Susan's Musings

Ice Cream Social(ism)

There we were in a Tom Thumb supermarket in Dallas, the city we were visiting last week. My husband was speaking at a number of venues, and we stopped at the supermarket, which has an expanded kosher section, to pick up a few things. 

The weather was hot; it was over 100°. In my view, that is perfect ice cream weather. Now, my diet plan (admittedly, not a very thorough one, though it serves double duty as a budget plan) decrees that I only buy ice cream when it is on sale. Fortunately, there was an amazing sale on a kosher brand with a scrumptious sounding flavor. We (I) scooped it up and made our way to the checkout where we were informed that we needed a supermarket card to get the special sale price. 

We do not live in Dallas. The supermarket chain does not exist where we do live. We did not want to stand at a customer service desk to get a card. The store, for a reason that eludes us, doesn’t allow the checker to swipe his own store card. I don’t pay full price for ice cream. Stalemate. 

That is, until the checker turned to the woman behind us in line and asked if we could use her card. She immediately said yes and told us that she had been in exactly the same situation while visiting her daughter in S. Carolina. The problem was solved and the ice cream was delicious. 

That should be the end of the story, but it got me thinking. That kind woman’s willingness to share her card would not necessarily be a universal response. A number of years back, researchers dropped wallets in shopping malls around the country. In some cities, almost all the wallets were turned in to mall security,  in others almost none were. There are places in the world, and I daresay places in the United States, where people are trained to be wary of strangers. Instead of helping each other, the first reaction is, “Why is this person talking to me?” or “What are they trying to put over on me?” Unfortunately, there are enough rogues out there who seek to repay friendliness with theft, and as they increase, human interaction suffers. In addition to that, in socialist societies, a direction in which we are sadly moving, citizens are encouraged to betray one another even as the ruling class mouths platitudes of compassion and comradeship. 

A few months back, I was shopping at Costco. I love Costco and have been a fan ever since I discovered it over twenty years ago in Seattle. Leaving my Issaquah and Kirkland Costco stores was one of the prices of moving to the east coast. I quickly found that my new Costco wasn’t quite the same. Not only did I no longer enjoy stunning views of Mt. Ranier and Lake Washington during my drive, but the shelves weren’t stocked as well and the employees weren’t as cheerful and solicitous. Still, what was on the shelf was familiar, trusted, and well-priced. 

Nonetheless, I was completely taken aback at my last visit. On a previous trip, I had purchased frozen peas. A few weeks later, I received numerous phone calls and letters telling me to please discard the (huge) bag as there was a health concern. I threw out the peas, and when I returned to Costco a month or so later, I put a replacement bag of peas in my cart. I told the checker that this was a replacement at which point he leered at me and sneered, “Right, yeah, you threw out a bag like this.” I have to admit that I was breathless at his insulting assumption that I was lying.

Now, Costco could have sent a certificate for a replacement bag in the letter informing me of the problem. But paying for a new bag wasn’t the point. The interaction drove home to me that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore (technically, Kirkland, WA where the company is based) and what I had perceived as the ‘Costco spirit’ didn’t travel to another location. Not surprisingly, I have pared back my membership and only sparingly shop there now in contrast to the Washington locations which served as pleasurable as well as utilitarian outings. 

The two shopping experiences reminded me that much of what we take for granted, that makes everyday life enjoyable, rests on shaky foundations. Common courtesy can easily become a rare commodity and smiles can quickly transform into surliness. As more of us spend increasing amounts of time with technology rather than interacting with our fellow humans; feel betrayed by the government that is supposed to serve us; and obsess on our rights rather than our responsibilities, we take yet another step along a path leading to a less pleasant future. 

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Five Star Cooking

To the uninitiated, the scene would have looked strange. I presented first one and then another daughter with a gift for the upcoming holidays, causing their eyes to light up with joy. The gift came in a plastic container rather than a velvet lined jewelry box. It was ‘one size fits all,’ clearly not a new dress or sweater.

