Court last week was, to say the least, extremely frustrating; however, the day gave me fodder for the Book That Should be Published. I had not one, but three, dog cases, two with the same two dogs, and the third with a heretofore unknown dog, as well as the couple whose house will be torn down as they say inside, "Did you hear a noise?"
I pray for the wisdom of Solomon, but so far, it has not appeared. I will keep hoping.
The older couple, although I believe they are probably pretty close to my age, have been appearing in court over several years, always for violating the housing code. I have seen pictures of their home, which seems to be similar to the tar paper shacks common to the area where I was born and grew up. Over the years, the pictures show some windows having been replaced with corrugated tin and some with plywood. The roof now has, instead of a few small blue tarps hiding a few small spots of disrepair, a huge blue tarp covering about one-third of the house. A porch has been torn off but not rebuilt. Shrubs and vines abound in the summer months, so that the area looks like the scary forest in Walt Disney's Snow White. The house is probably Webster's picture definition of the word "dilapidated." I have no idea how they live in that excuse for a house.
But live there they do.
Over the years, they begin a project here and there, but never finish: their son needed to use his truck and couldn't lend it to them; he has been sick; she has been sick; he has a bad heart; they didn't understand what I wanted them to do; and on and on. Finally, this year, when the blue tarp took on its now gigantic proportions, I asked, "Do you think that his chronic bronchitis could have something to do with the mold that probably is in the walls at your house? Do you think that the roof might leak into your house and cause mold?" They looked at me as if they had never heard of such a thing. In fact, they probably haven't heard of such a thing.
So the City has finally had it and has declared the house to be a dangerous building and subject to demolition. They have the right to challenge that finding, and they can show that the building is not dangerous; however, they have not done so. The challenge time period is six months; that time period expires in June. They are still living in the house.
I saw them three months ago. The City's housing specialist came into the court to report that they had picked up paperwork, and that they needed to complete it. After that, the housing authority would call them when an apartment became available. "We don't want an apartment. We want a house," the wife said. The housing specialist patiently explained that houses didn't come open very often, but they would be next on the list when one appeared. It was then that I found out that this couple has an adult son who lives with them. I got the idea that he might be unemployable, because although he is about 30 years old, he has never had a job. The wife told us that he had "bad teeth." I asked about his going to a dentist. "We can't afford a dentist." I explained that Medicaid would help them with medical costs. "He's not on Medicaid," the wife said. I asked why not, and she told me that they had never signed up for Medicaid.
I encouraged them to sign him up for Medicaid so that he could get the health care he needed, including a visit to the dentist. They nodded, and I ordered them to come back the next month to report. I really wanted to keep them on the move so that they wouldn't get too comfortable in their own home and just forget that it was going to be torn down.
The next month, they appeared, and I asked for a report. They had picked up the paperwork, and the son had gone to the dentist. The dentist had pulled a lot of teeth, and the son was in pain. I asked whether they had called the dentist's office to see if something could be done for the pain. They kind of looked at each other, and the wife told me, "No, we haven't called back. It hurts too much for him to go back." I explained that maybe an infection had developed and that their son needed some medication. They looked at each other again and she said she would call.
Then I asked about whether they had completed the paperwork. They looked at each other and she said, "No." I asked why not, and, you guessed it, they looked at each other.
I ordered them to complete the paperwork and take it back to the housing authority and return to court the next month. They left and I sighed.
The next month, they appeared and proudly reported that they had completed the paperwork requesting housing. They told me that they had also called the dentist but could not get in to see him because there were no more vouchers and they couldn't afford it. I was happy because they had completed the paperwork, and let them go, but ordered them to return the next month. Again, I didn't want them to forget that they were living in a condemned house and would have to move.
That takes us to last Wednesday.
They came in and approached the bench when it was their turn. Jamie, the housing specialist came downstairs and was smiling, so I thought the problem had been solved. She said, "The housing authority offered them an apartment this week!" I began smiling because I thought this was good news. Then the wife said, "We don't want an apartment. We want a house." Jamie looked at me. I looked at her. She said, "You won't be able to get a house right away. They don't come open very often. But you will be first on the list for a house when one is available." They looked at each other. The wife said, "We didn't ask for an apartment."
I threw up my hands, both literally and figuratively. I asked Jamie whether the apartment would still be available. "Oh, no," she said. Once they turn it down, it will go to the next person on the list."
I looked at the couple and said, "I have tried to do everything I can to get you a habitable place to live, and now you have turned down a place that will get you out of the house before it is torn down. I don't know what else to say. Your house will be torn down in June. It will be gone. Where will you go?"
They looked at each other.
"You're dismissed," I said, and moved on to the next case.
Later, the clerk asked me what to do with the case. I told her that we couldn't do any more with it.
Then I went to my church staff meeting and asked for prayers that I could find some answer that would keep these people in a house and not make them new members of the homeless community.
Solomon, where are you?
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Spring in Savannah
I thought spring in Missouri was lovely, but spring in Savannah is simply entrancing. We went last weekend to visit Emily, and we took along dear old friends; we stayed at a fabulous hotel and ate at wonderful restaurants, and I can hardly wait to go back.
Savannah is a very old city and is divided by city squares that serve as parks for the surrounding neighborhoods. Each square boasts huge live oak trees, most of which are covered in Spanish Moss - except for three of the trees on the old court square. Legend has it that Spanish moss will not grow on a tree where innocent blood was shed, and three live oak trees on that particular square are moss-less - the square where gallows supposedly once stood, or maybe a hanging tree or three.
Azaelas in gorgeous shades of pink grow in hedges on most of the squares; some of the plants are taller than our friend, who stands 6'8". Green is the other plentiful color on the squares, as all the trees were leafed out and all the grass was fresh and bright.
The squares are populated at all times of day with people walking their dogs, tourists taking walking tours, people going to and from work, and some people who are just sitting on park benches loving the warm air and sunshine. Occasionally, someone might be playing an instrument, or telling whoever will listen that the world will soon be ending. Each square looks different, and they all have different feels.
Most of Savannah's hot spots are in the downtown area - not tourist locations, but places where the locals eat lunch and dinner, or enjoy a martini or two after work.
We arrived on Thursday evening and ate dinner at one of my favorite restaurants: Circa 1875. This is a little French bistro that serves a seasonal menu of good dishes such as duck confit and pate de fois gras. That Thursday, the special was trout cook so beautifully that my friend ate all of hers, which she never does. Max had the lamb shank, and Emily and I shared the duck. Most of all, we loved the wine. We tried two different bottles, and our favorites were a Hahn Meritage. I am still trying to locate that label.
On Friday, we took the free ferry from our Westin Resort hotel over the Savannah River to the city, where we did a lot of walking and sightseeing. We traipsed across River Street, which is known for its tourist attractions; we spent no time there, as we were not interested in buying trinkets with which to remember our trip, instead heading up to the part of town that is populated with SCAD buildings and students, seeing what Savannah looks like on a workday around noon.
