Best Foods and the Holy Trinity

I have never heard officially from my wife's family that Best Foods Mayonnaise is on the level of the Holy Trinity but it is held in very high esteem. During my family probationary period, I learned "Best Foods" is synonymous with mayonnaise like Scotch tape is with cellophane tape or Xerox is with photocopy. A fully trained Rodell never says Best Foods Mayonnaise which is redundant.

As a new family member I once observed Best Foods is the same as Hellman's, mainly sold east of the Rockies - different jar, different label, same product. Silence reigned as all eyes went toward my mother-in-law to see how she would react to a possible assault on family lore. "I knew that," she said, and the tension passed. The Rodells take their mayonnaise very seriously.

Shortly before Christmas one year, a gallon jar of Best Foods appeared on a sale rack. It was ridiculously cheap, a nearly perfect gag gift for my mother-in-law, but the expiration date was very close and Depression-era women are none too careful about such things. Additionally, the jar did not say the product should be refrigerated though the company website does. Finally, since a gallon jar does not fit easily into a home refrigerator, discretion became the better part of valor. The other day I smugly finished a jar of Best Foods with the expiration date still months away. I had a spare in the pantry as I was trained.

I tend to be a rule follower which astonishes friends and relatives who think of me as iconoclastic. A case in point, that ominous label on my mattress; if I remove it, will the FBI come? Is there a statute of limitations on mattress label removal?

At banks, I dutifully walk around stanchions whether anyone is in line or not. The tellers at the Hayden branch of Wells Fargo find this amusing and urge me to take cuts, but I am pretty sure that if I transgress I will hear my mother's voice: "Timmy Hunt, I did not raise you to..." maybe even over the bank's loud speaker system. Imagine the humiliation.

Noted novelist, essayist and social critic Barbara Kingsolver told this story on NPR while speaking to a large gathering of important people in San Francisco. "I have a vision of getting to the podium and introducing myself, only to see my mother get up in the second row and say, 'OK, Barbara, that's enough about you. Get down and give someone else a chance.'"

I suspect most of us, and certainly female Roman Catholics, hear voices from our past, urging us to do certain things and not to do others. If I cross my eyes will they get stuck? If I wear underwear that's torn will I have an automobile accident? I sometimes hear the voice of Kathryn's mother who said, from a hospital bed, "Had I known I was coming here I would have worn a different shade of nail polish." I guess she knew the appropriate color for stays in health care facilities. As the founder of the Auxiliary at Kootenai Health she perhaps had special knowledge.

The value of those voices from the past is mixed, sometimes useful and sometimes just plain annoying. I learned a lot of positive values from my family so when I come up against them there should be some angst. I think this week I will take cuts at Wells Fargo but I will make sure I am wearing big boy pants. One cannot be too careful when dealing with mothers.

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.