Alli's Team

I’ve discovered another joy in being here with family in Sylvania: my granddaughter Alli’s volley ball games! Northview HS just beat Perrysburg in a fun and exciting game. Excellent teamwork, most of all. Alli was great, but the team was fantastic. That made all the difference: how well they played together, implemented plays they had rehearsed all summer; cheered each other on; remained positive with every play. I can’t think of a more important life lesson than this: learning early in life how to play your part in a greater effort, how to give and take, how to shine and help others shine. The moms gathered around Michelle to ask about the baby, about how things were going. Mostly they were there to cheer their girls on. How great it is to be part of a community of shared goals, experiences, and dreams. Alli made a special show of pointing me out, her Nana, to her teammates. I was so proud! Most of all, I was happy for Alli, that she was part of a great team, having the experience of a lifetime, and learning a lesson that will always be with her and bodes well for her future. Go Alli!

Loren's Memorial Bench

Loren’s Memorial bench overlooks Lake Talquin. The lake, known for its great fishing, is a resevoir located on the Ochlockonee River between Leon County and Gadsen County in North Florida, near Quincy, just west of Tallahassee. It was home to Loren.

Loren loved nature, the environment, all of Florida’s state parks. He hiked and explored most all of them. He worked on trail maintenance, conservation, and other projects for many of them, with the Florida Trail Association, the Sierra Club, St. Marks, and other nature preserves and parks. He loved nothing better than walking in nature, and I loved walking with him.

Howard Pardue, who was instrumental in getting the memorial bench and is active with the Florida Trail Association, said Loren loved this area. It sounds like a nature lover's dream of rolling hills, pine forests, and bald eagles, osprey and other fantastic birds. Loren felt at one with nature and the goddess in these places. May his spirit, my beloved brother’s soul, rest in peace.

The New MLK, Jr. Memorial

photo from MLK, Jr. Memorial website.

I wonder what my brother Loren would have thought about the new Martin Luther King Jr. memorial in Washington, DC. Loren dedicated his life to King’s dreams. They were Loren’s dreams, too: a world where freedom, justice and empathy reigned and the American dream of democracy applied to all people.

The new memorial is a huge granite stone out of which King is emerging, arms crossed, kind of half done. Why not a full statue, I wonder? The whole man. Arms open to embrace the world, to embrace all humankind. Sure he was a rock, and he was determined. I understand the metaphor the stone embodies: “Out of a mountain of despair, a stone of hope.” This was, apparently, the inspiration for the statue.

But I think something more whole would have made a better, a more fitting, monument for the ages. The inspiration might have been “At the center of nonviolence stands the principle of love.” So many fine quotes from this master speaker and leader. Universal. Transcendent. Humane. King, like Ghandi, Mother Teresa and other visionay leaders, rose above single issues of the time, evolved into spiritual leaders with transcendent values for all time.

I don’t think this memorial rises to the level reached by King and these heroes. I think Loren would agree that this MLK, Jr. memorial is more a symbol of its time, even a retro image of socialist realism, than a splendid icon of humanity for all times.

Making Jam

My neighbor Judi and I went to the farmers’ market, held every Thursday in Sylvania, and bought fresh zucchini, yellow squash, onions, red bell peppers, a large purple eggplant, corn on the cob, and tons of fresh raspberries. What a stilllife! We have lots of tomatoes, green peppers, and herbs in our own kitchen garden, ala Luba's garden (огорад) in Starobelsk. I wanted to make ratatouille and Judi wanted to make jam.

"Can I help you," I asked.

"Sure!"

"Do you boil the raspberries for a long time on the stove and add stuff, like they do in Ukraine?"

"Oh good heavens, no," Judi said. "No boiling on the stove. You just mash the raspberries, add sugar and serta, put the mix in jars, and freeze."

So easy. Jam for the winter, jam year round.

So that started my first foray into making jam. My main job was buying some sugar and mashing the raspberries. And, oh I forgot, you add two teaspoons of lemon juice, too. We filled about 12 jars, and Judi gave me one for my freezer. "Give it a few weeks," she said.

I went upstairs to my apartment with my little jar of jam, feeling quite virtuous. I am cooking up a storm, Starobelsk! Now on to the ratatouille!

What's in a Name? The economy sucks.

