There are actually two very important uses for a refrigerator.  One is to hold food within and keep it at a tidy temperature.  The other is to have a very “untidy” display without- scraps of paper bearing important correspondence, favorite pictures of the people we love, magnets from places we’ve been to and magnets that keep us apprised of our plumber, dentist and chiropractor’s current whereabouts as well as the recycling schedule for Whittier, California- three houses and two states ago.

Exhibit one…  a note from my mom in her perfect Palmer Method penmanship telling me that she is at the library and I am to eat the cottage cheese and fruit she left me for dinner.

Well, yum!

That must have been from our mother/daughter weight watchers days- my svelte southern belle mother trying her best to make a lady out of her chubby tomboy run-with- the-wolves daughter.    Check out the date on that note.  She was a passionate recycler WAY before it was groovy!  (no.. I wasn’t a teenager in 1958 but thanks for doing the quick calculation!)

 

 

Exhibit two.. it’s all about Peter.  From free wheelin’ a hot little yellow plastic car in Michigan Park without a care in the world to high school graduation from Bellarmine College Prep and a plethora of important life decisions to make.

Sandwiched between is personal correspondence between Patrick and myself- most likely found at the communal coffee pot location. A perfect architecturally correct heart as only Patrick can create.

Pizza anyone?  Papa Jones is just a phone call away.

 

 

 

 

Exhibit three.. my favorite picture.  Two little boys getting down and dirty in Sharon Ratto’s back yard.  Carefree days of childhood and motherhood.  Before waiting up nights for teenagers to come home and nagging worries about college acceptances and BIG money expenditures!

A little orange post-it from Robert- “Hey Mom. Stopped by after voting.  Bathroom break.  Off to work.  Love you, Rob.”  From a fun-loving muddy grade school boy emerges a responsible citizen.

 

 

Patrick moved to Colorado last August to attend graduate school and after a long solo road trip, upon arrival at his new flat, he emailed pictures.  The kitchen was replete with a lovely clean and stark white frig.  Certainly an empty canvas..  I went to my own frig and gathered some booty- magnets, pictures and notes that recorded years and houses and fast food places frequented- and sent them off to Denver.

A few days later the call came from Patrick.  In a cracking voice he squeaked out “you got me, Mom..”

Is it any coincidence that we put pictures and memorobilia on our refrigerator so that when we need a little nourishment we can revel in the love that we are reminded of as well as have a little snack?  The two go hand in hand.  And now you know why.

My thesis is complete.  All three chapters…

Food is Love.  Amen.