#50 The Cycle of Life

I had the good fortune to do an article about the new jazz radio station at the local HBCU, Livingstone College. It's WLJZ, 107.1. Check it out. You can stream it online through iheartradio.com or tunein.com, or at livingstone.edu/radio.

While we were in the studio for the interview, they were playing, "What's Going On," by Marvin Gaye. It was a hit in 1971.

While writing the article in my office yesterday, I googled the lyrics:

"Mother, mother / There's too many of you crying / Brother, brother, brother / There's far too many of you dying / You know we've got to find a way / To bring some loving here today…” 

The song at the time was about the Vietnam War. 

I was stricken yesterday by how relevant the lyrics are today. With young black men being shot for no reason,or  being arrested for sitting in Starbucks waiting for friends, it's surely true that "There's far too many of you dying."

Two years ago a young black man was shot in the back while fleeing police. The vision of that video haunts me still today. They're supposed to shoot someone if he presents an immediate threat to police or others. HOW CAN HE BE A THREAT RUNNING AWAY?

There have been so many police-on-black shootings in the past few years I can't even remember where this one took place. Texas? I can't remember. Note. I looked it up after writing this post and the incident mentioned took place in SC.

I think it's time for someone to re-release this song. 

#49 Starbucks

I posted about Starbucks last week and ironically on that same day, a Starbucks store in Philadelphia made a grievous error in judgment. As 2 black men sat in the store waiting for their friends to arrive, the manager of the store asked the men to leave. The men refused. Management asked them to leave a total of three times before calling the police.

The friends arrived just in time to find the men in handcuffs. Police removed the handcuffs as the men's story was confirmed.

Film of the incident went viral.

Kevin Johnson, Starbucks CEO, issued an apology that stated the actions of the manager were not reflective of the company's values. All 8,000 of the company's stores will be closed for a day next month as the company gives racial-bias training to all its employees. The manager was fired.

"Not enough," "Too slow," people are saying as they boycott the stores.

I agree with voting with our pocketbooks. I've boycotted Chik-Fil-A for 6 years, and Cracker Barrel since the 1980's.

In the beginning of the AIDS epidemic, you couldn't turn on a TV or radio without being bombarded with news, speculation, and fear of this horrific disease. It was on covers of all the big magazines. Again and again.

Cracker Barrel took the initiative. They terminated all gay employees. Cooks, waiters, accountants. Didn't matter -- they fired them all.

Although I wasn't a big customer, I actively boycotted the restaurant and shared my feelings with friends and family.

Years later they got in trouble -- for ignoring African American patrons who dared sit at tables and expect to be served.

It didn't make much news at the time. I dug in.

In 2010, Chik-Fil-A gave over $8 million to its CEO's charitable foundation, oddly named Win-Shape. In 2012 Win-Shape refused to accept same-sex couples into its marriage retreats. The president and chief operating officer Dan Cathy stated on a radio show, "I think we are inviting God's judgment on our nation when we shake our fist at Him and say, "We know better than you as to what constitutes a marriage." I pray God's mercy on our generation that has such a prideful, arrogant attitude to think that we have the audacity to define what marriage is about."

No more waffle fries for me. Mr. Cathy has a right to his beliefs. I have a right not to support them.

So why am I concerned today that my friends are calling for boycotts of Starbucks?

It's a matter of origination.

In both the Cracker Barrel and Chik-Fil-A cases, decisions -- poor ones in my own opinion -- were made by owners and/or top management. They demonstrated that exclusion is their policy. They demonstrated values that are contrary to my beliefs.

The Starbucks case -- and I'm giving my own opinion here -- is different. A manager of an isolated Starbucks store, one of 8,000 in the US, made awful decisions. Top management has apologized and has taken the blame. "My responsibility is to look not only at that individual but to look more broadly at the circumstances that set that up, to ensure that this never happens again," Dan Johnson, CEO, said on Good Morning America. They're doing everything they can to fix the issue.

Our little town has 2 local Starbucks stores and, as I wrote on 12.Apr, I frequent them both. I have friends who work there, some of whom I've met as a customer, and some who I knew before they went to work at Starbucks. They all happen to be African American. And they're happy there. They feel they are respected. Treated fairly. Rewarded for good work. 

