Shhh...tragedy in progress

Last night I watched Spike Lee's "When the Levees Broke" on HBO.

Katrina was an American tragedy.

But the biggest American tragedy of all is the Bush Administration.

Pocasset

Last weekend Mari and I went "down the Cape" to visit Caitlin in her native habitat...which would be Pocasset.


We sat on the porch and talked and laughed and drank.

We kayaked.

We went to the beach.

We read books.

We slept in the pink room.

We ate. And ate. Incredible food.

We were gone less than two days but it felt like a whole week. Why? Because I was able to just live without demands, without anyone needing me. I could just live in my senses and in my head and with friends. It was incredibly rejuvenating. It made me feel, for many days, like I had just stepped out of an outdoor shower and washed away all my worries under the cloudless sky.

I met Caitlin in Costa Rica and knew instantly she'd be a friend for life. And on this trip I had a chance to get to know Jim. And now that I've met him, of course Caitlin has been married to him for 20 years and counting, not to mention taken a few dips in the gene pool with great results. I even met Caitlin's Dad who I will forever quote. "Good luck to you!" And as I write it, I know that unless you've heard him say it, you can't imagine how he says it.

So Caitlin - and Mari - who is is the glue that binds us all together and holds us tight - thank you for your gift of place and time and you.

Yankees

I think it's really funny that I live in Marblehead. Don't get me wrong. It's a beautiful place and I love that it's a small town that's just a quick hop away from Boston and the airport. I love the ocean. I love that we walk everywhere. But culturally it's not a great fit for me.

It took a long time to find friends here amidst all the club members, sailors, financial services people, tennis moms and yankees. I'm not the club-joining, social-climbing type. Bob and I work in consumer media and entertainment. We don't have trust funds. Great grandmama had 8 kids, a drunk for a husband and not two pennies to rub together.

But it's still truly astounding to me how elite, uptight, provincial and inbred this culture can be.

Not to mention, I wouldn't be caught dead in matching grosgrain flip flops and belts.

Of course, I've written a poem about them.

So, today you can only imagine how much I enjoyed watching this video....

Tomatoes

It's that time of year again...

Photo by TheCoco via FlickrTomatoes. Every day.

Beefsteak bombers. Cherry poppers. Mild yellows. Heirloom beauties. (Photo by Melissa Schneider via Flickr)

Tomotoes are one of the territories I know by heart. There are no better tomatoes in the world than those that grow in the sun of Chautauqua County and that are sold so matter-of-factly on broken down old farmstands for pennies apiece.











Splintered farm stand
Mounded with tomatoes
Big as hands
With the folds and fullness of women
Ripe and easily bruised
My coins fell like wishes
Into the Chase & Sanborn coffee can
I took all I could carry
Into the soul of the late summer sun

Poem by me.
Photo by SmallTownHolly via Flickr

Ha! you say. It's only that they're embued with the layers of your childhood that you think they're better. And you're right. Because after all, food is more than food. Food is an experience had with people and places, sights and sounds. If you hear cicadas buzzing, it's time for tomatoes. Touch a living tomato vine and you'll carry the green smell on your fingers all day. Step into the shade and share a picnic with friends - sandwiches with tomatoes, turkey and arugula on whole grain bread.

Shudder to think of winter tomatoes...bitter, mealy, tasteless. Abominations! No!

Be thankful. Each day at this time of year, we are blessed with this sun-ripened, deep and delicious fruit that acts just like a vegetable.

Some tomato pleasures...

Photo by Jon in TO via Flickr

Go and buy the freshest buffalo mozzerella and the freshest basil. Slice the tomatoes and cheese and layer them on a plate, one against the other with basil leaves between each one and more on top. Then some salt and fresh ground pepper, a splash of balsamic vinegar and a nice fruity olive oil. Mmmmm.


Visit La Tartine Gourmande for more inspiration. Bruschetta. Tartine. Crostini.

Bea's blog is one of my favorite places to visit. Enjoy.

Heaven

My friend Carolyn told me a story about how she and her young family had to move away from a place they loved. While the move brought new friends into their lives, if they could do it all over again, she says they wouldn't have moved. Carolyn thinks we're lucky that we found out in time...that we discovered the stars weren't all aligned before it was too late.

Carolyn is wise in many things. I think she's right. We're not moving to California. Yet. Though I would feel better if it were a "Whew! We're staying!" kind of thing. But instead we're back to not knowing if/when we're moving. Ah well. We're happy and together and, really, that's all that matters.

