What's Milk Got To Do With It?

I don't know about you, but I suspect that youIn the city where I used to live, amidst the urban
grew up with the knowledge and message thatcrawl of modern houses, there was a small parcel
milk was good for you. It builds healthy, strongof farmland tucked away that still fell within the
bones and is filled with important nutrients likecity limits. On that land lived an elderly couple who
calcium that your body needs. If you're a womanhad maintained their small farm in what used to
like me, then this message probably had greaterbe an open space. On that land, they also had a
significance. I had a mom who insisted on servingsmall store, where they sold their fresh milk from
me milk with my meals. Unlike many of today'stheir special breed of dairy cows, as well as other
generation, I didn't have many options to drink forproducts. In what seemed like the last remaining
school lunch growing up, either. There were noexample of "small town" businesses, where
soda machines, water, or juice in the lunchroom;owners often extended "credit" based on personal
only milk. And there were only two choices: plainrelationships with their customers, their store was
or chocolate. (I often chose the chocolate!)left open and empty while the couple was out
So I grew up drinking milk and loved it; cold milk,doing their daily chores. Customers were free to
that is. When I was around 9 years old, I canenter, purchase their items, record it in a
remember a time when we went to visit Unclenotebook and leave their money on the counter.
Wayne on his farm, about twenty miles fromThe milk bottles were a special kind of bottle and
where we lived. When asked about what Iit was emphasized that customers were to return
wanted to drink, I told my aunt and unclethe empty bottles before taking a new gallon of
emphatically that I wanted a glass of milk. Whenmilk. My ex-husband loved that milk but I didn't
my aunt explained that they didn't have any, Iparticularly care for it that much, although I loved
must have whined, fussed and pouted to thegoing there. I loved going there just for the
point that Uncle Wayne had had enough. Eager tofeeling of trust within their store and for the trust
play a joke on me, my jovial uncle Waynethat they extended to us. I loved going there to
proceeded to get the largest, widest glass hesee the love and devotion they had for one
could find and went outside, announcing that he'danother. Eventually, I learned to tolerate the fresh
be back in a jiffy. I had little understanding of whymilk, but found that I had to limit my consumption
my parents and my aunt were snickering at theas it was high in calories.
time, in teasing anticipation of what was to come.When I became a mother, milk took on a deeper
Although I lived in Iowa and was used to farms,significance as my breasts were the supply of the
most of the farms in my area of the state didn'tfresh, warm substance in which I nourished my
own dairy cows, so I wasn't familiar with freshtwo children. I was proud to be giving them this
milk. (The dairy farms were mainly in Wisconsin.) Igift as I knew and understood the importance of
soon learned a lot about fresh milk, straight fromit all for their overall health. But there was
the cow, as my uncle came back into the roomsomething much deeper about the experience
and set the glass on the table. I can remember itthat I know every mother who has nursed
looked different: almost steaming with a yellowish,understands and that is the special bond it creates
creamy texture at the top. I can rememberbetween children and their mothers. I often felt
asking my uncle why the glass felt warm to thesorry for their dad and for other men as I know
touch and hearing him answer me that it was athey cannot possibly understand this deep spiritual
special kind of milk. Eager to try it out, thinkingconnection between a nursing mother and child,
this must be some special sweet glass of milk, Iflowing from the breasts to the mouths of our
took a sip. Yuck! Eeewww! This was awful, Ibabies. While nursing, I even had the courage to
thought, and there was no way I was going totake a small taste of my own milk, and found it
drink this!warm and sweet. What a long way I had come
It must have been hilarious for the adults in thesince that day on my uncle's farm when I refused
room to see the expressions on my face as Ithe warm, creamy milk!
tried to reject the glass of milk my uncle had soRecently, I had a very stressful week at work at
carefully fetched for me. But when I insisted thatalso had a huge disagreement with a loved one.
I didn't like it, my uncle then proceeded to tell meFeeling desperate for relaxation and comfort, I
that I had to drink it all. I can remember thisremembered that I had a sample of a milk bath I
torture, or what felt like torture, in having to sithad purchased some time ago. Since it was
there and stare at this strange glass of somethinglabeled "Stress Relief," I decided to try it out.
that I knew wasn't real milk, despite what myI drew the hottest bath I could stand and poured
uncle insisted. After what seemed like an eternitythe natural milk crystals under the running water.
to me, my uncle even put the glass in theThe water didn't produce bubbles, but looked
refrigerator to "save" for me until later when Ienriching and inviting. As I sunk into the tub, I was
was ready to drink it. Fortunately, in what felt likesoothed and nurtured by the comfort of the hot,
the biggest rescue of my life at that time, mysteamy treatment, softening my skin. I was
mother and aunt felt sorry for me, and took thenurtured by the strokes of nourishment to my
opportunity to dump the milk down the drainsoul that this milk bath was giving me. I
when my uncle and dad left the room awhile later.remembered. I remembered the relationships with
What a relief that was that I didn't have to finishmilk: my parents, my uncle, my "host mom" in
that warm glass of something my uncle calledArgentina, my ex-husband, the couple on the
"milk."farm within the city, my children and my guy. I
About eight years later, while studying on andidn't want to get out and stayed as long as I
exchange program in high school to Argentina, mycould, until the water was no longer hot. It's as if I
"host mom" used to prepare a glass of hot milkcould hear Uncle Wayne saying to me, "You'd
for me at bedtime. I remember thinking aboutbetter finish it all."
my uncle the first time she served it, but in anSo now I know that milk has everything to do
effort to be polite, courteously tried it and foundwith body and soul. I will buy more of the milk
it wasn't that bad. She took great care inbath and get my daily servings in for both my
preparing that milk for me every night, andbody and soul. When was the last time you had a
welcomed me with love into her home, treatingglass of milk? Was it whole milk, 2%, 1% or
me as if I were her own daughter. Serving mefat-free? Perhaps you are lactose-intolerant or
the hot milk was her way of expressing love toyou prefer soy or chocolate, like me? Today
me, and I am forever grateful. (She, on the otherthere are so many kinds of milk that can nourish
hand, had whiskey in her milk every night!)us. Have you had your minimum servings today?