Around 1:00, we met up with Emily and drove to Tybee Island, which, depending on traffic, could be about a 20-minute drive. We found a little place - AJ's - to eat lunch, and we sat out in the sunshine on a deck drinking beer and eating the most unhealthy type of food, but that which is required in a seafood joint on the ocean - fried everything! We had boiled shrimp for an appetizer, and then we chowed down on food we have been forbidden to eat since we were in our 20s. I didn't believe I was in New Orleans when I ordered the fried shrimp po' boy, but I didn't care. I ate it anyway. The requisite cole slaw was good, and the sweet potato fries tasted just right with whatever beer I was drinking. By the time we were finished, it was about 5:00 - and we had dinner reservations at 9:00!
We got back to the hotel just in time to see, from our hotel room window, a wedding rehearsal on the lawn of the hotel, right next to the Savannah River. Everyone looked young and beautiful and excited - just the way a wedding party should look. I felt like an interloper - watching something to which I was not invited from a hotel window - but I couldn't break away.
Eventually, we drifted out of the hotel toward the free ferry, and sailed across the river to downtown, where we made our way to Alligator Soul, a restaurant that had been recommended to me the first time Emily and I had been in Savannah to scout out a place for her to live. This restaurant was, just like Circa 1875, located underground. We traversed down a staircase and entered a cave-like room with a bar running parallel to the wall and a fireplace and seating area at the opposite end of the room. We were lucky enough to make our way to the area by the fireplace, and while we were there, we had oysters on the half-shell with a tomato vinaigrette and a cucumber-lemon vinaigrette.
We waited for a long time for a table, but it was worth it, as the staff brought in a table set for five, and placed it right next to us. From there, it got even better. We shared tempura-fried soft shell crab that had been caught that very afternoon - probably around where we ate lunch. While Emily and I shared a Caesar salad, my friends Susan and Gary shared a composed salad with grilled calamari as the featured ingredient, and they raved about it. Gary and Max both ordered grilled scallops, Susan ate swordfish, Emily had duck, and I had smoked pulled pork with gnocchi. The only thing lacking on my plate was that the gnocchi were underdone. Other than that, the whole dinner was, in the words of Billie Dawn of Born Yesterday fame, "su-poib."
Most enjoyable, however, was the Paraduxx wine, which is from the Duckhorn label. It was a blend of 70% zinfandel and 30% cabernet sauvignon. We had two bottles, and that wasn't enough. I am looking for that wine, as well, but so far, to no avail.
The chef of Alligator Soul is Chris DiNello, a handsome young man in his 30s, who is self-taught, and who obviously has done a really good job teaching. He has developed a very sophisticated menu, and the night we were there, executed most of it very well. I would go back to his restaurant to try more items on the menu; I think it could very well take the place of Circa 1875 as my favorite Savannah restaurant.
We ferried back to the hotel and tried to go to our room, but the NCAA tournament games were on the television in the hotel bar, and so we watched the last part of the Kansas game and the bridal party - the one we had watched earlier that evening from our window - as they readied themselves for the festivities the next day. I was thrilled that we had two more whole days to enjoy in this charming southern city.
The next day was wild and wet. Fortunately, we had taken advantage of the fabulous weather to hit the beach the previous day, so we spent the non-rainy part of the day exploring yet more of the downtown Savannah area, eating lunch at the Flip Flop Tiki Bar, where Emily was tending bar and waiting tables. Susan and I had margaritas (Emily had said that she makes excellent margaritas - she is right), and Max and Gary drank beer. We ate light Jamaican shrimp tacos and pulled pork tacos that were served with black beans and rice and mango salsa. Then we went exploring, trying to find the cemetery made famous by Johnny Mercer, who is buried there, and John Berendt, who wrote about it in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. When the mosquitoes started gnawing at us and it began to rain, we decided to take a drive north of town and check out Hilton Head, as none of us had been there. We saw a lot of traffic, but I still don't believe I have seen Hilton Head.
We got back to the hotel just in time to watch, again from our window, the wedding on the lawn, and then to take a nap before martinis at Jen and Friends and dinner at the Sapphire Grill. The weather turned beautiful again just as we headed to Jen's, where we enjoyed our martinis al fresco - because there was no room at the bar! Then we headed over to the Sapphire Grill, which is right next to Paula Deen's The Lady and Sons, where a real mixologist put on quite a show. Each of us ordered a different drink, and the bartender gave great care to each, muddling berries for Susan's berry martini, cutting fresh pineapple for my Mai Tai, and opening a new bottle of champagne for Emily's French 75.
We then went upstairs for yet another excellent dinner. Emily and I shared seared scallops, and the chef will allow diners to select a sauce for their entrees. My scallops came with truffle butter, and Emily ordered a mushroom sauce. Well-heeled and adventurous diners can order a wine pairing dinner, which includes a particular wine with each course that is designed to enhance the flavor of the food, at $100 per person. I am going to do that when I go back. It sounded heavenly, but I had already spent all my money!
Around midnight, we went back to the Westin to sleep for the last night in our Heavenly Bed. On Sunday morning, we took a guided walking tour of the downtown area, including many of the squares and beautiful old churches and homes. After that, we hustled back to the hotel to check out and to decide where we would eat our last meal in Savannah. We decided to finish the trip with - hamburgers and French fries! It somehow seemed right to end our trip on a Midwestern note, and so we went to the Moon River brewpub (Yes, that's its name) and chowed down before heading back to real life in Missouri.
The worst part of a vacation is the end, and this trip was no exception. The good news is that our next trip is coming soon - in June - and I will once again get to enjoy the ambience of Savannah. I can hardly wait!
Savannah is a very old city and is divided by city squares that serve as parks for the surrounding neighborhoods. Each square boasts huge live oak trees, most of which are covered in Spanish Moss - except for three of the trees on the old court square. Legend has it that Spanish moss will not grow on a tree where innocent blood was shed, and three live oak trees on that particular square are moss-less - the square where gallows supposedly once stood, or maybe a hanging tree or three.
Azaelas in gorgeous shades of pink grow in hedges on most of the squares; some of the plants are taller than our friend, who stands 6'8". Green is the other plentiful color on the squares, as all the trees were leafed out and all the grass was fresh and bright.
The squares are populated at all times of day with people walking their dogs, tourists taking walking tours, people going to and from work, and some people who are just sitting on park benches loving the warm air and sunshine. Occasionally, someone might be playing an instrument, or telling whoever will listen that the world will soon be ending. Each square looks different, and they all have different feels.
Most of Savannah's hot spots are in the downtown area - not tourist locations, but places where the locals eat lunch and dinner, or enjoy a martini or two after work.
