Posts
This blog is moving to an new location - please bookmark www.marthacarlin.com
"Without friends, no one would choose to live even though he had all other goods." - Aristotle
2-10 You've Got A Friend
This week our topic in Channeling Aristotle was friendship. Aristotle was emphatic about the importance of friendship in leading a good life. Aristotle says that the essence of a virtuous friendship is selflessness.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Aristotle, CEO pay, Pursuing Full Potential and OWS
This blog is moving. Please bookmark the new url www.marthacarlin.com
I am currently taking a DU Enrichment Class "Channeling Aristotle: Cultivating a Virtuous Life in the 21st Century". Our discussion last week evolved around the "golden mean" and finding purpose in life. Aristotle believe that happiness lay in the pursuit of one's full potential and in maintaining a perfect balance between excess and deficit.
Mulling this over for the past week in light of the growing momentum with the Occupy Wall Street Movement (OWS) leads me to the hypothesis that much of what is wrong in our society today is the result of this lack of balance and current perceived lack of opportunity to reach full potential. If one thinks about the question of balance between excess and deficit this is the key issue in terms of anger toward Wall Street, CEO's and the demonized 1%. In general terms one might see these groups as organizations or people who have clearly erred to the side of excess. This is most certainly the case in some situations but without analyzing each individual or each corporation it is wrong to make that gross generalization.
I am currently taking a DU Enrichment Class "Channeling Aristotle: Cultivating a Virtuous Life in the 21st Century". Our discussion last week evolved around the "golden mean" and finding purpose in life. Aristotle believe that happiness lay in the pursuit of one's full potential and in maintaining a perfect balance between excess and deficit.
Mulling this over for the past week in light of the growing momentum with the Occupy Wall Street Movement (OWS) leads me to the hypothesis that much of what is wrong in our society today is the result of this lack of balance and current perceived lack of opportunity to reach full potential. If one thinks about the question of balance between excess and deficit this is the key issue in terms of anger toward Wall Street, CEO's and the demonized 1%. In general terms one might see these groups as organizations or people who have clearly erred to the side of excess. This is most certainly the case in some situations but without analyzing each individual or each corporation it is wrong to make that gross generalization.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Occupy Wall Street - I am the 1
This blog is moving to a new location. Please bookmark the new URL www.marthacarlin.com
I am the 1. The 1% that is to say. At least I was in 2007. I was surprised to learn that in 2007 the IRS reported 391,000 Americans with income exceeding $1 Million. I was one of them.
I am not greedy, self-interested, dishonest or villainous. For a long time I was ashamed to admit it because I had some unsavory stereotypes of what people “with money” were like. I am the epitome of the American Dream.
I grew up in a small town in Kentucky and attended public school. My father and mother were not college graduates. They were small business owners who had good years and bad years. My father declared bankruptcy twice in his life. That alone had a significant impact on my choice of career and desire to have a strong, stable income. I got my first part time job, a minimum wage job, when I was just twelve. That was in 1976 and I worked non-stop from that point on. I worked many different low level jobs to help pay for my college education at the University of Kentucky. I stayed in-state because the price was right, not because that was my first choice.
I worked as a receptionist, a bookstore clerk, a ice cream scooper, a retail clothing store clerk, a bank check processor, and a missed paper customer service rep taking calls starting at 4am. I took a year off from school and worked as a waitress at a resort in South Carolina saving up for school and continued to work as a waitress throughout my final two years of college. I studied hard and earned a BS in Accounting graduating with honors.
I interviewed and got an offer to work for Arthur Andersen in Dallas, Texas. I loaded up right after graduation and headed to Texas, starting my new job earning $23,000/year. I worked hard and excelled at Andersen surviving 3 years of significant cut backs, as the oil and gas and real estate industries declined from the mid to late 80′s. I interrupted my career briefly after getting married and having a child. We divorced when my daughter was 2 and I was suddenly a single mother. I chose jobs that would build my skills and engage my mind. I returned to Andersen, sometimes working 18-20 hour days during busy season. I would bring my daughter to the office on Saturdays. While I worked a 12 hour day she played and napped at the foot of my desk. Eventually I left to become the CFO for a small client but was still only earning about $55,000/year – 11 years after graduating. I was offered an opportunity with a company in Colorado that was growing rapidly – this changed the course of the next 10 years of my life, making it possible for me to be one of the 1% in 2007. From the experience I gained there I moved to a key leadership role in another company going through a restructuring. I worked LONG hours and traveled sometimes as much at 60% of the time. I returned to work when my second child was just 3 weeks old. I worked weekends, nights, early mornings – you name it. Work was my life. My 2nd husband took care of the children and I worked.
The money that I earned did not come easy and I did not lie, cheat or steal to get it. I WORKED. I worked hard and paid my dues. I am proud to say that I was one of the 1. I can’t imagine that those marching on Wall Street would begrudge what I worked so hard to earn.
Peggy Noonan’s editorial in this weekend’s WSJ makes a good point. While I don’t agree part and parcel with her editorial, she says, “It is an early expression, an early iteration, of something that is coming, and that is a rising up against current circumstances and arrangements. OWS is an expression of American discontent, and others will follow. The protests will grow as the economy gets worse.”
I think the issue that is being lost in the Occupy Wall Street protests is WORK. There isn’t much of it these days and that’s just the problem. Young people graduating aren’t finding the starting jobs in their chosen fields so that they can start “paying their dues”. I feel very much that the anger is misplaced. How can they be angry with me – the 1% – when all I’ve done is work hard to build a career? Yes, there are some greedy, unscrupulous villains on Wall Street but an even better place to protest would be in the halls of Congress and the White House. We lack leadership and character in every corner of politics and this is keeping us from solving our problems. We are strangling opportunity at every turn – with regulation, with immigration fears, with graft/pork barrel spending, with status quo and quid pro quo – both parties are guilty – but nobody is occupying their space. Our system of government is broken and that’s where we need to focus attention – not on class warfare and anti-capitalist rhetoric.
Capitalism, in its pure form, is what made this country great. It’s what allowed me and many others to be self-made millionaires. Without capitalism there would not likely be a twitter or facebook to use to “spread the word” or an Apple or Google or any of these other tools and gadgets we so love. Most forget or don’t realize that we don’t practice capitalism in its purest form anymore – the long arm of the government has gotten in the way. That’s not to say that business hasn’t brought that on itself by not taking the high road most of the time. But Marxism and Socialism do not support or promote entrepreneurship. Entrepreneurs provide jobs and opportunities; the bulk of the jobs in America. Let’s not put a stake in their hearts because we’ve got misplaced anger. Focus attention on the current occupiers of Washington, DC.
I am no longer the 1%. I gave that up in 2007 when my father died. I am a now struggling entrepreneur.
I am the 1. The 1% that is to say. At least I was in 2007. I was surprised to learn that in 2007 the IRS reported 391,000 Americans with income exceeding $1 Million. I was one of them.
I am not greedy, self-interested, dishonest or villainous. For a long time I was ashamed to admit it because I had some unsavory stereotypes of what people “with money” were like. I am the epitome of the American Dream.
I grew up in a small town in Kentucky and attended public school. My father and mother were not college graduates. They were small business owners who had good years and bad years. My father declared bankruptcy twice in his life. That alone had a significant impact on my choice of career and desire to have a strong, stable income. I got my first part time job, a minimum wage job, when I was just twelve. That was in 1976 and I worked non-stop from that point on. I worked many different low level jobs to help pay for my college education at the University of Kentucky. I stayed in-state because the price was right, not because that was my first choice.
I worked as a receptionist, a bookstore clerk, a ice cream scooper, a retail clothing store clerk, a bank check processor, and a missed paper customer service rep taking calls starting at 4am. I took a year off from school and worked as a waitress at a resort in South Carolina saving up for school and continued to work as a waitress throughout my final two years of college. I studied hard and earned a BS in Accounting graduating with honors.
I interviewed and got an offer to work for Arthur Andersen in Dallas, Texas. I loaded up right after graduation and headed to Texas, starting my new job earning $23,000/year. I worked hard and excelled at Andersen surviving 3 years of significant cut backs, as the oil and gas and real estate industries declined from the mid to late 80′s. I interrupted my career briefly after getting married and having a child. We divorced when my daughter was 2 and I was suddenly a single mother. I chose jobs that would build my skills and engage my mind. I returned to Andersen, sometimes working 18-20 hour days during busy season. I would bring my daughter to the office on Saturdays. While I worked a 12 hour day she played and napped at the foot of my desk. Eventually I left to become the CFO for a small client but was still only earning about $55,000/year – 11 years after graduating. I was offered an opportunity with a company in Colorado that was growing rapidly – this changed the course of the next 10 years of my life, making it possible for me to be one of the 1% in 2007. From the experience I gained there I moved to a key leadership role in another company going through a restructuring. I worked LONG hours and traveled sometimes as much at 60% of the time. I returned to work when my second child was just 3 weeks old. I worked weekends, nights, early mornings – you name it. Work was my life. My 2nd husband took care of the children and I worked.
The money that I earned did not come easy and I did not lie, cheat or steal to get it. I WORKED. I worked hard and paid my dues. I am proud to say that I was one of the 1. I can’t imagine that those marching on Wall Street would begrudge what I worked so hard to earn.
Peggy Noonan’s editorial in this weekend’s WSJ makes a good point. While I don’t agree part and parcel with her editorial, she says, “It is an early expression, an early iteration, of something that is coming, and that is a rising up against current circumstances and arrangements. OWS is an expression of American discontent, and others will follow. The protests will grow as the economy gets worse.”
I think the issue that is being lost in the Occupy Wall Street protests is WORK. There isn’t much of it these days and that’s just the problem. Young people graduating aren’t finding the starting jobs in their chosen fields so that they can start “paying their dues”. I feel very much that the anger is misplaced. How can they be angry with me – the 1% – when all I’ve done is work hard to build a career? Yes, there are some greedy, unscrupulous villains on Wall Street but an even better place to protest would be in the halls of Congress and the White House. We lack leadership and character in every corner of politics and this is keeping us from solving our problems. We are strangling opportunity at every turn – with regulation, with immigration fears, with graft/pork barrel spending, with status quo and quid pro quo – both parties are guilty – but nobody is occupying their space. Our system of government is broken and that’s where we need to focus attention – not on class warfare and anti-capitalist rhetoric.
Capitalism, in its pure form, is what made this country great. It’s what allowed me and many others to be self-made millionaires. Without capitalism there would not likely be a twitter or facebook to use to “spread the word” or an Apple or Google or any of these other tools and gadgets we so love. Most forget or don’t realize that we don’t practice capitalism in its purest form anymore – the long arm of the government has gotten in the way. That’s not to say that business hasn’t brought that on itself by not taking the high road most of the time. But Marxism and Socialism do not support or promote entrepreneurship. Entrepreneurs provide jobs and opportunities; the bulk of the jobs in America. Let’s not put a stake in their hearts because we’ve got misplaced anger. Focus attention on the current occupiers of Washington, DC.
I am no longer the 1%. I gave that up in 2007 when my father died. I am a now struggling entrepreneur.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
Can politicians learn something from a conductor?
I came across this TED presentation which I found very thought provoking. If you don't have time to listen to the entire 19 minutes, just listen for the first 3-5 minutes. In this presentation conductor, Charles Hazelwood, talks about trust as a key ingredient to the success of making music. I am in the habit of connecting seemingly unrelated things. This particular talk about trust really made me the think about politics and the current state of politics in America.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Rolling on the River, Guns and Ammo and a Haunted House
This blog is moving to Please bookmark the new URL
After our lazy morning on the porch and a late breakfast, we loaded two canoes and two kayaks on the truck. We headed out down the dusty, winding gravel road upstream for a little outing on the river. We parked at a State Park - $2 - and drove down to the lot by the river. There was a building near the river called the Shot Tower. This is an old Civil War building where the cannon balls were made and then cooled by the waters of the New River. It is still standing tall with what looks like a big fireplace opening at the bottom. We divided in to our boats - Quinn and Jack in the kayaks, John and Erin in one canoe and Lindsay, Mary Mac and me in the other, larger canoe.
Rollin' on the River - 01 Proud Mary
After our lazy morning on the porch and a late breakfast, we loaded two canoes and two kayaks on the truck. We headed out down the dusty, winding gravel road upstream for a little outing on the river. We parked at a State Park - $2 - and drove down to the lot by the river. There was a building near the river called the Shot Tower. This is an old Civil War building where the cannon balls were made and then cooled by the waters of the New River. It is still standing tall with what looks like a big fireplace opening at the bottom. We divided in to our boats - Quinn and Jack in the kayaks, John and Erin in one canoe and Lindsay, Mary Mac and me in the other, larger canoe.
Rollin' on the River - 01 Proud Mary
Friday, October 7, 2011
Sweet, Sweet South
This blog is moving to Please bookmark the new location.
We arrived in Raleigh late yesterday afternoon and drove a couple of hours North to the Blue Ridge Mountains along the New River to our friends cabin. In an instant I was taken back to my Southern youth. The sounds, sights and smells of the South are unmistakeable. Sitting on the porch in the evening the moisture starts to build as the sun drops down below the trees. The sound of crickets fills the night air calling me to a gentle sleep. Sitting in the kitchen, Erin’s smoke drifts up through the window reminding me of my father – cigarette smoke always evokes those memories for me.
The cabin sits above the river with a small river bottom just below and a hill rising on the other side of the river filled with trees just waiting for the crisp fall air to take them over the edge to flaming glory. They aren’t there yet because the air is still warm in the late afternoon.
I drifted off to sleep to the sound of the crickets as the evening air took on the chill of the moisture filling it up snug in the down of a true Southern bed with all the fluff.
Waking in the South is a slow process. The light of dawn is slow to brighten as it is held back by the thick mists surrounding the river. Looking out the window I remember all the mornings of my childhood growing up in Kentucky in the Ohio River Valley. Moisture hangs low over the morning, holding back the day. So many mornings waiting for the bus there was a thick mist in the air. It takes several hours for the sun to gain enough strength to burn off the fog. This allows for the morning to slowing unfold in to the day.
We sat on the front porch with our coffee listening to the birds and catching up on life – listening to the river flow by, barely visible through the fog. Three hours pass until the sun burns strong enough to banish the mist. Quinn is cooking sausage and eggs and I am once again reminded of my father – the breakfast chef – and a good Southern style breakfast. Breakfast in the South is full of flavor, generally provided by some tasty pork fat. Not so good for the arteries but definitely good for the soul.
Breakfast awaits….. biscuits, bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs cooked in the sausage grease, grits and fresh coffee. Will have to a take a long walk after this one.
We arrived in Raleigh late yesterday afternoon and drove a couple of hours North to the Blue Ridge Mountains along the New River to our friends cabin. In an instant I was taken back to my Southern youth. The sounds, sights and smells of the South are unmistakeable. Sitting on the porch in the evening the moisture starts to build as the sun drops down below the trees. The sound of crickets fills the night air calling me to a gentle sleep. Sitting in the kitchen, Erin’s smoke drifts up through the window reminding me of my father – cigarette smoke always evokes those memories for me.
The cabin sits above the river with a small river bottom just below and a hill rising on the other side of the river filled with trees just waiting for the crisp fall air to take them over the edge to flaming glory. They aren’t there yet because the air is still warm in the late afternoon.
I drifted off to sleep to the sound of the crickets as the evening air took on the chill of the moisture filling it up snug in the down of a true Southern bed with all the fluff.
Waking in the South is a slow process. The light of dawn is slow to brighten as it is held back by the thick mists surrounding the river. Looking out the window I remember all the mornings of my childhood growing up in Kentucky in the Ohio River Valley. Moisture hangs low over the morning, holding back the day. So many mornings waiting for the bus there was a thick mist in the air. It takes several hours for the sun to gain enough strength to burn off the fog. This allows for the morning to slowing unfold in to the day.
