Keep It Simple, Turkey

As I was sipping a cup of coffee Sunday morning, I was listening to the morning news program on NPR. The topic was recipes for the Thanksgiving table and the guest was a cookbook critic. She was asked first what was the most elaborate recipe she’d found for turkey preparation. She sighed and then went into a long, somewhat laborious overview of a “project” that would take, in all reality, at least 72 hours to do well. Just like the first Thanksgiving, right? In a way, yes…

The Pilgrims, of course, didn’t have the stress of getting the bird thawed in time to make that little red button pop at just the right time for cooling and carving. They did, however, need to actually find the bird, kill it, pluck it, pick out the buckshot or arrow, etc. Then there was that issue of the heat for the cooking of said turkey. Cutting wood, building a fire, keeping it going (did it snow during the cooking process thus dampening the fire?)…misery, in a word. All this is the most extreme conditions.

And so, some 400+ years later, here we are “stalking” our birds still (some ordering from some far-away farm for the “just right” bird), brining, thawing, wringing our hands—the 21^st century version of extreme conditions. Just how often does the basic cook tackle cooking something that has 20 pounds of girth?

The best way to honor our ancestors is in gaining wisdom from their travails. So, let’s keep it simple this Thanksgiving. No orange/pomegranate/coconut/curry stuffing that 90 percent of the guests around the table will politely taste while secretly yearning for a taste of oyster, or sage ,or whatever simple dressing is made faithfully year after year after year.  Let’s save the extravagant and questionable recipes for a separate occasion. Thanksgiving is the one holiday that has probably been the least adulterated—let’s keep it simple, turkey.

Have a fine day.

The Mindlessness of the Big Box Stores of the World

The other evening we attended to one of my most dreaded trips--going to Walmart. I avoid it as much as any human can. However, when the only hardware store that's open is the size of three football fields and all we need from there is a light bulb, the thought of trekking through not one but two big box stores drives us to the process of elimination where we can get the light bulb and detergent--so Walmart it is.


There's just something about a store this size that seems to exemplify all the worst we have come to be as consumers. Aisle after aisle of items that are of limited use, of limited quality, and limited value. Do we really need plastic everything in every color?

The public has been in an out-cry about spending hard-earned lottery dollars ever since it came to the state of Indiana. The ruination of the family; the creation of a great number of working poor; people will spend mindlessly on tickets when they need to buy bread. Is anyone seeing a similarity here?

Look at the average shopping cart at Walmart when you enter the store--they're massive! Think about the size of a "normal" grocery store shopping cart...then look at these behemoths. They're big for a purpose; they're scaled with the enormity of the store just like Vegas scales their signs on their casinos. Now look at the people coming out of Walmart--90% of those carts are filled to the absolute brim with items. Needed items? And all these items in under-sized plastic bags with the Walmart advertising emblazoned--free advertising all around--it's mind-boggling.

The holidays will soon be upon us; the economy isn't growing at nearly enough of a pace to be pronounced healthy. The Christmas trees were already appearing at Walmart--and doesn't everyone need a blue or pink or purple Christmas tree? (I actually saw those when I was on this dreaded trek.) Christmas music will soon be playing, and the prices will soon be artificially falling. And people will buy and buy and buy for whatever reason. The massive carts will continue to spill over with merchandise; then the bills will come.

I have nothing against the Walmarts of the world in general. I question many of their economic principles, but this could be any big box store doing the same damage to the general public. Walmart just seems to enjoy the forefront status, so they're the biggest of the big.

My concern does lie with the idea that we're in a lower-middle class to middle class rut that isn't very pretty from an economic or sociological standpoint. We're buying odd things at an odd time. We're not living below our means and trying to be conservative. We feel deserving. We feel that large amounts of "stuff" will make us feel better. Unfortunately, like a house of cards, it's going to fall...yet again. The economic turn isn't done with us yet. But we can certainly soften the blow by THINKING.

This season let's think out each purchase and teach our kids and grandkids valuable lessons in life along the way. Buy one good, sturdy gift--not 9 things that will fall apart by spring. And, for every gift bought, give something to someone who truly needs it. Allow your kids to see that they are a part of that sacrifice for their brothers and sisters around the world and in their own back yards. What better "gift" can we give to our offspring than the gift of high principles that involves loving our neighbors as ourselves?

