Gerard, when my grandfather—evangelized and saved by Billy Sunday—said grace before the meal, I asked my mother, “Why is Grandpa talking to his plate?”

Sometimes one wishes people could just learn to be grateful for their food and enjoy it, learning to appreciate the difference between plastic meals and truly well-prepared food. But gratitude and appreciation of good cooking are contrary to every value espoused by our cannibalistic consumerist culture. Instead we spend our time measuring the plate sizes compared to the head sizes in paintings of The Last Supper! This is a howl!

In this disgusting age of “super-size me” I rejoice to remember my grandfather at the head of the table, almost stone deaf, his shoulders bowed over his plate, saying Grace, then picking up his particular silver spoon which he had found long ago, toothmarked, in a gutter, and giving serious attention to whatever was on his plate, eating no more,no less.  “Feed our souls on the Bread of Life, and finally save us, Amen.”

We were greatly privileged in those backward times before TV, before Lindbergh landed, before the “great” depression, WW II,  “Star Wars” and “the Vietnam Syndrome.” And above all, before Progs, Repubs, Neo-libs, Accesses of Evil, PTSD, Twitter and Facebook.  The words that best typified the times for me were “Count Your Blessings.”