We sat on the front porch with our coffee listening to the birds and catching up on life – listening to the river flow by, barely visible through the fog. Three hours pass until the sun burns strong enough to banish the mist. Quinn is cooking sausage and eggs and I am once again reminded of my father – the breakfast chef – and a good Southern style breakfast. Breakfast in the South is full of flavor, generally provided by some tasty pork fat. Not so good for the arteries but definitely good for the soul.
Breakfast awaits….. biscuits, bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs cooked in the sausage grease, grits and fresh coffee. Will have to a take a long walk after this one.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Something for Nothing
This blog is moving to a new URL at www.marthacarlin.com
Please bookmark the new address.
As I was listening to an interview on NPR today I was really struck by one of the statements made by Michael Lewis, the author of The Big Short, Moneyball and now Boomerang - The Meltdown Tour. In discussing the potential default in Greece and in municipalities across America he said, "People want to have things they don't want to pay for".
This really shook up my thinking for a bit because I don't see myself as someone who wants something for nothing. But then I started to really think about the shifts I see in products, services and even how I spend my time. I think it is very possibly true that we have trained ourselves to expect things at little or no cost. Is this because we've lost sight of value and/or cost of production?
Please bookmark the new address.
As I was listening to an interview on NPR today I was really struck by one of the statements made by Michael Lewis, the author of The Big Short, Moneyball and now Boomerang - The Meltdown Tour. In discussing the potential default in Greece and in municipalities across America he said, "People want to have things they don't want to pay for".
This really shook up my thinking for a bit because I don't see myself as someone who wants something for nothing. But then I started to really think about the shifts I see in products, services and even how I spend my time. I think it is very possibly true that we have trained ourselves to expect things at little or no cost. Is this because we've lost sight of value and/or cost of production?
Friday, September 30, 2011
Changing Perspective
This blog is moving to www.marthacarlin.com
Please make note of the new location.
Changing our perspective is often one of the most difficult tasks we face. We are often so busy we don't have time to stop and think about anything from an angle other than the one we've already got set in our minds.
The New World Dictionary defines perspective as a way of regarding situations, facts, etc, and judging their relative importance . I see our society more and more as judging relative importance and this generally involves ranking our own importance/views/etc. above those of others. We've lost our ability to respect and value differing opinions. But isn't that what makes our world so fascinating? Thank goodness, we aren't all the same. How dull would that be?
The Middle English origin of the word is the past participle stem of perspicere to look at closely . I prefer this definition as it really tells you that you need to pay attention at look at the various aspects. In order to look at something closely you must look up/down, left/right, close/far and every other way possible.
Please make note of the new location.
Changing our perspective is often one of the most difficult tasks we face. We are often so busy we don't have time to stop and think about anything from an angle other than the one we've already got set in our minds.
The New World Dictionary defines perspective as a way of regarding situations, facts, etc, and judging their relative importance . I see our society more and more as judging relative importance and this generally involves ranking our own importance/views/etc. above those of others. We've lost our ability to respect and value differing opinions. But isn't that what makes our world so fascinating? Thank goodness, we aren't all the same. How dull would that be?
The Middle English origin of the word is the past participle stem of perspicere to look at closely . I prefer this definition as it really tells you that you need to pay attention at look at the various aspects. In order to look at something closely you must look up/down, left/right, close/far and every other way possible.
Monday, September 26, 2011
You Can't Fool Mother Nature - GMO foods
This blog is moving to a new location at www.marthacarlin.com Please follow the blog at its new location. Beginning October 31st. The blog will no longer be posted at this location.
Do you remember the slogan from the 1970's for Chiffon Margerine? "You can't fool Mother Nature." In their commercial, of course, you could fool Mother Nature. A lot has changed in the relationship between man and nature in the past 40 years. Man has begun to manipulate nature in ways that would have been inconceivable back then. Giant leaps in the science of genetics have made it possible to do the unnatural with nature in myriad ways.
Do you remember the slogan from the 1970's for Chiffon Margerine? "You can't fool Mother Nature." In their commercial, of course, you could fool Mother Nature. A lot has changed in the relationship between man and nature in the past 40 years. Man has begun to manipulate nature in ways that would have been inconceivable back then. Giant leaps in the science of genetics have made it possible to do the unnatural with nature in myriad ways.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Empty Space
The Blog is moving to www.marthacarlin.com please bookmark the new page to follow the blog at its new location.
Last year I took a drawing class and the first thing the instructor discussed was the use of empty/negative or white space. The term is used for the space which is left blank in a drawing, painting, photograph or graphic presentation. This empty space is what allows the objects in the work of art to exist. One of the best descriptions of negative is “space where other things are not present.” We spent one class trying to work building imagery through the use of negative/empty space.
I keep returning to Anne Lindbergh’s Gift from the Sea as the passages I underlined years ago are popping out to emphasize the simplicity I am seeking these days and connecting to other things – the art class – long past. One of the quotes I underlined:
“For it is only framed in space that beauty blooms. Only in space are events and objects and people unique and significant – and therefore beautiful. A tree has significance if one sees it against the empty face of sky. A note in music gains significance from the silences on either side. A candle flowers in the space of night. Even small and casual things take on significance if they are washed in space, like a few autumn grasses in one corner of an Oriental painting, the rest of the page bare.”
She goes on to say, “My life, I begin to realize, lacks this quality of significance and therefore of beauty, because there is so little empty space. The space is scribbled on; the time has been filled.”
I am again struck by the significance of these words, written in 1955, to the world today. How is it that we can find significance with so little empty space in our lives? I long for the pause between the notes, yet I feel pressed to fill every pause with something that “needs to be done”. I file, I write, I call, I post, I tweet, I read but seldom pause to sit in silence and allow the empty space around me to create significance, beauty.
As I look for ways to create more empty space in my life in order to reflect I offer up a few examples of the use of empty space in art and music.
My daughter Lindsay’s photography site has two good examples on her opening page at
http://www.lightchaser-photography.com/
As well as numerous other examples in her landscape and travel photographs. Another friend and photographer, Jeff Rennicke, has some great examples as well. Here is one from our trip to Africa.
This M.C. Escher Gallery has some excellent examples
http://www.worldofescher.com/gallery/
On the music side listen to the space between notes used by Jack Johnson and James Blunt. They both use silence or a pause where it’s not typically expected. You will often find this as well in classical music. Some examples I really like are Mahler’s Resurrection and Barber’s Adagio for Strings:
Maybe tonight would be a good not for some empty space. Sit on the back porch, listen to the Mahler symphony and gaze up into the dark night sky and ponder, just for a moment, the beauty of the space between us. Just you and the space between the note, the space between the stars and the space between you and infinity. How’s that for evening of adventure?
Last year I took a drawing class and the first thing the instructor discussed was the use of empty/negative or white space. The term is used for the space which is left blank in a drawing, painting, photograph or graphic presentation. This empty space is what allows the objects in the work of art to exist. One of the best descriptions of negative is “space where other things are not present.” We spent one class trying to work building imagery through the use of negative/empty space.
I keep returning to Anne Lindbergh’s Gift from the Sea as the passages I underlined years ago are popping out to emphasize the simplicity I am seeking these days and connecting to other things – the art class – long past. One of the quotes I underlined:
“For it is only framed in space that beauty blooms. Only in space are events and objects and people unique and significant – and therefore beautiful. A tree has significance if one sees it against the empty face of sky. A note in music gains significance from the silences on either side. A candle flowers in the space of night. Even small and casual things take on significance if they are washed in space, like a few autumn grasses in one corner of an Oriental painting, the rest of the page bare.”
She goes on to say, “My life, I begin to realize, lacks this quality of significance and therefore of beauty, because there is so little empty space. The space is scribbled on; the time has been filled.”
I am again struck by the significance of these words, written in 1955, to the world today. How is it that we can find significance with so little empty space in our lives? I long for the pause between the notes, yet I feel pressed to fill every pause with something that “needs to be done”. I file, I write, I call, I post, I tweet, I read but seldom pause to sit in silence and allow the empty space around me to create significance, beauty.
As I look for ways to create more empty space in my life in order to reflect I offer up a few examples of the use of empty space in art and music.
My daughter Lindsay’s photography site has two good examples on her opening page at
http://www.lightchaser-photography.com/
As well as numerous other examples in her landscape and travel photographs. Another friend and photographer, Jeff Rennicke, has some great examples as well. Here is one from our trip to Africa.
This M.C. Escher Gallery has some excellent examples
http://www.worldofescher.com/gallery/
On the music side listen to the space between notes used by Jack Johnson and James Blunt. They both use silence or a pause where it’s not typically expected. You will often find this as well in classical music. Some examples I really like are Mahler’s Resurrection and Barber’s Adagio for Strings:
Maybe tonight would be a good not for some empty space. Sit on the back porch, listen to the Mahler symphony and gaze up into the dark night sky and ponder, just for a moment, the beauty of the space between us. Just you and the space between the note, the space between the stars and the space between you and infinity. How’s that for evening of adventure?
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
More than our Hearts can Hold?
This blog is moving to a new URL www.marthacarlin.com
please bookmark the new URL
I mentioned a few posts ago that I have been getting ready for a garage sale which has had me going through lots of old things to decide whether to keep,toss or sell. Since I am an avid reader and lover of books it means I have a LOT of books about which to make decisions. This is always tough for me. I often take stacks of books to the local library that I am finished with but it always tough for me to part with them. Maybe I should stay there and check out a few instead of buying my own copies all the time. Anyway,last night I was going through a stack and came across Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s Gift from the Sea. This book was first published in 1955 but I am always struck when I read it how relevant much of it still is today. In my copy of the book I have underlined many passages that spoke to me at my first reading. I enjoy going back and revisiting the passages and thinking about why they spoke to me years ago when I first read them. As I was skimming through the book last night this passage jumped out and grabbed me:
“The interrelatedness of the world links us constantly with more people than our hearts can hold. Or rather –for I believe the heart is infinite –modern communication loads us with more problems than the human frame can carry. It is good,I think,for our hearts,our minds,our imaginations to be stretched;but body,nerve,endurance and lifespan are not as elastic. My life cannot implement in action the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds.”
Wow –those are words that were written in 1955! Can you imagine what a person who felt that modern communication in 1955 was too much would think of the interconnected information age that we live in? Hundreds of facebook “friends”,Twitter feeds by the thousands,multiple 24 hour new channels and on and on are constantly vying for our attention and begging our hearts to respond with connection,caring,money,support,etc.
Do these “tools”help us to be able to “respond to more hearts”,maintain better connection? Or do they only provide a shallow pool in which to wade and pretend that we are connected? People,businesses and causes use them to reach out to us. Sometimes they reach us, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes the more “connected” I am the more disconnected I feel. Relationships held together by 240 character snippets seem shallow and insignificant. Can I really know a person by their daily posts and comments?
But then I see the opposite side as well. After just returning from a truly inspiring Leap of Faith climb up Mount Kilimanjaro,I see how these social tools can help us connect and share at an even deeper level. After returning we’ve been able to share our photos,videos and experiences much more easily with each other despite the fact that we live all over the place. We’ve been able to continue to share ourselves with each other and learn more about what matters in each of our lives. Its really puzzling to me how something that seems so superficial can really enable the deepening of relationship.
On the negative side again, is the the competition for my attention that all these electronic tools present. I sit in front of my computer clicking away, skimming on the surface rather than reading a good novel or story. I tap away at my iPhone while one of my children is trying to talk to me, paying only half attention to both. How is this enriching my life? How would my life be without these tools? Would I write letters and send pictures telling my new found Kili friends more about myself and asking them more about themselves? I like to think I would, but I know that I wouldn’t. Would I have reconnected with one of my dearest friends from childhood who was all but lost to me until I searched for her name on the internet? I don’t know if I would have been able to find her again. How tragic that would have been. But would I have even known how tragic? Is my awareness increasing with these new tools?
What about my ability to respond to the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds? There are so many causes that call out to me –hunger and famine,tragic fires and earthquakes,food safety and security,diseases that have touched people I love,inspirational people and stories. How can my heart respond to them all? How can I as a single person make a difference? Maybe before,in the time of 1955,that was very,very difficult but now these tools make it possible for ME a solitary person to have a much larger impact on the world and those to whom my heart responds. With the click of a mouse I can make hundreds of friends and followers “aware”of something that touches my heart. Maybe they don’t all read what I send or what I write but even if one or two do then I have made more of a difference than I could alone. At first,I thought social media was just a time waster and it certainly can be,but now I see that through social media ONE person can have a significant impact on others and on the world just by passing on the word,the story,the cause,the message…….
So pass it on and make a difference in the things that touch your heart and let me know what you think.
please bookmark the new URL
I mentioned a few posts ago that I have been getting ready for a garage sale which has had me going through lots of old things to decide whether to keep,toss or sell. Since I am an avid reader and lover of books it means I have a LOT of books about which to make decisions. This is always tough for me. I often take stacks of books to the local library that I am finished with but it always tough for me to part with them. Maybe I should stay there and check out a few instead of buying my own copies all the time. Anyway,last night I was going through a stack and came across Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s Gift from the Sea. This book was first published in 1955 but I am always struck when I read it how relevant much of it still is today. In my copy of the book I have underlined many passages that spoke to me at my first reading. I enjoy going back and revisiting the passages and thinking about why they spoke to me years ago when I first read them. As I was skimming through the book last night this passage jumped out and grabbed me:
“The interrelatedness of the world links us constantly with more people than our hearts can hold. Or rather –for I believe the heart is infinite –modern communication loads us with more problems than the human frame can carry. It is good,I think,for our hearts,our minds,our imaginations to be stretched;but body,nerve,endurance and lifespan are not as elastic. My life cannot implement in action the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds.”
Wow –those are words that were written in 1955! Can you imagine what a person who felt that modern communication in 1955 was too much would think of the interconnected information age that we live in? Hundreds of facebook “friends”,Twitter feeds by the thousands,multiple 24 hour new channels and on and on are constantly vying for our attention and begging our hearts to respond with connection,caring,money,support,etc.
Do these “tools”help us to be able to “respond to more hearts”,maintain better connection? Or do they only provide a shallow pool in which to wade and pretend that we are connected? People,businesses and causes use them to reach out to us. Sometimes they reach us, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes the more “connected” I am the more disconnected I feel. Relationships held together by 240 character snippets seem shallow and insignificant. Can I really know a person by their daily posts and comments?
But then I see the opposite side as well. After just returning from a truly inspiring Leap of Faith climb up Mount Kilimanjaro,I see how these social tools can help us connect and share at an even deeper level. After returning we’ve been able to share our photos,videos and experiences much more easily with each other despite the fact that we live all over the place. We’ve been able to continue to share ourselves with each other and learn more about what matters in each of our lives. Its really puzzling to me how something that seems so superficial can really enable the deepening of relationship.
On the negative side again, is the the competition for my attention that all these electronic tools present. I sit in front of my computer clicking away, skimming on the surface rather than reading a good novel or story. I tap away at my iPhone while one of my children is trying to talk to me, paying only half attention to both. How is this enriching my life? How would my life be without these tools? Would I write letters and send pictures telling my new found Kili friends more about myself and asking them more about themselves? I like to think I would, but I know that I wouldn’t. Would I have reconnected with one of my dearest friends from childhood who was all but lost to me until I searched for her name on the internet? I don’t know if I would have been able to find her again. How tragic that would have been. But would I have even known how tragic? Is my awareness increasing with these new tools?
What about my ability to respond to the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds? There are so many causes that call out to me –hunger and famine,tragic fires and earthquakes,food safety and security,diseases that have touched people I love,inspirational people and stories. How can my heart respond to them all? How can I as a single person make a difference? Maybe before,in the time of 1955,that was very,very difficult but now these tools make it possible for ME a solitary person to have a much larger impact on the world and those to whom my heart responds. With the click of a mouse I can make hundreds of friends and followers “aware”of something that touches my heart. Maybe they don’t all read what I send or what I write but even if one or two do then I have made more of a difference than I could alone. At first,I thought social media was just a time waster and it certainly can be,but now I see that through social media ONE person can have a significant impact on others and on the world just by passing on the word,the story,the cause,the message…….