Have a fine day.

Sunrise/Sunset

In the past two weekends, we have celebrated the wedding of a great-nephew and welcomed his lovely wife into our family; we have also bid tearful good-byes to the mother of a very dear friend. Sunrise/sunset.

The song by the same name is sung at many weddings, including my own. As a younger person, we're captivated by the verses marveling over the young girl and the young man as they grow swiftly into adulthood. It is a most appropriate song to usher in parents of the bride and groom.

Thinking about the same song, it is also a beautiful tribute to the "sunset" of life. "One season following another, laden with happiness and tears." This is the balance of life--happiness and tears, one season flowing into the next.


My fondest thoughts and prayers go out to both groups. We know that  there will be tears along the path of the happily married couple. We pray for them to have the strength it will take to endure. We also pray for them to celebrate all the happy moments, whether small or large. We also know that the lovely family who said an earthly good-bye to their mother this week have endured those tears along the path of her illness. We also know that the release from a frail and withered earthly body is a time of celebration when the spirit is free to soar.

Sunrise...sunset...

Have a fine day.

See the Divine in Simplicity

Keep it simple, stupid. The not to soothing--albeit effective--way of reminding us that as humans we have a terrific way of making the simplest of tasks complex beyond belief. There's an old joke passed through the education community about a dead horse and how the issue would be handled. As imagined, the suggestions range from hiring an outside committee to do an investigational study of the dead horse to putting a lighter rider on the dead horse. Of course, the simple answer--it's a dead horse; dismount--is never discovered since it's just too easy of an answer.

Lately I've been reading a book on our styles of embracing theology. The author brought up an interesting term: functional theology. I like this. It causes me to think about how my theology literally functions in the day-to-day world. I also like simplicity. When I cobble these two together, I allow myself to blessedly see the Divine in Simplicity.

 When we look at the world, we have two choices: to see it in all its messiness with hassles to the left and hassles to the right. In looking at this angle, things seem convoluted at best and hopeless at worst. We never get to see a glimpse of the world and its problems beyond the surface. And the surface is where the "ick" of life tends to rise to the top.

If we choose the second option--looking and searching for the Divine in Simplicity--we start to see the underpinnings of our foundations of the meaning of life for us: faith, love, a spirit of undying and unyielding support for one another. We can see through the "ick" and recognize that there is good. We can be a part of that deeper good.

As we wake up each morning, three things should simply happen: a smile, a stretch, and a prayer of thanks. This is a day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.

As we go to sleep at night, three things should simply happen: a smile, a stretch, and a prayer of thanks for being given the chance once again to love one another.

The Divine in Simplicity...

Have a fine day.

Carrie's Songs

I don't listen much to the radio anymore; I buy very little music in general. It just all seems to sound, to some degree, the same. The same electronic and digital finiteness that doesn't allow for the human voice's true sounds to come through...this takes the emotional tug from what we hear. Oh sure, the words are there, but truly hearing a voice in all its purity has a quality to it that is more than good or bad. It allows us to go to a higher level of aesthetic appreciation.

Last night all things worked out and we got to go and hear Carrie sing and play that wonderful acoustical guitar. What a treat. No wires, no electronic voice-altering tricks--just Carrie's pure voice and pure lyrics.

Another reason I tend not to listen to music much anymore is because the lyrics just seem somewhat recycled and predictable. If I listen to ten songs in a row, at least half of them are repetitious at best. Where's the story that my mind is looking for to enjoy the song as a whole?

Carrie's lyrics make sense...they tell a story. They conjure an image. They take you to a place where you can feel yourself being transformed by the lyric and the accompaniment.

A few years ago, Carrie wrote a song about the products of my beloved photography hobby. I hadn't heard the song for quite sometime, but last night as she sang it, I could, in my mind's eye, see a slideshow of various photos that floated along with her words and those lovely sounds from emanated from the guitar.

