The best radiologists, oncologists and surgeons here in Erie have given my mother just two months to live after several exams and tests led them to a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer early last month. She hadn’t been feeling very well for quite awhile but couldn’t identify any pain and chalked it up to diabetes and her newly introduced insulin. Then at a routine check-up her family doctor noticed that she was a little jaundiced. Some rapid blood work confirmed it: painless jaundice is the black mamba of the cancer ward. If it’s not caught very early WITH the proper “anti-toxins” (for lack of a better word), it’s a cruel disease.
How do you make up for all your screw ups of 50+ years in just 8 weeks? You can’t. You just can’t. Especially when you always felt like a failure as a son. The best you can hope for is a chance to show through actions, not words, just how much that person has influenced your life in a positive way.
I was fortunate enough to live with my mother for 6 weeks just prior to her diagnosis, and it gave me an opportunity to show her, I hope anyway, with some of my small actions what a blessing it was to have her as a mother and role model for good parenting. I made my usual mistakes, but she knew I was trying hard to please her. And not only that: when paired with my father, she showed me that such a pairing could stay warm and affectionate much, much longer than 60+ years.
I feel very lucky to live in the same city as my parents, a “luxury” my older sister and brother would surely bargain just about anything for during the next couple of months. I wish it could be so, if for no other than to see the joy in my mother’s eyes. Very lucky indeed, do I feel, despite the sadness and sense of loss that now permeates the very air I breathe. For SHE draws some of those same molecules into her lungs, SHE once taught me how to seal those lungs so I didn’t drown when she bobbed me up and down in the lake which was practically our back yard.
She does have faults of her own, like everyone else, but more often than not she tried to show me how to cope with them in a positive way, just as my father did in his own way. The failures were my own, certainly not theirs. There was a time when I thought such skills were “automatic”, that they came one’s way as the natural result of loving a creature that is part of one’s self, virtually without effort. Being a father myself, and one who has failed to follow my parent’s example too many times to count, I now know much, much better.
And that is the true lesson I learned from my mother and one I will carry with me always: it is vitally important to love your children to the extent and degree that you will sacrifice your own wants and desires to further their growth, but it is equally vital that you let them see that you have those same struggles, and that by daily effort they can be overcome. This is the essence of what my mother taught me, and if I could pass just one of her attributes through the generations onto my daughter, as my only child, it would be this: your grandmother struggled in many of the same ways that I have, and that you have in your own way, but she never gave up, she never stopped trying to find some silver lining in that dark cloud which so often penetrates our days. Even today, she contemplates chemo therapy she would otherwise forego just to try to make it to my niece’s wedding this summer. Where does such courage come from? I’m at a loss, unless it be that familiar trio of faith, hope and love.
She carries herself with such dignity and grace these days, even the difficult ones, demonstrating a love which comes from some ineffable source that carries joy along with it. This is her ultimate gift to her family, those of us who will somehow carry on: parenting not as chore, but a divine art form which captures the heart and touches the soul.
This is my mother, Virginia Mae.
Modern Cooking – American Style
In a previous posting, “Books, Books, and More Books“, I mused that there has never been a better time to be a reader, given what is aggressively marketed from libraries to grocery stores, what is available on the Internet, and new devices to make reading that material a faster, more flexible and accessible experience.
I find the same to be true of American cooking. There has never been a better time in the history of our planet than to be a cooking aficionado in America, regional specialties and all.
Graham Kerr - The Galloping Gourmet - image from The Cooking Channel (click for full story)
I say this for several reasons. The primary reason has to be the flat screen that occupies nearly every room of every modern household: the television. Ever since cable tv became available, producers have been pushing the envelope on tv cooking shows. Julia Childs and The Galloping Gourmet seem quaint memories now, although humorous ones, between her flamboyance and his nipping away at the cooking wine.
Now entire channels are devoted 24 hours a day to everything from regional barbecue contests where red chili and white chili have their own separate categories, to UFC-type cook- offs which circle the globe in quest of the chef who can produce the most elusive of all things for the judges: umame, or “deliciousness”, in a range of categories and ingredients that would have your grandmother shaking her head.
