Friday, September 5, 2008

The Bringing of Food

In the American South, it has long been the custom to bring food to someone whenever there is a family emergency or event that disturbs the most basic household routines. The illness or death of a family member, and even the happy occasion of a new baby is very likely to elicit the bringing of food to the home. This is not an activity reserved for family members or close friends, but one which is often embraced by thoughtful co-workers or neighbors, some of whom barely know your name. It's just another of those things that we do here.

When I was pregnant with Bram, even one of my former students, a dear Japanese woman, brought me sushi when I couldn't eat a thing. Miraculously, I ate the entire dish in one sitting and felt stronger and better. When my son was born, my neighbor baked muffins from scratch for us. And when my father-in-law was in the hospital, friends, family, neighbors, and people who barely knew my in-laws delivered food on a daily basis. Even after the funeral, the food continued to come, because, well, grieving families need comforting.

The food is always someone's idea of comfort food; for Southerners this is fried chicken, potatoes, macaroni and cheese, chicken and dumplings, ham and something with gravy, some kind of casserole or fruit cobbler, cake, pies, trays of fresh fruit or veggies or even sweet tea and coffee. Now that our society has changed and so few of us live with or even near extended family, it isn't unusual for people to bring paper plates and disposable utensils, so there is less worry about cleaning up.

While my father was in the hospital this past week, my friend Gloria, a generous and thoughtful soul, brought us food: chicken, peas and cornbread, corn on the cob, and black eye pea salad. Even when things are going well, Gloria's cooking is a special treat, and because we were all a bit stressed, her offer of food was a delight. Bringing food is one of those gestures that we Southerners understand, like saying the name of an ailing stranger in church, or having prayers said for us, that gives us comfort and makes us all feel better. It's doing something for a fellow human being with no expectation of an immediate return. And THAT is another thing I love about the South.

2 comments:

Anonymous Me said...

Welcome home, Janet.

I'm sorry to hear your father was ill, but I'm glad someone brought food.

Goldenrod said...

You're back ... welcome 'home'!!

The giving of food is not just a Southern gesture, Janet, you might be pleased to know (altho the types of food offerings will most certainly vary).

So, how's your dad doing NOW?