You are what you....

A somewhat scary trip today. I've spoken of my mother-in-law on these pages before. It's become my responsibility to keep an eye on her during the week. Well, today I needed to clean her refrigerator and ended up taking a journey deep into the valley of forgotten food. It was nasty. I'm very familiar with that refrigerator, having snacked and grazed from its cheery interior since I first met my bride back in 1971. It's been like a second home to me, albeit a cold one. But, in any case, I've always looked forward to tugging on the magnetically fastened door, feeling that reassuring pop as it opened with a flash of light and a rush of chilled air-a cool yet warm place-eagerly anticipating my next nosh.

Today I approached it from a different perspective. "Bubbie" is just not herself anymore and needs help. The once gleaming grotto of gustatory delight still cycles on and off as before, but now as merely a pathetic caricature of its former self. No longer a place of delicacies and caloric wonderment, it's just cold storage; a cruel reminder of the glorious galley that Bubbie commanded in her salad days (sorry).

The task was before me. It was full. Well, perhaps packed is a better description. At the base, on each of the spill encrusted shelves, lived a layer of containers and bottles of various shapes and heights forming a sort of skyline, if you will. Balanced between the towering spires of poly and glass, plates were suspended-defying gravity's pull with cirque-like precision- each plate sporting a crumpled sheet of contents-concealing aluminum foil, camouflaging the inevitable decomposition within. I opened a few. It's a shame we don't have any kids around who need a science project. Mold is always a good back up when the Lego cyclotron doesn't pan out. As I unfurled (aluminum furl, you see) the little packages, I was flooded with memories of all the recent dinners we've eaten with Bubbie. Ah--Last week's brisket...The kishke from the end of February... I thought of giving a call to the crew down at the Smithsonian who, I believe, are still trying to work out how the ancient Egyptians preserved corpses. Problem solved. All they need do is drive up here and I can show them Bubbie's mummified chicken from sometime last winter. Sad. Then came the parade of pickles. Little Sweeties, Half Done Dills, Gherkins (what are gherkins, anyway?) They were pathetic. Not crisp and crunchy..mushy and (like many of us) past their prime.

Way in the back was a big plastic tub. I saw a few dozen pale lumps inside, some of which appeared to be fermenting. I think they were left over cookie dough balls. Bubbie last made cookies about the time I first applied for that SSA job back in September. The tub was snuggled close to a plastic bag of ready to bake Nestle's cookie dough bits. It was stamped: "Best used before February 2001". Hmmm..6 tubs of cream cheese, some borsht and a box of dried up dried prunes from God knows when. There was a box of Weight Watcher's chocolate power bars. I ate one of those. There were also little containers of rice pudding. I had one. Then I saw that all of the other pudding containers were bloated and started wondering just how long I had before the Botulinum toxin started shutting down my diaphragm and intercostal muscles. It's been a long time since Med School, but I did remember just how little of the toxin can kill you. Then there was the tub of olives that I think someone sent over when we were sitting shiva for my father-in-law in 1995 and a few bottles of relish that he had bought and opened a few years before that. Sounds crazy, right? I guess it's no different than cleaning out a closet where you wouldn't think twice about coming across something from 15 years ago. Well, maybe a refrigerator is different.

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