Here is what it looked like before its presentation:

             
As you see, the pieces were rather plain looking, and truthfully, they will not win any cooking awards, even when they emerge from the oven, crispy and brown. Neither my family nor I can actually tell you how tasty they objectively are, though we eat them with relish. The enjoyment is completely entwined with our emotional history. These mandlen mean Rosh HaShana is coming and evoke memories of generations of women baking and celebrating the holiday.

 

I inherited the recipe I use and a bite transports me to my grandmother’s teensy Brooklyn kitchen, where love was an ingredient in every morsel. When my mother-in-law shared her favorite recipes with me, the same recipe was in that treasure trove as well. So, rather than tackle some of the myriad chores on my to-do list, this past Friday I took time to make this labor intensive food, dividing the finished product into packages for each of my children.

My younger grandchildren did not understand the sparkle in their mother’s eyes. I pray for years of peace and health so that they will have time to absorb this small element of family history, prepared to take their place in transmitting it forward.

Yo Ho, Yo Ho

If your sense of humor parallels mine in the slightest, you won’t be able to get through watching the video below without laughing. It is funny.  What is more, it is funny without any sexual innuendos, blasphemy or objectionable language (though Jon Stewart presenting the video had comments bleeped out). However, it is also troubling.

A fourth grade class contacted their NY State Senator, Michael Ranzenhofer, requesting that he sponsor legislation naming yogurt as New York’s state snack. Bills as inane as this one pass all the time and even presidential proclamations recognize such important times as National Dairy Goat Awareness Week. Certainly, designating yogurt as the state snack of New York is less objectionable than raising taxes, social engineering or passing regulations that make running a business more difficult.

Still—what if the legislator had responded differently? What if, instead of promoting the bill, he had written the children something along these lines? 

 Dear Fourth Graders,

I am delighted to receive your request asking me to designate yogurt as the official NY State snack. It is wonderful that you are learning how bills are passed and that you want to be involved citizens.

For this very reason, I cannot proceed with your suggestion.  As future voters and responsible members of our society, it is important that you understand what the functions of government should be and what they should not be. My fellow senators and I are paid by taxpayer money. That places a tremendous responsibility on us. There are times that your mothers and fathers can’t be at your recital or game because they are working. Other times they struggle to make ends meet, to feed, clothe and provide for you. One of the reasons they need to work so hard is because the tax burden they carry is tremendous.   You can see that for those of us in Congress to spend our time and taxpayer money on frivolities is unconscionable.

Secondly, we in government are supposed to represent all our constituents. We are constantly being lobbied (your teacher can explain this term to you) to favor one group of citizens over another. While it may seem no big deal to make yogurt the state snack, should we do so we would be showing a preference for one constituency over another, for no thoughtful reason. This type of action weakens our integrity.

Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, we in the legislature are servants of the people. Sometimes we forget that and instead believe that we are privileged and highly important people. Our only purpose should be to deliberate the issues that are too large for individuals, families and communities to handle on their own. If you want to support the yogurt industry, I urge you to do so. Encourage your friends to eat yogurt, place “Eat yogurt now” signs on your lawns and make “We love yogurt” T-shirts. These are only three suggestions. I’m sure with your creativity and industriousness you can find many more ways to promote yogurt. However, for me to do so as part of my official role as your representative, would send the wrong message to you as well as to me. Our republic is too important for that.

As a token of my personal positive feelings towards yogurt, I have taken the liberty of purchasing coupons to (insert name of local frozen yogurt store) for everyone in your class. Naturally, I bought these with my own money, not with taxpayer funds.

 Please let me know how your pro-yogurt efforts go,

Sincerely,

Senator Michael Ranzenhofer

Am I just a humorless curmudgeon or do you too feel that something is wrong with the senate considering this bill?
_________________________________________________________

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As Simple As...Challah

I first baked challah (Shabbat bread) as a little girl helping my grandmother. She would give me a small piece of dough to knead, while she worked on the larger portion. Her mound would be shiny and smooth while mine was crumbly and dull looking. Grandma would send me on an errand to the living room and when I returned my piece of dough looked as good as hers. As my skills improved, the errands stopped.

