over at wine me, dine me there was some talk about the clean plate club recently. i am a card carrying member, solely because of the influence of my grandpa bob (different grandpa than previously mentioned). at a tender age, my grandpa bob told my sister and i that before we are allowed into heaven after we die, we have to eat all the food we left on our plates during life. this is the danger of having catholic grandparents raised during the depression. michelle and i debated over the years if the food would appear as we had left it, lukewarm and unappealing, or if it would age as we aged, and we would have to slurp up moldy brown goo before st. peter welcomed us with open arms. my persisting image of purgatory is miss havisham's wedding table; complete with cobwebbed candelabras, dusty lamb shanks, and a decrepit, decaying wedding cake.
after church on sundays we would go out to breakfast. once, at perkins, i begged and begged to be allowed to get pankcakes and promptly ate just 2 bites. my grandfather insisted they be wrapped up. they were kept in my grandparents' freezer FOR YEARS. whenever i visited them, grandpa would ask me if i wanted pancakes. i think they were finally thrown away when he passed on.
be careful what you say to children. they're listening.