October 14, 2011

For quite a few years in my life, I hated spaghetti.

When I was young, we ate a lot of it. We had spaghetti at least twice a week.

Why? It was cheap and easy.

Mom and Dad had the craziest work schedules, and spaghetti was something simple and delicious. Mom would fill a crock pot with sauce and meatballs, homemade of course, in the morning and left the mixture stew on low all day.

That’s the secret to her moist meatballs. Just cook them in the sauce all day. The meaty orbs will be moist, and the sauce will pick up a bit of the flavor from the spiced meat spheres.

When she got home from work, Mom would boil the noodles and bake some garlic bread.

Dinner was as simple as that.

And yeah, we had to rely on cheap dinners like spaghetti to get by sometimes. Mom and Dad didn’t have a lot of money, but as a kid, you never really notice things like that.

Needless to say, we bought our spaghetti sauce and noodles with food stamps from time to time.

Regardless, we had spaghetti often, and after a while, I started to grow really tired of eating the same noodles and sauce. For a time, I would just heat up limp noodles and coat them with grated Parmesan cheese.

Of course, I still had garlic bread on the side. I’ve never given up on garlic bread.

Soon, I stopped eating spaghetti altogether. I wanted real food, not noodles and red sauce.

With time, my palette turned once again and I began eating the thin red noodles. It was around that time that I started to enjoy other noodle dishes that I had never liked. I started eating fettuccine alfredo and lasagna. I couldn’t figure out why my young taste buds did not like those dishes before.

Keep in mind, however, that I’m the guy that didn’t want anything to do with macaroni and cheese until I was 19 or 20.

Tastes change. Throughout my life, I went from unabashedly loving spaghetti to greeting it with unfounded and unceasing hatred. Then, I started to like it.

Now, I’m in between. Sometimes, when I visit Mom and Dad, they tell me that “we are having spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.” Sometimes, I eat it and enjoy.

Others, I don’t want anything to do with it.

See, I still associate spaghetti with rougher times. Times when we didn’t have much. In a way, those were simpler times. I didn’t have a cellphone to keep charged or car keys to remember. I didn’t have a blog that I update twice weekly.

It was a time of no responsible, but no entitlement.

And, if you catch me on the right day, I’ll look back on those times longingly and slurp down the wet noodles with a wide grin of satisfaction on my face.

Of course, some days are so good, but I’ll still have a piece of garlic bread or two.



This is not included in the 500 word limit.

Thanks again to Sam Jones for the challenge.

It seems like it only took me 10 or 15 minutes to do this. I guess fiction is easier than fact.


I mean… this was 100% true. No fiction here.

Truly ghjr.


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