Trying to Remember Peace

Spare me the platitudes. I know, I believe, I trust that she is with her family. Don’t tell me that God took her home, because then you would want me to believe that a loving God/Goddess killed her children and her husband one by blessed one and that is not a God I will ever worship.

Today I struggle to be glad that she died peacefully in my arms, and so quickly, before that god-awful disease ravaged her and I was able to practice what I believe — that Love is present to each gasp and welcomes your heartbeat back into the mighty and resounding pulse of life. I was able to be the hands of the Goddess who comforts me and comforted her, administering the drugs that eased her labor, being the loving face that smiled at the moment of her death, rejoicing that she is with Wayne and Jan and Chad, and stilling the voice that wanted to scream and scream and scream “do not leave me.” I could find moments of peace in her (Deb’s) and Her (The Lady’s) Love

Today, when I cannot remember that life will ever be normal again, still as I sit here in her house I remember that she was loving and extraordinary and my sister. We bickered and fenced as sisters do and we loved one another. She protected me to the very end making sure that there were caretakers to do what was too hard or beyond me and still letting our intimacy make space for the physical demands of dying.

There has been so much loss. I said to my shrink on the morning Jan’s death, the older of Deb’s children and the second to die, what makes this so painful is that I know I will laugh again, I will recover, because we recovered from Chad’s loss. Losing your sister doesn’t end your world. It merely feels that way. What I fear is that I will feel this way for a very long time.

And yet I know, you love me and so does the Lady. I know she will call me to be her hands and heart and voice again and give little heed to my whimpering because people will need shoring up. And so today, I cry and remember Deb in her living and her dying and try and remember that Peace is there, even when I cannot find it, and trust that it will invade my heart again. Oh, Deb. my heart is broken. This may be the hardest blow I have ever sustained. So I’ll try to keep being present to the pain and the beauty, try hard not to break under the weight of knowing that we will be making no new memories and I’ll go about the doing of those things that are needed at the end of a life. write the obituary, pick a date for the funeral and discover in which closet Deb hid the box that holds the ashes of our parents and her husband and will hold her in death as well. Now there’s an agenda.

cook with rosemary, don’t hug me too hard or cling, I’m fragile.

Green Apple Peace

You know you’re a certain age, when you can’t say green apples without hearing: “God didn’t make little green apples…”

So when i started this particular musing, it was the first thing that came to mind. I realized that it was perhaps one of the silliest starts to a song I’d come across. Wonderful food is certainly the purview of the Divine… however you define that…

And green applesauce! that tart and wonderful taste of summer. I think of it making its winter appearances alongside supper… the sweetest pleasure was when it turned up along pancakes and sausage for an occasional dinner. Who knew that what Mom was thinking about as a dollar stretcher… Because for us it was sheer indulgence. Especially when she cracked open the green applesauce.

All these sweet memories arise as we begin to say goodbye to my sister. It’s so odd, so many of my family memories are held in our collective memory… and she cooks, well, cooked. Tom, my brother, does as well, but he lives a bit farther away. So, I’m trying to cement things in my heart and mind so that I will be able to tell the stories without her…

ah, life is odd and poignant, isn’t it? but there we are, this is what we have. and it’s beautiful however sad… and it’s green applesauce… and the occasional pie. and there’s a certain wonderful kind of Peace in that, isn’t there? To everything, there is a season… both in life and in green apples… and for those times when it’s too hard… green applesauce is likely to save the day, at least for me. and that’s how we keep making memories. Peace be with all of us.

Roots, Peace and a Sabbath

When the mornings start out misty, the root vegetables start coming… This time of year, they’re as tender as the mist, but infinitely more substantial… I’m sitting at my sister’s watching the sun turn the river fog pink and then gold and then ghostly white. Up here, it’s all blue sky.

Church and then brunch and then a nap, a swim and a visit with a bestie. And all along, cherished time with my sister. it doesn’t get sweeter… And now Debbie’s life, which is pretty damned ephemeral, is infinitely sweet for me, if challenging for her, for us all.

It’s the Sabbath… counting blessings, giving thanks for what is. Life in the very slow lane. With Beets. and Peace.

Spinach Dip Peace

Some foods are all about the luxury… and spinach dip is one of those foods. yum.

