The ghost of President Woodrow Wilson joined me for brunch. He seemed so tired. When someone is exhausted I try not to ask them why. I think it would only make them more tired.
I said, “I was shopping for groceries and I came across a can of cranberries. I’ve never bought cranberries. I think they taste awful. But it made me happy to see the cranberries in a can because it felt like they were in a food jail. They couldn’t get out and find their way into my mouth.”
Woodrow Wilson started to laugh. He said, “I hate cranberries too. When I lived at the White House, the main chef Charles Bickers used to serve stewed cranberries as a daily side dish. After a month of this nonsense, I got flustered and had a discussion with Bickers. I said, “I don’t care for stewed cranberries. Hadn’t you noticed the fact that they always return uneaten to the dishroom?” Bickers said, “Yes, Mr. President, I had noticed. But Miles Johnston the dishwasher, loves stewed cranberries.”
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