So pass it on and make a difference in the things that touch your heart and let me know what you think.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Unlocking the Cage
This blog is moving to a new URL www.marthacarlin.com Please bookmark the new location
"The Life of Every Man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another. His humblest hour is when he compares the volume as is with what he vowed to make it." - James Berry
This quote was in a newsletter sent to me by a friend over the weekend. It really struck me to my core thinking about what it says. It was especially poignant since I spent the weekend with some of my climbing team from Kilimanjaro. We participated in a presentation to people with people with Parkinson's about how important it is to have a positive outlook, to set goals and keep moving. Over the weekend we spent a lot of time together reliving and processing our experiences on Kilimanjaro. One of the themes I heard over and over again from the people who climbed with us that have MS or PD is that they wouldn't change a thing. That their lives now having more meaning and purpose because of their disease. This really touched me after reading the quote above because these people started out thinking they were going to write a very different story before they were diagnosed and now they are writing something different. They have chosen to use it to build strength and character and to impact and inspire others with the disease. What story am I choosing to write?
I've been really trying to think about the story that I meant to write long ago when I started out in the world and the one that I am writing now. I think most people don't really reflect on this sort of thing until they come closer to their end in life or to some life or death circumstance. But I want to make sure that I am writing the story I will be happy to measure myself against at the end of my days. But first I have to consider what keeps me from writing that story.
When I was in high school and college I loved the creative arts - painting, drawing, drama, photography, writing. All these things gave me great joy but I saw no economic way to make a living at them that was "safe". Growing up my father was a real estate developer. So sometimes we had lots of money and other times not very much. This created a sense of fear in me around money and wanting to have a secure source of money . so despite the fact that I wanted to study theatre or something in the arts, I chose a career in accounting. I was good at and it came easily. I graduated with honors and went out in the to world to make my mark. I had taken my first step away from the story I had originally wanted to "write" for myself. My career moved along nicely and I continued to get promotions or new jobs with more responsibility and more money. But I wasn't any more secure. I always felt like I didn't have enough to be secure. This kept me locked in a cage of fear for more than 20 years chasing the goal of enough. Over those years I sacrificed and sold my time - time away from the things and the people that I loved - but I was never secure. I was still locked in the cage. The biggest lock to my cage is my fear around money. In 2007, I finally got a little courage and I quit but I was still locked in the cage, writing the same story that was off course - going back to my comfort zone looking at "jobs" that were in my field of experience. But my field of experience wasn't my passion. Each time I would allow myself to get off course of exploring my passions it was because I was being gripped by fear - fear of not enough money, fear that people would think I was nuts, fear that I would lose everything I had worked so hard for, fear of really speaking my truth. As I started to examine myself and understand that I was locked in this cage of fear, I began to notice how many times I heard other people mention the words "fear" or "afraid". If you stop and really listen in your daily life to the people around you I think you will be amazed at how many times you will hear those words.
So it occurred to me that as a society we are overwhelmingly locked in a cage of fear from obtaining our full potential. Fear prevents us from even trying in so many cases. Here are just a few examples I have observed in the last month:
a friend of my daughter's didn't try out for the play because she was afraid she wouldn't get a part
another friend of hers didn't try out for volleyball because she was afraid she would get cut
a friend of mine didn't send a resume in for a job opening because they were afraid they didn't have enough experience
another friend didn't call a potential client because she was afraid her bid would be too high and she wouldn't get it
one of my MS friends from the climb said she was afraid her life was over when she was diagnosed and she just sat down and stopped living for a while
one of our fellow climbers quit at the very beginning because she was terrified she wouldn't make it and would be a burden to others
my daughter wants to be a sculptor but she doesn't because she's afraid she can't make a living at it
I'm not finishing my novel because I'm afraid that "I'm not a writer and I won't be able to get it published"
Some people didn't fly on Sunday because they were afraid they might be on a plane that would blow up
The stock market keeps gyrating because people are afraid and their fear makes the market more unstable
See how these fears prevent each of us from doing something or reaching for something that we really want. It really is a cage that holds us back from fully experiencing our lives as they should be. So what if we don't get the part or nobody buys the book or we don't reach the top of the climb - isn't it better to have tried and failed than not to try at all? Can't we dust ourselves off and try again and again. Its hard but it can be done.
I am working hard every day now to unlock my own cage of fear and step out to write the story of my life that I really want it to be - not the safe, easy version - the full out, sailing through the air, adventure of a life that I know my life can be if I am not afraid to live it. That doesn't mean I won't have fears from time to time. What it means is that each time I am faced with a fear that could lead me down a path to a mediocre life, I will cast it aside and step forward with courage.
What about you? Will you step forward today with courage and overcome the fears that haunt you and keep you from living your full life?
A few famous quotes about fear to close:
"You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith." ~Mary Manin Morrissey
"Fear makes the wolf bigger than he is." ~ German Proverb
"What are fears but voices airy?
Whispering harm where harm is not.
And deluding the unwary
Till the fatal bolt is shot!"
~ Wordsworth
"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."
~ Frank Herbert, Dune - Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear
"What we fear comes to pass more speedily than what we hope."
~ Publilius Syrus - Moral Sayings (1st C B.C.)
"The Life of Every Man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another. His humblest hour is when he compares the volume as is with what he vowed to make it." - James Berry
This quote was in a newsletter sent to me by a friend over the weekend. It really struck me to my core thinking about what it says. It was especially poignant since I spent the weekend with some of my climbing team from Kilimanjaro. We participated in a presentation to people with people with Parkinson's about how important it is to have a positive outlook, to set goals and keep moving. Over the weekend we spent a lot of time together reliving and processing our experiences on Kilimanjaro. One of the themes I heard over and over again from the people who climbed with us that have MS or PD is that they wouldn't change a thing. That their lives now having more meaning and purpose because of their disease. This really touched me after reading the quote above because these people started out thinking they were going to write a very different story before they were diagnosed and now they are writing something different. They have chosen to use it to build strength and character and to impact and inspire others with the disease. What story am I choosing to write?
I've been really trying to think about the story that I meant to write long ago when I started out in the world and the one that I am writing now. I think most people don't really reflect on this sort of thing until they come closer to their end in life or to some life or death circumstance. But I want to make sure that I am writing the story I will be happy to measure myself against at the end of my days. But first I have to consider what keeps me from writing that story.
When I was in high school and college I loved the creative arts - painting, drawing, drama, photography, writing. All these things gave me great joy but I saw no economic way to make a living at them that was "safe". Growing up my father was a real estate developer. So sometimes we had lots of money and other times not very much. This created a sense of fear in me around money and wanting to have a secure source of money . so despite the fact that I wanted to study theatre or something in the arts, I chose a career in accounting. I was good at and it came easily. I graduated with honors and went out in the to world to make my mark. I had taken my first step away from the story I had originally wanted to "write" for myself. My career moved along nicely and I continued to get promotions or new jobs with more responsibility and more money. But I wasn't any more secure. I always felt like I didn't have enough to be secure. This kept me locked in a cage of fear for more than 20 years chasing the goal of enough. Over those years I sacrificed and sold my time - time away from the things and the people that I loved - but I was never secure. I was still locked in the cage. The biggest lock to my cage is my fear around money. In 2007, I finally got a little courage and I quit but I was still locked in the cage, writing the same story that was off course - going back to my comfort zone looking at "jobs" that were in my field of experience. But my field of experience wasn't my passion. Each time I would allow myself to get off course of exploring my passions it was because I was being gripped by fear - fear of not enough money, fear that people would think I was nuts, fear that I would lose everything I had worked so hard for, fear of really speaking my truth. As I started to examine myself and understand that I was locked in this cage of fear, I began to notice how many times I heard other people mention the words "fear" or "afraid". If you stop and really listen in your daily life to the people around you I think you will be amazed at how many times you will hear those words.
So it occurred to me that as a society we are overwhelmingly locked in a cage of fear from obtaining our full potential. Fear prevents us from even trying in so many cases. Here are just a few examples I have observed in the last month:
a friend of my daughter's didn't try out for the play because she was afraid she wouldn't get a part
another friend of hers didn't try out for volleyball because she was afraid she would get cut
a friend of mine didn't send a resume in for a job opening because they were afraid they didn't have enough experience
another friend didn't call a potential client because she was afraid her bid would be too high and she wouldn't get it
one of my MS friends from the climb said she was afraid her life was over when she was diagnosed and she just sat down and stopped living for a while
one of our fellow climbers quit at the very beginning because she was terrified she wouldn't make it and would be a burden to others
my daughter wants to be a sculptor but she doesn't because she's afraid she can't make a living at it
I'm not finishing my novel because I'm afraid that "I'm not a writer and I won't be able to get it published"
Some people didn't fly on Sunday because they were afraid they might be on a plane that would blow up
The stock market keeps gyrating because people are afraid and their fear makes the market more unstable
See how these fears prevent each of us from doing something or reaching for something that we really want. It really is a cage that holds us back from fully experiencing our lives as they should be. So what if we don't get the part or nobody buys the book or we don't reach the top of the climb - isn't it better to have tried and failed than not to try at all? Can't we dust ourselves off and try again and again. Its hard but it can be done.
I am working hard every day now to unlock my own cage of fear and step out to write the story of my life that I really want it to be - not the safe, easy version - the full out, sailing through the air, adventure of a life that I know my life can be if I am not afraid to live it. That doesn't mean I won't have fears from time to time. What it means is that each time I am faced with a fear that could lead me down a path to a mediocre life, I will cast it aside and step forward with courage.
What about you? Will you step forward today with courage and overcome the fears that haunt you and keep you from living your full life?
A few famous quotes about fear to close:
"You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith." ~Mary Manin Morrissey
"Fear makes the wolf bigger than he is." ~ German Proverb
"What are fears but voices airy?
Whispering harm where harm is not.
And deluding the unwary
Till the fatal bolt is shot!"
~ Wordsworth
"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."
~ Frank Herbert, Dune - Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear
"What we fear comes to pass more speedily than what we hope."
~ Publilius Syrus - Moral Sayings (1st C B.C.)
Remembering the Falling Man
This blog is moving to www.marthacarlin.com. If you are following this blog, please follow on the new URL.
Today there were many memorial shows about 9-11 on television but none really showed much of the real impact of what happened that day. Most just had a short clip or two of the buildings burning. I was looking for the coverage that showed the buildings as the second tower was attacked and they both fell. I was looking for coverage of the Pentagon burning to remind myself of that day when I drove across the 14th Street Bridge leaving DC and looked over to see the building in flames. I think it is important to remember and reflect. While I was searching and watching videos on youTube I came across this documentary on the falling man. It tells the story of the controversy over the photograph of the falling man and one man’s journey to try to understand why WE didn’t want to see or talk about the people who jumped from the buildings that day and to find and tell the story of the person from the photograph.
Included here is the documentary. It is just over an hour long. I would encourage you to watch when you have the time to look at it and reflect. Ultimately he was never able to confirm definitively who the falling man was. But the falling man,for me,defines the tragedy of that day in a way no other photograph of the day can. It captures the human toll,the fear,the desperation and the lack of choices these people had. I watched the video with my son Jack,one was not even two years old on 9-11. He cringed as he watched it and we cried. He asked some questions but mostly just soaked in the horror of what happened. I wanted him to know,to try to understand what happened. In the closing of the documentary the narrator talks about this man as the “unknown soldier of 9-11″. So my tribute to him and to all those lost on that day was to watch the documentary and to remember fully this man and the others who chose a different fate than choking or burning in the inferno.
He is somewhere in the list of names on the memorial but we will never know which name is his. http://bit.ly/qSqy5T
falling man 9-11 documentary http://bit.ly/rtGHQs
Today there were many memorial shows about 9-11 on television but none really showed much of the real impact of what happened that day. Most just had a short clip or two of the buildings burning. I was looking for the coverage that showed the buildings as the second tower was attacked and they both fell. I was looking for coverage of the Pentagon burning to remind myself of that day when I drove across the 14th Street Bridge leaving DC and looked over to see the building in flames. I think it is important to remember and reflect. While I was searching and watching videos on youTube I came across this documentary on the falling man. It tells the story of the controversy over the photograph of the falling man and one man’s journey to try to understand why WE didn’t want to see or talk about the people who jumped from the buildings that day and to find and tell the story of the person from the photograph.
Included here is the documentary. It is just over an hour long. I would encourage you to watch when you have the time to look at it and reflect. Ultimately he was never able to confirm definitively who the falling man was. But the falling man,for me,defines the tragedy of that day in a way no other photograph of the day can. It captures the human toll,the fear,the desperation and the lack of choices these people had. I watched the video with my son Jack,one was not even two years old on 9-11. He cringed as he watched it and we cried. He asked some questions but mostly just soaked in the horror of what happened. I wanted him to know,to try to understand what happened. In the closing of the documentary the narrator talks about this man as the “unknown soldier of 9-11″. So my tribute to him and to all those lost on that day was to watch the documentary and to remember fully this man and the others who chose a different fate than choking or burning in the inferno.
He is somewhere in the list of names on the memorial but we will never know which name is his. http://bit.ly/qSqy5T
falling man 9-11 documentary http://bit.ly/rtGHQs
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Remembering My 9-11 Journey 10 years ago
Ten years ago today I was in Washington,DC at a conference at the Willard Hotel. The night before I had been out for drinks with an Australian news crew who was in town with their Prime Minister. They had been talking about what a boring trip it had been. I often think back on that comment when one of my children says that the day is “boring”. Boring and ordinary is not so bad when you consider what the opposite might be.
On the morning of September 11th I had breakfast with my boss,Tom,who had flown in from New York that morning. He had been at the World Trade Center the day before for a meeting with investors. The conference had just started when it was interrupted to tell us that a plane had hit the first tower. Many of the attendees were from New York so they suggested people who were step out and let people know they were okay or check on those back in New York. Tom stepped out to the call the office and let them know he was in DC and not New York. The conference continued for a few minutes more. A few minutes until they came and told us that another plane had hit the second tower. We were dumbfounded as we left the room. I found Tom and we went up to my room to look at the television. Just as we arrived we saw that the Pentagon had also been hit. That wasn’t far from where we were. We were scared. Tom said to finish packing that we were going to leave and go to our offices in Richmond. But we didn’t have a car. I quickly packed as we watched the coverage of the towers falling to the ground. It didn’t seem real. As we made our way through the lobby of the Willard we saw people huddled in groups trying to figure out what they were going to do. Most at the conference did not have cars so an escape was going to be a challenge.
We walked out the front of the building to chaos. All of the Federal Buildings were being evacuated. The roads were clogged with cars and the streets with people coming out of the buildings. We turned to our left and there sat an empty cab. Tom opened the back door and asked if he would take us to Richmond.
He said,“Sure. I want to get the hell out of here.”
We merged in to the heavy traffic and made our way toward the 14th street bridge –the route to I95 South to Richmond. We weren’t initially thinking how this would take us past the Pentagon. Within minutes we were driving across the bridge with very little traffic. There were cars pulled to the side all along the bridge,their occupants standing outside,mouths wide open,staring in the direction of the Pentagon. There was black flume of smoke rising from the building. It was surreal.
Our cab driver had no radio and we were getting agitated not knowing if anything else had happened. Tom asked the cab driver to pull off the highway in to Pentagon City so we could go in to a store and get a radio. We could not get our cell phones to work –there was too much volume for the system. The driver pulled off and we immediately realized we had made a mistake. People were pouring out of the metro stations like rats from a sewer. The roads were packed with people wandering around in a daze. There were people in military uniforms with clip boards on several corners. There would be no stopping for a radio. This detour took us well over an hour. It is extremely difficult to get out of the Pentagon area and back on I95. By the time we got back on to the interstate,we were the only car on either side of the road. I95 is an extremely busy artery into to DC. Being the only car on the road was unnerving,especially with no radio to indicate if there was further danger.
I remember driving down the highway in silence. All along the drive I saw raptors circling in the sky. At the time I thought they were hawks. I later figured out they were turkey vultures. We were finally able to reach one of our co-workers in Richmond on the cell phone. He started driving our way and we met a the Quantico exit. There was a long line of cars waiting to get in to Quantico –the marines were already headed to our defense.
