According to a recent television news report, eating fish can improve your mood. We've all heard about its benefit for heart health. High in protein, low in cholesterol, it's also a good diet food. But I never thought fish could make me smile.

    In fact, the summer my family vacationed in Canada, fish put a look of fear and worry on my parents' faces-and mine. A hotel employee had told my father about a highly rated restaurant out in the countryside. We drove off the main highway, up a curving incline that led to the rutted, gravel driveway of a refurbished farmhouse. It was here my younger sister got a bone stuck in her throat. Four or five years old at the time, I don't think she was even the one who ordered fish. I'm sure one of my parents had and, as was their custom, insisted we each take a taste. Anyway, my sister began to choke and Dad, who must have seen too many episodes of Ben Casey, jumped out of his chair, his napkin falling to the floor and yelled, "Is there a doctor in the house?"

    Indeed there was: a man in a dark suit, white shirt and tie, rushed to our table, stood behind her chair and pulled my sister to her feet. Clasping his hands in front of her, he pulled his hands tightly against her midriff and lifted her off the floor-a maneuver we now call Heimlich, but my family called a miracle that night. The bone flew from my sister's open mouth and, as my mother comforted her, my father thanked the doctor profusely, also paying for his dinner, I'm sure. (Dad never missed an opportunity to pick up a check, even for lesser reasons than this, but that's a different column.)

    I had discovered seafood a year earlier, when my family drove west to California by way of Denver, Las Vegas and points in-between. It was on that trip that I fell head over heels for deep-fried shrimp served with tangy red sauce. Every time we stopped to eat, if I saw shrimp on the menu, my eyes went straight to the price. Much more expensive than a hamburger or hot dog, the cost always made me rise from my seat to whisper a question in Dad's ear: "Could I please order shrimp again, even though it's so expensive?" Time after time, Dad shook his head yes.

    Come to think of it, I always had a smile on my face back then. That's hardly the case nowadays, even though I eat a lot of fish. Let's face it-with a war going on, the economy an uncertainty and Katrina still a disaster--everywhere we turn, there is a reason to frown.

    How much fish does a person have to eat to feel euphoric, I wonder? As it is, every time I place a platter of salmon on the table, my husband gives me a, "What, again?" look and makes motions with his hands like he's swimming upstream. After the first bite, he sets down his fork and continues to do the breaststroke, a big grin covering his face. I can't help but laugh. Hmm . . . maybe there is something to this theory.