Years, and years, and years ago I was living in Carlton, Minnesota. A small town about a half hour or so southwest of Duluth. As of the 2020 census, it had 948 people living in it. I think it’s grown since I was there. Funny enough, when we told Matt’s Auntie and Uncle that we were moving to small town Minnesota last year we got a dire warning from Auntie, “Be careful of those small towns.” I still don’t know what that meant. Anyways.

I’ve wrote about Carlton before. The happy Vacation Bible School memories at Jay Cooke State Park; the car jaunts to stinky Cloquet that seemed like hours in the car but was more like 8 miles; and the trips to Duluth for speech therapy and trips to Zayers Shopper’s City. Playing on the railroad tracks at 5 years of age with my best friend, Chrissy Davis and snowmobiling in the woods a couple of blocks away from our house (once this Hawaiian decided to like snow. It took a while.)

Chrissy’s mom also babysat me at times when my mom would help out at the church. I used to go with her to church and ride my tricycle around the front but then I was booted out of the circle of trust when I attempted to ride a couple of miles away to pick up my brother at school. (Still bitter about that one. I could have made it assuming I wasn’t plowed down by a train or semi-truck coming around the curve. Helicopter parenting harshed my mellow.)

Anyways. Green Goo.

Nearly every day, as I remember it, Chrissy’s mom would make us Green Goo for lunch. No, it’s not officially called Green Goo. It’s officially called, Green Pea soup. It is not to be confused with Split Pea with Ham. That’s gross. Chunks of peas and ham in a watery broth. Barf. Green Pea soup came out of the can like Thanksgiving cranberry sauce. All in one piece but had the consistency of an uncooked potato. You had to SLOWLY add a can of water; heat it up very carefully while stirring until you achieved that perfect Green Goo goodness smoothness. I always felt like a James Beard award winning chef when making my can of Green Goo.

When I make a can of Green Goo, I can smell Chrissy’s house. The washer and dryer were running at all times just off of the kitchen, so it smelled of detergent and hot dryer. The house was old, so it had old house smell. Chrissy’s mom almost always had curlers in her hair so the smell of whatever curl conditioner she used wafted through the kitchen among the other smells. It was glorious.

Green Goo has zero nutritional value. Don’t care. It’s delicious. It’s happy. It’s warm. It’s a happiness amongst a rough start to a rough childhood. Each winter, up until a couple of years ago, I would buy a few cans of Green Goo. I suddenly realized, a few years ago, that my Green Goo wasn’t on the grocery store shelves. What? Weird. Maybe they’re just out.

Nope. Green Goo is off the shelves. It’s gone. I have excitedly believed I’ve found it in a Wal-Mart or Target online cart but when I go to pay, it is substituted with the Split Pea with Ham garbage. Computerized mental warfare.

I’m fairly certain the Green Goo has the shelf life of about 20 years or so meaning that the few cans out there, including one for $99.00 will be good to go. This is probably why we don’t win the lottery. God knows that I would spend thousands of dollars hoarding the last remaining cans of Green Goo on earth instead of being more charitable with the money. That’s fair. Also, we forget to buy lottery tickets. That may also be a contributing factor. Dunno.

As we age, we are forced to admit to ourselves that the world we grew up in is not the world we now live in. Some of that is good. I like most modern advances. Technology is fun, at least, the technology that I actually understand. In my Green Goo days (my mom thought it was disgusting but would occasionally make me a can. She could be cool that way) DFL Minnesota Senate candidate, Bill Luther, would often come to the house for coffee with dad. They would talk about the Vikings and Twins and probably some local politics.

One thing Pastor John was always good at was listening to people. He ran counseling sessions for hours each week. The priests from across the street at St. Alphonsus church would come over and they would talk over a few beers. He would listen to the church council. He would listen to his wife. He would listen to his kids, when he was around. He would listen to complaints at the church. He would listen to ideas on how to make things better. He listened.

He also would make it very clear that by listening, it did not mean he agreed with what was being said. There were times in life where Pastor John was very stern with others. At one point, the church council attempted a coup d’etat against the other pastor. My dad sat them all down and sternly let them know that if Pastor Paul goes, Pastor John goes with him. That shut down any more attempts to split up this team. It was pretty cool. What wasn’t cool was being on the receiving end of stern Pastor John. I’m not sad those days are over. Heh. I believe attempting to listen to opposing points of view can be enlightening. But make no mistake, by listening or viewing videos, in no way means I agree with them.

Men and boys absolutely do not belong in girls and womens sports, locker rooms, or other safe spaces. There is no cellular way a man can become a woman, or a woman can become a man. Zero. America is the greatest nation on earth and President Trump is the greatest President of our time, if not ever. Living with God in your heart does not automatically make your life easier, but it does make it more meaningful and allows the promise of Grace after death. More people need healthy food with weight training and less pharmaceuticals. These are statements that would hold zero controversy in the times of Green Goo. Today? They are polarizing; controversial; triggers. This is not progress. It is the Split Pea with Ham version of magnificent Green Goo.

I’m a Green Goo girl. Through and through. While I refuse to afford spending nearly one hundred dollars on a can, I can know in my heart that it is superior to that Split Pea garbage. So don’t @ me with your Split Pea bullshit. I may listen; I may not. But I will not agree. Sorry not sorry.

If it is not right, do not do it; if it is not true, do not say it. Let your purpose be undeviating. Marcus Aurelius