SAVORING SOME MEMORIES OF MARYANN

Just in case anyone decides to write a book about Maryann, I want to offer my reflections on a few chapters you might include.   First, there has to be a chapter on cooking.  I know in her lifetime she must have prepared thousands of meals (including dozens of Thanksgiving turkeys), but two things stand out in my mind—Dump Cake and Corned Beef and Cabbage. 

First the dump cake—take two cans of any pie filling you like (apple, cherry, peach, or even pumpkin if you must), spray a baking dish with Pam and dump in the pie filling.  Then dump in a box of the cake mix of your choice.  Spread the cake mix out to cover the entire dish, and then pour a melted stick of butter on top.  Bake at 350 for 45 minutes or so.   Serve warm.  Unforgettable and simple, it sounds like Maryann. 

Then there was her corned beef.  As a person of Irish descent, it did not seem right that I despised corned beef and cabbage.  Then along came Maryann and her wonderful corned beef tasted like a different meal altogether—Hmm, a Polish girl showing an Irishman the way to the food of his own heritage?

The next chapter that comes to mind is her life with animals—I mean pets.  When we first met the Smith’s, they had a dog named Kelly.   If we came over to eat, Kelly would pester us at the table, looking for a scrap.  Maryann would complain about Kelly, and about anyone who fed their dog from the table, thereby causing this behavior.  After a few more long minutes of listening to the incessant begging, Maryann would roll her eyes and give Kelly a scrap of almost anything—as I recall, that dog even developed a taste for spaghetti noodles.

As Kelly grew older, she didn’t hear too well.  Every so often, Kelly would decide to lie down for a rest in the middle of the street.  Naturally, along would come the UPS truck.   The driver would honk the horn, but Kelly didn’t move, she couldn’t hear a thing.  Maryann would have to run out and pull Kelly to safety before the UPS driver could move on.  Along the way, we learned Kelly had a sister, Sammy,—a pup from the same litter who lived with another branch of Maryann’s family.  Kelly grew older, and one day passed away.  Maryann arranged a burial service with the girls and Kelly was buried in the backyard. There were no more pets for while, except for visits from Melissa’s very special dog, Ragsy.  

A few years later, Maryann and John took in a stray cat, a gift from Katie, and I think the cat still lives there today, nineteen years later.  For a long time I didn’t even know if the cat had a name (it turns out to be Kit Kat), because all Maryann, the dog-lover, would call her was “that damned cat.” 

Now, I want to also share a legend that may or may not be true, but I believe it.  Sheila and I adopted a small puppy named Stella.  Stella was the nicest little dog, she would play, she would sit on your lap and, above all, she was quiet.  Enter Maryann, observing “that dog doesn’t even make any noise,” she, legend has it, taught Stella to bark.  For the next fifteen years, Stella barked at anything and everything, and we still believe to this day, that we had Maryann to thank for it.

Finally, there has to be a chapter about Maryann, the hostess.  We met when we were all “strangers in a strange land,” moving from Up North into the South.  Into Gwinnett, the fastest growing county in America at the time.  Not long after we moved there, we had the great good fortune to get to know the Smith’s. who had moved to Atlanta from Detroit.  We were astounded to learn the following winter, that Maryann was hosting some houseguests for three weeks or so.  The guests were John’s parents AND hers—at the same time in their small house.  Also along for the visit was Kelly’s little dog-sister, Sammy—I mentioned her earlier.  So she hosted four adults and a dog in her home, already well-occupied by two adults, two girls and a dog.  We could only imagine what that must have been like, but they must have had fun, as those winter visits continued for several years.  Only a fine hostess could have held all that together. 

Seven or eight years later, my career led us to move away to Savannah, and so began a twenty-some years long tradition of stopping for a night with Maryann and John any time we travelled to visit family and friends in St.. Louis and Chicago.  Twenty years of several visits a year, it really is hard to believe.  We’d usually arrive before John made it home from work, so Maryann greeted us at the door, fed us drinks and appetizers and prepared a meal for us all.  I’d say we did this as many as fifty times over the years, and we’d only be there a matter of minutes before Maryann would send forth one of those hoots of laughter that were beyond description.   Ah, but we had fun and tonight I’m savoring all those moments. 

Anyway, if anyone does write that book, just mention me in the Foreword, won’t you?

The People We Know

Today i discovered my wife did not even know who my favorite poet is.  This was at about the same time I asked for a hug as i felt we hadn't touched much in recent days.  I proceeded to bombard her with Billy Collins' work, but it got in the way of the email she was writing, so i had to wait and then read it a little too quickly and she seemed unimpressed.  Just a touch will be ok this time, but I've promised myself I will be relentless, pursuing it all the time.  Not the poetry, you fool, the touch.