We arrived on Thursday evening and ate dinner at one of my favorite restaurants: Circa 1875. This is a little French bistro that serves a seasonal menu of good dishes such as duck confit and pate de fois gras. That Thursday, the special was trout cook so beautifully that my friend ate all of hers, which she never does. Max had the lamb shank, and Emily and I shared the duck. Most of all, we loved the wine. We tried two different bottles, and our favorites were a Hahn Meritage. I am still trying to locate that label.
On Friday, we took the free ferry from our Westin Resort hotel over the Savannah River to the city, where we did a lot of walking and sightseeing. We traipsed across River Street, which is known for its tourist attractions; we spent no time there, as we were not interested in buying trinkets with which to remember our trip, instead heading up to the part of town that is populated with SCAD buildings and students, seeing what Savannah looks like on a workday around noon.
Around 1:00, we met up with Emily and drove to Tybee Island, which, depending on traffic, could be about a 20-minute drive. We found a little place - AJ's - to eat lunch, and we sat out in the sunshine on a deck drinking beer and eating the most unhealthy type of food, but that which is required in a seafood joint on the ocean - fried everything! We had boiled shrimp for an appetizer, and then we chowed down on food we have been forbidden to eat since we were in our 20s. I didn't believe I was in New Orleans when I ordered the fried shrimp po' boy, but I didn't care. I ate it anyway. The requisite cole slaw was good, and the sweet potato fries tasted just right with whatever beer I was drinking. By the time we were finished, it was about 5:00 - and we had dinner reservations at 9:00!
We got back to the hotel just in time to see, from our hotel room window, a wedding rehearsal on the lawn of the hotel, right next to the Savannah River. Everyone looked young and beautiful and excited - just the way a wedding party should look. I felt like an interloper - watching something to which I was not invited from a hotel window - but I couldn't break away.
Eventually, we drifted out of the hotel toward the free ferry, and sailed across the river to downtown, where we made our way to Alligator Soul, a restaurant that had been recommended to me the first time Emily and I had been in Savannah to scout out a place for her to live. This restaurant was, just like Circa 1875, located underground. We traversed down a staircase and entered a cave-like room with a bar running parallel to the wall and a fireplace and seating area at the opposite end of the room. We were lucky enough to make our way to the area by the fireplace, and while we were there, we had oysters on the half-shell with a tomato vinaigrette and a cucumber-lemon vinaigrette.
We waited for a long time for a table, but it was worth it, as the staff brought in a table set for five, and placed it right next to us. From there, it got even better. We shared tempura-fried soft shell crab that had been caught that very afternoon - probably around where we ate lunch. While Emily and I shared a Caesar salad, my friends Susan and Gary shared a composed salad with grilled calamari as the featured ingredient, and they raved about it. Gary and Max both ordered grilled scallops, Susan ate swordfish, Emily had duck, and I had smoked pulled pork with gnocchi. The only thing lacking on my plate was that the gnocchi were underdone. Other than that, the whole dinner was, in the words of Billie Dawn of Born Yesterday fame, "su-poib."
Most enjoyable, however, was the Paraduxx wine, which is from the Duckhorn label. It was a blend of 70% zinfandel and 30% cabernet sauvignon. We had two bottles, and that wasn't enough. I am looking for that wine, as well, but so far, to no avail.
The chef of Alligator Soul is Chris DiNello, a handsome young man in his 30s, who is self-taught, and who obviously has done a really good job teaching. He has developed a very sophisticated menu, and the night we were there, executed most of it very well. I would go back to his restaurant to try more items on the menu; I think it could very well take the place of Circa 1875 as my favorite Savannah restaurant.
We ferried back to the hotel and tried to go to our room, but the NCAA tournament games were on the television in the hotel bar, and so we watched the last part of the Kansas game and the bridal party - the one we had watched earlier that evening from our window - as they readied themselves for the festivities the next day. I was thrilled that we had two more whole days to enjoy in this charming southern city.
The next day was wild and wet. Fortunately, we had taken advantage of the fabulous weather to hit the beach the previous day, so we spent the non-rainy part of the day exploring yet more of the downtown Savannah area, eating lunch at the Flip Flop Tiki Bar, where Emily was tending bar and waiting tables. Susan and I had margaritas (Emily had said that she makes excellent margaritas - she is right), and Max and Gary drank beer. We ate light Jamaican shrimp tacos and pulled pork tacos that were served with black beans and rice and mango salsa. Then we went exploring, trying to find the cemetery made famous by Johnny Mercer, who is buried there, and John Berendt, who wrote about it in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. When the mosquitoes started gnawing at us and it began to rain, we decided to take a drive north of town and check out Hilton Head, as none of us had been there. We saw a lot of traffic, but I still don't believe I have seen Hilton Head.
We got back to the hotel just in time to watch, again from our window, the wedding on the lawn, and then to take a nap before martinis at Jen and Friends and dinner at the Sapphire Grill. The weather turned beautiful again just as we headed to Jen's, where we enjoyed our martinis al fresco - because there was no room at the bar! Then we headed over to the Sapphire Grill, which is right next to Paula Deen's The Lady and Sons, where a real mixologist put on quite a show. Each of us ordered a different drink, and the bartender gave great care to each, muddling berries for Susan's berry martini, cutting fresh pineapple for my Mai Tai, and opening a new bottle of champagne for Emily's French 75.
We then went upstairs for yet another excellent dinner. Emily and I shared seared scallops, and the chef will allow diners to select a sauce for their entrees. My scallops came with truffle butter, and Emily ordered a mushroom sauce. Well-heeled and adventurous diners can order a wine pairing dinner, which includes a particular wine with each course that is designed to enhance the flavor of the food, at $100 per person. I am going to do that when I go back. It sounded heavenly, but I had already spent all my money!
Around midnight, we went back to the Westin to sleep for the last night in our Heavenly Bed. On Sunday morning, we took a guided walking tour of the downtown area, including many of the squares and beautiful old churches and homes. After that, we hustled back to the hotel to check out and to decide where we would eat our last meal in Savannah. We decided to finish the trip with - hamburgers and French fries! It somehow seemed right to end our trip on a Midwestern note, and so we went to the Moon River brewpub (Yes, that's its name) and chowed down before heading back to real life in Missouri.
The worst part of a vacation is the end, and this trip was no exception. The good news is that our next trip is coming soon - in June - and I will once again get to enjoy the ambience of Savannah. I can hardly wait!
Thursday, March 15, 2012
The World Looks Good Today
Very little feels better than preparing for spring break. Preparing means getting ready to have at least a few days without obligations, some days that may be spent lazily reading books or even guiltily watching old re-runs on television, and some time that belongs to no one but myself.
My favorite day of spring break is the day before it begins. This day brings with it the promise of what is to come, the excitement of anticipation, and the success of a stretch of days that have not yet occurred. My next favorite, of course, is the day it actually does begin, when the anticipation and promise are still palpable.
