Light Lunch

I hadn’t seen my parents for a couple of weeks, and thought I was meeting them for our first post-pandemic restaurant lunch. We met at North London’s finest kosher restaurant situated in North London’s finest shopping mall, which is also the only kosher restaurant in the only shopping mall. It turned out that they wanted to discuss contingency plans for end-of-life care. Before the entrée arrived, my mother expressed her desire for me to switch off her life support machine in the theoretical case of my having the option as to whether or not she should be resuscitated. This would have put me off my lunch, but I was hungry and they were paying.

Before the entrée arrived, my mother expressed her desire for me to switch off her life support machine in the theoretical case of my having the option as to whether or not she should be resuscitated. 

The meal was good, although I nearly choked on the first rocket leaf when my Dad introduced the discussion topic of how they would like me to sign their LPA, the important “Lasting Power of Attorney” legal documents to state their preferences in worst-case scenarios. This dark discussion was quite unexpected, so I called the server for a warm drink to cool down my emotions. As the English say, I was dying for a cup of tea. 

I have deep respect for my parents for taking such a practical view on life, thinking ahead and planning for several possible scenarios that hopefully will not occur. One thing I have struggled with is the notion of my parents’ mortality, and as the years pass I consciously spend more time with them creating more happy memories although I was distracted from the rocket-and-quinoa salad when my mother brought up the imagined resuscitation scenario. “I don’t want your religious beliefs to override my preferences, and keep me on a life support machine if I am in a vegetative state” she said. “That’s ok, Mum,” I explained. “As you know, parental respect is one of the ten commandments, and I’ll make sure they turn off your life support machine. Please can you pass the ketchup?”

The conversation got sidetracked as I mentioned that I only had another hour before my appointment at the Mac store upstairs to see if they could fix my iPhone X for the third time because it keeps overheating. The current aim is to prevent the phone from dying, and in lieu of Life Support I will keep using Apple Support. If there is an iPhone afterlife, bring it on. 

Our lunch conversation was nuts, so I focused on eating the walnuts in my salad. That particular brand of nut contains selenium and other antioxidant enzymes that have anti-inflammatory effects and protect the brain against stress, potentially prolonging life and defending against Alzheimer’s and other brain disorders. Interestingly, walnuts vaguely resemble the human brain, as if God had programmed in a visual signpost to signify how the natural food corresponds to promoting health in a specific physical organ. 

On a lighter note, the conversation turned to the cheery topic of care homes in case of dementia. My late grandmother was in a local care home, and my mum wanted to discuss the Alzheimer’s scenario, although G-d forbid that should ever be needed (and there were a lot of “G-d forbids” uttered during that particular lunch). “I don’t just want to be in any old home that is convenient for you to visit,” she said, “but I’d like you to put me in the Jewish care home.” I nodded in consent. “Although, let’s face it, most of the time I won’t know where I am anyway.” 

Unfortunately I had to leave the restaurant for my Apple appointment before we had run through all of the worst-case scenarios, although I’ll see my parents on Friday night for Shabbat dinner. My plan is to keep the conversation light and just stick to discussing happy topics such as preferences for organ donations. We’ll begin the meal with a slice of challah and some chopped liver, which is clearly the tastiest organ. Personally, the only organ I want to donate is my 88-key Yamaha digital keyboard. 

Here’s to a long, happy life!

Marcus J Freed is an actor, writer and Jewish educator. Find him at www.marcusjfreed.com and on social @marcusjfreed.