The bell that called us home.
Every night around 5:00, we would hear the dreaded cry, “Girls! Peel potatoes!” Potato peeling time interrupted all else. If we were swimming, we had to get out of the pool. If we were at the neighbor’s house, the bell would ring calling us home. Even if we were doing homework, we had to stop to peel potatoes. Crissy and i hated potato peeling time. But it was our chore and only ours.
From a very young age, i learned to peel using a knife. Peelers were hard to work around eyes and bumps and bad spots. A knife was best. Dad didn’t like it if Crissy and i took off too much of the potato. It was wasteful. We became quite skillful in our potato peeling art and could peel just the skin, leaving the potato intact.
We rarely had rice and never had noodles, unless they were spaghetti noodles for Sunday dinner – which was at lunchtime. They didn’t sell those little noodle and rice packets, like they do now. You know the ones – alfredo, chicken-flavored, butter, etc. I use them regularly with a meat and canned
veggie. Voila! Home-cooked meal! 
Not that my parents would have bought noodle packs. My dad may as well have been a master chef and would have insisted on making it from scratch, even if it tasted terrible. And my mom would have managed to ruin them somehow, in the most inconceivable way possible. She once burned hot dogs… while boiling them in water on the stove.
Crissy and i were also responsible for peeling boiled potatoes that were to be used in potato salad. We’d burn the tips of our fingers while pulling the loosened skin off of the spud. I have a very fond memory of peeling potatoes for a dish that was going to an aunt. We were in our teenage years, and we felt angry – as teenagers might – at having to stop what we were doing in order to peel potatoes that we weren’t even going to eat. They kept slipping out of our hands, in the most creative ways, to bounce about the sink, counter, (floor!). By the time we were done, we were laughing so hard that we were crying.
Tonight i peeled potatoes with the help of my 23-month-old son. He handed me potatoes from the bag and picked up any peels that i “accidentally” dropped. What a good helper. I think maybe it’s time to teach my daughters how to peel potatoes. They’re old enough to help and can make their own memories together.