As a young wife, I baked challah for my family and guests, a tradition I have kept up through the years. My challah is usually delicious, but only on occasion do I think it looks as good as it tastes. This means that I am a sucker for braiding techniques and tips (challah is traditionally a braided loaf).

                    *

YouTube has been a tremendous boon, since written or even illustrated instructions for 3, 4 or 6 strand braided loaves tend to be confusing.  With YouTube, I put my computer within sight and try to get an assistant (does my husband really have anything more important to do?)  to hit the pause button as needed so that I can keep pace with the video. I actually can do a pretty decent 6 braided creation at this point, but the quest for the most aesthetically pleasing challah continues.

When someone posted a link to this video (yes, I know that the dialogue is in Hebrew, but it is really more of a ‘show’ than a ‘tell’) presenting a woman producing amazing results with what looked like simple techniques, I was a goner. Sadly, my husband wasn’t available for ‘pause duty’, but I figured that I could watch the sequence four or five times and then copy. Not quite. Trying to follow steps that seemed simple produced some of the least attractive challahs I have ever made.

Isn’t that often true in life? When we do something truly well, whether it is braiding challah, running a business, playing tennis or raising children, people looking from the outside often assume that it is simple for us, possibly even effortless. Does the person telling me, “You’re so lucky that your children help in the kitchen,” truly think that my son and daughters’ skills and desire arose spontaneously? Does the person who resents his neighbor’s salary truly think that the compensation amount is random and unrelated to performance?

I don’t know the baker in the video but I am certain that she has logged many hours perfecting her technique. I think I am on solid ground assuming that she has invested a fair amount of money in basic supplies, sighed over failures and probably even sports a kitchen injury or two. She resisted the temptation of the local bakery, honestly earning her skill set.

When a person, family, business or country seems to function smoothly and naturally, it’s time for us to pay attention and ask what they did right, rather than belittling their persistence and perseverance by intoning luck. Truth be told, while I love baking challah, I am basically happy with my tasty, slightly unsymmetrical loaves.  I would rather devote the hours needed for mastery towards other activities and take pleasure in watching the above video to see the seemingly effortless results of hours of effort.

Is there something in your life for which you labored and struggled, that leads people to comment on how lucky you are?

    *Image copyright Bitsela, used courtesy of www.free-bitsela.com.    

 

Message to Me

In the grand scheme of things, Ben & Jerry most likely didn’t notice when I stopped eating their ice cream. I didn’t walk outside their stores carrying a protest sign; I didn’t write a letter to the newspaper announcing my decision and I certainly didn’t suggest to elected officials that their stores should be made unwelcome.

However, my ears perked up when Dennis Prager, whose columns and radio show I admire, suggested that Mitt Romney should have made a public show of eating a Chick-fil-A hamburger along with a Ben & Jerry ice cream. His reasoning included the idea that, “Romney's message would be that in America, with rare exceptions (such as, for example, a Nazi- or KKK-owned company), we buy products based on their excellence, not the views of their makers.”

On political issues, my thinking almost always aligns with Dennis’ and I appreciate his logical articulation of ideas. In this case, while I think his point is generally true, I disagree with his suggestion. I am typing this Musing using Microsoft Word and living in the Northwest I have downed more than my share of Starbucks coffee. This is despite that fact that I disagree with some of the causes that Bill and Melinda Gates or Howard Schulz support. I respect the generosity, particularly of the Gates, and recognize their backing of many in need. I don’t expect their views to be carbon copies of mine. Nevertheless, as an individual, I drew a line at being a consumer of Ben & Jerry’s company, even after they were no longer involved in its management. I did this when my children heard Ben and Jerry speak at a conference in a way that showed disrespect for and ill will toward the American military at a time when our troops were in combat. As Dennis noted, other of their positions verge more to an extreme that is beyond simply articulating another respectable point of view.