Most of the next two days were a blur. I missed most of the news coverage for those days and the two days it took us to drive and fly back to Denver. We looked at every option to get home but there were none. We were finally able to get a rental car from Hertz on Thursday. We left at 8pm and started driving west through the mountains of Virginia and West Virginia. There was a terrible accident on the highway and the road was shut down for several hours. Everyone turned their cars off and sat parked on I64. Tom and got out and walked up and down the shoulder of the road,while Joseph,our other co-worker sat with the car. We were finally able to go again sometime after midnight. We drove through my hometown around 4am and stopped for a few minutes to say hello to my parents and get a few pillows so we could sleep in the van. We drove on through the day,stopping for breakfast in St. Louis. Sometime after 1 Tom’s assistant Alix called us to say she had a plane for us if we could make it to Kansas City by 3. We stopped to get a radar detector and got on the road driving as fast as we thought was safe but would get us there in time. The window to fly was going to be small,if we missed it we would have to continue driving. We were exhausted and probably should not have been driving but we made it to the airport and boarded our plane. We arrived in Denver around 4:30pm that Friday after the attack. Joseph’s friend picked us up and dropped me off at home.
I just wanted to sit and hold my family. We hugged,then I fell exhausted in to the bed and slept for several hours. My daughter Lindsay was 12,Mary Mac 3 and Jack was 1 1/2. Lindsay was old enough to understand that something terrible had happened. My younger children were not. They have no real recollection of it. The images of those days and weeks are not imprinted in their minds forever.
In the weeks following the attack what I remember most is the silence in the skies –no noise pollution from airplanes constantly overhead. It was soothing,yet erie. I also remember the kindness of strangers –people reaching out to each other,talking to strangers,smiling,helping each other. That’s the one thing that sticks out to me ten years later –how far we have moved away from that sense of oneness that produce kindness and consideration. The vitriolic discourse and inflaming news coverage drives a wedge that puts civility out of reach.
Just for today,reflecting on that,I ask if we can’t remember our oneness ten years ago. Can we reach back to that feeling,that understand and comprehend that we are many but we are also one. Can we try to find that civility again? Appreciating our differences and finding common ground to move forward?
I did not realize until recently the impact 9/11 had in changing me and my path in life. It was from that point that I began to question everything that I had worked for up to that point. It has taken ten years but my path has changed dramatically in that time. Has yours?
On the morning of September 11th I had breakfast with my boss,Tom,who had flown in from New York that morning. He had been at the World Trade Center the day before for a meeting with investors. The conference had just started when it was interrupted to tell us that a plane had hit the first tower. Many of the attendees were from New York so they suggested people who were step out and let people know they were okay or check on those back in New York. Tom stepped out to the call the office and let them know he was in DC and not New York. The conference continued for a few minutes more. A few minutes until they came and told us that another plane had hit the second tower. We were dumbfounded as we left the room. I found Tom and we went up to my room to look at the television. Just as we arrived we saw that the Pentagon had also been hit. That wasn’t far from where we were. We were scared. Tom said to finish packing that we were going to leave and go to our offices in Richmond. But we didn’t have a car. I quickly packed as we watched the coverage of the towers falling to the ground. It didn’t seem real. As we made our way through the lobby of the Willard we saw people huddled in groups trying to figure out what they were going to do. Most at the conference did not have cars so an escape was going to be a challenge.
We walked out the front of the building to chaos. All of the Federal Buildings were being evacuated. The roads were clogged with cars and the streets with people coming out of the buildings. We turned to our left and there sat an empty cab. Tom opened the back door and asked if he would take us to Richmond.
He said,“Sure. I want to get the hell out of here.”
We merged in to the heavy traffic and made our way toward the 14th street bridge –the route to I95 South to Richmond. We weren’t initially thinking how this would take us past the Pentagon. Within minutes we were driving across the bridge with very little traffic. There were cars pulled to the side all along the bridge,their occupants standing outside,mouths wide open,staring in the direction of the Pentagon. There was black flume of smoke rising from the building. It was surreal.
Our cab driver had no radio and we were getting agitated not knowing if anything else had happened. Tom asked the cab driver to pull off the highway in to Pentagon City so we could go in to a store and get a radio. We could not get our cell phones to work –there was too much volume for the system. The driver pulled off and we immediately realized we had made a mistake. People were pouring out of the metro stations like rats from a sewer. The roads were packed with people wandering around in a daze. There were people in military uniforms with clip boards on several corners. There would be no stopping for a radio. This detour took us well over an hour. It is extremely difficult to get out of the Pentagon area and back on I95. By the time we got back on to the interstate,we were the only car on either side of the road. I95 is an extremely busy artery into to DC. Being the only car on the road was unnerving,especially with no radio to indicate if there was further danger.
I remember driving down the highway in silence. All along the drive I saw raptors circling in the sky. At the time I thought they were hawks. I later figured out they were turkey vultures. We were finally able to reach one of our co-workers in Richmond on the cell phone. He started driving our way and we met a the Quantico exit. There was a long line of cars waiting to get in to Quantico –the marines were already headed to our defense.
Most of the next two days were a blur. I missed most of the news coverage for those days and the two days it took us to drive and fly back to Denver. We looked at every option to get home but there were none. We were finally able to get a rental car from Hertz on Thursday. We left at 8pm and started driving west through the mountains of Virginia and West Virginia. There was a terrible accident on the highway and the road was shut down for several hours. Everyone turned their cars off and sat parked on I64. Tom and got out and walked up and down the shoulder of the road,while Joseph,our other co-worker sat with the car. We were finally able to go again sometime after midnight. We drove through my hometown around 4am and stopped for a few minutes to say hello to my parents and get a few pillows so we could sleep in the van. We drove on through the day,stopping for breakfast in St. Louis. Sometime after 1 Tom’s assistant Alix called us to say she had a plane for us if we could make it to Kansas City by 3. We stopped to get a radar detector and got on the road driving as fast as we thought was safe but would get us there in time. The window to fly was going to be small,if we missed it we would have to continue driving. We were exhausted and probably should not have been driving but we made it to the airport and boarded our plane. We arrived in Denver around 4:30pm that Friday after the attack. Joseph’s friend picked us up and dropped me off at home.
I just wanted to sit and hold my family. We hugged,then I fell exhausted in to the bed and slept for several hours. My daughter Lindsay was 12,Mary Mac 3 and Jack was 1 1/2. Lindsay was old enough to understand that something terrible had happened. My younger children were not. They have no real recollection of it. The images of those days and weeks are not imprinted in their minds forever.
In the weeks following the attack what I remember most is the silence in the skies –no noise pollution from airplanes constantly overhead. It was soothing,yet erie. I also remember the kindness of strangers –people reaching out to each other,talking to strangers,smiling,helping each other. That’s the one thing that sticks out to me ten years later –how far we have moved away from that sense of oneness that produce kindness and consideration. The vitriolic discourse and inflaming news coverage drives a wedge that puts civility out of reach.
Just for today,reflecting on that,I ask if we can’t remember our oneness ten years ago. Can we reach back to that feeling,that understand and comprehend that we are many but we are also one. Can we try to find that civility again? Appreciating our differences and finding common ground to move forward?
I did not realize until recently the impact 9/11 had in changing me and my path in life. It was from that point that I began to question everything that I had worked for up to that point. It has taken ten years but my path has changed dramatically in that time. Has yours?
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Chop, chop, toss, pop
this blog is moving to www.marthacarlin.com, partly because the links on blogger only work about half the time. Frustrating.....
Another busy afternoon in the kitchen. After a morning of cleaning up computer files and sorting things for the upcoming garage sale,cooking seemed like a good break. John wanted something light for dinner –soup and salads. At first thought that seems like it wouldn’t take too much time to put together. Not so,not so. One of John’s favorite things is gazpacho. I decided to surprise him with a batch. This requires a great deal of chopping. Chopped tomatoes,chopped peppers,chopped onions,chopped parsley,chopped cucumbers –toss in some worcestershire sauce,tomato juice,broth (I used veggie),hot sauce,salt,pepper and this recipe had a hard boiled egg thrown in. Interesting but not my favorite. I need another recipe. John liked it though.
On the salad front more chop –thus the chop,chop. On the menu –potato salad,spicy bean salad,Jamie Oliver’s wild rice salad,fruit salad and tomato salad –all of which required chopping.
Potato salad –boil a small bag of new potatoes,drain and cut in to smaller pieces. While they are still hot toss them with a mix of 6T olive oil and 2T lemon juice,then add dill,capers,a small amount of diced onion or shallot,chives if you have them and 1/4 c. of plain yogurt (I life Fage 2%) –salt and pepper to taste.
Spicy bean salad –I make this all the time but it is never the same since I don’t use a recipe –toss in two cans of beans (any will do). Today I used black beans and cannellini beans. Add diced peppers –red,yellow,orange or green,diced red onion,herbs (basil and parsley if you have them),corn (frozen or fresh cut off the cob and roasted in the oven). Today I roasted the fresh cut corn with some cumin,cayenne and salt. Add sriracha or other hot sauce to taste and either oil and vinegar dressing or buttermilk ranch. Today I used ranch. I also tossed in some sun-dried tomatoes. Today’s batch was a bit spicier than usual but it didn’t stop John and Mary Mac from devouring it. Jack is not a fan.
Rice salad –cook long grain and wild rice according to package and then cool. Add fresh herbs –basil,parsley and mint,about one sprig of each,chopped. Add 8oz of diced roasted red peppers. Toss with lemon dressing –3T olive oil,1 T lemon juice shaken in a jar with salt and pepper. Sometimes I add feta or goat cheese and black olives but not today.
Tomato salad –I vary this one all the time too –using different vinegars,adding cheese or leaving it out,adding olives or leaving them out,adding beans or leaving them out. Today’s mix –diced beefsteak tomatoe tossed with red wine vinegar and oil dressing (3T oil and 1 T vinegar shaken in a jar with salt and pepper),added tiny balls of fresh mozzarella,fresh basil leaves and half a cup of cannellini beans.
Fruit salad –cut up 1 peach,1 pluot,1 plum,1 apple,5 strawberries,1/4 cantelope and toss together.
By the time I finished all the chopping and got this on the table it had been about two and half hours. The time flew though because I love being in the kitchen. Chopping is a form of meditation for me. The rhythmic motion of the knife on the cutting board can really absorb me and clean my mind. Its like a dance moving from one ingredient to another –chop,chop,toss,stir,taste.
We have enough of the salads to have a nice lunch tomorrow with fresh peaches I am hoping to get at the Parker Farmer’s Market. It is nearing the end of the season so its anybody’s guess as to whether there will be peaches tomorrow. My taste buds hope so.
After the dinner clean up,I decided to make a dessert mess. This happens with me a lot. Poor John is usually the clean up guy. He gets everything in the dishwasher and the counters clean and I turn right around and start making a mess again. Isn’t it that way with life though. Just when you think you’ve got everything straightened out something new comes along to stir things up. Well my new mess involved stirring –lots of it. I decided to make the base custard from Ciao Bella so I could cool it over night and make Key Lime and graham cracker gelato tomorrow. Besides,I need to use up my Longmont Dairy Milk. They have the best milk going –no hormones,fresh,local,grass fed cows…. But I am required to buy a minimum of 3 half gallons a week. We don’t always drink this much so it leaves me coming up with ideas of what to do with it. Sometimes I make yogurt. Today it is gelato. The base recipe calls for 4 cups of whole milk,1 cup of whipping cream,1 cup of sugar and 4 egg yolks. The milk and cream are mixed and warmed in a sauce pan to 170 degrees. While this is going on the sugar and egg yolks are beaten to pale yellow. When the milk reaches 170 you temper the eggs –that means to put a little bit of the warm milk in the eggs while you whisk them briskly,adding milk a little at time until the eggs are mixed with the milk. Then you cook it further on low to 185 degrees stirring constantly until it coats the back of a wooden spoon. This takes a little while and gets kind of hot standing over the stove. When you are finished you have to strain the custard mixture through a fine strainer to get out any egg that has solidified. This takes quite a while. Lucky for me Jack found it interesting and came to the rescue. Now it is cooling on the counter awaiting a night in the freezer. More tomorrow on how delicious the gelato is –along with the recipe if you want to make it.
Finally,we finished off the evening with a favorite movie –Lord of the Rings and some pop corn,the old fashioned way. I popped it in a pan with oil –none of that microwave stuff with artificial flavors. This is an art in itself. It can be hard to get it right without burning the pan. Cover the bottom of the pan with oil and heat it up with one kernel in the pan. When that kernel pops you know your pan is ready. Add about half a cup of popcorn. Put the lid on and keep shaking the pan to make sure the popped corn rises to the top and the unpopped kernels stay at the bottom to continue popping. That’s the real trick to not burning it –constant movement. Once the sound of popping slows you know its time to take it off the heat. If you wait for every last kernel to pop you are probably going to have a burnt pan. Resist the urge. Then toss with season –we add cajun and salt along with a little real butter.
Finally after 4 long hours,I retire to the couch with my bowl to revisit “Lord of the Rings”. We all love this movie though Jack was afraid of Gollum when he was little. I love Galadriel’s monologue at the beginning.
“The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Must that once was is lost,for none now live who remember it.”
I am not sure what year Tolkein wrote the book but it was a number of years ago. I think her monologue is timeless. With each generation comes change and something is lost of the past. Today for example,few know how to grow their own food and children don’t know where most of their food comes from other than the grocery store. We are losing our knowledge of how things are made because nothing is made here in the US anymore. In another generation all those skills will be lost. There are hundreds of varieties of seeds that are no longer grown and will eventually pass away from memory. Youth want their electronic devices more than their sense of smell (see previous blog entry). Change is inevitable. It will happen no matter how we try to stop it. So how do we embrace the change while still trying to steer it in a good direction.
“Even the smallest person can change the course of the future”–Galadriel to Frodo. So true. So true. Never think that you don’t matter. You do and you can make a difference.
Well enough wandering through my mind for the day. Like I said,you never know what you mind find here.
Another busy afternoon in the kitchen. After a morning of cleaning up computer files and sorting things for the upcoming garage sale,cooking seemed like a good break. John wanted something light for dinner –soup and salads. At first thought that seems like it wouldn’t take too much time to put together. Not so,not so. One of John’s favorite things is gazpacho. I decided to surprise him with a batch. This requires a great deal of chopping. Chopped tomatoes,chopped peppers,chopped onions,chopped parsley,chopped cucumbers –toss in some worcestershire sauce,tomato juice,broth (I used veggie),hot sauce,salt,pepper and this recipe had a hard boiled egg thrown in. Interesting but not my favorite. I need another recipe. John liked it though.
On the salad front more chop –thus the chop,chop. On the menu –potato salad,spicy bean salad,Jamie Oliver’s wild rice salad,fruit salad and tomato salad –all of which required chopping.
Potato salad –boil a small bag of new potatoes,drain and cut in to smaller pieces. While they are still hot toss them with a mix of 6T olive oil and 2T lemon juice,then add dill,capers,a small amount of diced onion or shallot,chives if you have them and 1/4 c. of plain yogurt (I life Fage 2%) –salt and pepper to taste.
Spicy bean salad –I make this all the time but it is never the same since I don’t use a recipe –toss in two cans of beans (any will do). Today I used black beans and cannellini beans. Add diced peppers –red,yellow,orange or green,diced red onion,herbs (basil and parsley if you have them),corn (frozen or fresh cut off the cob and roasted in the oven). Today I roasted the fresh cut corn with some cumin,cayenne and salt. Add sriracha or other hot sauce to taste and either oil and vinegar dressing or buttermilk ranch. Today I used ranch. I also tossed in some sun-dried tomatoes. Today’s batch was a bit spicier than usual but it didn’t stop John and Mary Mac from devouring it. Jack is not a fan.