So I'm not boycotting Starbucks. It's my belief that the Philadelphia manager acted on her own, and her actions did not reflect the values of the company. It's my belief that the company itself has done no harm, not acted irresponsibly.

I can't say the same for Cracker Barrel and Chik-Fil-A. 

#48 I Just Need to Fly

In the year 2000 my sweet hubby built a swing for the granddaughter we were raising, and hung it from high in the old walnut tree in the backyard.

A broad, very thick board, a hole in each end, and a rope 1" thick. A couple of good knots.

While I don't have a picture of the swing itself, I have a picture of her on that day, loving the swing for the first time of what would become thousands.

Since that seminal day, most of our grandchildren have enjoyed that swing. Even today, the children of Son #2, who are teenagers, head to the backyard soon after arriving at Nana's house, to enjoy the swing.

* Three of our grandchildren have not yet visited Nana's house. Two were born internationally and one was born just before the family left for Asia. So we have 3 grandchildren of the 12 who have not (yet) enjoyed the swing.

Even hubby and I have swung on it on occasion. 

There's something about swinging that takes your cares away. It's almost like I imagine flying would be. There's no fear, the breeze in your face, the rhythm similar to rocking, which of course reminds us of being in the womb. It's a carefree and magical experience.

Over the years the swing has aged. The once-yellow wood is now grayed. Raised lines of grain tell of  the years of weather. The ropes, which used to be white, have turned gray as well. Yet a good tug on the swing seemed to show it's still stable for another few good go's. 

Flash forward 18 years and we have yet another generation enjoying the swing.

A month or so ago sweet hubby balanced our granddaughter's 2-almost-3 year old on the swing and gave him a push. 

He was addicted.

He's just a little unsteady on it. We have to center his bottom in the exact center of the board. Over time he has learned to balance on it, not leaning too far forward nor too far back, and he holds tightly with his hands.

But, oh, the swing. 

He loves the breeze on his face. The features on his face actually soften and he becomes more... at peace.... which is a weird thing to say about a toddler, I know. 

He visits Nana's house quite a lot, 3x a week or more, but he never tires of the swing.

Yesterday after nap it's all he wanted to do. So we beckoned the dog to go with us and out we went. 

I centered him and pushed. and pushed. and pushed. 

We sang songs. Then we were quiet, the only sounds the creak and groan of the rope as it bore his little weight back and forth, back and forth.

After about 10 minutes I noticed the seat shift a bit to the left. I picked him up off the swing to see what was going on, and 20 feet or more of rope came spiraling down from the branch.

The swing had died. 

I am immensely thankful it didn't happen when he was in the arc of a good go. He would have been hurt.

He was crestfallen.

I promised him Papaw would fix it.

He stood in the yard, the end of the rope in his hand -- the end that belongs on the branch high above our heads. 

"I fix it," he proclaimed. He wanted to swing so badly. Now. 

He looked high up at the branch. Back down to the rope in his hand. 

"I need to fly." 

He tried to lift his feet off the ground. He jumped a few times. 

He looked at me very seriously. "I need to fly."

He moved his other hand through the air to demonstrate flying in case I had not understood. 

But  I understood.

I picked him up and said, "Does this help?"

"No," he said.

Together we tried to fly.

Finally I put him down and headed for the house, once again promising Papaw will fix it.

The vision of him, small him, standing in the yard with the lank end of the rope in his hand, trying to fly, will stay with me for a very long time.

It was the first time he discovered his inability to achieve something he really, really wanted, and it broke my heart. His crystalline faith that he could fly, that he could fix the swing, was so pure. And so fragile.

Of course it will happen to him many, many times in the future, but rarely do we have the awful opportunity to observe defeat happening in such a tangible way.

His world got a little smaller yesterday.

-----

Last night we got an urgent call from a family member just before midnight. Violence had occurred in the home. We were needed -- immediately -- to help in practical ways. 

We leapt from bed and left our home to lend a hand. 

The cycle of violence is never pretty, and we returned home shortly before 3am, exhausted and shaken from the experience. 