This same day, I'd awakened in a dream of another life I might have led had I taken the other path.  Stayed at home for college, remaining the geeky intellectual in personality, but not much different career-wise, for some reason.  Maybe the dream will return and I will makes sense of the moment in a parking lot I didn't recognize and talking with people whose faces I did not know.

It wasn't the old church/gymnasium parking lot my friends and I, for no good reason at all, chose as our gathering place when we hung out in high school.   I said it was a parking lot i did not recognize.  As I try to recapture the dream, I am no longer seeing a true parking lot.  Instead it's one of those strips where diagonal parking is laid out for half the block or so.  I think there was a car running, out in the street on the other side of the cars parked there, waiting for the person I was talking with who was asking for a commitment I could not make.  No it wasn't a woman, it was an adult I did not recognize, and the fact that I viewed this person as an adult tells me I was college-age or nearly so at the time, when decisions were made that steered our lives for many years to come.

What would I have learned if I'd remained in Oak Park, I dunno, maybe I would have become the most efficient deliverer the Oak Leaves ever knew.  Yes, I said Oak Leaves.  It was a weekly--Thursdays, I think.  I wasn't up to dailies like the Trib or the American.  I'm pretty sure brothers Joe and John ( he wasn't Jack back then) had shared a Tribune route.  It was one of those much more challenging jobs--a daily newspaper route.  I think I may have folded some of the papers for their early morning trips, but I don't believe I went along very often.  They only kept that morning route long enough to save for some goal or whatever.

I never did pick that daily one up, but I did that weekly Oak Leaves  More my speed perhaps?  Does that suggest staying at home for college would have been selling myself short, taking the shorter step?  Maybe.  I do remember convincing myself to go the farthest I could (to Kansas City) so I could start a new life in no one's shadow, footsteps, etc.   I think it worked out OK, even if that step was taken for a strange reason.

Now I had a really close group of buddies I hung out with in high school (the ones that hung out in the parking lot with me back then).  I have lots more memories of that bunch than the students at my high school (there was a bit of overlap, but you know what I mean).  I wouldn't cross the street for most of the fellow students at my high school, but I was willing to and have, in fact, travelled more than a thousand miles three times in the past ten years to see one or more of that bunch I hung around with.

That sets aside the high school friends.  What about college?  Not long ago, lying in bed waiting for sleep, I decided to try to recall as many names from college as I could.  I also did the same thing for my high school days.  There was no comparison.  I recalled seventy or more college friends and just two dozen high school friends.  No, it can't be that college was after high school and therefore more likely to be remembered,  High school was fifty years ago, and college forty-six.  I don't believe my recall from forty-six years ago is any sharper than that of fifty years ago because of time.

 More likely, the college experience was more engaging and involved than high school.  The people I remember were part of a number of recollected events in college that made an impression on me.  From high school, it was principally the friends from my neighborhood and a few classmates in Honors Class.  Oh, you think us honors students were dull?  I can think of four who were on the chess team, and two that were espousing contrasting philosophical points of view and defending them in class discussions (Michael and Clifton were "the boss!").  One other random recollection of high school--there were more young men of Italian descent in the Honors Class than any other.  Twenty-five percent were Italian!  When I left for college in Kansas City, I entered a new world.

Later

Livin' In The U.S..A.

I may be making this up out of my own imagination, but I’m almost sure I remember--right here in the U.S.A--legislators making laws to address or remedy some problem facing our nation or world.  I remember leaders of cities, states and/or our country taking action to implement laws or at least constructively discuss ways to do so.  Was there ever really a time when people praised this or that court decision that protected our freedoms or rights in the way they should be?  None of these things seem to happen today.  Maybe if we could hear about or even find just a couple of such instances, even if the stories weren’t all positive, find a healthy mix of positive outcomes, then maybe....  Probably not, I guess.

Then, I might also wake up some morning when no one in our leadership has insulted or responded in kind to some insult or slight.  I guess that is just too much to expect.  We have put the tools of self-expression out there to all and they just cannot help themselves.  They have to share their inner demons.  Now that the tools are in their hands, they can’t help but write whatever comes to mind.  Would they say it to that person if they were in the room or sitting across the table from them?

I have more than once said to people that direct contact or conversation in person with others with whom we might have a disagreement is the best way to at least understand what our differences are in a respectful way.  Texting and even emails are a poor substitute for direct conversation, even if that conversation cannot be face-to-face and must take place over the phone.  We would have a chance of being clear with one another instead of just throwing judgments or insults at everyone.   It is much more likely that we will speak our minds in a more moderate form if we are speaking in person (most of us, anyway).   

