Food as legacy

One half of my kitchen area

I just spent the evening baking. One of my absolute favorite things to do. Tonight, in preparation for Thanksgiving, I baked my traditional apple muffins from a recipe I have in my 8th grade Home Ec class cookbook. That's where I learned to bake.

My mom is a good cook and my dad is a wiz at pie crusts, but I think I got my baking gene from my paternal grandmother. I've been told by quite a few people that I am the spittin' image of my Nana. A wonderful legacy that I tap into quite a bit. She had the same brown eyes, body shape, love for baking and quilting, and general wise-ass sense of humor that I seemed to have inherited.

My folks love(d) to entertain. I think I learned that from them. There's nothing more joyful to me than having a house full of people eating whatever I baked/cooked and drinking whatever is in the liquor cabinet. I love a party where I can hardly move in the kitchen.

I was reminded today that one of the big appeals I recognized when we bought this house was the huge kitchen. I have TONS of counter space. For someone who loves to "create" with food, I was instantly lured to the expansive counters and island. And the amazing cabinet space that could hold my beloved Kitchen Aid mixer, serving dishes, and china.

As I was starting my third "creation" for the night tonight, I thought about how happy I am that I have a niece due on my side of the family. There are wonderful Nolan recipes from my Nana that I fear would have ended with me. My sister has a son but boys tend not to carry on the traditions like girls do. I am so happy that I'll have a girl in the family to pass all the traditions down to.

So much of family history is entwined in the recipes we use. My Nana's turkey soup, stuffing, and pies. My mother's amazing pumpkin bread. My scones and squash souffle. This is how we honor our family tree and keep our treasured traditions alive.

I know that some day I will be gone but my recipes will live on. Maybe some day my niece will say, "And I got this recipe from my Aunt Kathy." In that one sentence I will come alive again and live through future generations.

Same old same old

There is a big to-do in the state of MA this week about corruption uncovered by an independent study of the state probation department. It uncovered systemic abuse and patronage at very high levels. I am actually more surprised at the surprise generated by the Ware report than anything else. This state runs on who-knows-who and always has. Let me tell you my little story.

 

About 25 years ago, I was trying to get out of a dead-end corporate job. I applied at the University of Lowell (MA) in some sort of research department. It was my alma mater and the job looked interesting.

 

They called me in for an interview and I talked with the supervisor and then the director of the department. The director looked me in the eye and told me that in order for me to get the job he had to get a phone call from a senator. He made no attempt to explain why. I just had to do it.

 

So, my dad laughed and then called his close friend who was pals with the Kennedys. George happened to have an upcoming gig with Ted. So when they were in the back of the limo together, George slipped Ted a note with the director's name and number and my name also. Ted said, "I'll take care of it."

 

I got a call from the director the next day. I assumed he was calling to offer me a job. Nope. He said that Ted had called him and that he was surprised I had that connection. Then, he said that this wasn't the senator he had in mind and gave me the name of some state senator.

 

Dad called back George who called Ted who called the state senator. The next day, lo and behold, I'm promoted out of my dead-end job (think they knew I was looking to get out?). Then I got a call from the ULowell director offering me the job. The pay was not as good as my new promotion so I declined.

 

I called George and thanked him for his efforts and then I started to think about what it would have been like to work in that state job where nothing got done unless you had political connections. Or that connections were tested - which I now believe was a bigger part of that story.

 

My story is one of many that takes place every single day in this state. I don't know what it's like in other states but I grew up with the understanding that you pull strings to get things done here.

 

I'm all about networking but this goes beyond that. I was more than qualified for that state job but still had to prove my worth. I often wondered who got that job and how many hoops they had to jump through first. Or if the hoop-jumping is what made them qualified.

Signs from the universe

A Celtic knot:
Symbol of interconnectedness

It's been a real roller-coaster week. We met with the oncologist last Thursday to find out the results of mom's CAT scan for her pancreatic cancer. The doctor told us that the chemo she was on (the #1 chemo agent for her type of cancer) was not slowing the cancer down. So we are trying the #2 drug and are hoping - again.