This morning after sleeping fitfully for a few hours, I am still exhausted and now pretty angry that the episode happened at all. There's no need for it. Some pretty awful behavior -- and injuries --  resulted from poor decisions and it never had to happen. 

This morning I am struggling with what to do with this anger in a positive way. I cannot fix the parties involved yet I see the damage for now and the harm in the future if it doesn't stop. 

I just need to fly.

#47 Hello Fresh

We tried Hello Fresh tonight! What a delightful experience. 

Packaging.

Due to the detailed emails, I knew exactly when my package would arrive, within a 3-hour range. Because I'm not at a 9 to 5 job, I was able to whisk my box into the house almost as soon as it arrived.

I needn't have worried.

The food is packed in a substantial cardboard box with a metallic quilted liner. Above the liner is all the paperwork: coupons for the wine option (no, we didn't do that this time...) and the large, laminated, colorful cards with cooking instructions on them. By large, I mean almost 8.5x11. More on them in a minute.

Inside the liner is a layer of packages of food, one per meal, clearly marked, with a large coldpack keeping it very cool. Below that layer was a cardboard divider, then another coldpack with the meat, all clearly marked for which meal they belonged to.

Hello Fresh seems to care a lot about the environment. The cold packs are printed with a message: "I'm recyclable! Cut me open and throw my contents in the trash. Then recycle me."

The packages of veggies and spices are all brown paper bags reading, "I'm greener than a salad bar. Recycle me."

I enjoyed unpacking it all and organized the meals in our refrigerator: each meal having one sealed brown paper bag with veggies and spices, and one pack of meat.

I would give packaging an A. I don't know how it could be any better.

Contents.

I had chosen 4 meals, each with 2 servings. The correct meals were sent and the correct ingredients were included for each meal.

The recipe we tried tonight did require that I provide a few items that surely anyone would have in his home: a drizzle of vegetable oil (we don't use vegetable oil; I substituted olive oil); salt and pepper; a tablespoon of water and a tablespoon of butter. 

I was fine with that.

Our meal tonight was Cherry Balsamic Pork Chops with Roasted Potatoes and Roasted Broccoli. 

They included a tiny envelope of thyme for the potatoes, and the smallest bottle you ever saw of balsamic vinegar. Also a teensy jar of cherry jelly. I love tiny things. Doesn't everyone?

The jelly jar held exactly one tablespoon of jelly. I included my watch for scale.

So far, we give the contents an A.

Quality.

I have read many Hello Fresh reviews and people have said some downright rotten things about the quality of the food. 

Our experience so far has been very positive.

The potatoes were not your normal, boring ones, but red and purple fingerlings. I only had to slice them down the middle to roast them. Broccoli was quite fresh and cut just the way we like it, into little florets rather than all chopped up. (Did you hear that? The broccoli was already cut. I didn't have to do that part. 💃🏼)

The pork chops were just lovely: boneless, fresh, and nicely marbled, though not too fatty. 

While I'm on quality I'll also mention the printed materials are all upbeat, professional, and expertly produced.

To date, I'll give quality an A.

Preparation.

The front of the cooking card estimates preparation for this meal at 40 minutes: 10 minutes prep and 30 minutes cook time. It was dead on. 

(Pardon the little cooking smudge on the bottom!)

The back of the card gives cooking instructions. 

True confession: I am a mediocre cook at best. There are a few things I make well (cough, cough macaroni & cheese, pound cake) but everything else I make fades into oblivion. It's rare that we have a really good meal.

I enjoyed following the instructions. "Oh, pork chops take 5 minutes per side? Hm."

The cherry/balsamic glaze was actually fun.

The instructions do keep you hopping, though, so I hope you are not trying to simultaneously help a child with homework or taking business calls or any of the thousand things I used to do while preparing a meal for a family.

With my sweet hubby outside weed whacking, I was able to fully immerse myself in the experience. 

The directions require you to multi-task to get everything done. Example. While the pork chops were cooking I had to get the broccoli in the oven. Then I had to remove the chops from the pan and make the sauce. And so on. 

It was all very efficient, though, and due to the multi-tasking it really did only take a half-hour, as promised.

Not knowing any better, I'd give the prep an A.

Presentation and taste.