Does anyone use Twitter to say something positive, or is it simply that such communication (the positive kind) is not newsworthy or deserving of our attention?   I know those tweets are out there, but I guess I should also look at who is doing the tweeting before I begin to expect something so radical as a positive statement of support for a person or position that doesn’t attack everyone who does not share their point of view.  Most of these people are politicians or celebrities who can only get the attention they crave by vitriol.  I don’t consider myself a Pollyanna, I feel like I’m pretty pragmatic and realistic, I don’t expect everyone to get along, but come on people….

How Do You Tell A Codger

How do you tell an old codger when you see one?

I’ll show you the tells to know that he be one.

He usually can’t get through a metal detector.

Of that “ladies first” rule, he’s a constant respector.

Sometimes to leave places he’ll need a director.

Velcros he wears so no laces come undone          

Bigger, but much like those worn by his grandson.

Ode to Irma

As we watched the dreaded monster churn

We sang to each other, “She’s gonna turn.”

Down there watching did the wise old fishes

Know we played and sang mostly our wishes.

And that as we fiddled our Rome did burn.

The Long Campaign Trail--Trump With A New Trudeau-Twist

This week, Rolling Stone magazine featured a cover with the faces of President Donald Trump and Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.  The headline was something like, "Why Can't He Be Our President?"
The message was the Rolling Stone editorial staff believes that Trump is less than spectacular, while Trudeau is a rising young star, the kind of star they wish we had as our President.  Now obviously, Trudeau probably wouldn't be interested in the job, nor, as a person born outside the U.S., would he be eligible to serve.  The article inside the magazine seems to acknowledge the latter, at least.   It does go on to compare the positions of the two politicians on issues that are near and dear to the liberal U.S. media.  Not unexpectedly, Trudeau's positions are more popular with Rolling Stone.

It wasn't a spoof, nor was it very humorous, but I do think it missed its mark.  The real opportunity is right here in front of us.  We have our own Trudeau, one who was born in the U.S.  He and Mr. Trump have circled each other for years even as Trump was at his finest over the years--from his initial political ambitions as evidenced by trial balloons floated in 1987, to the Trump Princess luxury yacht (owned by a man so afraid of ocean travel that he kept the luxury liner parked near his various resort locations).

He has had a ringside site in NewYork to watch Trump's ascent.  Our Trudeau has kept his keen eyes focused on Trump's attempts to keep his failing casinos alive, only to have them end up in five bankruptcies at Trump Taj Mahal, Trump World's Fair, Trump Plaza and Casino, Trump Entertainment Resorts, Trump Hotels and Casinos Resorts.  Throw in the bankruptcy at Trump Plaza in New York and you have six bankruptcies (and this is the guy who has proposed a balanced budget--don't bet on it).

A little more about that budget--it assumes GDP growth of three percent annually.  Many economists believe this is not possible, in light of a number of developments that are behind us and were taken up all at once by growth economies like India and China.  There was technological change from the industrial revolution, including the introduction of electricity, and development of air transportation as well as the superhighway system developed in the 1960's, and later--in the Information Technology revolution.  There was growth in the size of the work force--from the waves of immigration after WW II to the baby boom and beyond.  There was further major growth as millions women entered the work force.

Those changes are in the past, and, short of a robotics revolution, technology is not on the verge of another tech boost.  Oh, and don't forget the Trump administration-supported immigration reform that will reduce immigration by fifty percent.  The productivity boom that can come from growth in the labor force is going away as well.

But back to our Trudeau and Mr. Trump.  Their relationship already resembles that of two political adversaries--they need only attack and scorn each other constantly.  If occasionally a small sign of an idea or political view falls out of such a struggle, then we  would have actual policy positions and/or agendas springing forth.  Wouldn't it be fun though!  If you haven't already guessed, our Trudeau is none other than Garry Trudeau, author of the Doonesbury comic strips.  Believe it or not, Trump has been the subject of many a Doonesbury strip for more than thirty years.  Maybe you realized this, but I surely had missed it.  Now I believe they make a natural pair of enemies.  Our real Trudeau candidate should be Garry Trudeau.  Come on, Rolling Stone!  Trudeau for President!  

Along the Path Of Learning To Smile

Here I sit, still waffling among several paths on the broad topic of happiness and the pursuit thereof (you can tell i've been  looking at English Historians and Philosophers when you see me use "thereof" in a sentence), I have spent time reading John Locke, Sir Edward Coke, Adam Ferguson and more.  This was attempting to define what Eighteenth Century writers like Thomas Jefferson meant by "the pursuit of happiness."  At first glance, it appears that Jefferson merely intended it in the way most people of the time regarded it--pursuit of happiness meant the pursuit of material possessions or 'dower."  However, a more scholarly examination of his work and its context heads you back to philosophers and theologians of the 17th and 18th centuries.

