In 1974 I was six years old and plagued with a deep and stubborn depression.  Some might have attributed it to my parents’ divorce, my mother’s having to work a day job she hated, my being moved (thanks to redistricting) from a school I really loved to a school I really hated, or the general despair that comes from living in the Poconos, but I know better.  I was depressed because I was a powerless child in a world where the adults in charge believed that food like this was acceptable to serve, and accessories like that thing in the “Fish ‘Tacos’” picture were acceptable to own.

(I hasten to add that my mom was not among the legions of said adults.  My mom knew from good food, and she cooked like a champion.)

Now that those dark days are over 30 years behind us, I can finally laugh about them.  The Soup is Inspiration, and the Soup is Love. :)