Rice salad –cook long grain and wild rice according to package and then cool. Add fresh herbs –basil,parsley and mint,about one sprig of each,chopped. Add 8oz of diced roasted red peppers. Toss with lemon dressing –3T olive oil,1 T lemon juice shaken in a jar with salt and pepper. Sometimes I add feta or goat cheese and black olives but not today.
Tomato salad –I vary this one all the time too –using different vinegars,adding cheese or leaving it out,adding olives or leaving them out,adding beans or leaving them out. Today’s mix –diced beefsteak tomatoe tossed with red wine vinegar and oil dressing (3T oil and 1 T vinegar shaken in a jar with salt and pepper),added tiny balls of fresh mozzarella,fresh basil leaves and half a cup of cannellini beans.
Fruit salad –cut up 1 peach,1 pluot,1 plum,1 apple,5 strawberries,1/4 cantelope and toss together.
By the time I finished all the chopping and got this on the table it had been about two and half hours. The time flew though because I love being in the kitchen. Chopping is a form of meditation for me. The rhythmic motion of the knife on the cutting board can really absorb me and clean my mind. Its like a dance moving from one ingredient to another –chop,chop,toss,stir,taste.
We have enough of the salads to have a nice lunch tomorrow with fresh peaches I am hoping to get at the Parker Farmer’s Market. It is nearing the end of the season so its anybody’s guess as to whether there will be peaches tomorrow. My taste buds hope so.
After the dinner clean up,I decided to make a dessert mess. This happens with me a lot. Poor John is usually the clean up guy. He gets everything in the dishwasher and the counters clean and I turn right around and start making a mess again. Isn’t it that way with life though. Just when you think you’ve got everything straightened out something new comes along to stir things up. Well my new mess involved stirring –lots of it. I decided to make the base custard from Ciao Bella so I could cool it over night and make Key Lime and graham cracker gelato tomorrow. Besides,I need to use up my Longmont Dairy Milk. They have the best milk going –no hormones,fresh,local,grass fed cows…. But I am required to buy a minimum of 3 half gallons a week. We don’t always drink this much so it leaves me coming up with ideas of what to do with it. Sometimes I make yogurt. Today it is gelato. The base recipe calls for 4 cups of whole milk,1 cup of whipping cream,1 cup of sugar and 4 egg yolks. The milk and cream are mixed and warmed in a sauce pan to 170 degrees. While this is going on the sugar and egg yolks are beaten to pale yellow. When the milk reaches 170 you temper the eggs –that means to put a little bit of the warm milk in the eggs while you whisk them briskly,adding milk a little at time until the eggs are mixed with the milk. Then you cook it further on low to 185 degrees stirring constantly until it coats the back of a wooden spoon. This takes a little while and gets kind of hot standing over the stove. When you are finished you have to strain the custard mixture through a fine strainer to get out any egg that has solidified. This takes quite a while. Lucky for me Jack found it interesting and came to the rescue. Now it is cooling on the counter awaiting a night in the freezer. More tomorrow on how delicious the gelato is –along with the recipe if you want to make it.
Finally,we finished off the evening with a favorite movie –Lord of the Rings and some pop corn,the old fashioned way. I popped it in a pan with oil –none of that microwave stuff with artificial flavors. This is an art in itself. It can be hard to get it right without burning the pan. Cover the bottom of the pan with oil and heat it up with one kernel in the pan. When that kernel pops you know your pan is ready. Add about half a cup of popcorn. Put the lid on and keep shaking the pan to make sure the popped corn rises to the top and the unpopped kernels stay at the bottom to continue popping. That’s the real trick to not burning it –constant movement. Once the sound of popping slows you know its time to take it off the heat. If you wait for every last kernel to pop you are probably going to have a burnt pan. Resist the urge. Then toss with season –we add cajun and salt along with a little real butter.
Finally after 4 long hours,I retire to the couch with my bowl to revisit “Lord of the Rings”. We all love this movie though Jack was afraid of Gollum when he was little. I love Galadriel’s monologue at the beginning.
“The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Must that once was is lost,for none now live who remember it.”
I am not sure what year Tolkein wrote the book but it was a number of years ago. I think her monologue is timeless. With each generation comes change and something is lost of the past. Today for example,few know how to grow their own food and children don’t know where most of their food comes from other than the grocery store. We are losing our knowledge of how things are made because nothing is made here in the US anymore. In another generation all those skills will be lost. There are hundreds of varieties of seeds that are no longer grown and will eventually pass away from memory. Youth want their electronic devices more than their sense of smell (see previous blog entry). Change is inevitable. It will happen no matter how we try to stop it. So how do we embrace the change while still trying to steer it in a good direction.
“Even the smallest person can change the course of the future”–Galadriel to Frodo. So true. So true. Never think that you don’t matter. You do and you can make a difference.
Well enough wandering through my mind for the day. Like I said,you never know what you mind find here.
What is Chaos?
Blog is moving to www.marthacarlin.com
A few weeks ago I wrote about the chaos in my garden - my daughter's description, not necessarily mine. I find the them of trying to find "order" in my life keeps coming back over and over. Moving my blog over to this URL I am still missing a few key elements from my other site. One of them, my oldest, in length of years not in age, friend Tracy pointed out was the comment "you never know what you might find here". That is probably the key element of description for a my blog. I pull together a seemingly random collection of topics and thoughts that come to mind. So maybe its time to revisit Chaos.
What is Chaos?
I mentioned the book Sync by Steven Strogatz in my previous entry http://amzn.to/qz51bZ . As I was flipping through the pages recalling different parts of the book I came across a discussion of chaos. Here is the discussion from the book that drove home the key "theme", if there is one, of my blog:
"The first step is to understand chaos itself. Unfortunately, many of us begin with faulty preconceptions about what chaos is like. Part of the confusion stems from the word itself. In colloquial usage, chaos refers to a state that only appears random, but is actually generated by nonrandom laws. As such, it occupies an unfamiliar middle ground between order and disorder. It looks erratic superficially, yet it contains cryptic pattersn and is governed by rigid rules. It's predictable in the short run but unpredictable in the long run."
I really like the thought of my bog occupying the middle ground between order and disorder.
But then I read on in the book to further discussion of chaos.
"Another subtlety: In chaos, every point is a point o finstability. It's worse than the quandary face by Robert Frost's traveler in "The Road Not Taken" (see earlier post - more lessons from the trail) - a life ruled by chaos is even more precarious. Every moment would be a moment of truth. Every decision would have long-term consequences that would alter your life beyond recognition."
Wow, that really gets my head spinning. A person could go nuts going back and hashing over decisions from the past and trying to figure out how they changed the present. Even worse, a person could get totally bogged down in indecision out of fear of making the wrong decision and going down the wrong road. I think many people are actually like this - terribly indecisive. Not me. In fact, if its possible, I am probably too decisive about everything. I make my decisions from my gut and therefore don't always consider every single bit of information or fact available.
What about you? Is there chaos to your life? Are you finding order? How decisive are you? And is every moment a moment of truth?
A few weeks ago I wrote about the chaos in my garden - my daughter's description, not necessarily mine. I find the them of trying to find "order" in my life keeps coming back over and over. Moving my blog over to this URL I am still missing a few key elements from my other site. One of them, my oldest, in length of years not in age, friend Tracy pointed out was the comment "you never know what you might find here". That is probably the key element of description for a my blog. I pull together a seemingly random collection of topics and thoughts that come to mind. So maybe its time to revisit Chaos.
What is Chaos?
I mentioned the book Sync by Steven Strogatz in my previous entry http://amzn.to/qz51bZ . As I was flipping through the pages recalling different parts of the book I came across a discussion of chaos. Here is the discussion from the book that drove home the key "theme", if there is one, of my blog:
"The first step is to understand chaos itself. Unfortunately, many of us begin with faulty preconceptions about what chaos is like. Part of the confusion stems from the word itself. In colloquial usage, chaos refers to a state that only appears random, but is actually generated by nonrandom laws. As such, it occupies an unfamiliar middle ground between order and disorder. It looks erratic superficially, yet it contains cryptic pattersn and is governed by rigid rules. It's predictable in the short run but unpredictable in the long run."
I really like the thought of my bog occupying the middle ground between order and disorder.
But then I read on in the book to further discussion of chaos.
"Another subtlety: In chaos, every point is a point o finstability. It's worse than the quandary face by Robert Frost's traveler in "The Road Not Taken" (see earlier post - more lessons from the trail) - a life ruled by chaos is even more precarious. Every moment would be a moment of truth. Every decision would have long-term consequences that would alter your life beyond recognition."
Wow, that really gets my head spinning. A person could go nuts going back and hashing over decisions from the past and trying to figure out how they changed the present. Even worse, a person could get totally bogged down in indecision out of fear of making the wrong decision and going down the wrong road. I think many people are actually like this - terribly indecisive. Not me. In fact, if its possible, I am probably too decisive about everything. I make my decisions from my gut and therefore don't always consider every single bit of information or fact available.
What about you? Is there chaos to your life? Are you finding order? How decisive are you? And is every moment a moment of truth?
Moving my blog to www.marthacarlin.com
For anyone interested in this blog, it has been moved to www.marthacarlin.com
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Why are we so out of sync?
This blog is moving to
As I was sorting through the books on the shelves trying to decide which of my “babies”to part with in the garage sale I came upon a book I read several years back called “Sync –How Order Emerges From Chaos in the Universe,Nature and Daily Life”by Steven Strogatz. Sounds a bit dry to you I imagine. It did to me at first too but it was recommended by a friend so I undertook it. I have to say it took me a long while to finish it as I undertook it as a “bathroom”read,meaning I only read a snippet here or there when I made my trip to the loo.
As I picked it up off the shelf this time and flipped back through the pages I remembered some of instances of sync discussed in the book.
Journal Science,1917 ”Some twenty years ago I saw,or thought I saw,a synchronal or simultaneous flashing of fireflies. I could hardly believe my eyes,for such a thing to occur among insects is certainly contrary to all natural laws.”–Philip Laurent
For the next twenty years the Journal Science published multiple articles on this mysterious sychrony. The book goes on to discuss numerous instances of sync in the world –brain waves,heart beats,menstrual cycles of women in close proximity,clocks,leaves of plants that open and close simultaneously. Most of these examples are both synchronic and rhythmic. But synchronicity doesn’t have to be rhythmic. For example,the various sections of an orchestra –strings,woodwinds,etc. are synchronous as they come in to play in a piece but not necessarily rhythmic.
In any event,my point here is that the universe is drawn to synchronicity. If that is so,then why can’t we,as a society,as individuals be more in sync? We are once again in a political cycle. Well really,these cycles are not cycles at all,they are perpetual states of re-election. But these campaigns seem to draw us further and further away from sync with each other as they are designed to focus on our differences rather than where we are alike. In religion,we have battles all over the world and here at home on who has the “right”religion,instead of focusing on where we are in sync. There are many basic foundational beliefs in the religions of the world that are the same. Can’t we focus our attention there to be more in sync?
I’ve stopped watching the news for the most part. It just seems designed to aggravate and induce fear and anxiety. NPR’s Talk of the Nation this week did a piece on the media hype behind Hurricane Irene and whether or not it was too much. http://n.pr/qpYULM I think the same could be said for the earthquake in Washington,DC the week before. We had the same level of earthquake out here in Colorado the same day and there was almost no news about at all. We live in this age of constant media bombardment of “news”that’s not really news. Its opinion,speculation and hype. How do we stop this crazy cycle? I’d like to see something like “the Good News Network” or the “Just the Facts M’am Network”. Wonder if that would even be possible today?
At the same time we are bombarding ourselves and our children with these images and voices of discord,we are also failing in our ability to have a civil discourse about any meaningful topic. Can’t people agree to disagree and be respectful about it? Why can’t we talk about our differences of opinion as the great debaters who founded our nation did? I just don’t get it. I like to read about and talk to people about different points of view. That’s the only way to really learn. Ask questions and listen. Maybe you won’t change your view from black to white but maybe,just maybe,you will add a shade of gray to your point of view.
As a nation,as a world,and as individuals we desperately need to give this topic some serious thought and try to turn ourselves toward SYNC. That doesn’t mean we all have to be alike,just that we move in better concert with each other -like the symphony.
As I was sorting through the books on the shelves trying to decide which of my “babies”to part with in the garage sale I came upon a book I read several years back called “Sync –How Order Emerges From Chaos in the Universe,Nature and Daily Life”by Steven Strogatz. Sounds a bit dry to you I imagine. It did to me at first too but it was recommended by a friend so I undertook it. I have to say it took me a long while to finish it as I undertook it as a “bathroom”read,meaning I only read a snippet here or there when I made my trip to the loo.
As I picked it up off the shelf this time and flipped back through the pages I remembered some of instances of sync discussed in the book.
Journal Science,1917 ”Some twenty years ago I saw,or thought I saw,a synchronal or simultaneous flashing of fireflies. I could hardly believe my eyes,for such a thing to occur among insects is certainly contrary to all natural laws.”–Philip Laurent
For the next twenty years the Journal Science published multiple articles on this mysterious sychrony. The book goes on to discuss numerous instances of sync in the world –brain waves,heart beats,menstrual cycles of women in close proximity,clocks,leaves of plants that open and close simultaneously. Most of these examples are both synchronic and rhythmic. But synchronicity doesn’t have to be rhythmic. For example,the various sections of an orchestra –strings,woodwinds,etc. are synchronous as they come in to play in a piece but not necessarily rhythmic.
In any event,my point here is that the universe is drawn to synchronicity. If that is so,then why can’t we,as a society,as individuals be more in sync? We are once again in a political cycle. Well really,these cycles are not cycles at all,they are perpetual states of re-election. But these campaigns seem to draw us further and further away from sync with each other as they are designed to focus on our differences rather than where we are alike. In religion,we have battles all over the world and here at home on who has the “right”religion,instead of focusing on where we are in sync. There are many basic foundational beliefs in the religions of the world that are the same. Can’t we focus our attention there to be more in sync?
I’ve stopped watching the news for the most part. It just seems designed to aggravate and induce fear and anxiety. NPR’s Talk of the Nation this week did a piece on the media hype behind Hurricane Irene and whether or not it was too much. http://n.pr/qpYULM I think the same could be said for the earthquake in Washington,DC the week before. We had the same level of earthquake out here in Colorado the same day and there was almost no news about at all. We live in this age of constant media bombardment of “news”that’s not really news. Its opinion,speculation and hype. How do we stop this crazy cycle? I’d like to see something like “the Good News Network” or the “Just the Facts M’am Network”. Wonder if that would even be possible today?
At the same time we are bombarding ourselves and our children with these images and voices of discord,we are also failing in our ability to have a civil discourse about any meaningful topic. Can’t people agree to disagree and be respectful about it? Why can’t we talk about our differences of opinion as the great debaters who founded our nation did? I just don’t get it. I like to read about and talk to people about different points of view. That’s the only way to really learn. Ask questions and listen. Maybe you won’t change your view from black to white but maybe,just maybe,you will add a shade of gray to your point of view.
As a nation,as a world,and as individuals we desperately need to give this topic some serious thought and try to turn ourselves toward SYNC. That doesn’t mean we all have to be alike,just that we move in better concert with each other -like the symphony.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Aroma, Scent, Smell - What fools these children be.......
Yesterday I read a tidbit in Real Simple Magazine. It said that according to research by McCann Worldgroup 53% of 16 to 22-year-olds around the world would rather give up their sense of smell than their favorite personal technology device. It took a minute or two for that to sink it. I could argue about their sample size and what countries they surveyed to argue against this but that is beside the point.
The point is that our children have been deprived of their senses, especially smell, so much so that they are not even aware of the importance of some of them.
"Our sense of smell is 10,000 times more sensitive than any other of our senses and recognition of smell is immediate." (von Have, Serene Aromatherapy).
