A great start to the summer

I'm pretty sure that most everyone sees Memorial Day as the unofficial beginning of summer. Now that I don't have (my own) kids in school anymore, I can start to see it that way, too.

So, that said, this has been a wonderful beginning to summer. Starting off by sharing a bottle of wine with my very best friend on Friday and ending up spending time with my very favorite veteran on Monday, it has been just about perfect. A little bit of rain hasn't even changed my perception of perfection.

In between, I've made a few loaves of bread; I've done some gardening; I've gone out to the farm to see what's growing in the garden there; I've enjoyed ample amounts of wine and some really terrific salads; we've enjoyed every variety of grilled foods; and lo and behold, I've even done some long-overdue cleaning. I also honored veterans from the Clinton area at their annual Memorial Day parade.

In addition, I watched a very interesting movie, "Food, Inc." I am not going to belabor that topic at this point, other than to say that if you haven't seen this, you should. I think I've pretty much beaten that subject to death, at least for the moment. And even though I said I was done with the topic, I do want to say that I have to disagree with the Stonyfield Farms Yogurt executive (former hippie) who thinks it's awesome that Wal-Mart is getting into the organic market. Because that's a million dollars worth of organic food on people's tables that wouldn't have otherwise been there.

For my part, I think it's damned scary. And that's all I have to say about that.

But it was also good, because I can pretty much bet on the fact that David will never read "The Omnivore's Dilemma" or "In Defense of Food" or "Animal, Vegetable, Mineral." But he watched the DVD with me from Netflix, and I think he was impressed. Like maybe that he agrees with me about Wal-Mart. And maybe he thinks $9 chickens aren't such an extravagance anymore. Just sayin'.

So, all in all it has been an enlightening and enjoyable weekend. The weather's been just awesome, for the most part (other than the past few questionable hours.) And thank goodness for umbrella-covered tables or gazebo-enclosed patios where we can enjoy our meals alfresco despite the rain.

And personally, I don't question the irony of the fact that it started raining at just about the time the local parade started, while the non-local parade had sunshine and warm weather throughout, without a single cloud. And a beautiful rendition of "Taps," to boot.

Just Do It.

One of the guiding principles of my life is pretty darned simple and can be summed up thus:

Someone needs help.

If it's within your power to do so, you help them out.

And that's about all there is to it.

It's hard for me understand why most people do not think the same way. Common "wisdom" (and I use that word loosely) seems to be, "You scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours." In other words, do what I want and I'll be nice to you ... otherwise, all bets are off.

Sometimes, it doesn't even matter if you're extending that person a kindness or if you are just being polite to them. They feel no obligation at all to do anything nice for you, even if it's in their power to help out. It's the same thing when people just say "it's not my job" or "it's not my worry" and go about their day, forgetting that they could have extended a kindness or given a bit of assistance, just because they can. No, it wasn't necessary or required; but would it hurt you to do it? Probably not.

This is not the kind of world that I grew up in.

I first learned my philosophy from my maternal grandmother. She's been gone for 27 years now, and I still miss her. She was a wonderful woman--ask anyone who knew her. Even today, if her name is mentioned, people will remember and relate her many kindnesses to them. She didn't have great riches or resources, but she always got the job done. She was like the widow with her mite; she gave it all. That was OK with her. It was part of her faith to do whatever she could to help someone who needed it.

When my grandmother's name is mentioned, people don't say "God rest her soul," or another similar platitude. They don't need to--they know that's exactly what He has done. She didn't rest much in this life, so I'm quite certain that God has granted her some pretty cushy rest now that she's with Him.

My mother is the same way. I believe that the first 40 years of her life were spent learning this philosophy from my grandma. The second 40 years she has put it into action. Helping and taking care of people who needed what she could give them has been a way of life for her. And like my grandmother, when people talk about my mom, they are quick to talk about all that she has done for others, often neglecting herself in the process. Thankfully, the last few years, Mom has been able to do things her way. But "her way" usually ends up meaning she continues to find little things she can do for other people. It's part of her soul.

I should be so fortunate as to be remembered like these two women who have so deeply influenced the person I am today. I have this problem with good intentions, where I mean to do something nice and then forget until it seems too late. But I resolve to do the right thing "next time." 

