Dietary Me

I'm steamed rice.

Up to now, I've probably given you the impression that I'm a loner with no friends, that when I walk the halls of The Slammer, I do so with my head down, solitary and sad.

That's not the case. I have friends. I get along well with people. Really I do.

It's just that I'm steamed rice.

You know what I mean.

Nobody ever says, "Ooo! Let's hit that Thai place downtown! I'm dying for some steamed rice!"

Oh, they like the rice just fine. It's quite pleasant; it doesn't offend the taste buds in the least. But it's really just on the sidelines of the main attraction, and you only really notice it when it's slathered in something exciting.

Like I said, I have friends -- quite a few of them -- and they're what really gets the attention while little old rice here is along for the ride.

Louis Bailey is the Angry Chicken to my steamed rice. We've known each other since we were three years old and he's been hot and spicy ever since. He led a revolution in our nursery school -- actually a revolution complete with a sit-in and poorly-spelled construction paper picket signs -- to replace Kool Aid with actual juice. And know what? He won. He led a troupe of snotty-nosed, drooling toddlers (some of them still in diapers) to a snack time victory. About three times a year he gets all up-in-arms about some perceived injustice or other and somehow gets half the student population on-board and riled up over it. Last year he successfully convinced the school board that the student parking lot was so filled with pot holes that it was a safety hazard and likely to result in litigation when someone inevitably got injured or damaged their vehicle. It was repaved within two months. The irony? Louis doesn't even have his license. A month later he was working on getting student radio set up in the cafeteria over lunch period.

Elizabeth Mackenzie's more like Butter Chicken. She's smooth. She's the type who does well in school, plays on half the sports teams, and is always asked to dances and dates, but takes it all with an air of, "Whatever." We met in grade school at the city library. I spent some of the summer when I was 10 hanging around the library while Allie went to camp and Stanley was still a bun in the oven and Beth came in every two days with a pile of books to exchange. She'd plunk them down, take a step back, look up at my dad behind the counter and say, "Alright. What've you got for me today?" and Dad would trek over into the children's section and set her up with a new pile. She read every one. Anyway, one day, as she was following Dad over to the stacks, she said, "You coming or you just gonna sit there all day every day?" without even looking at me. I jumped up and did as I was told. In time, we started talking and it just stuck.

Then there's Wayne Baxter. If I had to identify him as food, I'd have to say he's Soy Sauce: salty as all get out, but pretty universally enjoyed. He's gruff, he's mouthy, and he's opinionated, but he's not mean. He just doesn't edit. By all accounts, he should have ticked off most of the senior class by now, but they all come bouncing back for Baxter their Buddy. Go figure.

And that's where you find me. Beside these three, mostly, and others too, but I'm just the steamed rice. Their the ones that get remembered -- and they should, they're the memorable ones -- and I'm just served up on the side. But hey, at least I get to be on the plate, right?