Lunch Lady Land

Everything is not alright down here in Lunch Lady Land.

Late last week, my high school lunch lady passed away.  While to many people, the lunch lady is nothing more than a crude old woman whose horrid physical features are only slightly better than her rancid breath, my lunch lady was different.  She had the ability to make kids forget about the test that they just failed by offering them an extra scoop of macaroni and cheese.  She could make mini corn dogs sound appetizing even after calling them "freshman weinies".  She could make you believe that she stayed up all night cutting potatoes for the world's best scalloped potatoes, even though your mom told you that they came from Gordon's Food Service.  She could make your day by saving you a cup of orange jello, without the gross whipped cream on top.  She could make you believe that curly fries were a delicacy only to be experienced on Friday's, and should always accompany nachos.  My lunch lady would give you a hug after sporting events, brag about "her boys" (meaning most of the student body), give every minute of her spare time back to the school as a volunteer, work for 40 years even though she could retire after 30, bake the best cinnamon rolls in the world, and do it all while smiling.

We were truly blessed.  We knew it, we loved it, and now we miss it.  

We had a strange tradition of always singing happy birthday to the lunch lady.  It was the only way she would accept recognition.  I bet we sang happy birthday to her 10 times a year.  Considering all of the people who count her as a friend, she must have lived to be as old as her happy birthday choir suggested.  Happy Birthday, Mrs. B, one more time.

Now....because I don't want you to think that this is a blog that you should walk away from with a tear in your eye, enjoy Adam Sandler's rendition of "Lunch Lady Land".

As for the comments today, feel free to tell me about your lunch lady.  If you claim that yours was better, I will hunt you down and fight you with a spatula.