My plate looked amazingly like the plate pictured, although in comparing them now I do see I sort of piled the sauce on a little heavier than they did.

Sweet hubby actually loved the taste of all the food, and I did, too. The chops were fully cooked and tender. Roasted anything, we love, so the veggies were a slam dunk. I think they did a nice job pairing veggies to match the entree.

Servings for us were just right. We are big eaters and the meal fully satisfied, although we didn't, as some have said, have enough for leftovers. As I said, we are big eaters. 

Presentation and taste: A.

Cleanup.

They pretty much kept it simple. I used a bowl, a skillet, and a baking pan. Cleanup: A+.

Pros and Cons.

Pro #1: The Cloud. 

In reading all the reviews I never ran across what, to me, is the biggest advantage of all. 

On a daily basis I feel like a have a large cloud over my head: What am I going to fix for dinner?

This process REMOVED THE CLOUD. I loved having everything half done (measured and pre-cut) and just following the steps. 

When I included the pic of the instruction card here on the blog,  I imagined a reader saying, "Couldn't you just as well use a cookbook? Or go online? Or use an app?"

Here's the answer. A cookbook doesn't go to the store for me and buy exactly 2 servings of the exact ingredients for a delicious meal, with no waste. 

Pro #2: Variety. 

Like most people, we've gotten into a Food Rut. Baked chicken. Baked chicken with lemon. Baked chicken with mushrooms. Beans and rice. Guacamole burgers. 

With all the cookbooks we have, and we do have a few, I never would've thought of Cherry Balsamic Pork Chops. Just choosing it on the computer (another process I didn't review), the mere name set my mouth to watering. It didn't disappoint.

The other meals this week include Shrimp Tagliatelli, Steakhouse Style New York Strip, and Cajun Pulled Pork. Yes, you see pork on there twice, including tonight. The other choices included lots of gluten, which I am supposed to avoid. 

We've never had any of this stuff before, except NY Strips. And boy do they look nice. 

Pro #3. Simplicity.

The Hello Fresh folks have no idea who is buying their stuff: a college student? A kid? A newlywed? Or, in my case, a retiree who just doesn't love to cook.

Their directions were easy to understand and required no more knowledge than knowing the difference between High heat and Medium Low. They really broke it down and I think any level cook could prepare the meal with little or no frustration. 

Pro #4. Cost.

With my New Customer coupon, I spent about $50 for 4 meals for two people. In our house that's a bargain. Hubby asked me how much it would cost without the coupon and I really have to go back and check. I think it borders on expensive but as many have pointed out, you're also paying for NOT going to the store, NOT having food waste in the refrigerator, and in my case, NOT wearing The Cloud. We'll see going forward if it's doable without the coupons.

Cons.

So far, I have none. 

Clearly I'm a fan, a big one, and I'm actually looking forward to preparing dinner tomorrow night. That, my friends, is a miracle. 

#LoveMyLife

#46 I ❤️ Starbucks

Our little town has a couple of locally owned coffee shops and they are super if you want to be part of the community. The owners of both coffee shops are hardworking people, and I want them to succeed.

But on Tuesdays after I drop my little man at preschool, I take my laptop to Starbucks and get some work done.

I could work at home, and often do. But it's refreshing to work at Starbucks where no part of my mind is thinking I should run downstairs and throw that load in the dryer. Where my little dog can't stare me down for a walk in the spring weather. Where the adjacent room isn't awaiting more work to integrate with my office.

Our local coffee shops are packed to the rim with all sorts of people -- most of whom I know -- and it's a warm and comforting feeling to get "Hey" and "How ya doing?" from them all.

At Starbucks I don't know a soul. Most everyone is, like me, drilling away on his laptop, many with earbuds or headsets on, a classic, "Don't interrupt me," signal.



I can be more productive, less distracted, and more introverted at Starbucks, so you can find me there every Tuesday between preschool drop-off and pick-up.

Just don't say Hey.

#LoveMyLife

#45 Retirement Syndrome

Since retiring in December I've discovered many things that might be typical for retirees in general.

I developed a pretty painful pinched nerve in my neck which causes my arm to go numb in the night. It hurts when I don't sleep on it and it hurts when I do.

