The Blonde Philosopher Goes Bananas

Buying bananas always seems like a good idea. There they are in the fruit aisle, beckoning to me with their cheerful color and humorous shape. I usually stop short at this section of the supermarket and ponder the implications of a healthier lifestyle. Bananas seem to be at the forefront. Yet, it's really not the kind of fruit one should take seriously. It isn't like the apple, with its symbolic connotations of education, teaching and wisdom, coated in a regal shade of crimson. The banana is a fruit frequently disrespected. "He's gone bananas," so the adage goes. "Going bananas" does not necessarily constitute a good thing. Poor bananas. One a day doesn't keep the doctor away, either. It is the food of monkeys that snicker and guffaw obnoxiously as they hang upside down in trees. These creatures are the jesters of the mammalia class. I guess we really are what we eat...

All this thought process just from looking at the stack of bananas I bought last week. They went from speckled and ripe to shriveled, brown and remorseful in just a few days. I felt guilty that I even bought the bananas in the first place. I don't think my bunny likes bananas. She eats lettuce and apples. I am only one and I can't keep up. Should I not buy bananas anymore in their cluster of 6? Who breaks off bananas in the market from their cluster? Doesn't supermarket etiquette say you can't do that? It's like opening your bottle of soda and walking around the store drinking it before you paid for it. Maybe I should not buy bananas after all. They turn brown much too quickly and I cannot possibly eat two or three in a day. Of course, I could buy them when they are still green and wait a few days. By the time they turn yellow, however, it usually happens that I either forget I ever had them or don't really want them anymore. The banana novelty becomes lost.

I pondered the solutions to the banana quandary. I would either have to get a pet monkey to help me eat the bananas in a timely fashion before they turn brown, or not buy bananas at all. I guess that is why some ladies decide to get husbands. Not only can they remember to return past due library books and reach the ceiling to change the carbon monoxide detector batteries -they also help their wives eat the banana surplus. Hmm... maybe I will just stop buying bananas.

Where Did Our Role Models Go?

These days, our media is not driven by honesty, righteousness and integrity. It is driven by what sells. Magazines, newspapers, television screens and the internet are plastered with teenage superstars clad in attire their mothers should not have let them out of the house wearing. They are doing what prostitutes do, in a more abstract sense, they are selling their bodies.

Why is it that we as a society continue to feed into this adolescent exploitation? The blame cannot be placed all on the likes of Britney and Lindsay. We, the consumers, must take some of it. We are purchasing these magazines. We are addicted to the TV shows. We click on the links and we peruse the tabloids while we’re on line at the supermarket.

What can we do? We can demand better role models- older, wiser role models for young women. Instead of incriminating Hilary and Condoleezza (and the Dixie Chicks…) for being powerful women, we should be showing our daughters that it is these women who are paving the way for a better future. No, they may not be young and gorgeous, but they have brains. They have gumption and they are educated and successful.

Why do our role models keep getting younger? The Blonde Philosopher can only ponder that it is due to the fear of aging and death in our society. The more modern medicine can do, there is still no magical Tuck Everlasting well. Would we really want one? Instead of running away from the grave, let us face age and the wisdom and wrinkles that it brings.