Satisfied by Jeff Manion

Author:Jeff Manion
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2013-10-31T16:00:00+00:00

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The Buffet

When our children were young, we drove cross-country to visit my grandparents in the small prairie town to which they had retired in Eastern Wyoming. Born in 1907, my aged grandfather had witnessed the massive technological changes of the twentieth century. Raised in Southern Illinois by a single mother attempting to provide for three children, Ernie endured extreme poverty. During the Great Depression he rode a boxcar to Colorado to search for work. While we loved the image of our adventurous grandfather sneaking aboard a train to seek out a better life, I think he remembered that trip as utterly desperate. My grandfather had experienced scarcity and shortage that I can only attempt to imagine.

One evening during our visit, Grandpa insisted on taking us out to dinner. So we loaded into our van and drove the thirty miles to a nearby town that boasted an “all-you-can-eat” buffet. As we traveled to our dining destination, Grandpa described the restaurant where we would be eating. “Now, Jeff, the kids can go up for a piece of chicken. And when they finish, they can go back up for more. They can eat as much as they please.” We drove a few more miles and my grandfather broke in again. “Now, they have pie at this restaurant, and the boys can go up and get a piece of pie. And when they’re done with that piece of pie, they can get a second piece of pie. They can eat as much as they please.” Upon arrival at the restaurant we were seated. Again, Ernie eagerly explained, “Now, the kids can select anything they want. And then, they can go up again.” At this point I’m thinking, “Grandpa, thanks for breaking this down for me, but I understand how a buffet works.”

Of course, it wasn’t me who had trouble comprehending the concept of an all-you-can-eat buffet. It was my dear grandfather, who had lived his early childhood in such poverty. It was difficult for him to grasp that an eight-year-old could enter a restaurant and eat as much pie as he wanted. This experience was so alien to his own childhood that he was elated to offer the opulence of endless dessert to his great-grandchildren. But I was not raised in extreme poverty, and the wonder was lost on me, as it was lost on my children. The privilege of eating two pieces of pie felt . . . well, normal.

Solidly anchored in the middle class, most days I have to remind myself how rich I am. The remarkable gifts that surround me go unnoticed. They feel normal. I must confess that I am surrounded by luxury yet often immune to the wealth that separates me from former generations in America or from those in developing countries who gather sticks to bake over open fires, or walk miles to a community well, or are strangers to basic sanitation.

The tragedy is not that we who occupy the middle class are rich when compared to the larger world but that we are rich and utterly unaware.

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