man who originally entered, a handsome, twentysomething man emerges. (Of course, Grandma had never seen an elevator.)
Grandma is mesmerized as she sees another old guy enter the shiny silver doors. A few moments later, a young, good-looking guy appears.
Her granddaughter comes over and says, “Granny, isn’t this place great?”
“Yes,” replies the grandmother. “Quick, go get your grandfather!”
As the autumn leaves transform into brilliant colors, let them remind us to add color to our lives by trying something new. An article in the July/August Reader’s Digest put me onto a great idea, based on a children’s book called “Yes Day,” by Amy Krouse Rosenthal. In it, a little boy’s parents let him have one day each year when the word “no” is not uttered. The kid has a ball having pizza for breakfast, playing with his mom’s hair gel, eating a meal outside and getting to stay up late.
Maybe we can celebrate our own “Yes Day” (as long as it’s not something immoral, illegal or outrageous) as a family or with friends where we try new things and explore the wonders this life offers.
Heck, I discovered something called a wedge salad with blue cheese dressing and bacon bits! You know, it tastes amazing!
