Neman: I'm strong because I ate public school cafeteria food

You can't frighten me. Nothing frightens me. I grew up eating lunch in Cincinnati Public Schools.

I laugh at danger. I walk down dark streets alone and unafraid. If a mugger jumps out and shows me a knife, I show him a picture of the cube steak served at Walnut Hills High School.



"Sorry, man," he says. "I didn't know." He puts down his knife, gives me a slight nod of respect, and disappears into the night.

The movie "Exorcist" came out when I was in seventh grade. I went to see it with some friends. One of the most famous scenes is when Linda Blair, playing the demonically possessed Regan, vomits into the face of a priest played by Jason Miller.

The actual substance that was used in the scene was split pea soup. My friends and I looked at each other and said, "Say, that looks pretty good." You can talk about growing up on the mean streets of New York or Chicago, but I grew up in the mean hallways of Bond Hill Elementary School, the hallways that led to the dreaded cafeteria.

Other kids brought their lunches. They were soft. They probably grew up having other people pick out their clothes.

They probably can't decide where to go for dinner, much less what to order when they get there. But we cafeteria kids are strong and resilient. You can't help it if you grow up with watery cooked carrots or watery lima beans as your only choices for vegetables.

The Catholic school kids had it easy. Whatever they were served on Mondays through Thursdays — and I assume it was basically what we were served, only without the salmonella — at least they could look forward to fish every Friday. Actually, Cincinnati is a very Catholic town, so they served fish on Fridays in the public schools, too.

But the fried fish sandwiches we had invariably had patches of silver or gray inside the white flesh. It was sort of like biting into an apple and seeing half a worm. Whatever that silver stuff was, it didn't kill me.

It just made me stronger. Our personalities are formed in childhood. I have a lot to be thankful for because I was confronted every other week by pizzaburgers or Salisbury steak or blast-furnaced chicken on a bun.

Now, I am fearless at a dinner table. Some people are squeamish when they eat, or picky. Those people did not eat the chili-spaghetti at Cincinnati Public Schools.

I don't know a single person from my class — at least no one who ate the cafeteria food — who shies away at the thought of eating something different or unusual. Snails? No problem. Foie gras? Bring it on.

Octopus? Please. I grew up eating pale-gray hamburgers with melt-proof cheese, served with a side of something that was once green. You think a mere cephalopod is going to stop me? We cafeteria kids are more open to eating unknown or exotic foods, we welcome the chance to try something new.

We are happy to explore new cuisines, to cook with new ingredients, to try new techniques. You can't scare us. You can't harm us.

You can't intimidate us. We grew up with steamed spinach and with deviled cheese sandwiches. We grew up with coleslaw served as a side dish with spaghetti.

We grew up with desserts of Jell-O with slices of banana in it. We're Cincinnati Public Schools Lunchroom Cafeteria Strong. You can't frighten us.

Nothing frightens us..