A couple of weeks ago I was in such pain that all I could think of was this mound of pain on my shoulder and neck. I decided to throw all available resources at it.

So in the last 3 weeks I have had two massages, visited the chiropractor regularly, had regular acupuncture, endured physical therapy and had reflexology. I see progress and am sometimes pain-free, but it's still a big issue.

Turns out I have a bulging disk at the the base of my neck, possibly from looking at the iPad too much. "Tech Neck" afflicts many retirees who suddenly have lots of time to spend looking at their iPads.

Another discovery is the problem of so many projects to achieve.

There is a long list of projects that have been waiting for me to have the time to tackle them. Front gardens. Long-ignored closets. And that funny room that used to be an upstairs foyer -- filled with the detritus of daily living. The idyllic white picket fence I've longed for since buying the house.

This is an image from a Netflix movie I was watching recently. I was able to rewind and "capture screen" at just the right moment to get this image. It's exactly the gateway I've dreamed of for our picket fence. We'll scale it way down, of course, to match the scale of our little house, but I love the elements: the moldings, the plate at top, the crown and the balls. After many discussions on what style picket we like best, I think I like this simple one. Bonus: It's got to be cheaper than 1x4's.

I realized a day or two ago that I cannot succeed at these projects if I try to complete them all now.

So I'm working hard on the offbeat room -- which will be an addition to my office so physical changes will be deductible -- while waiting for pretty weather. When it's nice out my plan is to spend a couple of hours a day on the garden as I finish the room. When the room is done, the garden becomes the #1 item and a closet will become the #2-- and so on.

So I'm not an expert by any means but this is my way to approach it and I'm sticking to it -- until I find a better way.

#LoveMyLife

#44 It Comes Together

Since stepping down from Council I've been once again freelancing for the local paper. It's nice to have something to do that provides just a little income.

I've had great adventures already like hanging backstage at the local theater watching the frenzy, and then writing about it.

One of the most frequently asked questions I got as a Councilmember was, "I just got out of prison -- how do I find a job?"

I got permission about 6 weeks ago to do a series on this very topic. I am in hopes that the article will help former offenders out there who may be struggling.

A follow-up article features a former offender who successfully found work and has done well in it.

I knew just such a guy and he initially agreed to do the story -- before backing out.

I heard of another guy with the same employer, and have spent the last 3 weeks trying to get in touch with him.

It happened today. I called him and he agreed to do the interview -- but anonymously.

Our local paper doesn't like to do anonymous.

I emailed our editor and begged a waiver --- and she GRANTED IT!

I hope to complete the interviews this week and file the story by Friday.

I love it when things come together. #LoveMyLife

#43 It Never Happens

I've always compared life to a pie. We spend our days trying to care for every slice, but it just can't be done. Some days these slices are well-cared for, other days they languish and other slices are tended to.

In my life the slices are named, "Family," "Self," "House," "Husband," -- (he gets his own category) -- "Work," "Yard," and so on. Your slices may be totally different than mine. Or they may be similar.

In 22 years in this house, I do not believe I have ever had every slice of my life cared for at the rate I'd like.

The house, for example. I may have the living room clean but there's still no rug in there and the Christmas Closet upstairs is a nightmare. I had to dig through 3 holidays to find the Easter decorations a couple of weeks ago. Now they are sitting in a chair because I just can't bear the thought of going back in there.

We have a weird room upstairs that was originally the foyer for the apartment. Now that there's no apartment, I don't know what to call it. It's adjacent to my office, and is long and narrow like my office. We plan to utilize it as extra office space, all neat and tidy so if someone comes in the exterior door upstairs, it's a nice presentation.

But lately it has become Castaway City. Bits of items for yard sales and things that we just don't know where to put, wind up there. It's the last place guests would ever see and it's become quite the parking space.

I've spent the last few days cleaning it out! Hurrah! I emptied an old file cabinet for dear hubby's warehouse project and culled 1,000 books.

It's not done but I'm making progress. Pictures soon.

#42 Croup

My little guy and I missed out #Saturdate today because he has the croup. But his mom still needed to work so he spent the morning at Nana's house. I made pancakes on the stove. He was really appreciative, even said, "YUM! Thanks, Nana," but barely ate a bit.

