WHAT'S IN YOUR REFRIGERATOR?

Chances are, I’ll never know what’s in your refrigerator, even if you’re in my inner circle. From my earliest childhood memories, the words "never open anyone’s refrigerator," ring loud. My mother thought it abhorrent and made sure that her children knew it.

That was in line with her other big no-no. I can hear her now saying, you never ask anyone what’s in their bank account and don’t tell them what's in yours. No doubt, my mother equated the abundance in the refrigerator, or lack thereof, to the dollars in the account.

Today, when our adult children, including spouses, go to the refrigerator, my instinct is to cringe for a split second while thinking of my mother’s mantra. Feeling blessed that they are all comfortable opening our refrigerator, it’s a relief that I don’t have to get everything for them. When the grandchildren go there, that’s another story. It’s time to teach them not to keep the refrigerator/freezer doors open.

There were times, truth be told, that my mother visited her cousin who was her contemporary, and she and my aunt, who did the driving since my mother never drove a car, went hog wild. Unabashedly, they cleaned out their host’s refrigerator.

My mother’s much younger sister Bea was a fun-loving character. One of my aunt’s favorite stories from their stays at our cousin’s house in the Sullivan County Catskills was getting my mother to be her partner-in-crime as they cleaned out our cousin’s disorderly refrigerator. As cleanly as she was, clutter could have been this cousin’s middle name.

Naughtily, my aunt convinced her sister, my mother, to break her own rule. After being greeted by our cousin’s characteristic laughter, they felt her appreciation for their work. 

The relative wasn’t upset that her dear cousins took the liberty to “look the other way,“ and do a mitzvah (good deed). The stories of the leftovers in goodie bag containers storing the tiniest bits of food wrapped in tinfoil and left on the shelves of her overpacked refrigerator make me giggle.

My mother also was adamant about not keeping any bags in the refrigerator. She stood her ground, cautioning that they take away from the refrigeration, making the machine work harder. But, she insisted, make sure to keep the celery in its plastic protector bag in the chiller drawer. We could debate these topics all day with online advice.

Don’t be offended if I will not go to your refrigerator without being asked. That was the etiquette taught by my mother. For all the above reasons, it’s a good idea. The topics of discussion could ruin the gathering.

The only time I can remember my mother looking in someone’s refrigerator, other than the one pack-rat cousin’s, which came at her sister’s prodding, was around 1963 when a neighborhood friend bought a new box and spontaneously invited her in to see it. That’s also the only time I remember being in the woman’s home.

That was another thing my mother, in her words, “didn’t go for.” She was opposed to “coffee klatches,” and going into the neighbor’s homes. Yet, she was the “hostess with the mostest,” and everyone always was welcomed into our home. I will say, a constant flow of relatives and a few treasured friends made our kitchen spell homey.

When this COVID-19 mess is over, we want you to feel at home in our house, and we’ll be happy to visit yours. I’ll even help you clean up. Just excuse me for not opening your refrigerator.

Disney’s Seven Dwarfs - On their way up the mountains and back, a two-hour-plus ride in each direction, my mother and my aunt would laugh like school children as they tried their darndest to name all seven of Disney’s Seven Dwarfs, always missing at least one. I think I’ll play a counting game with my grandchildren as I tell them stories of their ancestry and most beloved ancestors, along with working on keeping them from trying to open the refrigerator/freezer doors.