Humble Soup

I don’t exactly remember but I think I was seven when the following happened.

The hour was late and the weather was warm enough that the kitchen window didn’t fog despite the dryer being on. Most importantly it was well after dinner and I was still hungry.

I can’t recall if this was because I didn’t eat much of my dinner. We didn’t really have that ‘You eat dinner or you go hungry’ rule growing up. Mom made what mom made but if when it was time to clear the table you were still hungry you could go to the fridge or cupboard and grab Peanut Butter and Jelly or lunchmeat and have yourself something simple – no hard feelings.

For one reason or another I went to the cupboard instead of the fridge and asked dad to tell me what was in there because he was tall enough to look for himself.

Amongst the available suggestions was tomato soup and my ears pricked up. Chicken noodle I was familiar with, but tomato soup? As in soup made from tomatoes?

“How is that any good?” I asked.

I didn’t yet know that questions like that will be a foundational brick in the relationship I have with my dad.

My dad liked knowing stuff but something he liked even better was sharing the stuff he knew with people curious enough to have the same questions he's had before.

To this day I remember playing board games and having him admit that he'd ‘need to consult Hoyle’ when the rules as written weren't clear for the scenario we found ourselves in.

As he opened the can and shook the thick, red contents into the bowl he explained to be that this soup was condensed so you’d need to add a full can of water to it to reconstitute it before you heat it up. Some people heat it up on the stove, some use the microwave. Since we don’t want to dirty a pot for such a small amount we’d use the latter.

He told me that tomato soup was really simple and perfect for cold weather days. Sometimes you could make it thin enough to drink from a cup, like milk or hot chocolate. Some people would even sprinkle cheese or parsley on top because, all said and done, the soup itself was good enough that anything you added to it just made it better. Even salt. Especially salt.

Seven-year-old Jonathon shared some tomato soup with his dad that night and learned a lot about soup. More importantly he learned that his dad knew a lot about lot. This hasn’t changed.

This night came to mind recently when I wasn’t as patient as I should have been with a kid who didn’t eat dinner but wanted a PB&J before bed and I was having precisely none of it.

In those moments it’s always after the fact that you remember someone showing you a patience and kindness you were incapable of imitating when you should have paid that forward.

I had the trusty explanations for myself: I was tired. I was getting sick. I had no patience for the nonsense that permeates literally anything a six year old will ask you to do with/for them. The kid stood with an empty toothbrush for 10 minutes in the bathroom and when I yelled at her for playing around and get to bed she told me she still needed to brush her teeth and now (Surprise!) she’s hungry.

Other parents will feel what I’m saying here but the truth of it is that I was weak and in my weakness I chose the wrong hill to die on.

(Another thing you don’t recognize for what it is until after the fact.)

Yeah, she needs to know when to stop playing. If the girl could stay focused on one thing at a time she’d run for class president of a high school she doesn’t yet attend and actually win it. It’s insane to see her potential and know that if she’d just apply herself and stay on-task she’d never have to argue with anybody for anything ever again.

But she’s also six. And headstrong. And just like her mother and I but in all the wrong ways.

And just like you can’t convince an idiot to listen to wisdom, I can’t expect her to learn anything from me if I’m not patient enough to teach her, and kids may only listen to some of what you say but will remember EVERYTHING you do and believe it to be the right way to act in any given situation.

My dad knew this and he acted accordingly.

I can talk to my dad about all of this now but because I’m in a place he’s already been. He had bills and stress on those nights we played board games or made after dinner dinners too.

He stayed up helping me with homework I didn’t want to finish because all I wanted to do was go to sleep, when all HE wanted to do was go to sleep too. Some of those nights I’m positive he would rather have been doing anything else but I never knew it. My dad had a kid that was a handful at times and probably couldn’t remember something important like how not to throw away silverware to save his young life and by the time I was 20 I could count on one hand how many times I’d heard the man swear.

To say I was disappointed in myself was an understatement.

Tomato Soup is a lesson.

It pairs best with appreciation for moments, self-doubt, tired eyes and patience you may not actually have.