It's been a surreal week so far, hasn't it? News stories have piqued my imagination. I've joked with friends about conspiracy theories and sci-fi scenarios you might find in a Dean Koontz novel. We've delved into deeper serious discussions about health care, the psychology of a pandemic, and spirituality.

I had a foodie adventure in mind and was all ready to report but, due to the precautionary measures being implemented daily within the food service industry, I just could not bring myself to write about delicious noodles and restaurants you can't visit.

My mind wandered to past conversations with former clients. I used to tell them that, regardless of our circumstances, we all have something to contribute to the people around us and we can all learn from others. I led group discussions where we would go around the room and each person shared a useful tip. The responses varied from stain removal, parenting, cooking, makeup, managing anxiety, relationship advice, to everything in between. Some of the most memorable tips involved prison ramen gourmet. I graduated from my plain old college ramen noodle days long ago and thought I was being both creative and economical by doctoring up plain ramen noodles with stir-fried egg, diced scallion, ground beef, snow peas and my own carefully selected spices. I think Rachael Ray would approve. My clients took it to a whole different level. Their faces lit up when they realized I was truly interested in the various dishes they concocted out of boredom and necessity in prison. Their menu included prison pizza, nachos, fried "rice," and even pad thai created by mixing cooked ramen noodles with peanut butter and hot sauce. A little ingenuity goes a long way. In fact, this is apparently such a well known "thing" that a Google search quickly revealed you can purchase a book online titled "Prison Ramen" which includes recipes and stories about life behind bars. That would certainly make for a unique and interesting Christmas gift.

This got me reminiscing about my childhood. My dad was in the military and would return home from "the field" with C-rations or MREs, or Meals Ready-to-Eat. After the initial excitement of his return, he would begin unpacking his duffel bag and my brothers and I would excitedly wait for the appearance of the distinctive light brown plastic packages he would likely toss our way. While he knew exactly what was in each package and wanted nothing to do with the contents, we were thrilled by the possibilities.

Certain items were quickly tossed aside: tiny packets of toilet paper, salt and pepper, a utensil. Other items were quickly scooped up, traded or resulted in parental intervention. Some of the coveted items included a tiny packet of Chiclet gum; round chalky crackers which paired with either a packet of bright orange cheese spread or a weird grainy peanut butter to squeeze onto them; a dry crumbly chocolaty brownie cake type of dessert, and my personal favorite was a round chocolate candy I believe had bits of toffee mixed in, resulting in a bit of a crunch. Last were the entrees. I don't recall those as well because I don't believe we went further than taking a bite to satiate our curiosity, but I believe options included ham and beans, some type of beef option, and a pasta and tomato sauce based meal meant to be heated and eaten out of the plastic pouch it came in. I don't think we truly comprehended that under different circumstances those packets represented survival.

My most recent trip to Walmart since "social distancing" efforts have taken effect, led me to believe that times have changed and the people of Southeast Missouri consider frozen potpies and black pepper pork rinds crucial to survival.

It's been at least 36 years since I tried an MRE and I imagine the quality has improved since then. Unfortunately, my attempts to secure one on short notice to review and photograph for this article were unsuccessful. If you're curious, you can order them online and taste test them for yourself. Even if you don't enjoy the taste, you may gain increased appreciation for the sacrifices of our servicemen and -women while possibly scoring a bit of toilet paper.

Finally, in the words of a favorite Kenny Chesney song, "everything's gonna be all right."