But spinach is a mighty food warrior. It is so good for us — filled with all sorts of vitamins and minerals. For something that cooks down to nothing you really have to give it its props.

Lots of folks love it raw. I’m one of those people who has a problem with the acid and I hate how my teeth feel when I munch it that way. But top that salad with cooked scallops or a burger with onions? I’m a happy woman.

But simply because spinach dip isn’t the best thing in the world in terms of fat content doesn’t mean it’s not food for the soul. Dips are one of the few foods we eat from a communal pot and there’s something to be said for a conversation shared over a shared food bowl. You’ve already moved toward intimacy… the conversation deepens. You’re being present before you know it. And that’s a good thing.

So eat your dip… and eat your spinach in other ways. As Popeye reminds us: “We’re strong to the finish when we eats our spinach!” (or something like that!) And just imagine, he ate canned spinach… a more ghastly invention I can’t imagine!

Happy Summer!

Heirloom Peace

One of the gifts of being able to write well about food is that sometimes you inspire people to make something from your past and then they give you a unit as a thank you! oh, wha-hoo!

This happened with the tomato jam… recipe to follow. jes’ sayin…

My beloved California roommate, Jennifer June the Cowboy Boot Queen, took the recipe and improved it. She made it with Brandywines… my very favorite Heirloom tomato. Although I’m easy. My landlord’s favorite are the purple and the black, whose wonderful names I’ve forgotten. I don’t mind slicing one of those up with fresh mozzarella and some basil one little bit. (Heaven in a warm tomato, yes!)

But whoever decided to draw Heirloom tomatoes back to the present did a lovely thing. Tomatoes (apparently along with marijuana) are our most tinkered with plants. As we decided that all fruits must be available to us at every moment, people started trying to figure out how to deliver a winter tomato. Unfortunately, one of the by-products of shipability was taste. They’ve recently figured out that some move they made took the gene with taste out of the ‘mater. Hence those square, whitish tasteless tomatoes. “This is the best thing ever” said no one ever.

Seasonal, local eating is really best for the world, but it demands a lot of concentration. It helps, if you want tasty goodies in the dead of winter if you can. Otherwise, you eat what grows as long as it does and adjust. My CSA farmer reminded me that it’s summer until it frosts and that when you’re loading in tomatoes like this, it’s high summer. So you just enjoy summer and tomatoes in abundance. But here (and this won’t happen often!) is my Mom’s Tomato Jam recipe, clipped from a newspaper many, many years ago, coming to you from General Food’s Kitchen. They were married in 1943 and this came from the newspaper in Philadelphia where they lived where they were married. If anyone wants the recipe for Mayhaw Jam, do let me know.

Mom always made it without the spice, but the lemon (the more the better) is crucial. She always added some very thin quarter slices in as well. She certainly made this for as long as Deb or I can remember. It’s great on toast… it’s great on an open-faced toasted cheese sandwich. Tomato Peace to you, my friends.

2 1/4 pounds tomatoes 2 lemons.
Prepared Fruit: 3 cups or 1 1/2 lbs.
Sure-Gel: 1 box
Sugar: 4 1/2 cups or 2 lbs
Cup Yields: 5 1/2
Scald, peel and chop tomatoes. Simmer 10 minutes. Measure. Ad 1 1/2 teaspoons grated lemon rind, 1/4 cup lemon juice, 1/2 teaspoon each: allspice and cinnamon and 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves.

Tomato Sandwich Peace

It’s a day of turmoil and sorrow over here in Bloomsburg… and so I’m leaning on the small, sweet things to get me through the day. Part of what’s odd about letting your sister go is realizing that the traditions you’ve always kept you’ll now be keeping alone.

So, take Peace where you find it, my friends. And make it everywhere you can. When you sorrow, it’s perhaps even clearer that there is no place for separation. The love pouring in from Face Book and email is amazing… love from people I do not know and that my sister does not know. People are walking these journeys everywhere. I think of people in war zones who need desperately to know that we understand their sorrow. Reaching out hands and hearts around grief is a very sweet gift. I thank you for the love. I reach out my heart to you, and I rejoice in your prayers for our well-being.

