Iceberg lettuce or baby greens?

My husband loves to tease me about the the mixed baby greens I consume by the wheel barrow full.  He says they have no substance and dn't fill you up.  He consumes ice berg lettuce like it's the tastiest thing he has ever had.  He's a baby boomer and I am the first year of the X generation.

It's not that I don't like ice berg lettuce, but my memories of it are wedges with blue cheese dressing, chopped tomatoes, and bacon.  He doesn't tend to have jaded food memories.  Is it a guy vs. chick thing, or a boomer vs. x thing?  I know many people of the boomer generation and don't know many with the food issues my group grew up with.  Nor the obsession with body image, weight, and tag size that we seem to have only strayed further down a dark path with.  Obviously my sister would have technically been a boomer and she certainly had concerns and issues with food.  Somewhere between the beginning of the boom and the start of the x factor, food became less about nutrition and families became less about the nuturing.  My guess is that food picked up as comfort where family disfunction started.  More two parent working households, more single parents, less family time, more fast food, more processed food.  Is that where it all got screwed up?

My husband grew up on a farm.  Food had a purpose, and for him as a youngster he saw that from start to finish.  The farm initially was a cauliflower farms and from seed to truck he saw the process and the work that went into food.  I first remeber seeing cauliflower in the produce section of the grocery store, wrapped in plastic.  Maybe it's a country vs. city thing. 

The closest we were to growing food was putting bird seed on a  sponge, putting it in a (washed) styrofoam tray, and adding water.  Part of this whole journey is to try to identify the origin of the issue.  Hard to know where it ends if I am never able to determine where it began.  I don't think it was an active vs. inactive thing because even as city kids we were outside playing.  We rode our bikes, we had roller skates, we had the wall of the firehouse.  It was also our living room, but it extended well beyond the apartment.  That was how my mom met my stepdad...but that's another whole book, not even chapter!  We went to Prospect Park, we walked to school- winter, spring, fall did not matter.  We came up to the country in the summer and during February break and we played outside.  We were always on the move.  At Coney Island beach or upstate playing Blind Man's Bluff in the cemetary behind my grandfather's, or in the creek down behind Aunt Franny and Uncle Puffy's.  We were always moving.

It has to be a food thing...sort of like when you use the wrong glue and the end result isn't good---incorrect use of product.  That seems to have been the story of food in my life.  Incorrect use of product.