In high school, lunch time was still a social occasion, though the actual food we ate seemed to have regained some importance, probably because we were mature people with discriminating taste.
Of course, there were certain places on campus where the important people gathered to eat. And, of course, I gathered there.
Only Geeks ate in the cafeteria, even if it was underground and called The Vike’s Inn, and it should go without saying, but it won’t, that in the three years of high school I never knew what they served in that place.
Trading food has tradition behind it, but I did not like to do it, not ever, knowing that the worst my mother fixed was better than what anybody else had. But in high school, everyone wanted my sandwich when my mom sent avocado and bacon on her homemade whole wheat bread. In elementary school such a sandwich, especially on whole wheat bread, would have laid me open to ridicule, but in high school it gave me status. I was proud to share, even if I ended up with bologna.
Oh, and I would not be caught dead with a lunch pail then. Might as well wear pink and green together and paint a target on my butt.
Okay. On my back.
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