Fishing for Heartbreak

July 22, 2013July 22, 2013 / still a dreamer / 2 Comments

When I was a child of 10 or 11, my Dad suggested we all go fishing at Cooper’s Pond in the town nearby. He made it sound like fun, so off we went.

Cooper’s Pond was a lovely park, the same place our family went to enjoy picnics or walking. On these outings, I brought along my Brownie camera that I’d been given at 9 years old, and I loved taking photos of the ducks on the pond as well as feeding them. What wouldn’t be enjoyable about fishing?

We didn’t have real fishing poles, just long sticks to which my Dad had secured some kind of line, maybe string, with a hook on the end. On the hooks, we put a piece of bread, and then we cast our lines into the water. It didn’t take long before I got a nibble, and something tugged at my line. My father got all excited, and instructed me to pull it toward me and then lift it out of the water.

There on the end of my line was a carp, probably only about 7″ long, writhing and twisting to free itself of the hook I had managed to snag in its sensitive mouth. I was horrified that I was the cause of this poor creature to be flailing about so, and I immediately began to cry, screaming, “Daddy, take it off! Daddy, take it off!” Daddy removed the hook from the fish and gently let him go back in the water, but I was inconsolable.

Who was I to have caused this animal such pain and make him fight for his life? As a child, I had not been able to make the connection between “having fun fishing” and the reality of a fish writhing on the end of my hook until I saw the results firsthand. I was heartbroken, I who fed all the ducks in that exact same spot, I who loved all animals from the earliest age I can remember.

It wasn’t until many years later, even still, that I made the next major connection that the meat or fish I cooked and ate had once been a sentient being. This is not what we’re ever told as children. The meat or fish served at meals appeared as a finished dish, prepared in some usually delicious way. One had nothing to do with the other.

The constantly evolving realization over time that the food on my plate had indeed been a living creature … and one who most likely suffered enormously before getting to my plate … enabled me to gradually eliminate almost all meat and fish from my diet in recent years. This is a plus as I move along the path to becoming vegan, but the earliest seeds of this transformation were sown when a little girl went fishing and found a humble carp to be her teacher.

Here is a dilemma I ponder nowadays … how, in writing children’s books, can I impart to young readers, without scaring them to death, of course, that the animals they eat for dinner are no different in their capacity for contentment or pain than the animals they love as pets? That animals from chickens to elephants, honeybees to pigs, have complex lives of their own, social structures, families, attachments to their babies, and that maybe it’s not the right thing – the kind thing – to use them for our own ends, to cause them such suffering. Is it enough to simply engender a love and appreciation of animals?

The Kitchen God’s Wife

July 20, 2013 / still a dreamer

Had you asked me if I were interested in reading the story of a Chinese woman growing up in China in the late 20’s through the end of World War II, now living in California, and her relationships with family, I probably would have said `no.’ Had you told me the author was Amy Tan, who wrote The Joy Luck Club, I would have immediately changed my answer.

I am so impressed with how Ms. Tan immediately pulls you into her story; it seems so simply written. I don’t know how she does it, but I am engrossed from the first page. Pearl, the American born daughter of Winnie Louie, who grew up in China, begins the tale in the first person. She is observing her mother’s and aunties’ behaviors, their reliance on custom and tradition, and its seeming irrelevance to current day life. She doesn’t really understand her mother and is critical of her negativity and superstitions. They’ve had a rift between them since the death of Jimmy, Pearl’s father, when she was fourteen.

What becomes apparent in the first few chapters is that there are many secrets being kept by both Winnie and Pearl. But even deeper secrets are kept by Winnie and longtime friend, Helen … secrets that are bound by fear, pain, dreadful memories, and the need to follow traditional Chinese customs. Believing she may be dying, Helen threatens to reveal the secrets kept for over 50 years and free herself of the burden. For Winnie, this cannot happen, and so, with current day family relationships established, the story switches to Winnie becoming the narrator and looking back at the past. She will be the one to at long last reveal the secrets, not Helen.

She begins her story when a child of six in China, when her beloved mother, and fifth wife to her father, disappears, and how Winnie’s upbringing falls to Old Aunt and New Aunt and their deeply traditional views. As in The Joy Luck Club, the story is not only about the characters, but about a culture and a country of which I suspect most of us know little. As Winnie tells her story, we learn about the critical qualities of politeness, respect and saving face, the role luck – or belief in it – plays in people’s lives, and the inability to escape a traditional marriage, no matter how abusive.