Luckily, most of the time I am surrounded by people who are thoughtful, kind and respectful. If they happen to forget, I don't mind telling them that they could extend a kindness and they are usually pretty receptive to my not-so-subtle reminders. Hey, I forget too sometimes. And I don't mind too much if someone gives me a little nudge to help me remember what I ought to do, because it's what I want to do. In fact, I hope they do nudge me when I forget about my good intentions :-)

A friend of mine, Austen, writes a blog as part of his job at a newspaper, and last winter he wrote a great piece that illustrates some of what I am trying to say, called "The Lost Art of Manners." I was really impressed by his thinking. Obviously, most people wouldn't have given this lady a second thought. Especially most people his age, which is 30. Not only did Austen give her a second thought, he actually acted on it. And it made me feel good to read about it.

So, today I ask you to take the time to think about others. And don't just think about it--act on it. Please. Just do it.

Confessions of a Shameless Parent

I've been giving a lot of thought to my kids lately, and how proud I am of each of them as they've grown up to become pretty awesome (and still very individual) adults.

Fortunately, I've always liked my kids. I enjoyed them as babies; I found much to adore as they grew up into cute children; I laughed with them and occasionally behind their backs at their foibles during adolescence; and I have found it truly rewarding to get to know them--and their friends--as teenagers and young adults. Sure, there were days when I wasn't as fond of them as others. Kids are a challenge, even on the best days. But overall, I think they are pretty darned cool people.

I have joked often about each of them being square pegs in the round hole that is "The Center of the Universe" and the corresponding high school. And I'm actually kind of proud of them for that, too. They weren't the football stars or the Citizens of the Month or the cheerleaders (OK, one daughter was a cheerleader for a brief moment, but then she thought better of it). Another daughter could have probably been the valedictorian, or at the very least in the top percentile of her class, but she consciously chose not to be known as "The Smart One." My sons chose to be class clowns, which won them no brownie points with the powers that be. But they survived that and maybe it made them stronger people.

They all had plenty of friends, but they didn't do the popular-kid stuff; consequently, they were never chosen for Homecoming Court or to receive the fancy scholarships or any other kind of special recognition. And, it seems, they are just fine with that. They all seem fairly satisfied with their degrees of success in real life. And I'm pretty satisfied with it, too.

Recently, I have served on two local scholarship selection committees. Not only have I had to read endless self-written essays, letters of recommendation and lists extolling the virtues of these overall round pegs, but I've listened to fellow committee members talk about their own kids' successes in school, in sports, and in life. All of the students have good reason to be proud of their accomplishments. Likewise, I would never dream of begrudging any other parent their mom- (or dad)-brags. But I've got to say that sometimes their litanies of how wonderful their sons and daughters are, and what incredible careers they have, and the houses they built, etc., etc., etc., can make me think their underlying message is that my kids really suck at life.

You see, none of my kids have high-profile careers or stock options. They don't have aspirations to high society. They don't have sixteen college degrees. They work normal, every-day Joe jobs (no name tags or hairnets required). They all have an excellent work ethic. They are responsible and mature. They are good parents, aunts and uncles. They visit their grandma. They go on trips to rather mundane places for unusual reasons. And they are worthy of some Mom-brags. Sure, some of them have screwed up in the past--nothing big time, just things they probably wouldn't do today or at least wouldn't have gotten caught up in, if they'd given it a little extra thought at the time. Or at the very least, they've done some rather unconventional things that probably made my friends and relatives question my competence as a parent. I don't care.

Ultimately, out of all of their hardships and screw ups and interesting past lives, they have become really great people. And I'm going to tell you something--I don't take credit for any of it. Not the screw ups, and not the good stuff, either. What I'm proudest of is that they are kind, caring, compassionate, thoughtful adults, who will make a difference in the world by their attitudes and example. And they have come to that all by themselves. Of course I would like to say that David and I have influenced them somewhat--and I hope that we have! But we know that their successes are their own. They don't belong to us.

Kahlil Gibran said a long time ago, "Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself. They come through you but not from you ... You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts ... You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth."

