What better way to spend a Sunday than out on the open sea? It was a beautiful day, pleasant and warm with a slight breeze. That morning, Michael had pitched an idea to his daughter: “Let’s bring our masks and do some free diving!” Then Jane and her father had driven down the Pacific coast to find just the right little cove where they could park up at the beach, get their boards in the water and head out on the big blue. Michael wanted to spend the whole day in the water; he needed to clear his head. His work as a researcher at the oceanographic institute of San Diego was his passion, but it exhausted him. Thank God for Sundays! Today there would be neither work nor research on the fauna beneath the waves. He had now been studying the creatures that breathed beneath the water for fifteen years. He knew most if not all of them, and after so many years of research and study he could tell you all there was to know about the ocean. Jane, too, was beginning to develop a passion for the strange creatures that lived under the water. She had just started college, and wanted to major in oceanography like her father. But today was Sunday, a time to clear your mind. “You have to empty you mind of all thoughts,” Michael explained to his daughter. “It’s essential in order to preserve your energy, which is the key to free diving.” They put their boards in the water, pushing off and meeting two other men who were also out to enjoy this fine day. Michael slipped on his mask and dove below the surface. A few moments later, he resurfaced with a crustacean in his hand.
“Golly! What is it, a crawfish or a lobster?” Jane marvelled.
“It’s a crawfish,” one of the men replied confidently.
“I’d say it’s a lobster – look at the claws. Crawfish don’t have any,” Michael said.
“I’ve been diving here for years,” the man said, “and I’ve never found a crustacean that big around here. Must have looked behind every rock in this cove, but all I ever find is mussels or starfish.”
“I guess it’s just my lucky day!” beamed Michael.”
“So what’s the story with this lobster?” Jane asked.
“Well, he’s just been caught, and he’s about to get eaten,” chuckled Michael.
“Har-har, Dad, you know what I mean. Tell me about this little guy.”
“Let’s see, the lobster. A fine story for my daughter Jane, who loves a good story. Barely a hundred years ago, they still called these guys the “cockroaches of the sea.” Only poor people ate them, and it was a godsend if you were starving. Back then nobody really knew anything about them, except for the poor folks who were forced to eat them. Nobody wanted to know, and now everyone can’t get enough of them!”
“You don’t say,” marvelled Jane, starting to get hungry.
“It’s true. They gave them to prisoners, or maids, or widows. Prisoners used to get lobster three or four times a week! But that was back in the 1800s. Things have changed since then!”
“What about after?”
“In 1836 an American company called Burnham and Morrill decided to can and sell lobster; there was so much to go around then, and it was the perfect food to market to the middle classes. Burnham and Morrill’s shareholders wanted to export outside Maine and Massachusetts, because those two states had an over-abundance of lobster.”
“And then?” Jane asked.
“And then lobster became harder to get, and more expensive, and more sought-after. Anyway, let’s go get him in a pot...I’ll tell you the rest at home.”
Alan Alfredo Geday