I find myself feeling tremendous relief and contentment just getting back to regular life. It feels like a blessing to weed the garden or go for a walk, now that the millions of details involved in a move are suddenly unnecessary. And to top it all, I'm taking a vacation from work. So I have the space and time to let it all sink in.

I talked to Dad today. His cancer is progressing and now they are trying radiation. He starts that tomorrow. One of the hardest things about not moving was telling Dad that we wouldn't be there as planned. I know it tore him up. But he has been so kind and strong and supportive to us throughout this tough period in our lives. And considering what he's going through, I find that heroic. So today, instead of dwelling on cancer and loss, we talked about Canada.




















My Dad's side of the family - the Duncan's - are from Quebec. My great grandmother was a second-generation Irish immigrant. Her family emigrated to escape the potato famine. She married my great grandfather - a Quebecois. Unfortunately I know nothing about him (he died when Dad was 4 or 5 years old). But they had 8 children. My grandfather, John Duncan, was one. My great grandparents raised their brood on a farm in St-Malachie, Quebec. My Dad says it was a hard life and the farm was too rocky but somehow they made do. He said his grandmother was strong and an incredibly hard worker. He described how when the community joined together to do a barn-raising on the farm, it fell to her to cook for 2o0 people.

And we think our lives are hard?

My Dad told me that his grandmother would not allow French to be spoken at home on the farm, though they all spoke it out in the world and to the tradesmen that came and went on the farm. The way Dad put it, his grandmother was adamant. They were Irish and therefore English speakers, so no French in the house! Wow.

I wish I knew more, but that's all Dad remembers.

It makes me feel grateful that I'm writing this blog. It will be a record, a way to look back in time, for me, for the kids and for all of you...so we won't forget. Because it's all so important. It's all so fleeting. And so beautiful.

It gets back to that thing Jesus said about how heaven is all around us but we don't see it.

"The Kingdom of Heaven is like yeast used by a woman making bread. Even though she used a large amount of flour, the yeast permeated every part of the dough." - Matthew 13

So I guess it's our job to find the heaven amidst all the uproar and pain of daily life - because it's there all the time.

In Drew's eyes...










and Dylan's...













and Bob's...









and in my Daddy's love for me.

Gavin's 3

Gavin's birthday party looked like great fun. How did he get to be three already?


Happy Birthday Gavin!

Pools

The key to traveling with kids is a good pool. And on this trip we found some great ones. I think this one at the Chateau Frontenac is the most beautiful pool in a city hotel I've ever seen.

If you ask the kids about places they've stayed, they think of the pools. Though now that Dylan is 13, the history of the places we go and cruising around experiencing new things now ranks higher than the pool. Drew's not quite there yet at 10. But he's a good traveler and will tolerate a fair amount of "poking around." But pools still rule the day. They're the place you go to chill out and get ready for the next round of action.

Pile of Moose

We drove north to Jacques-Cartier National Wildlife Reserve in search of moose. The parks are cool in Quebec. Drive back to any remote lake and there are rowboats ready for you to use. We picked a lake and found our boat.

After we got munched by black flies for a while we rowed back and drove farther down the road.

And then we saw it. A whole pile of rotting moose. I kid you not. Freaky.


When we wished we could see some moose, we were hoping they'd actually, you know, be alive.

Our guess is that we stumbled upon a roadkill dump. Ewwwww. u

Cheers Quebecois

Quebec City

Bonjour!

Il y a Les Fetes de la Nouvelle France a Quebec City. Translation: There's a big festival throughout the city celebrating the colonial days of Quebec. Everyone is dressed in period costume and there is music, food, demonstrations and theatre, performances, concerts, pirates...you name it.



And we're staying in the castle for the night. How cool is that?

And la cuisine? The kids have tried it all. Escargot, fondue, crepes, fruits de mer, duck, even Asian salad and Vietnamese spring rolls.

Great place to have a wooden sword fight.

Road Trip

Today is our moving day.

Except we're not moving. So it's not. It feels kind of weird.

When the going gets weird, there's only one thing to do.

ROAD. TRIP.

20 years ago Bob and I went to Quebec City on our honeymoon. So we're going back.

Day 1: Marblehead to Vermont

First stop. We pay our respects at the Flavor Graveyard at Ben and Jerry's.

Best flavor we tried on the tour was Banana Rum.


Next stop. The Inn at Essex. It's the home of the New England Culinary Institute. So the chefs-in-training cook all the food. We swam. We read books. We left the boys with a room service picnic and movies (much to Dylan's chagrin) and went to the dining room to have a romantic anniversary dinner.


So pretty much the whole day was about food. Nice.

Tomorrow, the Chateau Frontenac.