My loss of appetite for Coffee Heath Bar Crunch wasn’t intended as a boycott, expecting my actions to hurt the company’s bottom line. It was a message to me. Every time I walk past the ice cream section of my supermarket, ignoring the siren call even of the sale-priced cartons, I am reminded to say a prayer for our soldiers and to think with gratitude of them and their families. Calling it a sacrifice would be grossly self-aggrandizing. It is a quiet, simple way for me to concentrate my appreciation and patriotism.

I strongly agree with Dennis that the Romney campaign blew a huge opportunity to take a principled stand regarding the liberal hate-filled desire to punish Chick-fil-A for its owner’s views.  While I will vote for Mr. Romney, the manner in which he has been running his campaign, as exemplified by his silence on this issue, has eroded the respect and confidence I would like to grant him. (I do hope that the Ryan pick signals a course correction.) However, in my opinion, the candidate’s eating Ben & Jerry’s ice cream would have been a further step in the wrong direction.

Happily Neanderthal

Have you ever done something that seems completely ordinary to you, only to find people looking at you as if you were an apparition from Neptune? A few months ago, my husband and I were Shabbat guests of a synagogue far from our home. We were graciously befriended and hosted by a couple in the synagogue. (For info on why strangers would welcome us into their lives, see Strangers and Friends.) My husband was scheduled to speak at the buffet lunch after prayer services on Saturday. But the odd reaction was not to his words. It came about because of the buffet.  Rather than expecting my husband to line up with everybody else, I filled a plate and brought it to him.

That small gesture inspired quite a bit of comment. I regularly serve my husband at this type of event. Yes, that scenario does fit into stereotypical male/female roles and Gloria Steinem would disapprove. Nevertheless, in my opinion, it is also silly to pretend that stereotypical roles were randomly imposed rather than acknowledging that they just might match how we are created. Certainly, God made each of us unique and each marriage has its individual rhythms and rhymes. However, it was hard to ignore how  most of the men in our vicinity at the luncheon buffet were vocally envious while many of their wives were a tad uncomfortable.

Since I have joined my husband working full-time in our ministry, and since our work hours often extend way beyond an eight-hour day, cooking supper has become more difficult for me. Some of my tasks cluster in the late afternoon and early evening, frequently without warning.  On those nights, my husband cheerfully prepares dinner. I appreciate the thoughtfulness and welcome the food, but I would be just as fine if he ordered in pizza rather than cooking. This is not true in the reverse. When I cook for him, it nurtures his soul, not just his body. Similarly, when we are at a buffet, he enjoys the food more when I hand it to him. Even if he passionately loved cooking, I don’t think I would have the same emotional response to his feeding me as he has to my feeding him.

There are other routines of our marriage where the reverse model reigns. My husband does various things for me, not because I can’t do them myself, but because his doing it expresses devotion. When I take out the garbage, the garbage is taken out; when he takes it out (without being asked), I perceive it as a token of affection.

Feminism has implanted itself so sturdily in our society that we often don’t even realize that what we have come to see as normal, very well may not be. I know any number of couples who divide economic and home duties without any recognition that, generally, men and women value things differently.  When babies come along, these couples meticulously strive for each adult to be half mother/half father rather than challenging the latest politically correct dogma by recognizing that mothers and fathers are actually two different creatures.

As a guest at the buffet luncheon, I didn’t turn cartwheels on the tables or snatch other diners’ desserts. Yet by serving my husband, I seemed to breach the decorum and acceptable behavior pattern in perhaps an even more disquieting way.

Soda, Shanghai and Slippery Slopes

At first, I thought the appropriate reaction to Mayor Bloomberg's suggested ban on mega-ounce drinks was to roll one’s eyes and be grateful for not living in NY.  After all, “I may not drink super-sized carbonated beverages but I will defend until death your right to do so,” just doesn’t have the same force as the original slogan. However, my attention ratcheted up when a Wall Street Journal sentiment tracker analyzed the conversation on social media and noted that 64% of the online buzz supported the proposed ban.