Those words, originally written in 1923, became popular again in the 1970s. So yep, I was there. I read them back then and I took them to heart as I learned those lessons at my own children's behest (especially the part about "their own thoughts"). And I just hope I can still remember them when I'm old.

I'm not above telling people about what my kids are doing, because I enjoy talking about them. But I'm starting to understand why my mother always just sat quietly as other people bragged endlessly about their children. I would always ask her, "Mom, why didn't you tell them I am the Secretary of the National Honor Society? Why didn't you tell them Craig is first chair in percussion and Keith is first-chair trombone? Why didn't you tell them where we are going to college? Why didn't you tell them about your grandchildren?" From mom, I've learned that sometimes, what's not said is just as important as what is.

I can be quietly proud of my daughters and my sons (and here's a shout out to my son-in-law and my future daughter-in-law, of whom I'm equally proud) for just who they are. And it really doesn't matter to me who else thinks they are great, because I already know that they are.

Playing Catch-Up

I have been working on this post for days and keep coming back to it. You'd think after all this time it would be worth something, but I'm not sure I'm actually going anywhere with it. I thought maybe letting it mull over would make things better but instead I'm just kind of procrastinating at this point. But darn it, I'm going to finish it this morning.

It's been more than a week since I posted anything here, and almost two weeks since I published anything of substance. And back then, I promised an update on my blog about "Whatever Happened to Real Food?"

One thing I wanted to talk about was the evolution of grocery stores. How in the world did we ever get to the long shelves of  Here's a picture of my great-grandpa's general store, located in the mining town of Redridge in Upper Michigan, in the early 1900s:

This is what a grocery store used to look like.It was amazing what these stores would offer in what seems like an incredibly small space these days. You can see that the huge windows in front and the smaller overhead windows on the sides probably let in more light than was common in many Main Street stores these days. I'm guessing the store was open comparatively limited hours, according to our standards--probably mid-morning to early evening--and of course it was closed Sundays so the family could rest. The rest of the week, Mr. Grocer was probably spending his days cleaning the store as he chatted with his customers while they decided what they needed this week. 

My mother remembers visiting her grandparents when they lived in Wabeno, Wisconsin, where my grandfather owned his own store rather than leasing it from the mining company. She remembers shelves filled with dry goods, staple foods like flour, sugar, oats, and others in bulk bins (that have now become popular at self-serve grocery stores--but would you buy flour from those today? Really?), and even some occasional special items like oranges and bananas. 

Where was the produce department? At home in people's gardens. Or, during those long northern winters, in their root cellars. But nowadays we have come to expect the brightly lit, fully stocked, shiny produce counters in our supermarkets. 

I vaguely remember grocery stores like this when I was growing up, although even in the 1960s the majority of our shopping was done at a Kroger or A&P store, or maybe at a locally owned IGA. The marketing of our food shopping was changing even back then. Big supermarkets were starting to overtake the small main street groceries, with national advertising campaigns and more selection. And it's just gotten bigger and bigger since then, with WalMart, Meijer, Super Target and Super KMart all incorporating their huge grocery stores with every other item you might possibly need. One-stop shopping has become the buzz word of our times. But it's not the same one-stop shopping as the old time grocery stores. 

Is more really better? Sometimes there is so much to choose from it can be overwhelming. When did we suddenly want eight different flavors of Wheat Thins? Or 23 different varieties of Tuna Helper? Or six brands of canned beans or peaches? And I have changed that word to "want" from "need." We certainly don't need all of those things. It's just that our wants have become so all encompassing that we have found ourselves always wanting more. We think we need it, but do we, really? No matter--the marketing departments at the Big Food Companies are happy to comply. After all, we're making them more money, too.

And by the way, when is the last time that you had a real conversation with the check-out clerk at one of those stores--assuming, of course, that there actually was a human at the register? 