Our children grow up in these sterile environments in well lit rooms filled with electronic gadgets to distract their attention. Many are rarely outside surrounded by the smells of nature. Smell has the ability to achieve instant memory recall. When I smell the rich, thick, earthy aroma of rotting organic matter, I am instantly transported back to the woods of my childhood. My mind goes back to the rich soil under my feet and in my fingernails from hours spent exploring the woods behind my neighbors house. Just after the lawn is mowed and a gentle rain falls, again, I am transported back in my mind to days of my childhood. The sweet smell of grass mingling with the crisp scent of the falling rain. Would I give this up for an iPhone? Are you crazy?
I remember as a child standing in the front hall closet and smelling my Dad's khaki work jacket. It was infused with the scent of tobacco and my father's unique earthiness from a day of construction work. I used to hold the jacket up to my face and just breathe it in. My father is gone but I could bring him back in an instant with that mix of smells. As any of you know who have lost a loved one, some of the most treasured things you have in the weeks following the loss are not golden lockets or even photographs, they are the old shirt, the pillow, the blanket they last used. We close our eyes and hold them close and evoke the full sense of "knowing" our loved one is still there with us. I remember when my Dad's T-shirt, I had saved after he died, was washed by accident and the scent was no longer there. I was heart broken. Nothing can recreate that. Would I give this up for a Computer? No way.
Every time I smell fresh bread cooking it takes me back to the time Lindsay and I lived in the little house in Dallas around the corner from the Mrs. Baird's Bread Factory. I remember what my life was like then, sitting in the backyard watching Lindsay frolic around shirtless in the sprinkler while the smell of bread floated over the fence. I remember the way she smelled as a little girl - her clothes,her hair, her skin. I wish I had that in a bottle. Would I trade that for an iPad? Not on your life.
There are so many smells that evoke a great sense of pleasure or a memory for me - the leaves of a tomato plant, dirt, my mother's perfume, Vick's vapor rub, strawberries, peaches, cookies baking, pine needles, gardenias, peonies, baby soap, bourbon, wine......
My husband is losing his sense of smell. Its one of the early signs of Parkinson's. Its also an early indicator for Alzheimer's. Without a sense of smell I imagine it makes it even harder for a person losing their memory to recall things. It goes slowly at first, without notice.
The sense of smell is oh so important. Teach your children to appreciate it. Renew your own appreciation for it. Stop and smell the roses and/or the dirt. Never consider trading this critically important gift for an electronic gadget. Blasphemy!
When nothing else subsists from the past, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scatter
the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls
bearing resiliently, on tiny and almost impalpable drops of their essence, the immense edifice of memory.
--- Marcel Proust "The Remembrance of Things Past"
The point is that our children have been deprived of their senses, especially smell, so much so that they are not even aware of the importance of some of them.
"Our sense of smell is 10,000 times more sensitive than any other of our senses and recognition of smell is immediate." (von Have, Serene Aromatherapy).
Our children grow up in these sterile environments in well lit rooms filled with electronic gadgets to distract their attention. Many are rarely outside surrounded by the smells of nature. Smell has the ability to achieve instant memory recall. When I smell the rich, thick, earthy aroma of rotting organic matter, I am instantly transported back to the woods of my childhood. My mind goes back to the rich soil under my feet and in my fingernails from hours spent exploring the woods behind my neighbors house. Just after the lawn is mowed and a gentle rain falls, again, I am transported back in my mind to days of my childhood. The sweet smell of grass mingling with the crisp scent of the falling rain. Would I give this up for an iPhone? Are you crazy?
I remember as a child standing in the front hall closet and smelling my Dad's khaki work jacket. It was infused with the scent of tobacco and my father's unique earthiness from a day of construction work. I used to hold the jacket up to my face and just breathe it in. My father is gone but I could bring him back in an instant with that mix of smells. As any of you know who have lost a loved one, some of the most treasured things you have in the weeks following the loss are not golden lockets or even photographs, they are the old shirt, the pillow, the blanket they last used. We close our eyes and hold them close and evoke the full sense of "knowing" our loved one is still there with us. I remember when my Dad's T-shirt, I had saved after he died, was washed by accident and the scent was no longer there. I was heart broken. Nothing can recreate that. Would I give this up for a Computer? No way.
Every time I smell fresh bread cooking it takes me back to the time Lindsay and I lived in the little house in Dallas around the corner from the Mrs. Baird's Bread Factory. I remember what my life was like then, sitting in the backyard watching Lindsay frolic around shirtless in the sprinkler while the smell of bread floated over the fence. I remember the way she smelled as a little girl - her clothes,her hair, her skin. I wish I had that in a bottle. Would I trade that for an iPad? Not on your life.
There are so many smells that evoke a great sense of pleasure or a memory for me - the leaves of a tomato plant, dirt, my mother's perfume, Vick's vapor rub, strawberries, peaches, cookies baking, pine needles, gardenias, peonies, baby soap, bourbon, wine......
My husband is losing his sense of smell. Its one of the early signs of Parkinson's. Its also an early indicator for Alzheimer's. Without a sense of smell I imagine it makes it even harder for a person losing their memory to recall things. It goes slowly at first, without notice.
The sense of smell is oh so important. Teach your children to appreciate it. Renew your own appreciation for it. Stop and smell the roses and/or the dirt. Never consider trading this critically important gift for an electronic gadget. Blasphemy!
When nothing else subsists from the past, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scatter
the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls
bearing resiliently, on tiny and almost impalpable drops of their essence, the immense edifice of memory.
--- Marcel Proust "The Remembrance of Things Past"
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Good bye old friend - I think that I shall never see, a poem as lovely as a tree
Today is a very sad day. I don't know if many of you have heard of the pine beetle or not. It has been devastating the pine forests in the mountains of Colorado for several years now. We saw a similar epidemic on the Kenai Peninsula in Alaska several years ago when we were visiting. Over a million acres of forest in the Kenai have been killed by the beetle in Alaska in the last 20 years or so. And now we have watched the lush green forests along I70 and Berthoud Pass here in Colorado deteriorate slowly in to a sea of brown sticks. Each time we drive to the mountains a larger swath of the green is gone. It has been so sad to watch but today it came home to rest in my backyard. 
Our house is on three acres that we selected because of the old growth Ponderosa Pines. Before we bought the lot I walked it with a Native America shaman who "talked" to the trees and the landscape. They had been here many years and bore the scars of storms and droughts along their rugged trunks. We had the plans drawn for our house to make sure that we saved every tree on the land. They were a part of the land and we wanted them undisturbed. Alas, the pine beetle has made its way to Parker, Colorado. We've been spraying for the beetles every year since the epidemic started. It can help but isn't fool proof, especially if everyone surrounding you doesn't spray too. The large farm behind us doesn't spray. It would probably be much too expensive with the number of trees they have.
Before we left for Africa, we notice that the top of one of our oldest and largest trees had some dying foliage. We hoped that it was just the dry weather but didn't have time to check before we left. After we returned the neighbor who liveson the other side of the tree stopped by our house one evening. He had his trees guys look at it and it definitely had the beetle - $1,000 to remove it. We called Swingles, our tree service, and they came by. Yes, it was definitely the beetle and something else was attacking it. It had tried hard to defend itself but wasn't going to make it. He said it was the oldest tree in the cluster between our house and the neighbors. It had to come down. At least they were cheaper - $750. I wanted to cry for my beautiful old tree.
They arrived this morning. As I write this they are out there arranging their equipment to take him down piece by piece. This is a tree that is several hundred years old. It has survived so much. Why now?
This has renewed my interest in what is going on with our forests in the mountains. There is a forest conservation group focused on the beetle epidemic www.summitpinebeetle.org. They need your help. The beetle has severely impacted the Arapahoe/Roosevelt, White River, Medicine Bow and Routt National Forests in the West.
It reminds me of a poem I used to love from my childhood. It was in a book of poems illustrated by Joan Walsh Anglund but the poem is by Joyce Kilmer.
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
With tears in my eyes, the buzz of the chain saw and the crash of my dear felled tree I bit you farewell for the day.
Our house is on three acres that we selected because of the old growth Ponderosa Pines. Before we bought the lot I walked it with a Native America shaman who "talked" to the trees and the landscape. They had been here many years and bore the scars of storms and droughts along their rugged trunks. We had the plans drawn for our house to make sure that we saved every tree on the land. They were a part of the land and we wanted them undisturbed. Alas, the pine beetle has made its way to Parker, Colorado. We've been spraying for the beetles every year since the epidemic started. It can help but isn't fool proof, especially if everyone surrounding you doesn't spray too. The large farm behind us doesn't spray. It would probably be much too expensive with the number of trees they have.
Before we left for Africa, we notice that the top of one of our oldest and largest trees had some dying foliage. We hoped that it was just the dry weather but didn't have time to check before we left. After we returned the neighbor who liveson the other side of the tree stopped by our house one evening. He had his trees guys look at it and it definitely had the beetle - $1,000 to remove it. We called Swingles, our tree service, and they came by. Yes, it was definitely the beetle and something else was attacking it. It had tried hard to defend itself but wasn't going to make it. He said it was the oldest tree in the cluster between our house and the neighbors. It had to come down. At least they were cheaper - $750. I wanted to cry for my beautiful old tree.
They arrived this morning. As I write this they are out there arranging their equipment to take him down piece by piece. This is a tree that is several hundred years old. It has survived so much. Why now?
This has renewed my interest in what is going on with our forests in the mountains. There is a forest conservation group focused on the beetle epidemic www.summitpinebeetle.org. They need your help. The beetle has severely impacted the Arapahoe/Roosevelt, White River, Medicine Bow and Routt National Forests in the West.
It reminds me of a poem I used to love from my childhood. It was in a book of poems illustrated by Joan Walsh Anglund but the poem is by Joyce Kilmer.
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
With tears in my eyes, the buzz of the chain saw and the crash of my dear felled tree I bit you farewell for the day.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Homecoming - Say Yes to the Dress
Today I went shopping for the first time for a homecoming dress with my 14 year old daughter, Mary Mac. Yes, my baby has a date to a homecoming dance.
What a day! Mary Mac loves to shop. She could spend hours in a mall just trying on clothes. It takes her a long time to make up her mind. I, on the other hand, don't shop for more than an hour at a time, usually buy without trying things on and make up my mind very quickly. So you see that we are a shopping match made in heaven.
Before we left for the mall Mary Mac was describing the vision of the dress she wanted. Something with an empire waist and flowy full skirt. She was scanning websites for something that might fit the bill. We picked up a friend and her Mom and headed to Cherry Creek Mall around 1 o'clock. First stop was Nordstrom. They had rearranged since the last time we were there and it took a few minutes to find the dresses. The first dress she picked with a beautiful purple dress with a strap over one shoulder made of jewels. The strap came down to the center of the back and attached to a piece of chiffon that came to a V where the shoulder strap attached. The dress was open below the V across the low part of the back. It had an empire waist and flowy strips of chiffon. It was the only dress she liked so she headed to the dressing room to try it on. I sat in a chair outside the dressing room waiting for her.
She emerged looking like a fairy princess. She was beaming. The dress was so pretty from the front. She wanted it so bad and I wanted it for her. But the back was just too revealing for a 14 year old and it was more expensive than I we had planned. I took an iPhone pic and sent it to her Dad to check. I was pretty sure he would say no to something with that much skin showing. It didn't look trashy but it did show a lot of skin in the back. Since that was our first stop we decided to put it on hold and go looking elsewhere.
We went to Banana Republic, J Crew, BeBe, BCBG, and Macy's with no luck. She tried on another 8-10 dresses. The one from BeBe was hilarious. The sales girl brought her a pair of shoes to try with it that had 4 inch heels! She looked like she was going out to work the corner. We all rolled laughing. As the hours passed and nothing came close to the first dress I could see the change in her mood. She wanted the purple dress so bad but she also knew it was a long shot. She stared rolling her eyes and getting irritated at everything I said. Our time was running out.
Finally, we headed back to Nordstrom's while Maddie and her Mom finished getting some shoes at Macy's. She tried the dress on again. It still looked exquisite but I noticed now that it needed some alterations. I still hadn't heard back from her Dad on the photo either. Alterations came and started pinning. Finally I called home to get John's okay. He went to his computer. While he was looking we had Mary Mac try on another dress (beige) that was a little more conservative. It looked beautiful too but nothing close to the purple dress. As soon as John saw the picture of the back the answer was a clear "NO". "Absolutely not."
She ran to the dressing room crying and refused to try on anything else. Finally, just to get her out of the dressing room and suggested getting both the purple and the beige dresses and taking them home for Dad to see. I would bring one or both back tomorrow if we didn't get approval in person. At this point we had been at it for almost 4 hours and I was reaching my limit. She was tired too.
As we were leaving the mall we decided to go get a bite to eat on the way home so I drove over one street. We passed White House/Black Market on the way. Maddie and her Mom suggested we take a look in there so I pulled in and parked. Mary Mac was still pretty sullen but agreed to try on a couple of dresses. One was a cute black strapless dress with a little mesh/lace trim at the bottom. It had an empire was and a flared skirt. She stepped out of the dressing room and took one look at herself in the mirror. THIS was the dress. It fit perfectly. She looked her age, yet, with a sophisticated flair. The sales girl brought an open toed shoe with a little black bow and matching black purse for the crowning touches. My girl was smiling again. And all for less than the purple dress!
I was thrilled and thankful.
Wondering how, as a mother, you keep the boundaries of appropriate attire when you see your child looking like a fairy princess while knowing the dress probably needs to be more conservative? So thankful, I could save that question for another day, another dance, another year?
Like I said - What a day!
What a day! Mary Mac loves to shop. She could spend hours in a mall just trying on clothes. It takes her a long time to make up her mind. I, on the other hand, don't shop for more than an hour at a time, usually buy without trying things on and make up my mind very quickly. So you see that we are a shopping match made in heaven.
Before we left for the mall Mary Mac was describing the vision of the dress she wanted. Something with an empire waist and flowy full skirt. She was scanning websites for something that might fit the bill. We picked up a friend and her Mom and headed to Cherry Creek Mall around 1 o'clock. First stop was Nordstrom. They had rearranged since the last time we were there and it took a few minutes to find the dresses. The first dress she picked with a beautiful purple dress with a strap over one shoulder made of jewels. The strap came down to the center of the back and attached to a piece of chiffon that came to a V where the shoulder strap attached. The dress was open below the V across the low part of the back. It had an empire waist and flowy strips of chiffon. It was the only dress she liked so she headed to the dressing room to try it on. I sat in a chair outside the dressing room waiting for her.
She emerged looking like a fairy princess. She was beaming. The dress was so pretty from the front. She wanted it so bad and I wanted it for her. But the back was just too revealing for a 14 year old and it was more expensive than I we had planned. I took an iPhone pic and sent it to her Dad to check. I was pretty sure he would say no to something with that much skin showing. It didn't look trashy but it did show a lot of skin in the back. Since that was our first stop we decided to put it on hold and go looking elsewhere.
We went to Banana Republic, J Crew, BeBe, BCBG, and Macy's with no luck. She tried on another 8-10 dresses. The one from BeBe was hilarious. The sales girl brought her a pair of shoes to try with it that had 4 inch heels! She looked like she was going out to work the corner. We all rolled laughing. As the hours passed and nothing came close to the first dress I could see the change in her mood. She wanted the purple dress so bad but she also knew it was a long shot. She stared rolling her eyes and getting irritated at everything I said. Our time was running out.
Finally, we headed back to Nordstrom's while Maddie and her Mom finished getting some shoes at Macy's. She tried the dress on again. It still looked exquisite but I noticed now that it needed some alterations. I still hadn't heard back from her Dad on the photo either. Alterations came and started pinning. Finally I called home to get John's okay. He went to his computer. While he was looking we had Mary Mac try on another dress (beige) that was a little more conservative. It looked beautiful too but nothing close to the purple dress. As soon as John saw the picture of the back the answer was a clear "NO". "Absolutely not."
She ran to the dressing room crying and refused to try on anything else. Finally, just to get her out of the dressing room and suggested getting both the purple and the beige dresses and taking them home for Dad to see. I would bring one or both back tomorrow if we didn't get approval in person. At this point we had been at it for almost 4 hours and I was reaching my limit. She was tired too.