What are the tweeters saying? Is it, “I’m out of control, please help me Mayor Bloomberg,” or is it perhaps, “Those unwashed, ignorant masses aren’t capable of running their own lives. We elite have to force them to make the right decisions.” Assuming that social media trends young, it seems fair to ask if the words, ‘personal responsibility,’ and ‘individual freedom’ have little meaning for the Facebook generation.

I am reading a truly horrifying book; it is so disturbing that I can only read a bit at a time. In Life and Death in Shanghai, Nien Cheng details her experiences during the 1960’s and ‘70’s in China under Chairman Mao’s regime. As I have been reading, I have been continually asking myself, “Could this happen in America?” How close or removed are we from a cult of personality dominating a culture, from allowing a central government to define what is good and moral, and from giving tacit approval to youth to revel in their ability to terrorize and victimize fellow citizens?

Sadly, events of the past few years including the quasi-deification of candidate Obama by mainstream media and police passivity in the face of rioters and criminals who are motivated by leftism, is not reassuring. It would be ridiculously far-fetched to think that Mayor Bloomberg is an evil megalomaniac or that he envisions re-education camps for those who enjoy too much Coke. In fact, if the government assumes the responsibility of paying for its citizens’ health care, then his proposal may be futile, but it can be defended. The soda issue is a sideshow reflecting a major challenge. How can we help more Americans understand that sincere and well-intentioned policies can cause greater damage than obesity? Is it possible for a generation that is shamefully ignorant of history to comprehend that a government that supplies your needs also controls your life?

50 Pounds of Potatoes (April 2010)

At the end of the meal, after proclaiming in a loud voice, “Thank you HaShem (God); thank you Grandma,” three year old Eli noticed that everyone at the table was looking at him. He explained to the group, “I like to thank both those guys.”

This pretty much sums up our Passover. With God’s blessing, we had all our children and grandchildren around the holyday table for the first time in a number of years. While I spent many hours preparing the food for the seventeen to nineteen people at each meal of the eight day celebration (including ten festive meals), it truly was a labor of love.

This is not to say that it also wasn’t a lot of work. The planning started weeks in advance with a lot of unknowns. Would we have a very pregnant daughter at the table or a post-partum one? Or maybe the eagerly awaited family member would arrive during the festivities? Would we have a sparkling new and large kitchen to work in as well as extra bedrooms available or did the east coast winter snowstorms put another daughter’s planned move into a new home behind schedule?

Well, we are still waiting for the baby and about two weeks before Passover it became clear that a tiny kitchen would have to suffice and that we would need to impose on generous neighbors for beds. We rented an extra refrigerator, bought a counter top convection oven and moved the organizing/cleaning/shopping/cooking countdown into high gear.

Is Passover an easy holyday to make? No. But it is hard to think of anything that is worthwhile which doesn’t entail great effort. While this year had its specific complicating factors, other years have featured my own newborns, ovens and refrigerators that conked out, and a variety of other family and technical hurdles to overcome. Still, while I appreciate the times we have spent Passover at friends or relatives as well as the availability of hotel Passover programs, my favorite years are like this one, when we are blessed enough to have the strength and time to do all the preparations and gather our family around our own table. The “easy” Passovers, when others do the work, can be wonderful, but they always feel a bit “Passover style” to me rather than the real thing. Not only are the weeks of preparation an intrinsic part of the celebration, but while the food may be delicious elsewhere, it doesn’t include those items whose smell and taste trigger the explosion of Passover memory receptors.  And had anyone other than I done the cooking, I would have missed out on my grandson placing me in such illustrious company.

As my mother always said at the holyday’s end each year, “May the same hands that put the Passover dishes away this year take them out again next year.” Amen.

 

Virtual Baking

 It is easy to feel out of it when I don’t recognize the stars gracing the magazine covers in the supermarket check-out line. It is easy to feel like a recent immigrant from another planet when I still prefer to receive my news from a print newspaper rather than online or from the host of a comedy show.

 One more trend that I simply do not understand is people spending real money to buy virtual gifts online. But in an effort to move with the times, I have decided to do virtual holiday cooking for this year’s Jewish high holy days.