I have been doing a lot of shopping lately at a little store called Aldi. While one of my friends is known for calling it the "welfare store," I think that's a misnomer. The prices are definitely more affordable than even most of the mass market stores like Meijer or WalMart. And a lot of that is because there is only one brand of most items offered. You can get two different kinds of canned green beans--French cut or regular. You can get pineapple slices or pineapple chunks. No "tidbits" or crushed pineapple. No Del Monte. It's all one brand: Happy Harvest. Take it, or leave it. They have brown rice and white rice. They have four or five different kinds of pasta--not a couple of dozen. But it's good quality, and it moves quickly so the selection is usually very fresh.

If you're looking for quick dinners, they do have "Rice Bowl" dishes kind of like Rice A Roni, or they also have a few different flavors of boxed rice and pasta dinners. Maybe a few different types of mashed potatoes. And the freezer compartment has a selection of prepared dinners, too. They have no prejudice against junk food, I'll give them that.

The produce department is also fairly simple. And when they run out, they run out. Last time I went, there was no celery. No explanation--just no celery today. Sometimes they will have avocados and sometimes they won't. Sometimes the potatoes are from Idaho and other times from Michigan. But once again, the food is inexpensive and what is there is usually of decent quality. 

Of course, most of the food, particularly the produce, is not what you would consider "local," unless you are talking at least American. However, the Aldi corporate offices are based in suburban Chicago, so at least it's not too far away from me. 

Most of what I like about shopping there is the relative simplicity. Of course, there are new items each time I shop. And half of one aisle (which is actually about 1/10th of the store, since most of the Aldi stores I've been to are only five aisles long) is dedicated to odds and ends like kids' toys, small household appliances or tools, and so on. But overall, it's probably one of the easiest shopping trips I do during the month. 

The only hectic part is when the checker starts tossing the items that you've just placed on the counter, right back into your cart. Oh, that's right--it's your job to bag the groceries and if you haven't brought your own bags (or picked up some boxes along the way) you'll need to buy your own at the checkout. There's not a lot of time for chatting with the girls (or guys) at the register--they're too busy getting on to the next customer. But that's probably the most anxiety-ridden part of the whole process. And the "sticker shock" at the end is usually a lot less than you'd expect.

I haven't heard yet that Aldi food comes from China. I hope it doesn't ... but if you find out that it does, please tell me. I'll probably have to find another solution. This one is not perfect, by any means. But it's getting me back to basics, and that's what I am looking for right now. 

Until someone starts emulating my great-grandpa's grocery store, this is going to have to do. 

This is a great video:

This is what I'm trying to say!! Dr. Bellonzi's Psyche Truth Web site: http://www.austinwellnessclinic.com/ Very interesting stuff.

Whatever happened to real food?

I think it's time to step away from the political and get back to the kitchen for a while.

I've been thinking a lot about the way food is prepared and marketed these days. And about all the "new" foods that have been developed over the past years that were never around when I was growing up.

Now there is no doubt that I grew up in the golden age of new foods, aka convenience foods and fast food. But 20 or 30 years ago, most of the newer items on the supermarket shelves at least emulated real food. Condensed soups. Biscuit mixes. Pudding mixes. Cake mixes. Rice-a-Roni. Boxed spaghetti or macaroni and cheese. And even the "junk" food didn't try to hide what it was: Sugar Frosted Flakes. Sugar Pops. Potato chips. French fries. TV Dinners.

Somewhere along the way, though, they started getting sneakier. I noticed when I was in my 20s, maybe, that Sugar Frosted Flakes, although still represented by Tony the Tiger, were now known as "Frosted Flakes." Oh, maybe that is when they stopped using sugar and started frosting them with High Fructose Corn Syrup? Same with Sugar Pops. I think for a while they were called "Corn Pops," and now they're simply Pops. Or maybe it's the other way around. I never liked them, anyway.

And when did TV dinners stop being called exactly what they are? Now they are simply dinners or (kids') meals or sandwiches ... or even more ambiguously, Panini. I'm particularly intrigued with the ones that actually have griddle marks on them. Why? Are you supposed to pretend it didn't just come out of your microwave? I hate to tell you, but everyone knows.

