My Theory: Life, Liberty & the Pursuit of Something Sweet

One long, lazy Saturday afternoon, I gathered with a group of friends for breakfast at the local greasy spoon. For over an hour we chatted and chewed, and when the last morsel was gone, we stopped and surveyed the damage. Cantaloupe rinds, a bowl of oatmeal, a plate with nothing but bacon grease, a few leftover hash browns and one solitary silver dollar pancake were all that had survived the carnage.

Our waitress, a cheerful young woman in her thirties came over and began passing out dessert menus. I should have declined; there was barely enough room in my stomach to hold the Pepto-Bismol I so sorely needed. Instead, I helped myself to golden coconut cake a la mode and a handful of macaroons.

A few days later, when I had fully recovered, I started thinking. Dessert for breakfast? My mother never would have allowed it, and I'm guessing yours wouldn't have either. Dessert was only offered after lunch and dinner, and even then, it didn't come without sacrifice. If you cleaned your plate and polished off your vegetables, you earned the right to have ice cream or cake. And of course, the more appealing the dessert, the more appalling the meal that had to be eaten first.

Dessert has slowly, but methodically overtaken our culture. Any bookstore with a halfway decent reputation offers three things: books, coffee, and dessert. Coffee shops, for that matter, often have large glass display cases for their sweets, and your waitress acts personally offended if you don't order a scone with your $5.50 double mocha. And speaking of café mocha, since when was mixing chocolate syrup with coffee acceptable in a breakfast drink?

Is it any surprise we say, "As American as apple pie?"

And the crazy thing, the truly insane part of this system, is that all you have to do to receive your dessert is hand over a few bucks. You don't need a note from your mother, or a certificate stating you finished your dinner. Have society's values fallen so far that dessert is now available without work, without pain, without sacrifice?

We live in a world where little leaguers lie about their age, where politicians ride to power on their father's coattails, where butlers and nannies make millions by betraying their former employers. We don't work until the sun goes down; we simply search for that shortcut to glory. If we find it, great. If not, we complain that life never gave us the breaks.

Is it any surprise, that when something is easy, we say, "Piece of Cake?"

I am convinced that all of society's con men, pyramid scheme designers, as well as quite a few of our lawyers, are people whose parents allowed them to eat their desert first. If you haven't learned the idea of delayed gratification at your own dinner table, then its certainly not going to surface in the boardroom or the courtroom.

Now I'm not suggesting we give up dessert entirely. I'm just suggesting a return to good old family values. Make dessert the reward. No sweat, no sweet.

That would be as American as steamed broccoli.

At least that's my theory.

That would be as American as steamed broccoli.

At least that's my theory.