Spring break becomes not so much fun when I remember that I have to go to the doctor, or to the bank, or anywhere else for that matter, because when I remember those things, my time then becomes obligated, and although I don't have to work at school things, I have to do something. Something or someone else owns me for a portion of the time that should be mine and mine alone!!!
So this year, I have divided my spring break into two or three sections, the last one being taking off with old friends to see Emily in a city that offers quite a bit more fun than does this one. I will take one day, maybe two, to do obligations: go to the doctor, finish up some law work, and (eegad) clean the house. The rest of the time, I will simply sleep late, read books, and sit out in the sun or do yard work with the sun shining on me. I hope the sun is shining.
And you guessed it - today is the day before spring break begins, and I am wildly anticipatory about what the next ten days have in store.
My favorite day of spring break is the day before it begins. This day brings with it the promise of what is to come, the excitement of anticipation, and the success of a stretch of days that have not yet occurred. My next favorite, of course, is the day it actually does begin, when the anticipation and promise are still palpable.
Spring break becomes not so much fun when I remember that I have to go to the doctor, or to the bank, or anywhere else for that matter, because when I remember those things, my time then becomes obligated, and although I don't have to work at school things, I have to do something. Something or someone else owns me for a portion of the time that should be mine and mine alone!!!
So this year, I have divided my spring break into two or three sections, the last one being taking off with old friends to see Emily in a city that offers quite a bit more fun than does this one. I will take one day, maybe two, to do obligations: go to the doctor, finish up some law work, and (eegad) clean the house. The rest of the time, I will simply sleep late, read books, and sit out in the sun or do yard work with the sun shining on me. I hope the sun is shining.
And you guessed it - today is the day before spring break begins, and I am wildly anticipatory about what the next ten days have in store.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Aunt Alma's Birthday
Last Saturday night, Max and I drove to Kansas City to share my aunt's 80th birthday with her. My sister was there, as were my cousins Kelly and Kym with their husbands, Chad and Cougar respectively. Kelly's babies Amelia and Evelyn kept us entertained. My cousin John, whom I have not seen in some time, drove in from Oklahoma, and my cousin Derek, who I kept calling "Garrett" was also there for a short time. My cousin Patty and her husband Carl were the benefactors of the evening, and though some family members could not be there, I think I can safely say that "a good time was had by all."
I reflected on not only the evening, but also the lifetime that we have shared, sometimes in fits and starts, sometimes for years at a time, but always having each other within arm's length or a phone call away. We have not always been close - our lives have changed too much over the years - but we have generally always been happy to see each other.
For instance, I am sad that I missed Kelly and Chad's wedding now some ten or eleven years ago - maybe more. I was too lazy to drive from Sedalia to Lawrence, and I don't think Max could go for some reason. Now, all these years later, I regret not having made the trip and having fun when "the two became one," because as Kelly has grown up - she was only 19 at the time - she and I have gotten along famously. She is cute and funny and loves to laugh. Her husband is an artist and teacher, and he cares beautifully for their two little girls. I feel lucky that she doesn't hold it against me that I missed what was one of the most important days in her life, and that I can share with her other, not so important days - not important except that we see each other.
During those years, I didn't keep in touch with my family very well. We have our share of skeletons and ugly stories, and I didn't want to be connected with those; as a result, I have missed out on some good times and was not available to lend a hand during some times that were tough. As I am now older, and, I hope, wiser, I see that keeping some kind of continuty is important, if for no other reason, than to realize that these people in my family are threads that I don't want to break. As we become older and more scattered, though, and as life does to our family what life does to all, it takes more time, more effort, and more money to try to connect and to stay connected. I want to see these as simply challenges rather than insurmountable obstacles.
For instance, after spending time with Amelia and Evelyn, I really would like to see them grow up. I hope Kelly will send us school pictures and even some art they create or stories they tell. I hope that we will be able to resume our Easter tradition of meeting somewhere in the middle and having some kind of reunion where we all sit around and drink wine or Jameson's and laugh about the things that we did, or the things that someone is doing. I hope that when Kym and Cougar have children - assuming they will have children - we can be a part of that as well. I hope that when Emily gets married - assuming she will get married - they will all be there. I hope that the time, distance, and conflicts that have separated us in the past will stay in the past, and that we will be able to continue the relationship we have now, seeing each other on occasion and enjoying each other's company as we catch up on each other's lives.
Yes. A good time was had by all.
I reflected on not only the evening, but also the lifetime that we have shared, sometimes in fits and starts, sometimes for years at a time, but always having each other within arm's length or a phone call away. We have not always been close - our lives have changed too much over the years - but we have generally always been happy to see each other.
For instance, I am sad that I missed Kelly and Chad's wedding now some ten or eleven years ago - maybe more. I was too lazy to drive from Sedalia to Lawrence, and I don't think Max could go for some reason. Now, all these years later, I regret not having made the trip and having fun when "the two became one," because as Kelly has grown up - she was only 19 at the time - she and I have gotten along famously. She is cute and funny and loves to laugh. Her husband is an artist and teacher, and he cares beautifully for their two little girls. I feel lucky that she doesn't hold it against me that I missed what was one of the most important days in her life, and that I can share with her other, not so important days - not important except that we see each other.
During those years, I didn't keep in touch with my family very well. We have our share of skeletons and ugly stories, and I didn't want to be connected with those; as a result, I have missed out on some good times and was not available to lend a hand during some times that were tough. As I am now older, and, I hope, wiser, I see that keeping some kind of continuty is important, if for no other reason, than to realize that these people in my family are threads that I don't want to break. As we become older and more scattered, though, and as life does to our family what life does to all, it takes more time, more effort, and more money to try to connect and to stay connected. I want to see these as simply challenges rather than insurmountable obstacles.
For instance, after spending time with Amelia and Evelyn, I really would like to see them grow up. I hope Kelly will send us school pictures and even some art they create or stories they tell. I hope that we will be able to resume our Easter tradition of meeting somewhere in the middle and having some kind of reunion where we all sit around and drink wine or Jameson's and laugh about the things that we did, or the things that someone is doing. I hope that when Kym and Cougar have children - assuming they will have children - we can be a part of that as well. I hope that when Emily gets married - assuming she will get married - they will all be there. I hope that the time, distance, and conflicts that have separated us in the past will stay in the past, and that we will be able to continue the relationship we have now, seeing each other on occasion and enjoying each other's company as we catch up on each other's lives.
Yes. A good time was had by all.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Change in the Air
It's spring. Max and I put the top down on the car and drove at 10 this morning without freezing to death. The sun continues to shine today and I hear that the temperature has hit 82 degrees. I don't know what to think, but I haven't felt the languor of spring fever. Maybe that is because I haven't felt the dastardly iciness of winter this year. Our lives have undergone a complete turnaround in the past 9 months, and when I look back at it all, it takes my breath away.