Then there were the mixes called "Hamburger Helper." And didn't we all just love that dumb little cartoon hand with the annoying voice? Good thing we loved the mascot, because the food itself was pretty terrible stuff. I think originally there were three or four varieties--maybe cheese, stroganoff, lasagna, and something else. Eventually, they added "Tuna Helper" to their lineup. Even better than Hamburger Helper; you didn't have to actually cook the pesky meat, you just opened up a can of tuna fish, drained it (or not, I don't know), and stirred it up with the rest of the delectable delights in your skillet. Voila--Instant Dinner! Or, more accurately, instant slop.

Recently, the proliferation of foods and flavors and varieties have been been almost beyond comprehension. A grocery store used to be a big storefront on Main Street. I have a picture of my great-grandpa's grocery store. It had great big windows but other than that it bears very little resemblance to a grocery store (or supermarket) of today. Some stores like his used to have dry goods--i.e., fabric and maybe socks, underwear and millinery. Meijer, WalMart, and other "superstores" have taken that several steps farther and now offer every kind of grocery item you can imagine (and some you can't).

The other day I noticed on the grocery shelves that in addition to approximately 23 flavors of Hamburger Helper and several different Tuna Helper varieties, there are now a number of Asian Helpers. Don't even ask. But I have to say that I'm almost morbidly intrigued by the sheer volume of junk food that fills the shelves. And perhaps "morbid" is a very accurate adjective here.

At work, we often share our new food finds. Sometimes they have redeeming social value, but probably more often they don't. A couple of weeks ago, a co-worker brought in some new Doritos she had found. Now, I am dating myself here, but before Doritos were introduced, there were only Fritos ... and only one flavor of those. Just Fritos. You knew they were "corn chips," because of the little jingle, "Munch, munch, munch a bunch of Fritos ... corn chips." Initially, there was just a "dorito" flavor, whatever that was. And they never  identified what a Dorito actually was, either. But regardless, as time went on, we needed MORE. Because we were so hungry? Because one flavor (or ten) just wasn't enough? Or because Frito-Lay needed more profits?

Anyway, these new Doritos were called "Loaded Cheeseburger" flavor. I tried a couple of them. That morbid curiosity, ya know. Remember the blog from a few weeks ago, when I quoted the guy that said that our junk food is laced with something as addictive as cocaine? Fortunately, I was able to stop myself. But it was so amazing that you could actually taste the tang of pickles, mustard, and ketchup along with the cheese and of course the "burger." And a discussion ensued whether the chips tasted more like a Whopper or a McDonald's burger. Good Lord.

Well, there were probably as many "real" ingredients in these chips as there are in a Whopper or a Big Mac. Honestly. How long do you suppose the ingredient list was on these chips? What is the calorie, carb, or fat count on a handful of these chips? I didn't even dare to take a look. I don't think any of us really want to know.

Don't get me started on the supposedly "whole grain" Chocolate Cheerios. Or the cake mixes with the sprinkles added in, and frosting to match. There's at least enough fodder there for at least another nice long blog next week.

I'm impressed ...

I am still feeling shivers up and down my spine every time I think about what I experienced today. This morning, I had the privilege of seeing President Barack Obama speak in person at the University of Michigan commencement exercises. This was truly a shining moment in my life, and I have to thank my future daughter-in-law and her family for making this possible.


Like the man or not; agree with his politics or not; you have to admit he is an extremely compelling speaker and really knows how to work a crowd. 


When he appeared on stage and the crowd literally went wild, he said "Thank you" about four times. People kept applauding and yelling. He finally calmed people by saying "Love You Back." That is when he got me. 


Actually, he "got me" a long time ago. But that's me. You might or might not agree. But I hope you'll listen anyway.


Not too long after telling me he loved me back (oh, yes, I think everyone there believed he was talking directly to them), the President further endeared himself to the audience by telling us this anecdote about his evening routine:


"[In Washington, all you hear is] the clamor of politics ... that noise can drown out the voices of the people who sent you there. So ... each night, I read 10 letters out of the tens of thousands that are sent to us by ordinary Americans every day. This is a modest effort to remind myself of why I ran in the first place. 

