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Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

Reflections, ramblings, and poetry

Name: b
Location: Over the hills and far away, Way beyond West

Struggling to strike a balance between a passionate love for life, family and friends and an obsession with making electrons dance.

Friday, March 31, 2006

Fish Friday

I had to drive almost three extra miles to find something fishy for lunch. Past the land of burgers and chicken, my relentless pursuit of something finned took me further afield than I usually go. But today is Friday, and though I am no longer Catholic, I confess that it seems to have engrained itself; "thou shalt not eat meat on Friday's in Lent". The reasons for not eating meat were not as well publicized when I was a boy as the prohibition. What was supposed to be self-denial of the carnal pleasures in the literal sense became instead a substitution. And its interesting that my fish cost me almost twice as much as the most expensive burger would have, so it's not an economic motive either.
I can still remember the year I spent Good Friday in New York city, and my desperate search for fish in a Jewish neighborhood put me almost a half hour late for a meeting. It was unthinkable to do otherwise, even though burger joints and delis were scattered on every corner. I waited impatiently in line at the Burger King for my Moby burger or whatever it was called. It was as I was standing there, waiting even longer because mine was the only fish burger they cooked that day, that I started pondering the real reason behind my blind devotion. Guilt, plain and simple. I couldn't come up with a rational explanation for it.
Even after converting to Protestantism in my twenties, I still clung to the "tradition" of my Catholic extended family. I remember being inwardly horrified the first time my smiling spouse offered up ham and pancakes one Friday evening in Lent. It took more than a little courage to cross over that line. But I did, and as I chewed a mouthful of meat, I secretly offered up an excuse - knowing full well that God was probably laughing. And even now, though I know it doesn't make sense, it's sometimes easier to justify my Friday hankering as an old habit which I still honor. Fish on Friday, it's an old family tradition born of guilt and continued because, well, I like fish. Isn't that a good enough excuse?

all for now,
B

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