I was in Greece for the start of the 2003 Christmas season. It was a treat I'll never forget for a variety of reasons. Most of us think about going home, and for the first time in my life, I got the chance to see how another part of the world celebrated this wonderful holiday.
After the long plane trip and a wake up shower, Fred took me out for a meal and a short stroll around so I could get a sense of direction in the area. He had been in Greece for several months working on the 2004 Athens Olympic games, so he had the basic ropes down fairly well.
I can remember going to some giant warehouse place not unlike Sam's Club just after Christmas with Fred so he could stock up and maybe look for some Christmas gifts to send back to the states to his children. As we wandered through the aisles, I heard him thinking out loud, “I need a gift for Lois…what am I going to get her?”
Lois is Fred's ex-wife, and they remain on pleasant terms because they're adults, and they have children and grandchildren who don't need to see them fight. Fred's not the fighting type of person anyway; he's the most calm and docile person I've ever met, which is why we get along so well.
It suddenly hit me what Fred should buy for Lois: a box of instant mashed potatoes! It was sheer genius! I'm sure you're thinking, “What the hell is wrong with you?! Instant mashed potatoes are NOT a gift!” Maybe in traditional families that would be true, but Lois is different and there's a story you don't know about. Yet.
It was rainy and cold that weekend and we were sitting inside Fred's small, cramped Athens apartment. He was telling me about how he had called home on Thanksgiving to talk to his children and grandchildren. Then his face lit up and he began to laugh like hell as he recounted an incident that had taken place.
His daughter was hosting the Thanksgiving dinner and it was a bit of a potluck style in which everyone brought a side dish or dessert. Lois dug into her cabinet and pulled out a box of instant mashed potatoes, whipped them up, and brought them along. As the kids and grandkids began to eat, they avoided the mashed potatoes. It seems they were the wrong color – somewhere between a yellowish green and smelled odd. The kids gently started asking questions about where the potatoes had come from.
Lois had a old, long expired box of mashed potatoes, but she didn't want to throw them out. My understanding is she came from a family that never had much, so there was no such thing as wasting food. Amongst the kids it became a funny, private joke quickly forgotten after the meal…until I reminded them.
I've got a good sense of humor – I like a good gag as much as the next person, and pulled my fair share of them. I've driven off with a friend's parked car and moved it to another spot. I've served tea with a day old newspaper that had already been read by the person. “HEY! You asked me if I wanted to read the paper, and it is yesterday's edition!” I never said I was giving them the current day's edition. I've told friends to serve other friends cheese (you know who you are) for their birthdays when that friend looks at cheese like Superman views kryptonite.
Wandering around the warehouse shopping place, the perfect gift had suddenly hit me. “Fred, get Lois a new box of instant mashed potatoes. She's out and definitely needs one for next Thanksgiving!” Fred broke out in hysterical laughter in the shopping aisles, not aware of all the quiet Greeks looking strangely at us, trying to figure out what was so funny. He loved the idea and took me up on my suggestion as a gag gift.
If memory serves me right, the kids received a care package from Greece in mid January, and they loved their presents. Then Lois opened hers. “Instant mashed potatoes??” None of them got it at first, but later on the kids put it together and it became a private joke. I don't know if they ever let Lois in on it, but it was the source of laughter for quite some time.
Fred's eating at Lois' house this Thanksgiving this year. I hope she isn't serving instant mashed potatoes, but either way I sent him a text message warning so he can avoid food poisoning.
quazen.com articles by this writer can be found here
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