As the evening ended, Carrie shared a song with the audience that caused a beautiful and harmonious sing-along. A few years back, she gave me the chance of a lifetime by asking me to sing harmony to her lovely voice for her group's first cd; few things in my life have been, at the same time, more intimidating and blissful. Last night as the lyrics and harmony came back to me, I happily joined in the participation that came from a group in an easy and joyful communion with one another.

If you get a chance, go and spend an evening with Carrie D'Esposito and The White Pine League--they'll give you an evening of real and true music that our souls truly love.

Thanks,Carrie--for sharing your words, your music, and your voice.

One Mile

After reading the October 2010 issue of The Atlantic, I came away being a bit torn by a paradox. On  one hand I was frustrated with all that my generation of Baby Boomers has done--not the Civil Rights victories, not the discoveries, not the innovation that comes from our 1946-64 little group of several million. I was frustrated by the fact that even though we've done remarkable things throughout history as a group, we've also done some pretty ugly things as well. Like leaving our kids with trillions of dollars of debt, using our own sense of entitlement to plow through resources of all kinds with no regard to the future, and even though we been given the opportunities to intelligently and wisely  fulfill our "destinies" as this special group of kids born of the earlier "greatest generation", we sometimes just make some pretty knuckle-headed moves.  But then comes the other side of the paradox.

We still know how to care; we know how to look for things that need to be done and make the effort to change things for the better. We CAN make things better. Sometimes we just need to turn off the yammering national reports of gloom and doom and look closer to home. Maybe only one mile. Here's my idea...

For the next few months, let's each think about where we live as the epicenter and measure out a one mile circumference. Not hard to do--grab a map, a GPS, or a Google ap. Really study that mile and then think about what you could do to make that mile perimeter a better, happier, and healthier place. If everyone who reads this humble little blog would practice this and tell one other person, we'd have a good start.

Some will have massive populations of people with in that mile circumference. I'm guessing within that there are a few that could really use an ear, a shoulder, or a sturdy back to move something, to haul something, to cook or bake something, or just to visit and maybe help write letters or share a cup of coffee...the list is infinite.

Here we're short on people, but heavy on land...we can be better stewards and take good care of it by not consuming so much packaging that needs to go to the trash, by composting more, and by using things until they're worn out. Around here there are churches and cemeteries that are just getting by with fewer and fewer people to help with upkeep...another opportunity.

So...measure that mile. See what's out there. Do some simple good things. We don't have to set the world on its ear; we can, however, make our backyards good, healthy, and happy places once again. That's a pretty good legacy not only for us Boomers, but for everyone before and after us.

Have a fine day.

The Art of Reinvention

Today I made a soup over three times before deciding it was right. Thanks to my mom's bountious garden and her equally bountious generosity, I had a large bowl of tomatoes that were needing attention. Last night before calling it a night, I decided that today they would become a pot of homemade tomato soup with some nice, subtle French seasonings.

As I cooked the tomatoes down, they seemed kind of over-whelmed by the size of the pot I chose. I went to the refrigerator and decided that the chicken broth in the container would be a good addition; and, while I was at it, the pizza sauce would as well. After all, it was 99% tomatoes. What would a little basil and oregano hurt in with some marjoram and thyme?

After milling the original soup's contents of tomatoes, onions, and the more "French" spices, I added the broth, the sauce, and still it looked a bit demunitive in the cooking pot. Maybe some meat would bulk it up. Later, after thawing and cooking some ground sausage, it was added to the mix. NOW we were getting somewhere.

Another visit to the fridge found me face-to-face with a container of white rice from last night's supper. Hhhhmmm...that would thicken things a bit, so in it went. Now I'm thinking Mexican. I have some shredded Mexican style cheese, some sour cream, and some tortilla chips. That, with a packet of fajita mix and some added ancho pepper, and the taste grew richer and more interesting--in a good way.

I love the art of reinvention. It makes life so much more layered, more rich, more interesting. Whether it be a recipe that comes to life through trial and error, a change in our attitudes about ourselves and others, or our whole perspective of our place on this amazing planet, reinvention is not only fun from time to time, it is a necessary element of creating peace with ourselves and others.

So...go out there and have fun. Mess up a recipe; change your hair color; smile at people you normally frown at; bless those you normally curse. It's all about the reinvention and, with practice, we can make it a work of art.

Have a fine day.