Proust and food triggers

I was eating a hard-boiled egg and had this thought: Proust was right—what a strange world we live in full of memories and all kinds of people.

Meaning: we just had a very divided election, with winners and losers and stark lines drawn.

While eating a hard-boiled egg I remembered riding my bike through Alabama. A friend and I were riding the Natchez Trace which winded through Tennessee, Alabama, and Mississippi. As has been my MO I crave protein on these rigorous rides. We’d stop at small general stores in small towns along the way. Often the food choices were random and scant. At one such place there was a gallon jar on the counter with pickled eggs. Yes, please!! We continued down the road with the eggs in our packs and for miles I could not stop thinking about them. At our designated break I dug them out and relished my egg. That sweet and sour pickle taste and creamy yolk middle. We ate them on salty saltines and washed them down with Gatorade. 

Since then I’ve ridden many, many more miles through middle America. Places labelled RED. I’ve eaten hard-boiled eggs, BBQ beef sandwiches, and coffee from Casey’s. I’ve ordered chicken and fries and burgers from po-dunk places. I have a memory vault of food triggers saved up.

If we have a Civil War what will I do? 

What I’m trying to say is that numerically we are divided—each state has sharp divides. It will be impossible to find neutral territory. Nevertheless, maybe we can find something we can agree on over Thanksgiving, be it hard-boiled eggs, pie, stuffing, and rolls. Even if its that some of us like pumpkin and some of us eat sweet potato pie or stuffing made with cornbread or with stale white bread cubes—let’s try to come together. Please. I have met so many good people from all over the US.