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The Legend of Wet Baloney

Icons are a powerful force in the lives of children. And so, the sodium-rich processed meat products advertised daily on Howdy Doody, Romper Room, and Garfield Goose became icons for those of us learning to navigate the intricacies of elementary school in late 1950's Chicago.

If Buffalo Bob, Bozo, or Frazier Thomas suggested that you go ask your mommy to get you some Oscar Mayer liver sausage for lunch, well you just marched into the kitchen and demanded it. Never mind that when it arrived you found that it tasted something like wet cat food left open for a few hours in a hot car.

.....It started out as an ordinary day in Miss Harmon's second grade class at East Prairie school. Per my usual modus operandi, I was hiding out in the bathroom while the class went over some boring arithmetic homework I hadn't done. After waiting long enough for them to get on to something else, I returned and sat down in my little wooden pop-top desk. The desks were arranged in double rows, with pairs of desks right next to each other.

To my dismay I found my row-mate Gary Skaletski at it again -- picking his nose and eating his boogers. All day long, his index finger went from nostril to mouth to nostril to mouth! I was curious about what he found so appetizing about it, but not curious enough to try it myself. I offered him some kleenex, but he just gave me a dirty look and continued with his slimy snack. Sometimes I wonder if the memory of this is why I have no appetite for escargot or guacamole...

Becoming bored with the spectacle I began to gaze out the window in a kind of stupefied reverie, waiting for something more exciting to happen - like one of the other kids letting one rip or peeing in their pants. Little Jimmie Heinsimer soon obliged with the latter, but I found the occasion to be more pathetic than amusing.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I noticed a giant hot dog on wheels make a hard left turn onto Dobson Street from East Prairie. Shouting "Little Oscar and the Weinermobile are here!" I alerted the class to the occasion with a nearly manic scream.

Forgetting, for the moment, about basic multiplication or the latest adventures of Dick, Jane, Puff, & Spot, we all got up, headed to the door, and rushed out to meet our illustrious hero with his fantastic vehicle.

As the mammoth sausage slowly pulled past us and came to a halt, the heavens opened up, roared a deafening thunder clap, and a torrential downpour commenced. At that moment I was gripped by a vision that some day wet baloney would come to play an important role in my spiritual development. It was, perhaps, my first epiphany, but would not be the last.