And now… i think I need a tomato sandwich…

Sun-Gold Peace

Tomato season. It’s always been a favorite. When they were fresh from the garden, there was always a plate of them on the table. Daddy always grew both yellow (which were maybe really orange, but tastier than most of the orange ones I find recently) and red. Mom never dressed them, just sliced them and put them out.

We all always waited until the meal was over to dive in, er, pass the plate. It was one of the few times that gluttony was encouraged at our house!

To this day, my favorite dinner is corn on the cob with tomatoes sliced onto the buttery plate. It’s a delightful indulgence, throughout which I can be heard murmuring, “mmm, mmm, mmm.” It’s both grace and a paean of praise and gratitude. “Blessed be the Earth that grows the food!” And the hands that till the soil and the hands that serve it and the energy the food imparts to the work of the world.

I think tomatoes taste like life. They taste like the sun and the soil and the rain that grows them. And those little sun-gold varieties? oh, yeah! Rub off the dirt and go, giving thanks all the way!

Cabbage Peace

Cabbage is one of those things that goes in and out of favor. In this country I suspect there were periods when we didn’t want to eat cabbage because it is “poor” food. Exactly. That’s one of the things that makes it extraordinary. Wherever you come from, whatever variety you grow, it can fill you up. If more of us ate it and ate more of it, there might be more food for others.

And it’s good for us. Another sturdy vegetable that can deliver health-giving properties all year long. It’s back in vogue at the moment, fermented foods are surging in popularity. What ferments better than cabbage. Although cabbage is one of those places that I surprise myself with my limitations. I don’t think i want kraut with jalepeno nor do i particularly want it with eggs for breakfast.

It grows well in cold climates, and it stores well, so, people eat it in soups and stews all year long. Certainly borscht, that wonderful adventure in beets, owes almost as much to cabbage as to beets. Apparently there are some versions that grow well in tropical climates as well… It’s got a long growing season wherever it lives and will keep delivering bounty and vitamins and minerals to your door. Hooray for cabbage!

Around here, you eat cabbage with onions and noodles and call it tasty. My mother used to sauté it with onion and apples when we were having pork or sausage. I like it in stir fries, I’ve eaten, and am not sure I’m in love with kim chee. But it’s a great vegetable.

And I love the silly references to finding babies under cabbage leaves (those that aren’t left under the gooseberry bushes or brought by storks.). It didn’t teach great physiology, but it’s sweet. There’s a painting from 1820 of a “maiden” discovering a baby under a cabbage leaf you can see here. This was early in Queen Victoria’s reign (like year 2). Good to know she didn’t invent prudishness, she merely popularized it. That Mother Nature doesn’t merely feed you, she brings you babies!

But here’s today’s paean to good and responsible eating: the cabbage! Cabbages for Peace, across cultures and socio-economic divides.

Pavilion Peace

OK, I admit it. I have Pavilion Envy. Why I believe they hold the secret to happiness, I’m not exactly sure. But I’ve been to family picnics, church picnics, company picnics, Girl Scout picnics, reunion picnics, friend picnics under their Civilian Conservation Corps eaves for as long as I’ve been around.

Driving down the road around here I see country church after country church with their pavilions off to the side (usually on the side away from the graveyard, but not always. Sometimes they overlook the graveyard and the spirits of the Beloved Dead are often invoked. I confess my head always turns.

Is it the idea of a simpler time when generations gathered together? Is it the eating out-of-doors? Or is it simply the wide variety of potato salads? I don’t know. But I like them. And don’t even get me started on the ones with the fireplaces at the end where you can have winter picnics! My friends who knew me as a city girl might be surprised to hear of this delight in rural fun, but, ooh. I’m calling my friends Sonia and Sara this morning and setting up a picnic date at our local park.

Peace gets made over potato Salad… I’m absolutely convinced of it.

Succotash Sabbath Peace

It’s grey and mysterious out there today, and will burn off to a beautiful day. August at its finest.

I wish you meals full of the bounty of the season and dips in cool pools… A very blessed day of quiet and laughter… I’m sure it’s more about me that I’m longing for peace and quiet.

Succotash celebrates the abundance by mixing it all up. All those wonderful summer vegetables in a bright summer mix. I wish you that as well — and Peace, always Peace.

Sacred Village

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