Our daughter has graduated from college and has moved far away so that we can no longer buzz down on a Sunday afternoon and back on Monday afternoon so we can get an Emily fix. A good fried has died. My brother-in-law has died, after a year of living hell when he could not communicate or move or feed himself. We had to put down our blessed little Fluffy who had been a part of our family for 15 years. A friend with a long term illness has died. A young friend has died suddenly. The son of a friend has gotten married. My sweet cousin has had a baby. Another sweet cousin has been married, and I was the officiant. My mother has moved from her home to another house. I have struggled with stress from too much work. My husband has found a job that suits him well. We have celebrated Thanksgiving away from home and have driven two days to do it. Our daughter looks forward to receiving her master's degree in a few months. We got new carpet.
And yet, so much has stayed the same. The house, albeit the carpet, looks much the same. I still play the piano and organ each week, still spending every Wednesday night at choir practice. Max and I still cook dinner each night together, he the sous chef and I standing at the stove and stirring. I still worry about my weight. I still teach too many classes and have to grade too many papers. I still laugh at The Big Bang Theory. Emily and I still talk every day on the telephone, and I still count myself lucky that she wants to confide in me. I am yet again looking forward to spring break. I continue to question myself about what I want to be when I grow up. I drink wine with my mother once every week or so. I still plan vacations that I will never take. I still play for the praise team and am still surprised when I feel so energized after the service is concluded. I have the same friends and a few new ones. I still don't spend enough time with Vida. I still wonder what life has in store. I continue to dream about writing a book. And my book is still not finished.
I think we all grow up expecting life to be this exciting adventure, when really, life is simply a collection of short adventures that occur between long stretches of days when life gives us the opportunity to look around and see where we are - an opportunity many of us either take for granted, or do not take at all. I have come to uneasy terms with the gift of simple days, but I feel that something different is about to happen. Maybe the reason I feel that way is because so much has happened recently, and I am used to the upheaval. Whatever the reason, I look with trepidation and anticipation toward spring and what it will bring.
Our daughter has graduated from college and has moved far away so that we can no longer buzz down on a Sunday afternoon and back on Monday afternoon so we can get an Emily fix. A good fried has died. My brother-in-law has died, after a year of living hell when he could not communicate or move or feed himself. We had to put down our blessed little Fluffy who had been a part of our family for 15 years. A friend with a long term illness has died. A young friend has died suddenly. The son of a friend has gotten married. My sweet cousin has had a baby. Another sweet cousin has been married, and I was the officiant. My mother has moved from her home to another house. I have struggled with stress from too much work. My husband has found a job that suits him well. We have celebrated Thanksgiving away from home and have driven two days to do it. Our daughter looks forward to receiving her master's degree in a few months. We got new carpet.
And yet, so much has stayed the same. The house, albeit the carpet, looks much the same. I still play the piano and organ each week, still spending every Wednesday night at choir practice. Max and I still cook dinner each night together, he the sous chef and I standing at the stove and stirring. I still worry about my weight. I still teach too many classes and have to grade too many papers. I still laugh at The Big Bang Theory. Emily and I still talk every day on the telephone, and I still count myself lucky that she wants to confide in me. I am yet again looking forward to spring break. I continue to question myself about what I want to be when I grow up. I drink wine with my mother once every week or so. I still plan vacations that I will never take. I still play for the praise team and am still surprised when I feel so energized after the service is concluded. I have the same friends and a few new ones. I still don't spend enough time with Vida. I still wonder what life has in store. I continue to dream about writing a book. And my book is still not finished.
I think we all grow up expecting life to be this exciting adventure, when really, life is simply a collection of short adventures that occur between long stretches of days when life gives us the opportunity to look around and see where we are - an opportunity many of us either take for granted, or do not take at all. I have come to uneasy terms with the gift of simple days, but I feel that something different is about to happen. Maybe the reason I feel that way is because so much has happened recently, and I am used to the upheaval. Whatever the reason, I look with trepidation and anticipation toward spring and what it will bring.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Electronic Nightmare
It all started when my computer screen kind of flickered, and then refused to light up. I kept hoping that I would see the familiar start-up screen, that all would be fine, that I would be able to access all my documents, grades, and checkbooks. I started to sweat when I realized that it was not to be, that my computer had gone dark for good.
Terrified and angry, I started saying very bad words very loudly, and continued doing so when I saw that the computer would not come to life even in the presence of such profanities. And why was I so paralyzed with fear? Because I couldn't remember when I had done my last backup, and even if I were able to remember it, I had no idea how to restore the darn thing. I finally told my husband what the uproar was all about, and he advised me to call his go-to computer guy, who is the smartest computer person on the face of the planet. After what the GTCG did for me, I tend to agree.
I was able to get in touch with him, and he was able to find time in his schedule to give my computer a once-over. I knew, deep in my heart, though, that the six-year-old HP was gone for good, and so I started looking for another one to replace it. Because I had purchased a teeny-tiny notebook, I rarely carried the laptop around anymore, and so I thought I could probably exist with a less expensive desktop model. As I checked prices, though, I found that desktops weren't as inexpensive as I had originally thought. I was becoming more and more depressed because I was not planning to spend any money on something as expensive as a computer - tires, maybe, but not a computer.
That was when my secretary called. When I bewailed my current situation, she reminded me that the bookstore at the local community college was selling, for a song, HP laptops; with my instructor's discount, that song would become a two-line melody. I was jubilant! I went to the bookstore, bought the little computer, and took it home, spending the next four hours installing all the software I knew I would need when GTCG was able to capture all my data on a disk or some other device about which I know little to nothing. I also set up my e-mail account and began receiving all kinds of e-mails, because my on line class had just begun.
And I waited. The GTCG called to confirm that my computer was, in fact, dead, and that he could retrieve most of my information, but NOT my e-mails. I hit panic mode. Those e-mails were chronicles of my life - my teaching life, my law life, my personal life, and my life in general. Why couldn't he retrieve them? He explained that to be the nature of the beast - e-mail cannot be retrieved. Once it is gone, it is gone - unless, however, a smart person has transferred the e-mails to a "cloud." It all seems so complicated. But I shall move on.
I waited, almost afraid to breathe, for him to transfer the data on my dead computer to the new oner, and my patience was rewarded. The computer went to him, the data went on, and I prepared for my next big event - a bankruptcy hearing.
Prior to the hearing, I had to transfer some pdf. documents to the Court's web site. So I put the documents in my scanner, pushed the button . . . and saw nothing I recognized. Something was wrong with my scanner! It was trying to scan a document to a .jpeg file! I DID NOT want a picture! I NEEDED a .pdf document! I checked the properties. Only picture formats showed up. There was no .pdf. Now I was beginning to get really mad. Not only was I going to have to buy a new computer, I was going to have to get a scanner, as well.
