Obscure and silly: If my life were 1984, the end might read that I learned not to hate Drew Barrymore.
Garelick Farms sells something called Fitmilk. It claims "1% with the taste of whole milk" and "fat free with the taste of 2%". To me, it tastes like what it is: lowfat milk with some kind of milk flavoring. An illusion.
But how little that matters! Do the people like it, can they sell it, do they think they need it? Do they accept the illusion? If they love it, it takes a few years. It takes a few short years to forget, to learn, to teach a new generation what milk should be. And so soon, someone is surprised to taste real milk, and they dress it up fancy, call it old-fashioned.
Not Fitmilk, but a dozen other examples. The substitutes are worse so often that there is prejudice against imitation. Sometimes there's room for both. But enough of them slip through and show how cleanly things can be redefined. I once traded an hour squeezing oranges for a gasp when the juice surprised my love. Sometimes it's worth remembering.
Can I teach myself to taste whole milk when I drink Fitmilk? I don't know. Maybe. I don't plan to. Can I teach myself to like it? Sure.
Can I teach myself to love the world outside my door, for all the things it is, and all the things it's not?
Of course. I'll be a student forever.