A Tribute to Ghetto Pizza

Every generation hopes that the one after them has it easier than they did.  Everyone hopes that their own children will do better than they did.

And I look at my daughter, she has it pretty good.

She has a dog.  I never had a dog.  She goes to a lovely little school in suburbia.  Not me.  I lived in the city. My daughter gets bored, she has over 100 channels to choose from, plus a slew of "On Demand" movies and programs.  I had to use my imagination.

But there are things that I did and experienced that my daughter has not, and I think its kind of sad.  My daughter has never known the joys of watching the big kids pop a fire hydrant and then jumping around in the water in what can only be described as unbridled joy.

My daughter has never hopped a fence.  She's never needed to.

My daughter has never played in the middle of the street.  I remember playing kick ball in the street.  Not the sidewalk, but the street.  And it was always someone's job to yell "Car!"  And we would get out of the way...and when they passed by...it was back out onto the street.  I could never let my kid play out in the street now!
 
I remember my sister in law was having a hard time with my niece one day.  Much like now, the economy was really bad and no one had any money.  And it was worse for my brother and his wife.  They were recent immigrants with a young child.  (We have different moms and he was raised in El Salvador.)

On that particular day in the 80's...my niece was driving her poor mom up the wall by repeatedly asking for pizza.  She wanted pizza so bad.  But her mom hadn't gotten paid yet and had NO MONEY.  And its humiliating to not have any money when your kid wants something.  I'll be the first to admit that I've been there.  After all, I was driving a big ol' Jeep not long ago when gas was over $4 a gallon!

At one point I swear this woman was near tears as my niece fired off a steady stream of "Can we get pizza?"

I took my niece into the kitchen.  And I made her a snack that I had invented 10 years earlier when I was her age.  My niece and I are 10 years apart in age.  While my neice was a small child during the recession in the 80s.  I was a small child in the recession in the 70s. 

So I decided to share with her a wonderful snack I invented as a child when my mom did not have money for pizza.  I took a piece of Wonderbread.  I slathered a layer of ketchup on it.  I sprinkled the ketchup with dried oregano, basil and some pepper.  Then I blanketed it with a layer of American cheese.  It may have been government cheese, but I can't remember. 

And into the toaster it when,  and when it came out my greedy crumb snatcher little niece scarfed the whole thing down!  And the begging for pizza was over.  She had come to love my creation...Ghetto Pizza.

My daughter on the other had has not known the joys of ghetto pizza.  She's never really had to experience the need for ghetto pizza.  I've been lucky enough to have a few bucks lying around to get a small pizza from time to time.  And I wonder if I'm doing my daughter a disservice by giving her all that I didn't have.  At the risk of sounding cocky...will she be as resilient as I am?  Will she know humility?  Will she know to make the best of it when you don't have a lot?  That's what I learned when I ate ghetto pizza.

I wonder if she'd even eat it?  I wonder if she'd look down her nose at it?  I think I'm going to see if we have any white bread and ketchup!

Mmmmmm....toasty!