I rationalized this irritation by telling myself that I had lost my 15-year-old copier a few weeks before, so I was going to have to buy a copier regardless; I could just get an all-in-one and have a new copier and a scanner that would work with my new operating system (Windows 7), which I believed to be the root of the problem. So to Staples I went.
I found a reasonably priced HP all-in-one printer and bought it. It was wireless, so Max would be able to use it, too, from his new perch in the house; it also had a top feeder for multi-page copying, which would come in handy with long documents such as bankruptcy petitions. I was feeling a little better, and even a little anticipatory about playing with my new toy. I unpacked it and hooked it up. I made one copy, and then another, using the top feeder, and everything was working well. My nerves were starting to settle down when I tried the scanner. I put the paper in, pushed the button, and saw only picture suffixes available, such as .jpeg or .bitmap. This simply could not be happening.
Too mentally exhausted to do anything about it at the time, I decided to just quit for the day and worry about it when I next had time, probably on Saturday, a couple of days away. In the meantime, I just kept my old printer hooked up to the computer, and made copies as necessary.
Saturday arrived, and I worked and worked with the scanning portion of my new piece of equipment and finally found a fix that allowed the document to scan as a .pdf as I needed. It took four hours to get to that success. Max was using the printer from downstairs in the living room, and I decided that this printer would be all right, even though the scanning portion was more work than the scanner I had before.
The next week, I continued to get used to my new computer and printer, and then I noticed that something was wrong with my e-mail. Prior to my new system, when I downloaded e-mail to my main computer, it didn't appear on any of my other devices, such as my teeny-tiny notebook or my smart phone. If I downloaded e-mail to my smart phone, it would still download to my main computer OR to my teeny-tiny notebook. Any e-mail that downloaded to my teeny-tiny notebook would stay there and not download afterward to my main computer. This was somewhat irritating, but it was workable, and over time, I got used to it.
Now, when I downloaded e-mail to my main computer, it didn't stay on my main computer; when I opened up the e-mail on my teeny-tiny notebook, all the e-mail on my main computer would disappear and re-appear on the notebook! What was worse, ALL my e-mail downloaded to my smart phone, not once, not twice, but over and over and over! I was, as my grandmother used to say, fit to be tied.
I sat down to figure this one out, and after a few more hours, found the problem to be the difference in IMAP and POP. I have no idea what each is, but I know they are different, and I know that the IMAP was causing the problem. So I was able to fix the part that had my e-mail disappearing from one computer to another; however, the smart phone still got all the e-mail over and over, and the teeny-tiny notebook got all the e-mail that went to the main computer earlier in the day. As long, however, as it stayed on the main computer, I decided that I could live with it until I calmed down.
The next week, I started to make copies on my new printer/copier, using the top feeder. Just as the page was about to disappear into the belly of the beast, the beast stopped working. Stopped. I got an error message: "Paper Feed Mispick." So I laboriously lifted the lid, worked gently with the paper, and pulled it out. Then I re-set the copier and started again. Stopped. Just as before, I got an error message, and just as before, I gently worked the paper free and re-set. Once again, I started the process, and once again, the paper stopped. This time, not so gently, I ripped the paper from the feeder and gave up. I decided then and there that this printer was a piece of junk and needed to go back to Staples.
So on Saturday, when I had time, I started packing up the dreadful machine when Max stopped me. He told me that he didn't think Staples took back electronic equipment, that we would have to send the printer to HP. I couldn't believe it, and right away called Staples to find that he was right. Staples had a two-week deadline, and I was one day past it. Furious, I started to call HP, but decided that I should probably wait until I cooled down.
So on Monday, I called HP and got a very nice tech support guy who took me through step after step, time after time, and finally concluded that I either had a defective product or had done something that screwed it up after I purchased it and plugged it in. He was too nice to say the latter, however, and agreed that HP should send me a new machine. He said it would take 7 - 10 days to arrive, and when it did arrive, I should call and get someone to step me through hooking it up. He gave me a case number and told me to have a good day. Good day, hah! I was STILL without a copier and a scanner that worked, and I was at least 10 days away from hoping to have one. I thought I would scream, but I was too tired and disappointed.
So imagine my surprise when, yesterday, a mere two days after my call, I opened the door and found a BIG box which contained my new printer/scanner/copier/FAX machine! I was very happy, but I didn't want to rush upstairs to try to install it because I had to go to choir practice and would not be able to sit down with the tech support people to get the job done. In fact, I decided I could wait until Friday, so that I would have enough time to listen to what tech support was saying and follow the instructions to the letter. I was breathing easily.
This morning, however, my helpful husband, who wants nothing more than to make my life easier, went upstairs without my noticing, and by the time I found him, he had unpacked the big box and was putting the printer on its new home. My usual morning routine has me on the treadmill by 9 so that I can get to class by 11; I must exercise almost every day or I get fat and stressed out. Unfortunately, I had to call HP to set up the printer before I could do anything, and doing so took so much time that I didn't have enough time to get on the treadmill. Max didn't know that, though, so I won't hold it against him.
To end a long story - by this time, nothing will make it short - I talked with HP's tech support, the instructor gave great directions, and now I have a printer that prints, a copier that will copy from the top feeder, and a scanner that will scan documents to .pdf. At this point today, life is good.
Now if I can just figure out the e-mail mess . .
Terrified and angry, I started saying very bad words very loudly, and continued doing so when I saw that the computer would not come to life even in the presence of such profanities. And why was I so paralyzed with fear? Because I couldn't remember when I had done my last backup, and even if I were able to remember it, I had no idea how to restore the darn thing. I finally told my husband what the uproar was all about, and he advised me to call his go-to computer guy, who is the smartest computer person on the face of the planet. After what the GTCG did for me, I tend to agree.
I was able to get in touch with him, and he was able to find time in his schedule to give my computer a once-over. I knew, deep in my heart, though, that the six-year-old HP was gone for good, and so I started looking for another one to replace it. Because I had purchased a teeny-tiny notebook, I rarely carried the laptop around anymore, and so I thought I could probably exist with a less expensive desktop model. As I checked prices, though, I found that desktops weren't as inexpensive as I had originally thought. I was becoming more and more depressed because I was not planning to spend any money on something as expensive as a computer - tires, maybe, but not a computer.
That was when my secretary called. When I bewailed my current situation, she reminded me that the bookstore at the local community college was selling, for a song, HP laptops; with my instructor's discount, that song would become a two-line melody. I was jubilant! I went to the bookstore, bought the little computer, and took it home, spending the next four hours installing all the software I knew I would need when GTCG was able to capture all my data on a disk or some other device about which I know little to nothing. I also set up my e-mail account and began receiving all kinds of e-mails, because my on line class had just begun.
And I waited. The GTCG called to confirm that my computer was, in fact, dead, and that he could retrieve most of my information, but NOT my e-mails. I hit panic mode. Those e-mails were chronicles of my life - my teaching life, my law life, my personal life, and my life in general. Why couldn't he retrieve them? He explained that to be the nature of the beast - e-mail cannot be retrieved. Once it is gone, it is gone - unless, however, a smart person has transferred the e-mails to a "cloud." It all seems so complicated. But I shall move on.
