Reflecting on 2012, It’s Blessings & Sorrows, Friendships & Fun

Blessings

·  Teaching Memoir classes lets me hear the treasures class members write.

·  Daughter’s Styled and Organized Living business is taking off.

·  Dad’s daily multi-mile walks shame my pitiful exercise routine. He turns a vigorous 92 this month.

·  Daughter #1 and favorite son-in-law juggle a middle-schooler plus 2 girls with drivers’ licenses, and make their home Teen Central to friends.

·  My writing group inspires, encourages, and guides my writing efforts.

·  For the 10^th year, my widow(er) group shared my church Christmas concert before gathering at my home to celebrate the season.

·  My Sunday School class members race comfort to whichever one of us needs to be surrounded by love and prayers.

Granddaughter #1 with Medals

Proud Moments (or bragging rights)

·    Three granddaughters are turning out to be runners (like their grandpa and great grandfather). Two made it to State in the fall; the third was 1st in her middle school.

·    Between track and basketball, Granddaughter #1 squeezed in the Iowa State Choir, her 3rd year to be selected. This proud grandma was in Ames (see Just Plain Fun below) to hear the 1000 top Iowa voices and instrumentalists in concert.

·    Daughter #2 turns out a weekly blog and daily Facebook/Twitter tips (see Blessing #3) while her writer mom struggles for one blog per month—at best.

·    On Our Own: Widowhood for Smarties, a Silver Boomers book published in October, included my story.

Refreshed Friendships

·    Pfeiffer sis-in-law visited US from her residence in Germany.

·    Dear friends in Delaware housed me while we remembered good times.

Sorrows Laced with Joy

·    Dad shared a 72nd Valentine’s Day with Mother before she slipped away from us late that night.

·    While a chorus of our younger generation sang Mother’s hymns at her funeral, I discovered that Granddaughter #1 has her great grandmother’s natural alto voice (see Proud Moments #2).

·    In January and February, friend Kathy buried both parents, the parents who made room for me at their family table more times than I can count. Our Thanksgiving table shared both our Mothers’ best recipes.

Just Plain Fun

·    50th Class Reunion consensus: if we can still recognize one another, we can’t be that old.

Van-Far Class of '62 Reunion

·    On flight to Iowa (see Proud Moment #2), I missed 2 planes, lost my driver’s license, discovered that I had daughter’s driver’s license and credit/ATM cards in my purse (leaving her broke and ID-less),  . . . and knew it would be a funny story—much later.

Wishing you blessings, proud moments, renewals, and fun in 2013.

Won't you share your list of blessings, proud moments renewals or fun with readers here?

Keeping Your Appetite for Life

(reposted from my "lost in the black hole" web site: still a favorite book that I recommend)

Reading Paula's Butturini's Keeping The Feast put food on my mind.  Butturini peppered this memoir of her years in the news capitols of Europe with daily trips to street markets and the meals that resulted.  Her descriptions of her father’s polenta-making and husband John’s risotto, in addition to the repasts she prepared, read like a cookbook.   No matter that she included not a single recipe, she made me feel like I could whip up a quick pesto while a chicken roasts for dinner guests.

I want my cooking to be like Butturini’s, to be a time of energetic preparation that precedes family gathering at the table.  That is the way I grew up.  I can't remember eating a childhood meal alone.  Our family of six sat in appointed places and passed the dishes clockwise—meat, potatoes, vegetable, salad, always fresh bread.

We remained at the table beyond cleaning our plates to finish conversations awaited all day.  Mealtime talk covered the day in our family business, from which customers were dealing for a tractor to who paid an overdue account (details private to our kitchen).  Dad led analyses of the news headlines, answering our questions about why and how.  School occurrences, if warranted, got their attention, too.

That pattern of family meals continued in my home as our daughters grew up, but for the past decade I’ve broken the nourishing routine.  Not because I quit believing in the worth of good cooking and companionable meals, but because I’ve grown weary. 

I wanted to fix healthy dishes that filled and satisfied and that loaded me up with all the right nutrients.  Three times a day I went to my kitchen and symbolically tied on an apron, stood between open refrigerator doors, stared at the eggplant or zucchini and yellow squash, the green beans wilting in the plastic bag from the market, and pictured the plate all that bounty could make.  Then energy flagged.  I pulled out the “bag o’salad,”  chopped a cucumber and cheese, threw in cherry tomatoes, and doused all with bottled vinaigrette.  Quick and effortless won again.

This routine started when I began living alone after my husband’s death.  Resisting junk food but settling for uninspiring meals that, every few weeks, left me hungry for real dishes.

Recently all has changed.  My daughter and I decided to combine households.  We chose my house and furniture, but she maintained her routines.  That meant youthful exuberance and her customized cookbook.  She pours through its clipped recipes, insisting on trying all new ones each week.  Successes move to the permanent collection; less than stellar concoctions are summarily trashed.  Our shopping lists read fresh, whole, and for the most part organic.  Preparation may take an hour of chopping, pureeing, sauteing, and roasting, which cuts into my vegging time in front of the TV.

At first, unless guilt drove me to the kitchen to help, I puttered at the other end of the house until I heard sounds that meant a meal was ready.  Grudgingly, I have admitted that her menus rise above my salads and restaurant doggie bags.  I now join her at my own cutting board.  We perform a dance in our galley kitchen, do-si-doing around each other to adjust the heat under a skillet, to check an ingredient on the recipe du jour, to sip a wine chosen for the menu, all the while chatting about our day.

Recently a colleague asked how to make the vegetable dish I had taken to a carry-in supper.  The question delighted me because I hadn’t been sure anyone would care about roasted vegetables seasoned with only a few herbs and olive oil instead of mushroom soup cream sauce.  By the time I shared the simple directions, I felt enlivened in a way that eluded me in my quick salad days.  Paula Butturini defined the vitality I’m noticing in the truth she penned.  More than delicious food results from gathering in the kitchen to poach a fish or stir a fresh marinara sauce.  In Butturini’s words, “Cooking is part of keeping an appetite for life.”

Tomorrow, when forecasted threatening weather sets in, instead of opening a can of soup, I will saute an ancho chile with onions and green pepper then add leftover chicken and stock.  While it’s simmering, I may throw in those wilted carrots from the back of the fridge.  Parsley, fresh cilantro, and a squeeze of lime will finish a soup guaranteed to make dinner around our table more pleasant than the winds outside.