As we were leaving the mall we decided to go get a bite to eat on the way home so I drove over one street. We passed White House/Black Market on the way. Maddie and her Mom suggested we take a look in there so I pulled in and parked. Mary Mac was still pretty sullen but agreed to try on a couple of dresses. One was a cute black strapless dress with a little mesh/lace trim at the bottom. It had an empire was and a flared skirt. She stepped out of the dressing room and took one look at herself in the mirror. THIS was the dress. It fit perfectly. She looked her age, yet, with a sophisticated flair. The sales girl brought an open toed shoe with a little black bow and matching black purse for the crowning touches. My girl was smiling again. And all for less than the purple dress!
I was thrilled and thankful.
Wondering how, as a mother, you keep the boundaries of appropriate attire when you see your child looking like a fairy princess while knowing the dress probably needs to be more conservative? So thankful, I could save that question for another day, another dance, another year?
Like I said - What a day!
The Help's Got Me Thinking......
I grew up in the South. Not the deep South depicted in the movie "The Help" but the South nonetheless. I was born in 1962 so I was just a baby during the era in the movie. I went to see it tonight with 2 of my children and it has me reflecting back on my childhood growing up - what I saw and didn't see or maybe didn't want to see. Are we just as guilty when we look the other way or don't stand up? I think maybe so.
Segregation wasn't as visible when I was growing up in Kentucky because of when I was born but it was still there on many levels. Or maybe it wasn't as visible because I wasn't really looking for it. Our hometown was the home of Kentucky State University but it was always spoken of as the "black college". I remember a conversation I overheard between my parents one time. We belonged to the local "all white" country club. The black President of Kentucky State had applied for membership and been denied. I remember hearing my parents talking about it but I don't remember them saying it was wrong. For well after I grew up and moved away there were still no black members of the country club despite the fact that there were many who could have afforded it.
I have to say that my grandparents were definitely racist. I recall a specific incident with my grandmother that has stuck in my mind all these years. My mother was upset about my grandmother's behavior but she would never stand up to her mother. I took dancing lessons at Miss Marcy's Dance Studio. Every year we had a big recital. I always looked forward to it. I think I was maybe 8 years old for this particular recital. Our ballet dance had each of us paired with another dancer. There was one little girl named Ashley in my class who was black. She was tall and thin and beautiful and a better dancer than me. Ashley and I were paired to dance together in the recital. I was excited. My grandmother was upset because she didn't like it at all. That year my grandmother didn't come to my dance recital. I have never forgot that. Maybe I was too young at the time but shouldn't I have said something to my grandmother? At what age does it become an obligation that you stand up for injustice?
When my father was young, in his late 20's and early 30's, he was racist in some ways too. He realized the error of his ways as he got older though. It wasn't that he didn't treat black people with respect. It was that he didn't want me dating or marrying a black man. When I was in junior high and high school he was always telling me that I wasn't allowed to date a black guy and if I did he would never speak to me again. At the time I was pretty sure he meant it. My freshman year in high school at a big basketball tournament in our town I met this really cute black boy from Washington, DC named Mike. I was flirting with him all weekend but wondering in the back of my mind what my Dad would do if he found out. I was afraid to ask him for his address so I could write him. Funny though I have never forgotten him and I've forgotten lots of other boys I met back then.
Seeing the maids in their uniforms tonight reminded me of parties I went to growing up. The Help would always be dressed in a nice crisp uniform like the actors in the movie. Often times at parties there were black men wearing white coats and white gloves while serving drinks from silver trays. It never occurred to me wonder what they were thinking - like Skeeter in the movie. And now I wonder what Dee and Birdie thought about all those parties they worked at all those years. Were the white people nice to them or did they treat them like second class citizens. I don't know because I wasn't paying attention. Sometimes I think that might even be a greater sin - not paying attention.
It really wasn't until after I graduated from college and moved to Texas that I really started understanding the racial legacy of my growing up years. There was both overt and covert racism all over the place. There was in Texas too but I actually started to notice it and be bothered by it. Dallas, Texas is still one of the most segregated cities in America. NPR did a multi-day piece on it about 10 or so years ago.
People don't talk about racism. It makes them uncomfortable. It would make me uncomfortable to talk about some of this with my black friends. Its hard to admit that you weren't paying attention when all this was going on. I think our generation has done a good job of raising mostly colorblind children but is that enough? I know my children are colorblind but there are still lots of people around who aren't.
I'm not sure how to correct the problem but I am pretty sure not talking about it won't help.
Segregation wasn't as visible when I was growing up in Kentucky because of when I was born but it was still there on many levels. Or maybe it wasn't as visible because I wasn't really looking for it. Our hometown was the home of Kentucky State University but it was always spoken of as the "black college". I remember a conversation I overheard between my parents one time. We belonged to the local "all white" country club. The black President of Kentucky State had applied for membership and been denied. I remember hearing my parents talking about it but I don't remember them saying it was wrong. For well after I grew up and moved away there were still no black members of the country club despite the fact that there were many who could have afforded it.
I have to say that my grandparents were definitely racist. I recall a specific incident with my grandmother that has stuck in my mind all these years. My mother was upset about my grandmother's behavior but she would never stand up to her mother. I took dancing lessons at Miss Marcy's Dance Studio. Every year we had a big recital. I always looked forward to it. I think I was maybe 8 years old for this particular recital. Our ballet dance had each of us paired with another dancer. There was one little girl named Ashley in my class who was black. She was tall and thin and beautiful and a better dancer than me. Ashley and I were paired to dance together in the recital. I was excited. My grandmother was upset because she didn't like it at all. That year my grandmother didn't come to my dance recital. I have never forgot that. Maybe I was too young at the time but shouldn't I have said something to my grandmother? At what age does it become an obligation that you stand up for injustice?
When my father was young, in his late 20's and early 30's, he was racist in some ways too. He realized the error of his ways as he got older though. It wasn't that he didn't treat black people with respect. It was that he didn't want me dating or marrying a black man. When I was in junior high and high school he was always telling me that I wasn't allowed to date a black guy and if I did he would never speak to me again. At the time I was pretty sure he meant it. My freshman year in high school at a big basketball tournament in our town I met this really cute black boy from Washington, DC named Mike. I was flirting with him all weekend but wondering in the back of my mind what my Dad would do if he found out. I was afraid to ask him for his address so I could write him. Funny though I have never forgotten him and I've forgotten lots of other boys I met back then.
Seeing the maids in their uniforms tonight reminded me of parties I went to growing up. The Help would always be dressed in a nice crisp uniform like the actors in the movie. Often times at parties there were black men wearing white coats and white gloves while serving drinks from silver trays. It never occurred to me wonder what they were thinking - like Skeeter in the movie. And now I wonder what Dee and Birdie thought about all those parties they worked at all those years. Were the white people nice to them or did they treat them like second class citizens. I don't know because I wasn't paying attention. Sometimes I think that might even be a greater sin - not paying attention.
It really wasn't until after I graduated from college and moved to Texas that I really started understanding the racial legacy of my growing up years. There was both overt and covert racism all over the place. There was in Texas too but I actually started to notice it and be bothered by it. Dallas, Texas is still one of the most segregated cities in America. NPR did a multi-day piece on it about 10 or so years ago.
People don't talk about racism. It makes them uncomfortable. It would make me uncomfortable to talk about some of this with my black friends. Its hard to admit that you weren't paying attention when all this was going on. I think our generation has done a good job of raising mostly colorblind children but is that enough? I know my children are colorblind but there are still lots of people around who aren't.
I'm not sure how to correct the problem but I am pretty sure not talking about it won't help.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Zucchini, Zucchini and More Zucchini
Last night I decided to tackle the countertop of zucchinis that had been accumulating all week. This time of year you just can’t give them away fast enough. Well,let’s face it. You can’t really give them away at all. My neighbor,Cathy said,“Sure I take some if you put them in zucchini bread”.
With that little nudge I decided to shred my 8 zucchinis and make some bread. Of course,one of the was about a foot and a half long by itself. By the time I shredded them all I had three large bowls of zucchini. I decided I would try a few different recipes rather than sticking with the tried and true. That usually doesn’t turn out the way I am planning. I started with a zucchini carrot bread from a cook book my cousin gave me. It was a little bit different due to the carrots and the recipe also included honey –a nice touch for a bee keeper. I started this batch around 7pm and quickly figured out it wasn’t going to use up much of my raw materials. It only required 1 cup of zucchini and I had at least 20 cups! So I popped two loaves in the oven and started on Paula Dean’s recipe which takes at least 3 cups of the stuff. Then I moved on from Paula Dean’s recipe to my friend’s recipe. This is the “go to”best recipe. She prints me a copy to keep every year and every year I lose it. My recipes are a little like my garden –chaotic! I have them in stacks,books,stuffed inside other cookbooks,you name it. Every once in a while I try to organize them but it doesn’t work very well. I keeping thinking I am just going to put together a cookbook of all my favorites and then get rid of all the papers. One of these days. At least if I put the zucchini bread recipe here,I will know where to find it the next time I can’t find it. Many thanks to my friend Kelly for sharing her recipe and helping me bake a loaf or two on ocassion:
3 cups flour ,1 tsp salt,1 tsp soda,3 tsp cinnamon,1/4 tsp baking powder
3 beaten eggs,2 cups sugar,3 tsp vanilla,1 cup vegetable oil,3 cups shredded zucchini,1 cup chopped walnuts
Sift dry ingredients together. Beat eggs and add sugar,vanilla and oil. Stir in zucchini. Add dry ingredients and blend. Stir in nuts. Bake in 2 greased and floured loaf pans for 1 hour at 350 degrees. Sometimes I add chocolate chips.
I finally went to bed at 11:30 with loaves of varying sizes and about 3 dozen muffins. Its even hard to give away and extra large loaf so I try to make them smaller. But I still had one large bowl of shredded zucchini left. More for the morning.
I got up at 6 am,on a Saturday no less,and started cooking again. This time I decided to break up the monotony while baking the zucchini bread. Did I mention that I had 2 boxes of peaches delivered to my house last night from the high school fundraiser? I also promised Mary Mac I would make her something sweet for breakfast. I started out with the Chico Hot Springs Resort Carmel Rolls. These are yeast bread honey buns that are totally decadent. I made the dough and put it aside to rise while I started on a double batch of peach muffin/bread from a great recipe my neighbor Cathy gave me. While those were cooking I stared down the bowl of zucchini and tried to decide what to do. You can only give away so many loaves of the bread. I remembered a recipe I saw for curried zucchini soup. I dug around in my cookbooks and magazines until I found it. It is easy to make and tastes great.
1 T olive oil,1 medium onion –chopped,Coarse salt,2 garlic cloves –minced,2 tsp curry powder,1 1/2 lbs of zucchini –I used shredded or you can dice or slice,1 baking potato –peeled and diced,1/3 cup sliced almonds –toasted for garnish
Heat the oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion and 1 T of salt ( use less and add later,it was a bit salty);cook,stirring occasionally,until the onion is soft,4 to 5 minutes. Add the garlic and curry powder;cook,stirring constantly,until fragrant,about 1 minute.
Add the zucchini,potato,and 4 cups of water. Bring to a boil;reduce heat and simmer until veggies are tender,about 15 minutes.
Puree the soup in batches in a blender (do not fill more than halfway) until smooth;server immediately. Garnish with almonds.
I made a trip batch of this yummy stuff. I gave two large jars away,saved one for myself and spilled about a half gallon all over the kitchen counter. Lucky for me my neighbor had come over to get a sticky bun and ran around the counter to help me clean up my disaster. By this time I was pretty much over my zucchini but I still had half of the largest one that I hadn’t shredded yet. I left it on the counter and headed out to pull weeds and water the garden –enough indoor chores. I even decided to take some honey from one of my hives –more on that another day.
As luck would have it my artistically talented Lindsay managed to come up with the grande finale for the large half a zucchini I had left on my counter. After we got home from the movie (The Help –more on that another day) she sat down at the table with me while I was typing this and started carving.
Zucchini as Art
With that little nudge I decided to shred my 8 zucchinis and make some bread. Of course,one of the was about a foot and a half long by itself. By the time I shredded them all I had three large bowls of zucchini. I decided I would try a few different recipes rather than sticking with the tried and true. That usually doesn’t turn out the way I am planning. I started with a zucchini carrot bread from a cook book my cousin gave me. It was a little bit different due to the carrots and the recipe also included honey –a nice touch for a bee keeper. I started this batch around 7pm and quickly figured out it wasn’t going to use up much of my raw materials. It only required 1 cup of zucchini and I had at least 20 cups! So I popped two loaves in the oven and started on Paula Dean’s recipe which takes at least 3 cups of the stuff. Then I moved on from Paula Dean’s recipe to my friend’s recipe. This is the “go to”best recipe. She prints me a copy to keep every year and every year I lose it. My recipes are a little like my garden –chaotic! I have them in stacks,books,stuffed inside other cookbooks,you name it. Every once in a while I try to organize them but it doesn’t work very well. I keeping thinking I am just going to put together a cookbook of all my favorites and then get rid of all the papers. One of these days. At least if I put the zucchini bread recipe here,I will know where to find it the next time I can’t find it. Many thanks to my friend Kelly for sharing her recipe and helping me bake a loaf or two on ocassion:
3 cups flour ,1 tsp salt,1 tsp soda,3 tsp cinnamon,1/4 tsp baking powder
3 beaten eggs,2 cups sugar,3 tsp vanilla,1 cup vegetable oil,3 cups shredded zucchini,1 cup chopped walnuts
Sift dry ingredients together. Beat eggs and add sugar,vanilla and oil. Stir in zucchini. Add dry ingredients and blend. Stir in nuts. Bake in 2 greased and floured loaf pans for 1 hour at 350 degrees. Sometimes I add chocolate chips.
I finally went to bed at 11:30 with loaves of varying sizes and about 3 dozen muffins. Its even hard to give away and extra large loaf so I try to make them smaller. But I still had one large bowl of shredded zucchini left. More for the morning.
I got up at 6 am,on a Saturday no less,and started cooking again. This time I decided to break up the monotony while baking the zucchini bread. Did I mention that I had 2 boxes of peaches delivered to my house last night from the high school fundraiser? I also promised Mary Mac I would make her something sweet for breakfast. I started out with the Chico Hot Springs Resort Carmel Rolls. These are yeast bread honey buns that are totally decadent. I made the dough and put it aside to rise while I started on a double batch of peach muffin/bread from a great recipe my neighbor Cathy gave me. While those were cooking I stared down the bowl of zucchini and tried to decide what to do. You can only give away so many loaves of the bread. I remembered a recipe I saw for curried zucchini soup. I dug around in my cookbooks and magazines until I found it. It is easy to make and tastes great.
1 T olive oil,1 medium onion –chopped,Coarse salt,2 garlic cloves –minced,2 tsp curry powder,1 1/2 lbs of zucchini –I used shredded or you can dice or slice,1 baking potato –peeled and diced,1/3 cup sliced almonds –toasted for garnish
Heat the oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion and 1 T of salt ( use less and add later,it was a bit salty);cook,stirring occasionally,until the onion is soft,4 to 5 minutes. Add the garlic and curry powder;cook,stirring constantly,until fragrant,about 1 minute.
Add the zucchini,potato,and 4 cups of water. Bring to a boil;reduce heat and simmer until veggies are tender,about 15 minutes.
Puree the soup in batches in a blender (do not fill more than halfway) until smooth;server immediately. Garnish with almonds.
I made a trip batch of this yummy stuff. I gave two large jars away,saved one for myself and spilled about a half gallon all over the kitchen counter. Lucky for me my neighbor had come over to get a sticky bun and ran around the counter to help me clean up my disaster. By this time I was pretty much over my zucchini but I still had half of the largest one that I hadn’t shredded yet. I left it on the counter and headed out to pull weeds and water the garden –enough indoor chores. I even decided to take some honey from one of my hives –more on that another day.