I waited, almost afraid to breathe, for him to transfer the data on my dead computer to the new oner, and my patience was rewarded. The computer went to him, the data went on, and I prepared for my next big event - a bankruptcy hearing.
Prior to the hearing, I had to transfer some pdf. documents to the Court's web site. So I put the documents in my scanner, pushed the button . . . and saw nothing I recognized. Something was wrong with my scanner! It was trying to scan a document to a .jpeg file! I DID NOT want a picture! I NEEDED a .pdf document! I checked the properties. Only picture formats showed up. There was no .pdf. Now I was beginning to get really mad. Not only was I going to have to buy a new computer, I was going to have to get a scanner, as well.
I rationalized this irritation by telling myself that I had lost my 15-year-old copier a few weeks before, so I was going to have to buy a copier regardless; I could just get an all-in-one and have a new copier and a scanner that would work with my new operating system (Windows 7), which I believed to be the root of the problem. So to Staples I went.
I found a reasonably priced HP all-in-one printer and bought it. It was wireless, so Max would be able to use it, too, from his new perch in the house; it also had a top feeder for multi-page copying, which would come in handy with long documents such as bankruptcy petitions. I was feeling a little better, and even a little anticipatory about playing with my new toy. I unpacked it and hooked it up. I made one copy, and then another, using the top feeder, and everything was working well. My nerves were starting to settle down when I tried the scanner. I put the paper in, pushed the button, and saw only picture suffixes available, such as .jpeg or .bitmap. This simply could not be happening.
Too mentally exhausted to do anything about it at the time, I decided to just quit for the day and worry about it when I next had time, probably on Saturday, a couple of days away. In the meantime, I just kept my old printer hooked up to the computer, and made copies as necessary.
Saturday arrived, and I worked and worked with the scanning portion of my new piece of equipment and finally found a fix that allowed the document to scan as a .pdf as I needed. It took four hours to get to that success. Max was using the printer from downstairs in the living room, and I decided that this printer would be all right, even though the scanning portion was more work than the scanner I had before.
The next week, I continued to get used to my new computer and printer, and then I noticed that something was wrong with my e-mail. Prior to my new system, when I downloaded e-mail to my main computer, it didn't appear on any of my other devices, such as my teeny-tiny notebook or my smart phone. If I downloaded e-mail to my smart phone, it would still download to my main computer OR to my teeny-tiny notebook. Any e-mail that downloaded to my teeny-tiny notebook would stay there and not download afterward to my main computer. This was somewhat irritating, but it was workable, and over time, I got used to it.
Now, when I downloaded e-mail to my main computer, it didn't stay on my main computer; when I opened up the e-mail on my teeny-tiny notebook, all the e-mail on my main computer would disappear and re-appear on the notebook! What was worse, ALL my e-mail downloaded to my smart phone, not once, not twice, but over and over and over! I was, as my grandmother used to say, fit to be tied.
I sat down to figure this one out, and after a few more hours, found the problem to be the difference in IMAP and POP. I have no idea what each is, but I know they are different, and I know that the IMAP was causing the problem. So I was able to fix the part that had my e-mail disappearing from one computer to another; however, the smart phone still got all the e-mail over and over, and the teeny-tiny notebook got all the e-mail that went to the main computer earlier in the day. As long, however, as it stayed on the main computer, I decided that I could live with it until I calmed down.
The next week, I started to make copies on my new printer/copier, using the top feeder. Just as the page was about to disappear into the belly of the beast, the beast stopped working. Stopped. I got an error message: "Paper Feed Mispick." So I laboriously lifted the lid, worked gently with the paper, and pulled it out. Then I re-set the copier and started again. Stopped. Just as before, I got an error message, and just as before, I gently worked the paper free and re-set. Once again, I started the process, and once again, the paper stopped. This time, not so gently, I ripped the paper from the feeder and gave up. I decided then and there that this printer was a piece of junk and needed to go back to Staples.
So on Saturday, when I had time, I started packing up the dreadful machine when Max stopped me. He told me that he didn't think Staples took back electronic equipment, that we would have to send the printer to HP. I couldn't believe it, and right away called Staples to find that he was right. Staples had a two-week deadline, and I was one day past it. Furious, I started to call HP, but decided that I should probably wait until I cooled down.
So on Monday, I called HP and got a very nice tech support guy who took me through step after step, time after time, and finally concluded that I either had a defective product or had done something that screwed it up after I purchased it and plugged it in. He was too nice to say the latter, however, and agreed that HP should send me a new machine. He said it would take 7 - 10 days to arrive, and when it did arrive, I should call and get someone to step me through hooking it up. He gave me a case number and told me to have a good day. Good day, hah! I was STILL without a copier and a scanner that worked, and I was at least 10 days away from hoping to have one. I thought I would scream, but I was too tired and disappointed.
So imagine my surprise when, yesterday, a mere two days after my call, I opened the door and found a BIG box which contained my new printer/scanner/copier/FAX machine! I was very happy, but I didn't want to rush upstairs to try to install it because I had to go to choir practice and would not be able to sit down with the tech support people to get the job done. In fact, I decided I could wait until Friday, so that I would have enough time to listen to what tech support was saying and follow the instructions to the letter. I was breathing easily.
This morning, however, my helpful husband, who wants nothing more than to make my life easier, went upstairs without my noticing, and by the time I found him, he had unpacked the big box and was putting the printer on its new home. My usual morning routine has me on the treadmill by 9 so that I can get to class by 11; I must exercise almost every day or I get fat and stressed out. Unfortunately, I had to call HP to set up the printer before I could do anything, and doing so took so much time that I didn't have enough time to get on the treadmill. Max didn't know that, though, so I won't hold it against him.
To end a long story - by this time, nothing will make it short - I talked with HP's tech support, the instructor gave great directions, and now I have a printer that prints, a copier that will copy from the top feeder, and a scanner that will scan documents to .pdf. At this point today, life is good.
Now if I can just figure out the e-mail mess . .
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Paula's Falling
I watched the Today Show the other day, when Al Roker interviewed Paula Deen about the rumor that she had been diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes. Paula (I feel as if I can call her "Paula" because for umpteen years I have been watching her cook the things the women in the Methodist church in Thayer cooked) confirmed that she did indeed have Type 2 diabetes, and that she had been diagnosed about three years ago. She had not divulged the diagnosis, and I couldn't really understand her answers to Al's questions about the secrecy surrounding her disease.