Some of these letters tell stories of heartache and struggle. Some express gratitude, some anger. I'd say a good solid third call me an idiot, which is how I know I’m getting a good representative sample. Some of the letters make you think, like one I received last month. 
Now the teacher of [a kindergarten class in Virginia] instructed the students to ask me any question they wanted. One asked, 'How do you do your job?' Another asked, 'Do you work a lot?' Somebody wanted to know if I wear a black jacket or if I have a beard - clearly they were getting me mixed up with the other tall guy from Illinois. And one of my favorites was a kid who wanted to know whether I live next to a volcano. 
But it was the last question in the letter that gave me pause. The student asked, 'Are people being nice?'"

Nice? What's nice?  Or, should I say, Who's nice? This relates directly back to the topic of last week's blog. And from here, Barack launched right into the topic of civility that I addressed last week. I wanted to flatter myself that he'd read my blog, but since he hasn't made any comment yet, I suppose I can't assume any such thing. However, I have to say that I loved the way that he paraphrased my philosophy about people's opinions, by quoting Daniel Patrick Moynihan: "Everyone's entitled to his own opinion, but not his own facts."

The president went on to say, "[We need to] maintain a basic level of civility in our public debate ... arguments over government and health care and war and taxes are serious arguments. They should arouse people’s passions... But we cannot expect to solve our problems if all we do is tear each other down. You can disagree with a certain policy without demonizing the person who espouses it. You can question somebody’s views and their judgment without questioning their motives or their patriotism. 
"[This is] starting to creep into the center of our discourse. And the problem with it is that vilification and over-the-top rhetoric closes the door to the possibility of compromise ... It prevents learning - since after all, why should we listen to a 'fascist' or a 'socialist' or a 'right wing nut' or a 'left wing nut'? It makes it nearly impossible for people who have legitimate but bridgeable differences to sit down at the same table and hash things out. It coarsens our culture. 
"[C]hanging this type of politics is not easy. And ... civility requires that we recall the simple lesson most of us learned from our parents: treat others as you would like to be treated, with courtesy and respect."

Duh. Civility and respect? The Golden Rule? Are these the words of a socialist or a left-wing nut? Or could they possibly be a common-sense solution to an issue that has plagued our nation for far too long? 

I have to say that being at today's event truly made me proud to be an American once again. It made me proud to call Barack Obama "Our President." Witnessing as the Commander-in-Chief commissioned the the ROTC candidates put a lump in my throat. It was a once-in-a-lifetime moment.

Finally, I have to say that I really related to one suggestion that the President gave to the Class of 2010: "[I]f you’re somebody who only reads the editorial page of The New York Times, try glancing at the page of The Wall Street Journal once in awhile. If you’re a fan of Glenn Beck or Rush Limbaugh, try reading a few columns on the Huffington Post website. It may make your blood boil; your mind may not be changed. But the practice of listening to opposing views is essential for effective citizenship. It's essential for our democracy." (Emphasis mine).

I was thinking about Archie Bunker today. Do you remember Archie? Back in the early 1970s, the television show "All In the Family" was considered pretty darned radical. Archie and his wife Edith were the stereotypical couple right out of the 1950s. Archie was a blue-collar worker in the Bronx. Edith was a homemaker who still wore house dresses every day of her life, and had no opinions unless Archie approved. Case Closed, as Archie was known to say. Doesn't sound much different than the Rush Limbaughs and Glenn Becks of today's world. 

But Archie and Edith's daughter, Gloria, was the typical rebel of the late 1960s, and she married a radical "meathead," Mike, whose political opinions  constantly clashed with Archie's redneck viewpoints. Of course, this was all in the name of comedy, but there were some pretty serious topics addressed for 40 years ago: racism, sexism, war, financial crises and more. 

The difference between Archie of 1970 and the Archies of today, however, is that that the original Archie Bunker actually might have listened to Mike and Gloria, even when he pretended not to. Every time there was a conflict between the two generations, it seemed like Archie's narrow mind might have opened a little wider. He might admit it; he might not. But over the years, as we continued to watch, we found that Archie's viewpoints weren't so cut-and-dried, "Case Closed" as he (or we) originally thought.

Somehow, in the last 40 years, we seem to have come to the conclusion that we don't have to listen. I don't know where that came from. But today, Barack challenged that assumption. 

It means that I have to listen to you, and you have to listen to me. Do you think we can do that? 

I would like to say, "Yes, we can."