Super Salad Moments

My daughter Kristin has her own blog/newsletter, and I love her latest entry. It concerns the challenges of growing up in another culture and the adjustment difficulties in coming “home” to the US. Kristin, born in Bolivia, was 16 when we returned to the US.

She writes of a time when she and her college-roommate went on a double-date. She was paired with the young man who would one day be her husband. The foursome were all dressed up and heading for an elegant restaurant, a new experience for Kristin and something out of her comfort zone.

In situations like this, she had learned to watch and take her cues from her companions, cues such as which of the many forks and spoons to use when. Even so she was a bit nervous.

When they were finally ready to order, Kristin writes that the waitress “targeted” her first. To her relief she gave her order without a hitch. But then the waitress asked her, “Soup or salad?” Not used to that question, she answered simply, “No, thank you.”

But the waitress asked again, a little impatiently, “Soup or salad?”

Kristin repeated her answer that she really didn’t want any.

For a third time, “Soup or salad”?

Kristin, realizing that the waitress wasn’t going to let this go, said, “If I have to eat salad, can you at least make it a mini?”

At that point, her friends realized what was happening and began to chuckle. Not used to the soup or salad option, Kristin had misheard it as “super-salad.” And no way did she want a super-salad.

In Bolivia Kristin had learned from us never to eat salad in a restaurant as we couldn’t be sure the lettuce was prepared in clean water. The danger of infection was high. But soup, on the other hand, is a Bolivian specialty. We all love Bolivian soup.

So Kristin was glad to order soup. In retrospect she recognized this experience as a conflict between her two cultures. She’s had many. In her blog, she referred to these experiences as “super-salad moments.” I like that phrase.

I have my own super-salad moments.  I belong to two planets simultaneously. The planet of Old and the planet of Young.  On the outside I live in the culture of Old; seen as a color Old is yellow, not a vibrant yellow, but somewhat faded. On the other hand, I’m still Young on the inside, a lovely lively blue. Sometimes the two don’t get along. Sometimes they clash, like when I’m walking down the sidewalk, feeling chipper, and then see my reflection in a store window. It takes a second for me to realize that that white-haired lady with the slight stoop is me. Oh no!

Of course, I don’t always feel young and vital on the inside, especially if I’m struggling with illness. At the same time, I still have my imagination, creativity, and humor. I still worship and pray and marvel at beauty. I still cherish friendship and love a good conversation. I’m still young, in spite of it all.

The outside old (yellow) and the inside young (blue) don’t always get along—unless they blend and become green. Green is a great color.

Psalm 92 speaks of the one who follows God: “They will still bear fruit in old age; they will stay fresh and green.” Paul tells us that, “Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day” (2 Corinthians 4:16). That’s the blending of the old and the young. The challenge is accepting the limitations of growing older, yet still experiencing that inner renewal as a present (and future) reality. 

I know I’ll still have super-salad moments, lots of them. As Kermit the Frog once sang, “It’s not easy being green.”

It’s not easy.

But it’s good.

Note: If you want to read Kristin’s original blog, go to her webpage (kristingault.com), then click on the blog section.