I assumed, and she said nothing to disabuse me of my assumption, that she hadn't told anyone because diet and obesity are two factors that trigger Type 2 diabetes - the one that people develop in adulthood because they eat and sit themselves right into it. And anyone who watches Paula cook and has done so for more than a few years knows that her recipes are filled with butter and sugar and sour cream and other fattening goodies, and that she has put on more than just a few pounds. The viewing public has also seen her husband grow from overweight to gargantuan.
My assumption is that Paula didn't tell anyone because to do so would have told the world, "If you cook like I do, and then eat the food, you will gain a lot of weight and you will get diabetes." Then people might have gotten the idea that cooking and eating that kind of food are not good things. Then those people might not have watched her show, or bought her cookware, or bought her cookbooks. Those actions could have detrimentally affected Paula's bottom line.
Further complicating the issue is that she divulged her health condition ONLY after she signed up with a Big Pharma company that manufactures a diabetes drug. This means that she was ready to tell only when it was going to make her some money. So we can again assume that what she did or did not do or tell or did not tell is based on that thing that makes the world go 'round, and I'm not talking about love.
Additionally, I admit to thinking that Paula seemed disingenuous in her interview with Al Roker. Al, who had to resort to bariatric surgery a few years ago to lose weight, pointedly asked questions regarding her diet and her recipes and whether she was going to change either. She sidestepped those legitimate questions by saying that she eats the way she cooks only in moderation, and that she urges her viewing public to do the same. As a long-time regular viewer, I can tell you that I have heard Paula Deen two or three times say that she doesn't eat like this every day, but I recall with much greater clarity her giving me the idea that adding another tablespoon of butter to a recipe is going to make it taste better, giggling while she looked mischievously at the camera.
All in all, that mischief is part of her charm. She makes just about everything sound like fun, whether it is cooking with her sons, or watching a comedienne imitate her right down to her wigs, her "y'all," and her laugh. She invites us all right into her kitchen, and if we really went, we know we would probably laugh right along with her for as long as we were there. She has made cooking and eating old time Southern favorites, replete with butter and deep fat frying, just a whole lot of fun. Her growing girth has given truth to the old adage, "Fat people are jolly;" those of us who would rather have fun than eat sensibly are drawn to both her and the food she lovingly cooks and tastes on the set.
Her camera personality has developed myriad fans, I among them, and those people have made her a very wealthy woman. Along with that celebrity and wealth, I believe, comes a modicum of responsibility to the people who have given her those things.
I think that when she found out about her medical condition, she should have told her producers and her fans, and she could have been a hero by doing the same fun cooking in a manner that was healthy for people with diabetes. Her show might have changed, but if she and her fun personality are the draws, her legion fans, me included, would have followed right along with her - and probably lost weight and been healthier in the long run.
I realize that we are all responsible for our own health and what we eat, but we humans are easily led. That is why so many girls were caught up in the fashion trend of baring their midriffs even when their bulging midriffs shouldn't have been bared, why so many men wear baseball caps inside and all the time, even when it is downright rude or unattractive, why women will ruin their feet and comfort by wearing high heeled shoes that don't really fit, why small children will recognize the Golden Arches at extremely early ages, and why otherwise sensible people believe that Fox News is "fair and balanced." Paula Deen is not responsible for our getting fat, but she sure has made it easy and fun. Wouldn't it be a wonderful thing for her to show us that getting un-fat can be just as fun - even though not quite as easy.
I think would she do that in her own cute way, she would have just as many television fans and maybe more; however, her diabetes drug might not sell as many pills. I wonder which is more important?
I assumed, and she said nothing to disabuse me of my assumption, that she hadn't told anyone because diet and obesity are two factors that trigger Type 2 diabetes - the one that people develop in adulthood because they eat and sit themselves right into it. And anyone who watches Paula cook and has done so for more than a few years knows that her recipes are filled with butter and sugar and sour cream and other fattening goodies, and that she has put on more than just a few pounds. The viewing public has also seen her husband grow from overweight to gargantuan.
My assumption is that Paula didn't tell anyone because to do so would have told the world, "If you cook like I do, and then eat the food, you will gain a lot of weight and you will get diabetes." Then people might have gotten the idea that cooking and eating that kind of food are not good things. Then those people might not have watched her show, or bought her cookware, or bought her cookbooks. Those actions could have detrimentally affected Paula's bottom line.
Further complicating the issue is that she divulged her health condition ONLY after she signed up with a Big Pharma company that manufactures a diabetes drug. This means that she was ready to tell only when it was going to make her some money. So we can again assume that what she did or did not do or tell or did not tell is based on that thing that makes the world go 'round, and I'm not talking about love.
Additionally, I admit to thinking that Paula seemed disingenuous in her interview with Al Roker. Al, who had to resort to bariatric surgery a few years ago to lose weight, pointedly asked questions regarding her diet and her recipes and whether she was going to change either. She sidestepped those legitimate questions by saying that she eats the way she cooks only in moderation, and that she urges her viewing public to do the same. As a long-time regular viewer, I can tell you that I have heard Paula Deen two or three times say that she doesn't eat like this every day, but I recall with much greater clarity her giving me the idea that adding another tablespoon of butter to a recipe is going to make it taste better, giggling while she looked mischievously at the camera.
All in all, that mischief is part of her charm. She makes just about everything sound like fun, whether it is cooking with her sons, or watching a comedienne imitate her right down to her wigs, her "y'all," and her laugh. She invites us all right into her kitchen, and if we really went, we know we would probably laugh right along with her for as long as we were there. She has made cooking and eating old time Southern favorites, replete with butter and deep fat frying, just a whole lot of fun. Her growing girth has given truth to the old adage, "Fat people are jolly;" those of us who would rather have fun than eat sensibly are drawn to both her and the food she lovingly cooks and tastes on the set.
Her camera personality has developed myriad fans, I among them, and those people have made her a very wealthy woman. Along with that celebrity and wealth, I believe, comes a modicum of responsibility to the people who have given her those things.
I think that when she found out about her medical condition, she should have told her producers and her fans, and she could have been a hero by doing the same fun cooking in a manner that was healthy for people with diabetes. Her show might have changed, but if she and her fun personality are the draws, her legion fans, me included, would have followed right along with her - and probably lost weight and been healthier in the long run.
I realize that we are all responsible for our own health and what we eat, but we humans are easily led. That is why so many girls were caught up in the fashion trend of baring their midriffs even when their bulging midriffs shouldn't have been bared, why so many men wear baseball caps inside and all the time, even when it is downright rude or unattractive, why women will ruin their feet and comfort by wearing high heeled shoes that don't really fit, why small children will recognize the Golden Arches at extremely early ages, and why otherwise sensible people believe that Fox News is "fair and balanced." Paula Deen is not responsible for our getting fat, but she sure has made it easy and fun. Wouldn't it be a wonderful thing for her to show us that getting un-fat can be just as fun - even though not quite as easy.
I think would she do that in her own cute way, she would have just as many television fans and maybe more; however, her diabetes drug might not sell as many pills. I wonder which is more important?
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