This sad news came with the happy news that my sister is expecting her second child in May after multiple failed attempts. This time it's a girl. The baby was conceived the week my mom was diagnosed.

My interest in the theories/philosophies of Carl Jung led me to the concept of synchronicity. Though largely a theory of parapsychology, I've always thought of it as a way to understand the interconnectedness of seemingly unconnected events. In other words, not all events can be written off to coincidence.

I belong to a discussion group of people who are slowly getting used to my belief that a higher power (I use the term "universe" while others may choose the word "God") is at work. That doesn't mean they believe it, but I think they've begun to understand that it's my sincere belief - mystical though it might be.

When Lisa announced that she was pregnant, my first thought was "It's a girl." Not a replacement for mom because she cannot be replaced, but a reminder nonetheless that the cycle of life continues.

I spend a fair amount of time at night when I cannot sleep thinking about these connections. Within grief there is joy; within death there is life. To me, a belief that all events are random slams the door on life's lessons. If we can't or won't open ourselves up to the possibility that there is a greater truth, I wonder if we can we ever obtain a deeper understanding.

Do what you can do



The mumsie



Helen Keller said, “I’m only one person and I can’t do everything. But I can do something. I will not let the fact that I can’t do everything prevent me from doing what I can.” At my town's Board of Selectman's meeting last month (fast forward to the 20-minute mark), I asked that they proclaim November Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month in Westford. It's a national movement driven by the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network and is designed to raise awareness and funds for a cancer that is the 4th deadliest cancer yet only receives 2% of the National Cancer Institute's funding for research.

My mom is a fighter and has a great attitude. However, the odds are obviously stacked against her. In this week's local paper, I asked that my editor publish a short article on the BoS proclamation and noted a few of the facts about the cancer. In that article is a link to the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network where you can donate toward reasearch funding and/or contact your reps and senators to encourage them to push for more funding.

I know that my mom has a huge battle ahead of her but I've always felt that you can't just wring your hands and watch when something unfair happens in life. That's just being a victim to me and not my style.

When Ron and I adopted Brit through Springer Spaniel Rescue, I started to volunteer there and continued on to major leadership roles in the organization. I couldn't save all of them, but I could save the ones I could.

I can't save my mom. But I'd like to feel somewhat empowered and fight in a way that I can for her. She's worth the effort and so are all the other cancer patients out there. Won't you help?

A foreboding

I just talked to my folks who said they had to make two attempts to vote today because there was absolutely no place to park. My mom said, "Well, a high voter turnout usually means Democrat." To which I responded, "Not in this political climate."

It was like this when Brown was elected. The people want change. I'm not sure they even know what they want, they just know what they don't want.

My prediction for the MA gubernatorial race has always been that Patrick doesn't really want to be governor any longer. He will fight hard enough to say he tried, but ultimately, he just wants to go to DC and work for Obama.

Given the high turnout when the race is so close, I'm inclined to believe that Patrick will get his wish.

Just vote

I try really really hard to not get too political on this blog. Mainly because I strive to understand both sides of an argument (as long as there's some intelligence behind it). And such is the case with a grassroots movement in MA - and probably elsewhere in the country - to change the voting laws to require the voter to show an ID before taking a ballot.

Now, on paper, that makes perfect sense. No one wants voter fraud. I'm sure it has happened in the past and we do need to find a way to ensure the validity of each vote.

I work as a precinct clerk in my town. I started out as a checker (the person who checks off your name and hands you a ballot) but moved up about a year ago. It's really a fascinating little job. The money is minuscule but no one who works the polls ever does it for the money.

The clerk and the warden in a precinct are the troubleshooters who handle the voters who somehow have fallen through the paperwork cracks but still feel they are eligible to vote in the precinct. So, we handle the detective work and get the proper paperwork filled out so that, if they truly are eligible, they can vote that day.