The unfolding of Winnie’s life, her dangerous marriage, the loss of her children, the toll taken by war, all are answering the questions that her daughter has about her mother and why she is the way she is. This would be a deeply moving story of one woman’s life and her survival against enormous odds in any culture, but in The Kitchen God’s Wife, we also learn about China and a span of time and series of events that changed the country and its residents forever.

Ms. Tan brings it all together in the final chapters, a satisfying conclusion, and one which had me go back and read Pearl’s chapters a second time. Highly recommended.

Surprised by Roses

July 17, 2013 / still a dreamer / 6 Comments

I can’t even tell you the last time I can remember being sent flowers. So when these beauties arrived by delivery yesterday I was beyond surprised!

Take a look at them – the selection is called Sorbet Roses and the colors are just amazing. What was equally amazing is how they blossomed in water overnight. (I’m sure the heat doesn’t hurt.) The scent of roses permeates the room … ahhhhhhh! I thought to share a photo or two I took because, really, how often does one receive roses? (And if you’re someone who does, lucky you!)

As the roses opened, I noticed something interesting – one of the roses, the pink one below, has a double center – almost a tiny rose within the rose. I’m taking that as a good-luck sign. (Why? Because I can!) And my thanks to my very thoughtful friend for sending such a lovely surprise.

Of course, we are always worthy of treating ourselves and buying flowers just for us. We deserve it! And indeed, I had taken to occasionally treating myself to a small bouquet of fresh blooms from the local market when I went shopping. That became short-lived due to one busybody feline named Gypsy Rose. Overnight, and never in front of me, to be sure, she made her way up to whatever counter, table, etc. I’d placed them on, and proceeded to dismantle them. I’d find petals all over the table, sometimes complete flowers broken off. I even tried putting them on top of the fridge at night, but she just jumped higher to wreak her kitty havoc. I tired of finding what was this small treat to myself in disarray each morning, so just gave up.

And while I still greatly miss the departed Miss Rose, of course, it was almost a surprise to find the roses in the morning all in one piece!

Crossing Our Own Bridges

July 10, 2013 / still a dreamer / 7 Comments

When I first saw this photo, I had to swallow hard. That is not a bridge I’d be able to cross. The photograph is of the Carrick-a-rede-rope bridge in Northern Ireland and connects the mainland to a tiny island. It is now a tourist attraction, but was once used by salmon fishermen for over 350 years. It is 98 feet, above rocks and the sea, built only of wood and ropes. It is easy to imagine how it would sway when one crosses to the little island on the other side.

It reminds me of bridges in my own life … the sometimes difficult paths that I am traveling to places I want to go. Just like real bridges, some of these can be crossed in hours, days, or maybe years. Some are nice and secure and amazingly happy, like when I used to walk over the Brooklyn Bridge, and some are much more challenging, like this one would be. Some feel like they have a sheer drop to the sea and cliffs below.

We all have bridges we need … or want … to cross. I’d had a discussion of this metaphor with a friend a few years ago; a particular challenge I faced, (and still do), seemed the equivalent of crossing this rope bridge. How would I get where I wanted to go? She suggested I imagine the rope bridge bathed in white light, one continuous safety net. I accepted this in theory, but it didn’t banish my fears. And then I had a thought. If I really, truly wanted to get there, I could crawl. Maybe not a bold or terribly brave move, but if that’s all I can do right now? Then I can crawl.

And sometimes that’s what we have to do. Some days we can dance around and through wherever we want to go. Others we can walk with our head held high. But if we sometimes have to crawl to get there, at least we can say we never gave up. One day, one step at a time.

We’ll all get there.

Vegan 4th of July Picnic Salad

July 4, 2013July 4, 2013 / still a dreamer / 2 Comments

This was so easy it’s almost silly to even post it as a special dish! My picnic host, (a meat eater), was open to having our meal vegan style, so I said I would make a “main dish” salad, he would make a variation of his famous potato salad without eggs or dairy, (i.e. mayo), and he’d make a fruit salad for dessert. Since I know he likes meat, I offered to bring my own veggie hot dog and bun while he grilled whatever inspired him. Surprisingly, he said “I’ll have a veggie dog, too.” So there we have it … an easy vegan picnic!

The salad, completely organic, consists of whole wheat chioccioli pasta, (look like little snail shells), orange pepper, lightly steamed fresh asparagus, zucchini, and chick peas in a dressing of EVOO, lemon juice, a nice amount of garlic, salt and pepper. I also ventured into the world of tofu to replace what I would have normally added … feta cheese. I crumbled a bunch in, but I think in the future, I would marinate it in the dressing ahead of time. I adjusted the seasonings and added a bit more lemon juice when I packed the salad up.

Voila! Easy-peasy, delicious and healthy!

Happy Fourth of July!