Haypulls for steel

The strap of my heavy-duty backpack was slowly ripping, and my partner warned me that it might break and go flying off my back as I rode my bike to school. So, I left the backpack one day at the only shoe repair shop in the area, to a dour looking man behind a counter, who barely grunted at me during our entire transaction. A few days later, I strapped the kids into the station wagon and drove to the strip mall on the other side of town to pick up the backpack.

As we walked in, the same man was sitting behind the counter, picking out some notes on a mandolin. A small glass with a little brown liquid in it sat on the side of the counter, as it had the day I left my backpack. My son watched some fish in a tank near the front of the shop as I gave the shoe-repairer a ten-dollar bill, which quickly found its way into his pocket (there wasn't a cash register in sight).

The man looked up and asked my son if he liked fish. My son, being shy, smiled and turned away, mumbling a yes. "You like to eat or to watch?"

"We don't eat fish," I offered. "We don't eat any meat."

"No fish? Fish is good for you. Phosphorous!"

"Phosphorous?" I said, "Phosphorous is good for you?"

He nodded.

"Well, I don't think fish in the Midwest can be very good for you, since it can't be anywhere near fresh."

"Ah," he said in disgust, pointing to the nearby mega-market, "American food is no good--chemicals. When I lived in Russia I ate sturgeon every day, and eggs. It makes you strong. Here it is not good."

We had evidently hit upon a topic of interest to the shoe-repairer, as he began to list foods and nutrients that he found important.

"Yodel."

I thought a bit. No, I had no idea what "yodel" could be. He shook his finger and took down a small bottle of iodine from a shelf without even having to completely leave his chair.

"Every day. You need yodel. And steel, steel from haypulls."

I tried to make out what he meant by haypulls, but had to admit that I didn't understand. He looked at me indignantly and repeated the word a few times: how could I not understand hay-pulls?

He took out a piece of paper and a pen and drew an apple.

"Haypull."

"Oh, apples."

"Haypulls," he nodded.

"Apples have steel?"

"Steel. Steel very good for you."

Then he noticed that my six-year-old had some tattoos on her arm.

"You have tattoo?!" He rose up out of his seat, as if enraged.

"Temporary tattoos. They wash off," I said as my daughter cringed.

"Come here. I have machine. I sand them off," he beckoned to her, making his way over to the machine. My daughter looked to me and relaxed when she saw me laughing.

Next on the agenda was a rant against the yellow pages, which kept increasing the cost of his tiny advertisement. He showed me the bill and roared about how they were cheating him.

"I don't need them. I told them--no more advertisement." (Though the word he said was nothing like advertisement.) "There were two, three other shoe repair shops in town. Now, just me. Only one. I kill them all! I don't need advertisement. People find me."

I didn't find it necessary to add to this conversation, so merely nodded my head and made sympathetic noises.

"You," he said. (Apparently he had exhausted his rage against the yellow pages.) "You have three children. Who takes care?"

"I do."

"Just you?"

"My husband."

No grandparent?"

"No, just us."

"This is no good. Children need grandparent. In Russia every grandparent stays with the children. America is too much for money. Everyone makes money. But the children... who is with them?"

Our conversation petered out about here. It was too deep a question, the answer too voluminous to begin. I had three antsy children and limited language and experiential connection with the shoe-repairer. But, he had hit on two topics close to my heart--nutrition and raising children.

Although I am not convinced that steel and phosphorous are necessary nutrients for good health, I do agree that packaged convenience foods contain too many chemicals and too little nutrition. I also agree that children must be more of a consideration than our society allows. Warehousing them in schools until they are old enough to join the workforce is cruel and unusual punishment. Extended families are a natural feature of human social evolution and we are all suffering an unnatural lack of this network. Mothers get impatient and/or depressed from being overwhelmed with child care; fathers feel disconnected simply being the breadwinners; or both parents are pursuing careers which make them "too busy" to be involved in raising their own children. "Retired" grandparents barely know their grandchildren and spend their days watching TV. Children don't learn about the world from being with trusted people in normal interactions.