As luck would have it my artistically talented Lindsay managed to come up with the grande finale for the large half a zucchini I had left on my counter. After we got home from the movie (The Help –more on that another day) she sat down at the table with me while I was typing this and started carving.
Zucchini as Art
Thursday, August 25, 2011
SPRING CLEANING - Revisted after 4 years (Yikes - I'm not making progress)
I am in the process of moving my blog to a new URL www.marthacarlin.com. In doing so, I am going back through my old blog posts and moving some of them to this new location. It struck me as really funny that I wrote this blog entry on clutter in 2007 and now 4 years later (yesterday) I wrote a blog on having too much stuff. Clearly this is still an issue for me.
This Post was title - SPRING CLEANING
Clutter drives me nuts. If you came to my house you would not realize it. There is clutter everywhere. Piles of old mail waiting for something - I'm not sure what. Piles of the kids things on the stairs, waiting in vane to be carried up the stairs and put away. Piles of cookbooks I've had out and can't find room for in the cookbook self. Piles of old school papers, clothes in the closet, magazines that must be years old. Why do we hang on to all these things? Does it really only bother me? Nobody else seems to notice or care. I go to the neighbors and they don't have these piles. I go to friends houses and they don't have this clutter. So why us?
How can we solve this problem? I am looking for some help. From the experts, from my family, from anybody. I joined the freecycle yahoo group in my town. You can list things there that you want to give away. The kids are thinking about having a garage sale but they never do. So this week while I have a few days off I think I will try to work on just one room and remove some of the clutter. I started in the bathroom this afternoon and emptied out two drawers and the cabinet. I threw out old vitamins, prescriptions, lotions, broken hair clips and makeup samples that must be at least two years old. Why am I compelled to take these samples at the stores? I NEVER use them.
I bought a book on cleaning up the clutter. It is now cluttering up the floor of my bathroom. It says you should go one room at a time. This month's Real Simple has an article about lightening up. It says to start by throwing out the physical stuff. Go through drawers, wallet, purse, etc and toss anything that depresses or diminishes you. What does that mean? How can stuff in your purse diminish you? I am afraid I am not going to be able to figure that one out. I got on this purse kick last summer and now instead of one purse I have about 10. They are now adding to the clutter. I guess if I have to go through them all I can probably find some stuff to throw out. Oh yeah, and you are supposed to make a list of the things you are throwing away. That seems like extra work. Its hard enough to do the throwing out part without having to make a list.
Anyway, I am going to get up early tomorrow and unclutter something in my house. I am not sure what yet but something. I think it will make me feel better - at least temporarily. Until.........well you know. The clutter builds up again.
This Post was title - SPRING CLEANING
Clutter drives me nuts. If you came to my house you would not realize it. There is clutter everywhere. Piles of old mail waiting for something - I'm not sure what. Piles of the kids things on the stairs, waiting in vane to be carried up the stairs and put away. Piles of cookbooks I've had out and can't find room for in the cookbook self. Piles of old school papers, clothes in the closet, magazines that must be years old. Why do we hang on to all these things? Does it really only bother me? Nobody else seems to notice or care. I go to the neighbors and they don't have these piles. I go to friends houses and they don't have this clutter. So why us?
How can we solve this problem? I am looking for some help. From the experts, from my family, from anybody. I joined the freecycle yahoo group in my town. You can list things there that you want to give away. The kids are thinking about having a garage sale but they never do. So this week while I have a few days off I think I will try to work on just one room and remove some of the clutter. I started in the bathroom this afternoon and emptied out two drawers and the cabinet. I threw out old vitamins, prescriptions, lotions, broken hair clips and makeup samples that must be at least two years old. Why am I compelled to take these samples at the stores? I NEVER use them.
I bought a book on cleaning up the clutter. It is now cluttering up the floor of my bathroom. It says you should go one room at a time. This month's Real Simple has an article about lightening up. It says to start by throwing out the physical stuff. Go through drawers, wallet, purse, etc and toss anything that depresses or diminishes you. What does that mean? How can stuff in your purse diminish you? I am afraid I am not going to be able to figure that one out. I got on this purse kick last summer and now instead of one purse I have about 10. They are now adding to the clutter. I guess if I have to go through them all I can probably find some stuff to throw out. Oh yeah, and you are supposed to make a list of the things you are throwing away. That seems like extra work. Its hard enough to do the throwing out part without having to make a list.
Anyway, I am going to get up early tomorrow and unclutter something in my house. I am not sure what yet but something. I think it will make me feel better - at least temporarily. Until.........well you know. The clutter builds up again.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Remembering Africa - More than a Mountain - Book
It has been a little more than a month since we made our 7 day trek up and down Mount Kilimanjaro. Since returning we've all continued to share our passion for the trip but we've also been sharing the many personal insights we learned from the challenge.
Our group of 28 - 10 with Multiple Sclerosis, 4 with Parkinson's Disease and 14 companions has decided to put together a book about our experiences. We will be working over the next several months to compile each person's story in the hope that we can inspire others to go beyond their perceived limits in some way. When we publish the book all sales after costs of publication will go to charity. We will be working as a group to decide which MS and PD charities we'll be donating to. I hope when the time comes that you'll buy the book and read the stories of my amazing companions on the mountain. Each person has a truly inspiring story to tell.
Resisting IKEA aka Thinking about a New Economy
I met my daughter, Lindsay, at IKEA today to get her the kitchen table she wanted for her birthday. This was my first trip to the massive retail store. IKEA is a Swedish based company. This strikes me as really being out of whack since the Swedish are not mass consumers. I think I wrote about the Swedish concept of "lagom" meaning "enough" or "just the right amount". The store is huge and full of furniture and household goods as well as a restaurant and daycare so you can shop longer. This seems to me to be a totally un-Swedish concept. Its a totally American type shopping experience designed to keep you shopping as long as possible, complete with impulse buying stations along the way.
My daughter was surprised when I seemed nonplussed by the store. She couldn't understand why. I told her that I was past the accumulation of stuff phase in a my life so I wasn't as drawn to all the stuff. She and her friend, Sydney, who had come along, were still in their accumulation of stuff phase. Early in the phase I might add since they both just graduated from college.
This got me thinking about when a person crosses over from the accumulation of stuff to wanting to lighten up? I don't think there is any magic line in the sand. Some people never come to the realization that they have enough or maybe even too much and they just keep on buying. Others, like me, may have been jolted in to the realization by this economic cycle. So I wondered if a larger number of people had decided they have enough in this economic downturn and will never return to their previous consumption levels. What will this do to the economic recovery? Will we have to reinvent our economy in to something completely different that doesn't rely on massive consumerism?
I have been moving along the line toward thinking I have too much stuff ever since my husband's and my mother both died in early 2006. We each brought home a truck load of things on top of all the stuff we already have of our own. Just 15 years ago we lived in a tiny 900 square foot house and all our stuff fit just fine. Now we have multiples of that space and we have boxes and stacks of stuff all over the place. Over the past five years I have gradually gotten to a state where I can begin to let go of the things that were my mothers. Do I really need her 3 sets of dishes and 25 cake pans? How about 8 different colored napkins and matching placemats? Do I need 5 vegetable peelers? 30 framed prints that I will never hang on my walls because they don't fit my taste? What about all the tools in the garage that were my Dads. Wouldn't I be just fine with two screw drivers and one hammer and a hand drill? I think so. As I move along this spectrum I am starting to set aside items for my MEGA garage sale that I am going to have in September. It should be interesting. I've had garage sales before but its been a while. I used to find myself taking things back in to the house during the sale when I felt a pang of attachment. I have vowed not to do that this time. I am really going to down size. I've got about 4 weeks to go room by room and really whittle things down.
The trick after that will be not to reacquire more goods. I wonder if I can be successful at this. Today at IKEA I bought a tray, some boxes and some tupperware type containers. Did I really need them?
Where will the economy go if we all suddenly realize we are a lot happier without having all this stuff we have to move around, dust, watch over and care about? Can we have an economic engine driven by something else? If so what would that be? I read the book "The Great Reset - How New Ways of Living and Working Drive Post-Crash Prosperity" a few months back. It goes in depth in to how the economy is being shaken up by this. It talks about how the economy is changing now like it did during the industrial revolution and this is going to create great upheaval in the demographics of our cities and how we all live. I am not sure I agree with it all but I did find it interesting.
What do you think?
My daughter was surprised when I seemed nonplussed by the store. She couldn't understand why. I told her that I was past the accumulation of stuff phase in a my life so I wasn't as drawn to all the stuff. She and her friend, Sydney, who had come along, were still in their accumulation of stuff phase. Early in the phase I might add since they both just graduated from college.
This got me thinking about when a person crosses over from the accumulation of stuff to wanting to lighten up? I don't think there is any magic line in the sand. Some people never come to the realization that they have enough or maybe even too much and they just keep on buying. Others, like me, may have been jolted in to the realization by this economic cycle. So I wondered if a larger number of people had decided they have enough in this economic downturn and will never return to their previous consumption levels. What will this do to the economic recovery? Will we have to reinvent our economy in to something completely different that doesn't rely on massive consumerism?
I have been moving along the line toward thinking I have too much stuff ever since my husband's and my mother both died in early 2006. We each brought home a truck load of things on top of all the stuff we already have of our own. Just 15 years ago we lived in a tiny 900 square foot house and all our stuff fit just fine. Now we have multiples of that space and we have boxes and stacks of stuff all over the place. Over the past five years I have gradually gotten to a state where I can begin to let go of the things that were my mothers. Do I really need her 3 sets of dishes and 25 cake pans? How about 8 different colored napkins and matching placemats? Do I need 5 vegetable peelers? 30 framed prints that I will never hang on my walls because they don't fit my taste? What about all the tools in the garage that were my Dads. Wouldn't I be just fine with two screw drivers and one hammer and a hand drill? I think so. As I move along this spectrum I am starting to set aside items for my MEGA garage sale that I am going to have in September. It should be interesting. I've had garage sales before but its been a while. I used to find myself taking things back in to the house during the sale when I felt a pang of attachment. I have vowed not to do that this time. I am really going to down size. I've got about 4 weeks to go room by room and really whittle things down.
The trick after that will be not to reacquire more goods. I wonder if I can be successful at this. Today at IKEA I bought a tray, some boxes and some tupperware type containers. Did I really need them?
Where will the economy go if we all suddenly realize we are a lot happier without having all this stuff we have to move around, dust, watch over and care about? Can we have an economic engine driven by something else? If so what would that be? I read the book "The Great Reset - How New Ways of Living and Working Drive Post-Crash Prosperity" a few months back. It goes in depth in to how the economy is being shaken up by this. It talks about how the economy is changing now like it did during the industrial revolution and this is going to create great upheaval in the demographics of our cities and how we all live. I am not sure I agree with it all but I did find it interesting.
What do you think?
Monday, August 22, 2011
Peaches, nectar of the Gods
I love peaches. Not the one's you get in the grocery store. The peaches you buy at a roadside farm stand or at the farmer's market. If you leave in Colorado, its a Western slope/Palisade peach that's the one I am talking about. If you leave in Georgia or South Carolina, I imagine they are similar. I was riding home the other night when this story came on the radio on NPR. This guy has the best job in the world tasting peaches! Just listen to him talk about it. He rolls on the ground in joy over some of these peaches. Links are working but paste this in your browser and see how much this guy loves peaches!
www.npr.org/2011/08/18/139755064/sweet-lessons-from-a-south-carolina-peach-professor
Well that's pretty much the way I feel when its peach season in Colorado. We go through about a box a week. The kids will eat a half dozen or more a day. This season they are perfect, juicy, sweet and just ripe with no tartness from being picked to soon. I think the weather was better this year and I haven't seen many split pits. Most of the peaches that arrive at the grocery store have been picked green. As a result they don't develop that wonderful peach scent, the juicy texture or the sweet flavor. Apparently its pretty difficult to get a peach to market without picking it to soon.
One of my favorite books is "Four Seasons in Five Senses" by David Mas Masumoto. He's a peach farmer in California. Its a wonderful book about the magnificent peach and all that goes in to growing them. In reading his descriptions of the farm, the trees, the peaches, the scents, the flavors I can immediately feel, smell and taste what he is writing about. He has several books including "Wisdom of the Last Farmer" and "Epitaph for a Peach". If you love peaches and beautiful words that can make your mouth water pick up one of his books and read it.
Last year I made peach chutney from the food network and tried to make peach jam. Well I guess jam is a little bit harder to get right than I thought. If you over cook it, which I did, it will basically turn to rock in your jelly jars. Its not very spreadable in that consistency. I am going to try again this weekend. I have 2 boxes of peaches arriving on Friday from the high school fund raiser. I think I should invite someone who knows what they are doing to come teach me.
You know the best things in life aren't learned from a book. They are experienced. Its much easier to learn how to make something if you are cooking with a friend who has done it before. Same goes for learning how to grow things, fix things, run things etc. Find somebody who knows and ask them to share their knowledge. And maybe a nice juicy peach or two while they are at it.
Food Network - Peach Chutney Recipe:
Ingredients
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic
2 shallots finely diced
1 jalapeno pepper, seeded and diced
1 1/2 pounds fresh peaches, blanched and diced
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup brandy
1/2 cup cider vinegar
Salt and pepper
Directions
Melt butter, add garlic, shallot and jalapeno and sweat for 1 to 2 minutes, add diced peaches. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes, add sugar, deglaze with brandy and vinegar and allow to cook on low heat until peaches are soft. Season with salt and pepper.
* Restaurant Recipe
This recipe was provided by professional chefs and has been scaled down from a bulk recipe provided by a restaurant. Food Network Kitchens have not tested this recipe in the proportions indicated and therefore cannot make representation as to the results.
www.npr.org/2011/08/18/139755064/sweet-lessons-from-a-south-carolina-peach-professor
Well that's pretty much the way I feel when its peach season in Colorado. We go through about a box a week. The kids will eat a half dozen or more a day. This season they are perfect, juicy, sweet and just ripe with no tartness from being picked to soon. I think the weather was better this year and I haven't seen many split pits. Most of the peaches that arrive at the grocery store have been picked green. As a result they don't develop that wonderful peach scent, the juicy texture or the sweet flavor. Apparently its pretty difficult to get a peach to market without picking it to soon.
One of my favorite books is "Four Seasons in Five Senses" by David Mas Masumoto. He's a peach farmer in California. Its a wonderful book about the magnificent peach and all that goes in to growing them. In reading his descriptions of the farm, the trees, the peaches, the scents, the flavors I can immediately feel, smell and taste what he is writing about. He has several books including "Wisdom of the Last Farmer" and "Epitaph for a Peach". If you love peaches and beautiful words that can make your mouth water pick up one of his books and read it.
Last year I made peach chutney from the food network and tried to make peach jam. Well I guess jam is a little bit harder to get right than I thought. If you over cook it, which I did, it will basically turn to rock in your jelly jars. Its not very spreadable in that consistency. I am going to try again this weekend. I have 2 boxes of peaches arriving on Friday from the high school fund raiser. I think I should invite someone who knows what they are doing to come teach me.
You know the best things in life aren't learned from a book. They are experienced. Its much easier to learn how to make something if you are cooking with a friend who has done it before. Same goes for learning how to grow things, fix things, run things etc. Find somebody who knows and ask them to share their knowledge. And maybe a nice juicy peach or two while they are at it.
Food Network - Peach Chutney Recipe:
Ingredients
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic
2 shallots finely diced
1 jalapeno pepper, seeded and diced
1 1/2 pounds fresh peaches, blanched and diced
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup brandy
1/2 cup cider vinegar
Salt and pepper
Directions
Melt butter, add garlic, shallot and jalapeno and sweat for 1 to 2 minutes, add diced peaches. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes, add sugar, deglaze with brandy and vinegar and allow to cook on low heat until peaches are soft. Season with salt and pepper.
* Restaurant Recipe
This recipe was provided by professional chefs and has been scaled down from a bulk recipe provided by a restaurant. Food Network Kitchens have not tested this recipe in the proportions indicated and therefore cannot make representation as to the results.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