Our job is not just to ensure the voters' rights are upheld, but to also be the managers and champions of the checkers who face the front lines continually during the day.

Next week's gubernatorial election will be insanely busy as all big elections are. But even the not-so-big elections have their challenges too. Which brings me to my stance on the grassroots "Show ID" movement in MA.

At the primaries almost two months ago, a Show-IDer came to the checker's table. He immediately started with this bombastic, grandstanding rant telling the checker that he wanted his ID checked and why. This ranter happened also to be running for office (thankfully, he didn't get elected).

The checker who is in his late 70s and hard of hearing was very flustered. Before the warden could get over to the table, a voter behind this blowhard turned around and was starting to leave. He thought that he needed his ID to vote and didn't have it on him. The warden immediately diffused the situation telling the candidate that there is no law that dictates an ID be shown and then corralled the fleeing voter behind him and told him he was okay to vote.

So, what did that prove? And who really was influenced? No one. All it did was disrupt a polling place, confuse an eligible voter, and upset an elderly man who is just trying to be a good citizen.

Strangely enough, I was at a company reunion last weekend and bumped into an old coworker who was wearing a Show ID button. I pointed out that going to the polls and causing a scene to unempowered poll workers, was probably not going to help his cause. Nor will it change the law.

I told him that, if he wanted to effect change, he was wasting his time grandstanding at his local precinct. This movement will only work from the state level. I told him he needed to take up his case with Secretary of State, Bill Galvin, and let the poor poll workers do their jobs.

At a clerk/warden meeting yesterday to prepare for next week's election, we discussed this issue with the town clerk. She is going to contact Galvin's office and find out what we should say when this happens so that we convey a consistent message across all of Westford's polls.

Given that this will be a high-turnout election and the warden and I will be very busy helping voters, I am very concerned that voters like the man who thought he needed his ID will turn away before we or the checkers are able to tell them that they are okay to vote.

I hope the Show IDers will think about how their cause, even though it is a valid one, will disrupt the democratic process if not done correctly. After what I saw at the primaries, however, I don't hold out any hope that election day will not be used as a bully pulpit for this group. Let's hope I'm wrong.

All seasons under heaven



Me and Ron at our Vow Renewal service 10/4/2008



When Ron and I were married 22 years ago, we chose Ecclesiastes 3:1 as a reading. It wasn't a typical wedding reading yet it spoke to us. There is a time to be born, a time to die, a time to reap, and a time to sow. I also want this read at my memorial service when the day comes.

I've been thinking about this reading a lot lately. At first because of my mom's illness but now because of the change of seasons here in New England.

Today I started uprooting what's left of my summer annuals to make room for mums - autumn's flowers. I dusted off the fall decorations for the house and hung my decorative flag with its pumpkins and autumn leaves.

I love this time of year. Some look at it as the end of summer and the beginning of a long winter. But to me it's the beauty that is nature. The cycle of life. If I moved to California (never happening), I would miss this time of year. I'd also miss the spring.

Many times I've wondered if the reason California celebrities have such a hard time with the aging process is because they never see it in nature around them. What reminders are there in Hollywood's ecosystem that birth and death are all a part of life? And where's the joy in spring when you see signs of new life peeping through the melting snow?

Maybe that's why we New Englanders are as tough as we are. And also as accepting of the cycle of life that is in us and around us.

I love being able to snuggle on the sofa with a cup of tea at night, all curled up under my afghan. I guess I could do that in Hollywood too if I chose to blast the central air. I love to watch the snow pile up and listen to the nor'easter winds at night knowing that it won't last forever and that I'll be thinking about those moments in sweltering hot August.

When I look in the mirror these days, there are more wrinkles and more gray hairs. Lately I feel like the maple tree outside my window whose leaves are turning. But there is great beauty in those leaves. A beauty that comes from accepting the seasons and the circle of life.