Click this image to learn about the History of Chili
(What a great job, by the way, to be a judge on The Food Network, huh? I happened to see a show from 5 or 6 years ago and I swear the pre-eminent male judge looked 50 or 60 pounds lighter than he does today. And no wonder! All he does all day is get driven from place to place and eat the best food anywhere! Not too healthy, but sign me up for a couple of years anyway. I’ll work it off once the ” hardship” is over.)
It’s not just one channel, either. Look on almost any major channel and they’re getting their chops in (sorry). There’s Oprah learning a better way to fry chicken in 1/3 the amount of oil. There’s Paula Deen sending “best dishes” from her kitchen to yours. “The Barefoot Contessa” showing us how the Hamptons crowd dines. Bobby Flay showing us how cooking outdoors in one way or another is more fun and flavorful than simply grilling meat. Giadia de Laurentis making it look-oh-so-easy to recreate dishes from Italy while raising a family in California wine country. Rachel Ray just looking cute, EVERYWHERE. There’s even a show that tries to identify the country’s WORST cook! And the piece de resistance: an “Ultimate Food Championship”, in which a rather bizarre Japanese host invites chefs around the country to compete against the clock and one of America’s “Iron Chefs” with the most bizarre ingredients you can imagine. All while the judges look
hungrily on, offering meaningless speculation as to what each chef and his assistants are really doing down below in Kitchen Stadium.
And it isn’t just tv, either. Books abound on how to beat diabetes while eating your favorite foods. How this product or that product will make your food magic and revolutionary. I can’t count the number of trees which have sacrificed their lives to offer in print form some particular country’s food preparation techniques in an effort to sell the various strange and sundry products sold at your nearest superstore. On one level it reminds me of what the markets of ancient Rome must of looked liked in their glory. Gastronomic hedonism gone wild
And the devices! Walk into any kitchen store and tell me you’re not blown away by the gadgets and gizmos and pots and pans. I dare you, cooks of America!
But there’s an upside to all of this, even if not everyone appreciates it. I like to cook, and years ago became enamored of fresh herbs. They’re so easy to grow, as a general rule, that they’re like tasty weeds. And my mother, an excellent cook still, at 87 years old, has lost some of her zeal in the kitchen so I offered to cook a couple meals a week for my folks. I had visions of New Age ambrosia leaving them reeling in ecstasy. By the second meal, however, they politely informed me in no uncertain terms, “We don’t like fresh herbs, and this tastes like garlic; you put garlic in this didn’t you?”
Vegetables with Fresh Herbs - Photo by Noel Zia Lee
I was floored. “What?? They were grown right out your back door, they’re fresh, they’re delicious, what do you MEAN you don’t like them? How can you not like basil in your red sauce, or sprigs of thyme or rosemary under the skin of a well-roasted whole chicken? Or garlic in almost anything”. My solution was to chop stuff so fine I thought they’d never see it, but they are bloodhounds when it comes to fresh herbs.
They aren’t immune to the new devices,though. I’ve been watching my parent’s two-year search for the perfect egg poacher with no small amount of amusement, and they will grind whole coffee beans in their new grinder once in awhile, now that they’ve seen how easy it is to have fresher tasting coffee. Throw in a countertop grill and one could almost say they’ve turned a small corner.
Here’s the deal, as I finally puzzled it out, and not surprisingly it’s a generational thing. They both grew up in sparse times, when Sunday’s roast beef became Monday’s hash, then Tuesday’s beef stew, then Wednesday’s, well, you get the idea. When she was younger my mother added much variety to our family menu, but there were few spices, and everything was lightly seasoned. After 80 plus years of eating the same basic stuff 7 days a week their palates are pretty well set. They know what they like and what they don’t like. I can’t fault them for that, and they do try some of the new things I force on them, like letting meat rest before carving, rice or pasta(not spaghetti) or even couscous once instead of baked or mashed potatoes.
But for you and me the world is literally our oyster, and there really isn’t any excuse to not read a new recipe or watch a different cooking technique on tv. The stores make it easier and easier by pre-packaging stuff in new ways, with new ingredients. It’s gotten expensive like everything else, but once a week, walk on the wild side. Study and prepare something you’ve never done before.
The French, Italians, Greeks, Chinese, Mexicans all have their signature styles. I’d like to think Modern Cooking, American Style, will grow even more diverse than our parents was predictable.
Woodpecker