Research in a Growth Hormone, Alfred Jensen, 1978

Black History Month is winding down and last night, Anne and I attended the annual Soul Food Supper, at the high school. We have been regular attendees of this event for years and the turnout this year was the biggest ever. We arrived only 15 minutes after the doors opened and there was already a huge line that snaked through the cafeteria. This afforded Anne the opportunity to hobnob with everyone as we moved along: Sometimes you want to go, where everybody knows your name and they’re always glad you came…

While in line, we passed by the high school jazz band that was serenading the crowd. I quipped to her, “Look, it’s Dave’s old band.” David had played the saxophone in the jazz band, when he was in high school. The current iteration of the jazz band is a lot larger than when he was there and I must admit that they sound better too. Dave never liked to practice the sax all that much. Now, music students use software that monitors, tabulates and reports on how many minutes are spent practicing. It looks like Big Brother would have been better at getting Dave to practice than we were.

Still in line and just after we had passed the jazz band, we met Chris H, Dave’s former music teacher and band director. Chris still works for the school system. He is in IT now. When he asked us how David was doing, I was able to regale him, “He is Doctor Dave now. Last year, he got his PhD at Purdue. Now he is at Harvard Medical School.” Chris asked us what was Dave’s area of research. I told him hearing, which seemed to impress him more than all of the rest.

Finally, we reached the serving line. The fare has changed little over the years. Fried chicken headlined our plates and was accompanied by sweet potatoes, collard greens, mashed potatoes with gravy, black-eyed peas and corn bread. We found seats right in front of the middle school choir, just as they began to sing.

As we closed out the supper, people came and went from our table. The most memorable person who shared our table was a two-year-old child. He never said much, primarily because he spent most of the time feeding his face. He ate every food on his plate and then he began raiding the plates of his two parents. Yeah folks, the food really was that good.