 I don’t know whether I am actually busier than I have ever been, but I think I can do two of the following three things:  getting my daughter’s wedding invitations out before the actual wedding date; preparing for October’s presentation of Holy Hebrew! before standing up to teach it in Dallas; or cooking my annual batch of mandlen in time to mail it to far-flung children. Guess which item is being dropped?

Since my eldest two girls spent their first Rosh HaShanah (Jewish New Year) away from home, I have baked these traditional soup nuts (which bear no resemblance to their supermarket counterparts) and shipped them to whichever children who would not be joining us in person for holiday meals. At this point with sons-in-law and grandchildren expanding the ranks, the necessary quantity has increased while my cooking time has shrunk.

 Modernity to the rescue! There is no longer a need to purchase ingredients and spend time kneading the dough and pre-heating the oil. No longer do I need to find packing containers or stand in line at the post office. All I need is a tech-savvy ten year old and I am able to send virtual mandlen not only to my children but to thousands of my closest friends.

 So, it is with great relief that I cross one item off my to-do list which, quite frankly, gives me a fighting chance of meeting the other deadlines. Unfortunately, I know that it’s a cop-out and that the love and family tradition which the mandlen represent don’t easily fly through cyberspace. I’m going to optimistically pencil mandlen baking in before Sukkot (Feast of Tabernacles) but, for starters, I’ll add a prayer to my Rosh HaShana entreaties for another mandlen baking opportunity next year.

 

Who's the Puritan Now? - originally posted March 5, 2009

One delight of Pacific Northwest living is the sheer pleasure that a sunny day provides. Shortly after we moved here, a guest at our Shabbat meal told of a meeting that took place around his company’s conference table, overlooking Puget Sound. A representative of top management, flown in from the east coast for the occasion, was sitting with his back to the window informing those present that their office branch was being shut down. To his amazement, as he delivered this devastating news, those sitting opposite him broke out in huge smiles. When he expressed his bewilderment at their reaction, he found out that his news had been eclipsed by the appearance of sunshine breaking out over the Sound. 

And so it was a few week’s ago, on an unseasonably warm and sunny day, that my husband and I and our daughter, Tamara, celebrated by going out for ice cream. After all, a cheery day might not appear again for months. We had not patronized this ice cream parlor since the previous summer, and so it was a bit of a shock to find that renovations had taken place. The tables and chairs were the same, but alongside the name of each ice cream flavor was a new and unwelcome addition –the calorie count. 

Now I am perfectly aware that going out for ice cream is neither good for my budget nor my waistline. At the supermarket, I can get a half gallon container that will serve eight for less than it costs the three of us to get one scoop apiece at the ice cream parlor. And it comes as no revelation to me that despite the claims I made when I was pregnant that ice cream was vital for the calcium it supplies, I actually am cognizant that there are more efficient and less caloric ways to get the same amount of required minerals. 

When we go out for ice cream it isn’t to assuage hunger pangs or to check off a box on the food pyramid. We do it as a treat, and just as it would detract from our pleasure if the chain trumpeted how highly priced their ice cream is, it detracted from our delight to have the calorie count thrust at us. Instead of enjoying making a choice between flavors, Tamara and I found ourselves asking if the one we really wanted was worth 40 more calories than our second choice. Instead of taking pleasure in savoring the ice cream, I found myself figuring out how many minutes of exercise would be necessary to counteract the activity. All in all, Tamara and I had less fun than we anticipated (truthfully, I don’t think my husband even noticed that the calorie counts were posted). 

I frequently find that the media label as old-fashioned and reactionary those who hold views similar to mine about sexual matters, family issues, art and language. They metaphorically pat on the back those whose thoughts are opposite mine, calling them progressive and realistic. Yet, I am convinced that the Puritanical streak is universally thriving. The food police support my view. For each of us, certain things are simply beyond the pale. As for me, while I agree that good physical health is important, I can’t help thinking that most traditional sins pose an even greater threat to society than obesity.