The Curse of the Instant Mashed Potatoes

I was in Greece for the start of the 2003 Christmas season. It was a treat I’ll never forget for a variety of reasons. Most of us think about going home, and for the first time in my life, I got the chance to see how another part of the world celebrated this wonderful holiday.

After the long plane trip and a wake up shower, Fred took me out for a meal and a short stroll around so I could get a sense of direction in the area. He had been in Greece for several months working on the 2004 Athens Olympic games, so he had the basic ropes down fairly well.

I can remember going to some giant warehouse place not unlike Sam’s Club just after Christmas with Fred so he could stock up and maybe look for some Christmas gifts to send back to the states to his children. As we wandered through the aisles, I heard him thinking out loud, “I need a gift for Lois…what am I going to get her?”

Lois is Fred’s ex-wife, and they remain on pleasant terms because they’re adults, and they have children and grandchildren who don’t need to see them fight. Fred’s not the fighting type of person anyway; he’s the most calm and docile person I’ve ever met, which is why we get along so well.

It suddenly hit me what Fred should buy for Lois: a box of instant mashed potatoes! It was sheer genius! I’m sure you’re thinking, “What the hell is wrong with you?! Instant mashed potatoes are NOT a gift!” Maybe in traditional families that would be true, but Lois is different and there’s a story you don’t know about. Yet.

It was rainy and cold that weekend and we were sitting inside Fred’s small, cramped Athens apartment. He was telling me about how he had called home on Thanksgiving to talk to his children and grandchildren. Then his face lit up and he began to laugh like hell as he recounted an incident that had taken place.

His daughter was hosting the Thanksgiving dinner and it was a bit of a potluck style in which everyone brought a side dish or dessert. Lois dug into her cabinet and pulled out a box of instant mashed potatoes, whipped them up, and brought them along. As the kids and grandkids began to eat, they avoided the mashed potatoes. It seems they were the wrong color – somewhere between a yellowish green and smelled odd. The kids gently started asking questions about where the potatoes had come from.