When I was about 18 months old, I had two favorite foods. Coal, which was strictly forbidden, and Wheaties. Later on in life I also came to love peanut and jelly sandwiches, and Bit O Honey candy bars. But at that age, Wheaties were at the top of the food chain for me. It wasn't because they were "The Breakfast of Champions"...I couldn't read and we didn't get our first television until 2 years later. I just loved the taste, and the crunch when I ate them.
Like most kids, I never knew I was hungry until about 10 minutes after it happened. So, I'd play for hours, and then suddenly be struck by overpowering hunger pangs. I couldn't talk much, but was very mobile and played hard in our yard.
One day the usual happened...I got run over the hungry truck, and went in search of mom to feed me. Mom stayed really busy with two kids...doing laundry, cooking, cleaning and such. But she also loved to just sit with our neighbor Mrs. Bentley from up the street. They'd smoke and drink coffee and talk and talk. I had no idea what they found so interesting in all those words, but I did know that mom did not like to be interrupted when she and Mrs. Bentley was visiting. But, I really had the hunger pangs, and I knew that I just had to have a bowl of Wheaties to make the world right again.
I went up to where mom was sitting at the kitchen table, and pulled her dress. That was my usual way to get her attention, and of course she towered over me like a giant. She looked down at me and said "Not now honey." I thought about waiting, and dismissed that idea, so I yanked on her dress harder this time, and did my best to say Wheaties or Eaties or something close to it. Mom stopped in mid-sentence, and looked down at me again. She said "I told you....not now honey". I was a loss for what to do now. I considered pulling Mrs. Bentley's dress too, but wasn't sure if that would work. I liked her well enough, but she was not familiar with my lingo or dietary needs.
I toddled off into the living room for a bit, and hoped the hunger would subside...but it was getting worse and worse. So, knowing my mom would not be happy about it, I headed for the kitchen again. I yanked my mom's dress yet again...and this time she got a bit angry. "What is that you want, that you can't wait just a little bit for?"...in a frustrated tone. I felt the tears coming to my eyes, and I mumbled again my need for "eaties". This time my mom actually listened. She put down her cup of coffee, and her cigarette and got up from the table. She said "I guess he won't leave us alone until he gets what he wants." and then sighed.
She picked me up and put me in my highchair. It was the same one that Ingrid had used, and was pretty beat up already. She pulled the tray over my head, and went about getting my cereal. I could hardly wait, and my stomach started rumbling in anticipation of getting fed. Mom first put a bowl and spoon down in front of me, setting it down maybe a bit hard since she was a bit put out that I wouldn't leave her alone. Next she went to the kitchen cabinet, took out the box of Wheaties, and poured some in my bowl. Last of all, she got the glass bottle of milk out of the Frigidaire (that's what they called all refrigerators in those days - no matter who made them), and splashed some in my bowl. Then she put the milk away, and rejoined Mrs. Bentley at the table.
I took a big breath, and stuck my spoon in the Wheaties. To be honest I wasn't much good with a spoon, but knew better than to use my hands to fish out the flakes. For one thing it made mom mad, and for another I liked to get both flakes and milk in the spoon and then in my mouth at the same time...it just tasted better. As I stirred the cereal though, something surprising happened. Little red dots started popping up on the surface. Hmmmm? Looking closer, I could see that they weren't just dots, they were alive and wiggling like crazy.
I continued my puzzled inspection of my meal, and finally realized that I'd seen these red things before - outside in the yard and on the sidewalk. I didn't know what they were called, but I was pretty sure that they had no right being in my Wheaties, and that they were not on my list of approved foods or spices. Of course they were ants, but I wouldn't learn their name for quite awhile.
I looked down at the bowl one last time to be sure, and decided that I was not going to be able to eat the cereal in that condition. So, I raised my gaze to my mom as she was sitting and talking. She was totally focused on her friend, so I banged my spoon down on the tray. No response. I banged it again, still with no response. So, the next time I pounded it pretty hard for three or four times. This time it worked, and my looked up at me startled at my behavior. I had never done that before. She said "What are you doing?". I made a sad face and tried to say something. Mom said..."Settle down and eat your Wheaties"...but I shook my head and said "No".
I was trying my best to figure out to explain to mom about the little critters who were drowning in my bowl, but when I said "No" her eyes flashed with anger. She told me again to eat and be quiet, and I tried and failed to say something other than "No" again. This time she really got cranked, and stood up quickly. She walked over to my chair and snatched away the bowl of cereal...and then dumped it into the sink in one quick movement. She turned back to me, and lifted the tray, took the spoon away from me, and set me down on the floor. She bent over and gave me a firm pat on the rear and said "Henry Queen Junior you get yourself out of here and go play. And you won't get a thing to eat from me until dinner time now.". Then she turned back to Mrs. Bentley saying something about how we just about drove her crazy sometimes.
I got tears again...but only from frustration. I knew I did the right thing by not eating the little ants, but just could not explain my contrary behavior to mom. Mom waved the back of her hand at me again to shoo me out of the kitchen. So, I walked out slowly and went outside. I cried a little, and then just squatted down on the sidewalk. There were those little things moving happily along, without a clue that some of their kin had pretty much ruined my day.
I was thinking about what happened, and knew that the outcome just wasn't right. I learned a new feeling that day, but not the word that went with it. Years later when I came across the word "injustice" in school, I really understood it when our teacher explained it to us. And my mind went back to that day in Lando when I first experienced injustice in this world.
Lesson Learned: Always try to do the right thing, but accept that things don't always work out the way you'd hope.
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