"The Art of Survival" in economic bad times, Jeff Largcoon for Insights on PBS Hawaii.org

Depression? Recession? Stagnation? What difference does it make what you call it, when the economy is hurting workers more than anyone else, when more than 15 million Americans are unemployed or have given up looking for work, when new jobs are not being created, companies are not hiring, and don’t have to, and there is little hope on the horizon. Call it what you like. It’s all the same to those most affected: working people, the middle class, the elderly, women and children, homeowners, the most vulnerable. And there’s no end in sight. Just more haggling about the definition of this bad economy, like philosophers in the Middle Ages debating how many angels were on the head of a pin.

Now Republicans are calling for huge cuts, but won’t tax the super rich, won’t listen to the likes of Warren Buffet, refuse to provide stimulus to boost opportunities for the average middle-class American and the working poor. Look at the growing and huge number of workers who have to be on food stamps in order to survive (Kristina Cooke, "Food Stamp Nation," http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/08/22/us-usa-poverty-foodstamps-idUSTRE77L45Z20110822).

The rich get richer, the working poor poorer. There's no sense of "the common good," economic justice, or "the greatest good for the greatest number," at least among those extreme Republicans who have held us hostage over economic issues. Paul Krugman calls them "America's #1 political problem now." Call it what you will, the economy sucks, and it is hurting ordinary, hardworking Americans most of all.

Brothers

"There are also celestial bodies, and bodies terrestrial, but the glory of the celestial is one, and the glory of the terrestrial is another." I Corinthians 15:40. Above, "Hologram of a Crystal Globe," flickr photo by Will S, a detail from the front cover of National Geographic, December 1988, which I am sure Loren saw and savored.

My brother Loren would have loved to see his new nephew Chase. Maybe he’s sending greetings now that only Chase can hear. Loren was eight years younger than me, but we were always close in spirit. I miss him every day. Brotherly love.

So I am happy for my grandsons Josh and Kyle, who now have a new brother. Josh is 14 years old, Kyle 9, and Chase one week old today. That’s

quite a gap in years between them. But I hope they will be as close in spirit as my brother and I were, as we continue to be.

One day Chase will join Josh and Kyle on his bike and ride over to see me. It’s one of the greatest pleasures of being here and so close to my children. Just a bike ride away. Like me and Loren in the quantum hologram of forever.

I'm Cooking Again

When I was in Ukraine, living with Luba on Panfelova, I didn’t cook at all. She was queen of the kitchen, a great cook. She always served fresh produce from her garden, and made wonderful soups, borsch, varenyki,
Easter bread, salads. In winter we had her wonderful preserved fresh vegetables and fruits.

I did try cooking a meal once. Thought I'd surprise Luba. Alas, my attempt at lemon chicken was less than splendid. Neither she nor her son Sergei (at home at the time) liked it much, though they were polite. I think it just confirmed to them that Amerikankas can't cook! That was it for my cooking debut.

When I moved over to Natalia’s on Kyrova, in the center of town, I told her I'd do my own cooking. She just looked at me and smiled. My efforts didn't last long. Maybe a few weeks. Natalia always had food in the fridge and on the stove, enough

to feed an army, and urged me to eat it. How could I refuse? I remember the fresh pork from those cute little pigs that Tonya raised on her farm. Best pork ever. So I hardly ever cooked

at Natalia’s either.

Now it’s a different story altogether.

I am shopping and cooking a lot, mostly for my kids and grandkids. Doing some gardening, too. Michelle and Chase got home from the hospital yesterday (at last!) and I brought over a meal. Good excuse to see the baby! The grandkids pop in frequently, so I always have something for them, pasta salad is a favorite, and spaghetti. I have meat in the freezer. Always have milk, cereal, bread and snacks. I even bought ready-made cookie dough, just in case. The kids love baking.

I am cooking again. Taking a lesson from Luba and Natalia, I go to our little apartment household garden and pick tomatoes, peppers, and herbs. The basil, parsley and rosemary are fantastic. I mix up a good meal. I’m checking out new recipes. My granddaughter Alli saw a PETA documentary on cruelty to animals, burst into tears, and has become a vegetarian. I went to Borders (going out of business sale, sadly) and bought some vegetarian cook books. I’m cooking up a storm. Luba and Natalia would be surprised!