McDonald's and so forth

Andy Warhol predicted each of us would have 15 minutes of fame; on April 15, 1955, my moment came as I ate a cheeseburger, fries and a chocolate shake at the very first McDonald's on its very first day of operation. It was springtime, I was a student at Thacker Junior High School in Des Plaines, Ill., and three school friends were with me.

I had to sneak. My mother believed curdling would occur in our stomachs if we ate catsup and mustard on the same sandwich; McDonald's committed that unforgiveable sin. Restrictions governing condiments were loosely enforced at home by mom for years though she later relented and enjoyed McDonald's, a conversion experience of some magnitude.

I had all kinds of prejudices to overcome; probably we all do. I would not eat spaghetti or baked potatoes until I was 30. I learned what I didn't like was my mom's preparation of them. Her spaghetti sauce was watery; her baked potatoes were hard as rocks. I hope mothers cannot curse sons from the grave; I love spaghetti and baked potatoes. It was simple prejudice that kept us apart all those years.

A prejudice is a pre-judgment. We judge a book by its cover, a bottle of wine by its label, steak by its sizzle. Worse, we sometimes judge people by skin color or religious preference. No matter how you cut it, prejudice is based on stereotypes, a "seen one, seen 'em all" attitude. "Those ______ are lazy" and "All ______ are dumb" are prejudices. My mother had a few bellringers: "Jewish doctors don't drink" was one we heard many times. I think she got her information from B'nai B'rith. I never did ask Dr. Rothenberg if he drank but I know he smoked.

I had prejudices about people with tattoos; there are lots of them in North Idaho. I became acquainted with some and found them much like me except they have tattoos. A friend, high in Spokane society, had a rose inscribed on her shoulder; she was 80. We paid a quarter to see tattooed ladies in the circus when I was growing up. Our friend showed hers for free.

Exploding prejudices is great fun. An octogenarian female in Coeur d'Alene went parasailing for the first time as a birthday present to herself. Matronly women now wear purple dresses or red hats and go out to lunch together and make lots of noise. Another friend has this bumper sticker: "Uppity Women Unite."

Years ago I knew a well driller in Illinois. He once told me he had never changed a diaper. Today I feel kind of sorry for him; not all diapers are pleasant, that's for sure, but I think he was trying to live up to his stereotype of an ideal male. I changed lots of diapers; I found them humanizing. Prejudice could have kept me from the experience.

I was a college professor. I am supposed to be absent minded and helpless in everyday situations; I am neither. I know a car salesman who is honest and a preacher who is not. I know a judge who is never sober and an alcoholic who never drinks. I know a father who is nurturing and a mother who is not. I even know Emily Dickinson who never married and was raised a Calvinist but nevertheless wrote, "Because I could not stop for Death - He kindly stopped for me." Were Ms. Dickinson alive today, I am certain she would have a rose tattooed on her shoulder.

Tim Hunt, the son of a linotype operator, is a retired college professor and nonprofit administrator who lives in Hayden with his wife and three cats. He can be reached at linotype.hunt785@gmail.com.