Don't Touch

Mercia Tapping — Don’t Touch

“Don’t. Don’t touch my food.” 

When I grew up in England, it was considered to be extremely impolite to touch somebody else’s food. In fact, it was considered to be a real no, no. And then, I moved to the United States. But old habits die hard. I nearly didn’t survive one of my early dates with my late husband. He took me out to what he promised would be a real Jewish deli. And I ordered a Reuben sandwich. It arrived in its piled high magnificence. 

And then, Herman looked at my sandwich rather longingly and said, ​“Can I have a bit?” And I said, ​“Sure,” because I hadn’t touched my plate yet. I expected him just to cut off a neat, modest little piece. [audience laughter] But no. What did this man do, whom I hardly knew, was to take my sandwich, open it up, take half the filling, and then give it back to me. [audience laughter] No longer a piled high magnificent sandwich, but a rather flat and ordinary looking one. I was rather appalled by this. [audience laughter] Of course, catching my look of astonishment, he hastened to add, ​“I’m cutting carbs.” [audience laughter] And I said to him, ​“Hmm, I need to tell you about our cultural differences.” [audience laughter] 

And then, of course, for years afterwards, when we were married and we went out to dinner with friends, he would say, to my utter humiliation, ​“Of course, you never touch Mercia’s food.” Well, you can train husbands, but occasionally, they slip the leash and run amok. [audience laughter] We were out for dinner one night by ourselves, and we ordered dinner. And then, this nice-looking couple sat down at the next-door table beside us, and they were studying their menu intently. And then, our dinner came, and they looked up, as people do in restaurants, to see what our food looked like. 

And then, the wife leaned over to Herman and said, ​“Excuse the interruption, but what’s the name of the dish that you ordered? It looks rather good.” ​“Lemon chicken,” he replied. And then, the food-sharing monster reared its ugly head. [audience laughter] ​“Would you like some?” he said. ​“I’ve got far too much.” [audience laughter] And the woman said, ​“Oh, no, no, no. I just wanted to know the name of the dish.” Well, the food monster wasn’t to be deterred. With one swift move, he took her side plate, shoveled half of his dinner onto it, [audience laughter] and gave it back to her. And by this time, she was resigned to eating his dinner. [audience laughter] 

I was totally humiliated. I wanted to go underneath the table. And I said to her, ​“Oh, do please excuse us. We didn’t mean to intrude.” But by that time, her husband flew to my husband’s defense and said, ​“Oh no, that’s fine. You look like nice people. [audience laughter] Let me introduce ourselves. Dr. and Mrs. Cohen.” Soon, both tables were discussing their children, their grandchildren, and we were becoming fast friends. And then, Mrs. Cohen’s waitress came over and said, ​“What would you like to order for dinner?” So, she told the rather astonished waitress that she didn’t need any dinner, [audience laughter] because this nice man on the next-door table had shared half of his dinner with her. [audience laughter] I just threw up my hands. You know, game over.

And as we were leaving the restaurant that evening, Herman turns to me rather mischievously and says, ​“Am I too friendly with strangers, honey?” And I said, ​“Well, yes, you are. But everybody, including me, loves you for it.” Because you see, I learned from him that when you break down the walls and cross boundaries, some delightful surprises and new friends can enter your life. And by the way, I’m not so prim and proper anymore.