M. Suzanne Terry

This cooler is currently sitting in my apartment. Actually, there are two of them. They’re identical – right down to the Terry name written on them in permanent marker right under the handle – and neither of them is technically mine. I’m usually pretty good about taking the one I have with me to the farm every time I go, but I guess I missed one of them at some point. No worries. Dad knows they’ll eventually show back up. They always do.

They’re the family coolers.

These coolers have gotten a lot of use over the years. When Tammy and I were growing up, they were mostly used for transporting food that needed to stay cool from the house to a potluck through the Texas summer heat. They were also useful when we had to drive anywhere and wanted to have sandwiches or snacks along the way.

My first memory of using the coolers was on our trip to Colorado to see my Aunt Vicki. The cooler sat in the middle of the backseat, and I was tasked with keeping it from falling to the floor or shifting around too much (why this was important is less clear to me – I suspect it may have just been something to occupy my attention during the long drive). It was probably filled with a mix of our go-to favorite sandwiches and snacks:

• Bologna and cheese on Mrs. Baird’s white bread (with Miracle Whip)
• Tuna or chicken salad sandwiches (also with Miracle Whip…usually on white bread but sometimes on wheat for the grownups)
• Carrot sticks
• Celery sticks
• Cucumber slices
• Cherry tomatoes
• Vienna sausages (still in the can but also in the cooler because they’re “better cold”)

Eating the same type of food anywhere except our kitchen table always elevated it to something special. It made it seem like a treat to us but also must have saved our parents a lot of money on food while we were away from home. Double win.

Now the main thing we use these coolers for is transferring food from the farm to our own homes. Every time I visit, for example, Dad takes the opportunity to make steak, and he always grills more than we can possibly eat while I’m there. We also make extravagantly larger portions of sides, even though there are really just 1-3 more people for each meal.

When we were growing up, this simply would have meant we had lots of leftovers for later in the week. What it means now that there are just two of them there most of the time is that the leftovers come home with us.

I mean, I will take leftover steak (or potatoes…or green beans…or bacon…) that I neither had to cook nor buy. I will take that every single time.

Thus, there is usually one of our coolers in my apartment, a constant reminder of one of the specific ways our parents show us that we are loved.

I’m writing about food and home and how those two concepts intertwine this month.