The Return of the Tuna Casserole
I’ve always enjoyed deep dives into words that try hard to teach something profound. But if that’s not your cup of tea, here is my take on the subject of lovingkindness.
Lovingkindness is the perfect description of a person who brings you a tuna casserole when they hear that you are suffering. Granted, tuna casseroles are not in vogue, but I miss them. I miss them because of what they represented. They stand in homage to a world where we lived in small communities with no access to Tik Tok, Tinder, Facebook or Google Maps. I long for a return to a world where people did not talk religion or politics BECAUSE THEY CARED ABOUT THE FEELINGS OF OTHERS.
My grandparents lived through the great wars and the great depression. My Mama used to say, “Teresa, we do not talk politics or religion. You never know whose heart you might step on accidentally.”
I read a fabulous article recently decrying this sentiment. The author suggested that it was just this kind of attitude that has gotten us into so much trouble. The theory went like this: we need to learn how to have spirited, respectful debates on important matters. Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. I agree. In principle.
Practically speaking, I am advocating for the return of the tuna casserole. Although spirited and lively debates filled with mutual respect sounds awesome, I’m not sure we have the strength for it just now.
It would be like asking my friend who just got out of the ICU after a near-death encounter with a pandemic to stop off at the local crossfit establishment and do a few thousand push ups.
My grandparents and their generation knew something that we have forgotten. When your refrigerator is bare to the bones and you have 15 cents in your checking account, you will know who loves you not by shared ideology but by who shows up with a tuna casserole. People, we need more tuna casseroles. We need those piping hot, high carb, cheese laden, gooey love offerings. (You can pick out the tuna.) Who’s with me on this one?
