April 20, 2020: Rapunzel -

In the oldest versions of the fairy tale “Rapunzel,” (by the Brothers Grimm and their predecessors, back to 1634), Rapunzel’s mom-to-be gets a pregnancy craving for “rapunzel,” a type of lettuce* that is growing in a nearby walled garden.  She refuses to eat anything else, and her desperate husband scales the garden walls to bring back some lettuce for her. (There are those who think this tale is about micronutrients in the days before multi-vitamins. Really, there are.)

The scheme works the first time, and the wife is most gratified, but on a return trip, the husband gets caught (of course) by the sorceress (of course) who owns the garden. The sorceress says he can have all the lettuce he wants, if she can have the baby when it is born.  He agrees, and when the little girl arrives, the sorceress takes her, and locks her in a tower, and names her “Rapunzel,” after her mother’s craving.

We have a lot of “Maiden in a Tower” tales, in a lot of cultures, and I know plenty of people right now have cabin fever, and feel vaguely locked in a tower.

Me, I can get out the door for a walk, and I talk to friends on the phone, and all in all, I’m not going stir-crazy quite yet. But I am identifying with Rapunzel’s mom and her cravings. (Though at 64, I’m not remotely pregnant). I am just a little craving machine these days. I find myself thinking Ooh, you know what sounds good? Bibimbap sounds GOOD right now.  I need some bibimbap! I need a shrimp po’ boy! I need a green Thai curry! I really, really, really NEED some sushi! PRONTO!

Yes, I know there is take-out. Yes, I know that with the right ingredients and a few YouTube videos I could probably make these things myself. It’s not really about missing a particular food. It’s free-floating anxiety that has focused on foods I love, and no matter what we manage to wrangle for me (or don’t) that anxiety is not going to be slaked. I’ll just move to another craving.  It’s a version of restlessness. And I realize it is basically Dog Vomit (earlier post, way back) compared to people dying. I get it. It’s just my psyche acting up, unable to settle.

Decades ago, when I actually was pregnant, one of my science pals called and asked if I had any cravings. I think she wanted me to be doing the micronutrient thing, unwittingly keeping my manganese levels up or somesuch. She had expectations, is what I’m saying. I considered for a while and then said I was kindof peckish for an avocado.  She sniffed at me, “That’s not a craving!” she said. “That’s a WHIM.”  I have no idea how she could tell. 

*According to the seed catalogs, we now call it corn salad, lamb's lettuce, and mache.  There you go.