“Food fight!”
The words interrupted my supper in the college cafeteria. I looked at my two roommates, who were sitting across from me. Their wide eyes reflected my confusion and a hint of fear. We were freshmen and didn’t know what to expect.
Deep-voiced chants spread through the room. “Food fight! Food fight! Food fight!” Fists and crockery banged on tables as the war cry reached a crescendo.
Then the battle began. Guys at one table hurled food from their plates at another table of guys. The occupants of that table chucked food back.
Students at numerous locations stood up and launched handfuls of mashed potatoes, peas, and vegetarian chicken at one another. I ducked as debris flew over my head.
Our table was not the target of the assault, but we were in the line of fire. Suddenly a ball of mashed potatoes shot by my ear and exploded on the collar of my blazer. The new wool blazer I’d bought especially for starting college.
Scowling, I tried to fling the mess off my clothes and hair.
I turned as a voice behind me said, “I’m so sorry!” A guy approached with a peace offering of napkins. “I, uh, guess I have bad aim.”
Looking at his friendly grin and apologetic posture, I softened. “That’s okay.”
“If you’ll give me your blazer, I’ll have it dry-cleaned,” he said.
Blinking, I looked at him in shock.
“You might not want to trust me with it.” He laughed. “But I promise to bring it back clean.” He introduced himself and held out his hand.
I stopped picking potato out of my hair and gave him the wet, stained garment. He took down my name and dorm and disappeared.
A few days later my blazer appeared at the dorm desk. It hung in a dry-cleaning bag and looked as good as new.
No, I didn’t marry that guy or even go on a date with him. But I would have had he asked. I was impressed by
how he took responsibility, how he not only apologized but also found a way to repair the damage. He sought the person he had affected—a shy, unknown freshman—and let me know that my blazer (and yes, I) was important enough to notice.
Sometimes life seems like one big food fight. We find ourselves in the middle of controversies and struggles, junk pelted at us. We might even wound someone else in our daily battle.
Do we clean up after ourselves? The best witness we can give for the love of God might just be the way we say “I’m sorry.”
Lori Peckham is communication program director and an associate professor of communication and English at Union Adventist University. She has been happily married for 37 years to Kim Peckham, who has never thrown food at her.