I hooked up the vaporizer and showed him the steam. I told him the Magic Smoke would make him well. We lounged on the couch, reading or watching YouTube videos on the iPad. Every now and then he would crawl over toward the vaporizer and take a big whiff. That's my boy.

At nap time I hooked it up in my room. He slept long and hard. When he awoke I asked how he felt. "Good," he said. "Smoke made me feel better."

He's not well by any means but I do think it helped.

At Ikea last week I spotted some boxes of thick, cardboard-y cards with beautiful artful drawings on them. Maybe 3x3". I picked them up and today I taught him how to play Concentration. We called it "Same."

"OK, it's your turn. A monkey. Can you find another card with a monkey on it? Aw. A moon. Are they the same?"

"NO!"

"Okay, put them back down. It's Nana's turn."

At first we played with only 4 cards, 2 pair -- then 6 cards, and finally up to 8 cards. I fived him when he got a match and he fived me when I got a match. He's really good at it.

It's my habit to let little kids go first in a game, but occasionally he'd offer, "You go first." He's a very thoughtful guy.

When his mom came to pick him up, we showed her the game and how well he could play. She picked up the box and read the outside: "Not for children ages 0-3." He'll be 3 in 6 weeks.

Huh.

#41 Little Town

When I moved to Salisbury in 1991, it was a very small town. We ran to the grocery store at 9:15 the night we moved here and a lone boy was sweeping the sidewalk outside. All the lights were off.
"You're CLOSED?" I said, refusing to believe the painfully obvious. "Yes, ma'am, it's after 9:00." He was so polite. "OK, so where is the nearest 24-hour store?" I demanded. He just looked at me as if I were from outer space. I don't even recall if he answered me.

So now I have lived here 27 years. Many things have happened in Salisbury in the interim.

The most noteworthy thing, IMHO, is that now there are things to do here. Plenty.

Back in the day, the non-profits called one another to check if a certain day was taken before planning an event. They cooperated. So you might attend a play one weekend and the symphony another.

Those days are long gone. Why? you might ask. It sounded like a good process.

Now we have OPTIONS. If the play doesn't appeal to you, you can go to the symphony instead. Or to a more avant garde play. Or to an open mike at a coffee shop. Or hear a lecture at the Center for the Environment, or music at the library.

We've gotten chain restaurants that everyone wanted and have just about every amenity we need -- with the famous exceptions of a Target or a Whole Foods -- but to me, just my own opinion, the wealth of things to do in this town is the best leap forward of all.

#LoveMyLife

#40 Just a Moment -- Every Day

I've been spending quite a bit of time in my little home office, a quirky little room upstairs at the front of the house. There's a little 3-foot high arched window that faces the front yard, and I suppose most people think that's the attic up there.

But it's my office.

We bought this house in 1996 from the adult children of the people who built our house in 1933. It had been on the market for over three years and most everyone in town, it seemed, had walked through it at one time or another.

When their daughter grew up and got married, the parents converted the attic into a little apartment and the little front room (my office) was the kitchen. Apparently they installed the refrigerator before completing the walls. When we decided to move it out, it would not fit through any of the upstairs doors. My sweet hubby had to dismantle it with a jigsaw. We sold the tiny 3-burner stove on yard sale to a family with a vintage camper who said it would fit just perfectly. I hope it worked.

The room is long and narrow with two dormer alcoves where you can perfectly hit your head a dozen times a week, even if you've had your office there for years. One of the alcoves is the perfect little reading nook, with a chair and a cushion for the dog.

I love my office. It's odd and quirky and I feel it suits me perfectly. Pinned on the wall are photos and notes and reminders of family and friends over the years.

So every morning after I fire up my computer, and before I get down to whatever work inspires me that day, I take just a moment. A moment for me. I reflect on this life and my blessings and friends and family. I look around, maybe at the dog sleeping, at the reading chair I picked up at a yard sale for 12 bucks and had recovered, at art supplies and computers and stuff, and I take a breath.

I am incredibly grateful for my crazy life and this little room sort of captures it all for me.

Just a moment. Every day. #LoveMyLife