Coming Alive

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
--Harold Whitman

Thoughts on Food

A few weeks ago when friends from Texas visited, I introduced them to the concept of eating local. Being total urbanites from Houston, they were skeptical but willing to hear me out. We visited a couple of farms, talked about the virtues of grass-fed, local organic foods, and all of the other foodie things I'm into. We ate very well and I received many compliments on the quality and taste of my cooking. But the coolest thing, for me at least, was testing something I had read about many times but never had the opportunity to see for myself. One of my guests was lactose intolerant. According to the literature, lactose intolerant folks are usually able to digest raw milk without issue. This seems to be due to the fact that scorching the hell out of milk and then subjecting it to thousands of pounds of pressure per square inch tends to turn it into a milk-like product that is only a shadow of its formers self, lacking most of the nutrients and enzymes it once contained and instead containing some strange new properties that tend to clog arteries and cause other issues, which raw whole milk does not do.

My guest, fond of milk but unable to enjoy it in any but the smallest of quantities, listened to my spiel and then downed a tall glass of whole, raw, delicious milk just hours out of the cow. (She also tended to drink only skim, not realizing that the nutrition is in the cream, that whole real milk can actually help keep you lean, and that the slimy film left in one's mouth after drinking typical grocery store whole milk is actually a result of the homogenization process and does not occur with raw milk.)

Her immediate reaction was, "Wow, my mouth isn't slimy. This has a much creamier but not a 'fat' taste like the whole milk I'm used to." Her next reaction, later in the day, was something like, "You know I haven't had any issues at all from that milk this morning. I'm really surprised." And so she had several more glasses over the course of her visit and never had any issues as a result. I now hear she's trying to find a raw milk supplier in the Houston area.

Don't Nobody Know

Ever read something, a story, that moves you so much it consumes your thoughts for days? Yesterday I finished reading the journals of Lewis & Clark and read up on their lives. I don't really know what to say about it. I know I can't put into words what I'm feeling. About all I can say is I can't get them off my mind. So I sit here in the dark, watching the snow come down and listening to some really old cowboy folk songs.

And thinking.

Howdy from Colorado

Me and my old high school friend Michelle up visiting from Texas. There's fresh snow on the Flatirons.

It's Friday

We had a good 6 inches of snow early Monday. It was a surprise since just the night before the forecast was for little or none. My guests from Texas were particularly delighted. Monday's snow was followed by a succession of warm, sunny days that are supposed to continue right through the weekend. There may be more photos coming as I sift through them this weekend.

Tonight we had a few friends over for coffee and dessert. (Thanks Beth for your 2007 posting of the recipe for Pennsylvania Dutch apple pie. Through me it has brought deliciousness into many people's lives.) I made it with our now dwindling stock of frozen apple slices from last autumn's farmer's market. What a nice way to start the weekend.

Time

Memaw died a few months back. I still haven't removed her from my address book. I see her name in there from time to time and I always pause for just a moment and remember that she's really gone.

This week I took a few days off work and my best friend from high school came to visit. Until a few months ago, I hadn't seen or spoken with her in about twelve years. It was a little strange reconnecting, but I have to say I found it extremely comfortable and easy, as if no time had passed at all. Sometimes after a good laugh an easy lull would settle between us. I'd look at her, smile, and think back on moments long passed. I dug out an old photo album and found some good ones of us being silly on the beach one day when we were about 18 years old. We looked like kids, and the whole world still lay before us.

I had some great conversations with my old friend. Among much else, we talked about the other people we knew in high school, where they are now and how so many people never really leave home. All her family, for example, still live and work within a few miles of where they've always lived and worked. Except for me living 1,000 miles away in Colorado, my family is no different.

Tonight I found Memaw's house back in Texas listed for sale online. There are pictures both inside and out. I took a virtual tour of a house I know intimately. Most of the furniture was gone but some pictures and other objects remained. There were no people in the photos. No laughter. No birthday or holiday celebrations, no grandchildren running around, no pies in the oven. Pawpaw's garden is just a memory now paved over with a carpet of grass. It's just an ordinary country house waiting to be sold to the highest bidder, all the living memories now only ghosts in my mind. I never thought about it before, but it seems that a home can die too.

Just as I was about to sign off, I noticed the realtor selling the house was a childhood friend of my brother. I think he was about 7 years old the last time I saw him. Now he's wearing a big grin and trying to pawn off Memaw & Pawpaw's house.

I'm glad I got out of there and built my own life far away. My life is good and I'm getting everything I've sought. But I often think of friends and family long gone, plucked from my life by neglect, erosion or death. More often than you might suppose, I dream of youthful parents, the home I grew up in, and the arms that held me and encouraged me to find my road in the world. I sometimes long to be there, among familiar faces and comfortable places. I guess some people never really leave.