To philosophers and theologians, there are a couple of schools of thought on Jefferson's use of the term "pursuit of happiness."  One is in the Lockean concept of the pursuit of property.   This freedom to own things was considered by this group as the actual meaning intended by Jefferson.  Another school of thought looks at Jefferson's concept as the generosity of individuals, and that the individual upon whom the happiness is bestowed is the giver more than the receiver.  Promoting the well-being of others is the essential way in which one can achieve happiness for oneself.  In this way the generosity of individuals promotes the happiness of the giver as well as society as a whole.  Can we simplify all this and say 'the more you give the more you get?"

In any case, the pursuit of happiness by whatever means you define it is considered an inalienable right in the Declaration of Independence (which was debated and adopted by the Second Continental Congress in 'the dog days" of 1776, I might add.  See my earlier pieces on the dog days of summer and happiness).  It's a tricky business looking into the minds of our Founding Fathers.  On the one hand, we want to say they wrote and spoke of societal benefit and generosity as the pursuit of happiness.  On the other, we recall that they were landowners, people who had accumulated wealth and position, in part by their own hard work and in part by the ownership of slaves.  The latter is written off as the custom of the times, we suppose?

Having dried that topic up, I headed back to the concept of learning to smile sincerely as much as you can to promote your own happiness and the happiness of others.  This was along the more practical path of learning or re-learning how to smile and laugh, which have been  proven to enhance happiness on the level of chemicals in the brain  like endorphins, serotonin, dopamine, etc.  Somewhere in the course of reviewing the many approaches to increasing the smile content is your life, I bumped into Bamboo Forest writing on punintended.com.  I think it was a piece called "Being Happy For Others Makes You Happy" that prompted WikiHow to cite this site (if you'll pardon that expression).  It wasn't that piece I found so interesting, it was some of the other stuff I found--"North Dakota Doesn't Exist"and "An Open Letter to Will Farrell. I have devoted a good deal of time to reading a blog entitled punintended.com, and that is a hoot.  It makes it a little hard to head back to pondering the serious intent of the Second Continental Congress when the included the "pursuit of happiness" as one of man's inalienable rights.  Hard to find a lot to smile about among philosophers and theologians.

So, for the moment, I'm through trying so hard on this topic.  It did make me scratch my head and tickled my funny bone a little, and that's just fine for now.

Adaptation, Capacity and Sanity In the Early Mornng

I started thinking the other morning about adaptation.  The sense in which I used the term was in adapting to changed circumstances, especially as it relates to the changes in a being or its ways and means of existence under the conditions of its environment or surroundings   I believe that the meaning must be broader than that to encompass changes in that being's capacity for engagement with its surroundings.(Again, read enough a certain kind of material and you begin to sound like one of them--in this case scientists--biology, physiology and psychology, to name a few).

Much of what you find when you begin digging deeper is related to biology and physiology and evolution in a species.   My interest doesn't really extend that far.  I am thinking of the day-to-day effort that is required of us and of building or enhancing the capacity to make that effort.  It seems to require a certain amount of determination, assistance from others, and ability to adapt.  There is perhaps a certain bit of biology taking place when there is some alteration in an organism.  The "alteration" in the  structure or function of an organism or any of its parts says to me that adaptation is occurring.  Adaptation  is adding capacity and/or changing the surroundings or even the being itself.  (Whoa, that one is sort of murky).   But yes, it's about capacity to see opportunity where one once saw only barriers or limitations.

That capacity to adapt introduces the freedom to change when opportunity arrives.  This is true of limits, changes or lost function that one might otherwise see as a narrowing of freedom, but with the capacity to adapt comes the freedom to change that outlook.  This morning I noticed a change in my ability to put a sock on my right foot.  I simply couldn't reach far  enough to pull the sock over my smallest toes and maintain my grip on the sock to let me pull it on.  Adaptation has allowed me to perform this task in two steps.  First, I reach down and pull that sock over as many toes as  I can with my hands on the medial side of the foot, then I reach around with right hand from the lateral side of my foot. grasping the sock and pulling it over any remaining uncovered toes and the rest of my foot (the sole and heel of my foot).  You see, adaptation is a matter of using the capacity to change what you are doing, changing the result, and that is the definition of sanity. (Remember, as Einstein put it, "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."  Thus, doing it differently to achieve the desired result is sanity itself.