“From Chili Champion to Stigmatized: One Mother’s Struggle to Overcome a Haunting Legacy”
What happened in that school was an unspeakable tragedy. I understand that. But there’s so much more to me than that one dark afternoon that shattered countless lives. I’ve been an active part of the community for years. I’ve served on the PTA, taught dance classes, organized bake sales—and I’ve done it all while raising three mostly wonderful kids. Oh, and then there’s the fact that I’ve won the Great Hattonville Chili Cook-Off four years in a row, with four different chilis. No one does that.
I won with turkey chili this year. Turkey! But still it’s always “There goes Janet Blevindale, the woman who raised a monster,” not “There goes Janet Blevindale, Chili Queen of Mackinshaw County.”
Yes, I ignored some warning signs at home that could have saved lives. I failed to notice Nathan was going down a YouTube rabbit hole of paranoia and hate. And choices I made that seemed harmless at the time, like buying him an AR-15 for his birthday, look different with the benefit of hindsight. But I also taught my children how to pick the sweetest onions and ripest tomatoes. How to simmer the beef with just a splash of Worcestershire sauce. How to add the chili powder in stages, to build subtle flavors that don’t overwhelm. Why can’t anyone scream in my face outside Sunday mass about that?
How many of these things do I have to win, people? A hundred? A thousand? Just give me a number, because I don’t know how to improve on my chili any more than this town knows how to pick up the pieces and move on. Should I start baking pies? It worked for Barb Reynolds after she got that DUI: One scrumptious bourbon pecan pie, and all was forgiven! Is that what you want?
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