Memory Lane: November, School Lunch and Jfk

November is a month that conjures up many images and many memories for everyone.  Naturally, many thoughts are of food, dining and Thanksgiving Day thanks to Sarah Josepha Hale.  Hale was the editor of Godey’s Lady’s Book in Philadelphia who unsuccessfully petitioned presidents Zachary Taylor, Millard Fillmore, Franklin Pierce and James Buchanan to make Thanksgiving a National Holiday.  She kept trying.  It was not until this country was embroiled in a great Civil War that she petitioned Abraham Lincoln and her efforts bore fruit.  Before then, Thanksgiving was only celebrated in New England and many Americans actually resented the holiday.  Yet, despite the history and the holiday, November still makes me think of school lunch.  That’s right, school lunch.    

I know it seems odd.  Even today, when people speak of school lunch, it is generally not in good terms.  I, too, remember those canned vegetables that were probably singly most responsible for kids of my generation hating vegetables, but there was so much more to school lunch.  For one thing, it was a great value and I have always appreciated good value.

Back then, school lunch was just thirty cents.  Thirty cents!  That was about the price of a gallon of gasoline, but it bought a half pint of milk, an entrée, (I use the term loosely), a salad, a fruit and a roll all served up hot and freshly made by nice ladies who reminded me of someone’s grandmother.  Try doing that today.  We dined with real silverware, not plastic, from plates the school washed and used over again, and, no matter your opinions about the quality of the meal, they did serve real food and some great rolls.  Just talking about those rolls brings back memories of the scent, the texture and the flavor.  Say what you will about the quality of school lunch food, but don’t touch my rolls! 

In the first grade, our classroom was directly down the hallway from the school cafeteria.  Everyday around 11:00 a.m., the class would be entranced by the Adventures of Dick and Jane when the glorious scent of those rolls warming in the ovens would come wafting down the hall.  It might as well have been Pavlov himself standing there ringing his bell.  I do not know if the rolls were made from scratch or purchased from a bakery and warmed at the school, but I know they were good enough to make anything else those ladies threw on a plate taste just a bit better.  In the month of Thanksgiving, they were worthy of thanks and something to be grateful for.  Yet, it took more than the month, more than the holiday, and more than the memories of school lunch to make any one of these really stand out in my memory.  It took an event on November 22, 1963 to tie them all together and forever link them in my memory. 

After savoring my roll and finishing my school lunch, I returned the empty plate and headed upstairs to the playground.  I was one of the first ones finished with my meal and one of the first to hit the playground.  It was a beautiful, warm, late November afternoon with clear, blue skies and temperatures up in the 70s.  With a belly full of a hot lunch and the freedom to frolic for a while with friends on the playground, it was a perfect world and I was at the pinnacle of first-grade happiness.  Almost instantly, that image was shattered and history forever changed. 

I remember neither their names, nor their faces, but I will never forget their message.  Some classmates who lived near the school and went home each day for lunch were just returning to the playground.  They were running and excited, shouting, “The President’s been shot, the President’s been shot”.  I did not know who the president was, but I knew he was an important person and that something significant just happened.  I do not remember how I felt or what I was thinking, but I do remember where I was.  Even at that early age, I could see the dismay in the adults I looked up to as they tried to carry on with business as usual.  Later, when I grew older, I would learn the details, watch the Zapruder film, and question with friends the possibility of conspiracy, but that initial impression never left my mind.  Every November, it all comes back to me and I remember being six-years old again. 

They say many people remember where they were when they heard the news of the assassination.  I do not know if that is true, but I know it is true for me.  One moment in November 1963, I was living in the first-grade innocence of fat pencils, inexpensive lunch and the freedom to play in the Sun.  The next moment, I was living in history.  For that reason, November, School Lunch and JFK will always be permanently linked in my mind.