Love Me Tender

What's your favorite deep fried sandwich?  Two of mine would be the fried grouper from JB's Fish Camp in New Smyrna and the grouper at Winter Park Fish Company.  Both in Florida. 

But my very favorite deep fried sandwich is the pork tenderloin from anywhere in Indiana, served with a side of nostalgia.  

This morning, while reading my Indianapolis Monthly magazine,  I came upon this article about how ecstatic Hoosiers still are about the tenderloin.  Restaurants may vary the recipe a bit but it always consists of pounded pork tenderloin deep fried and served so that it extends three or so inches beyond the bun all the way around.  

When I was a teenager in the 50s we packed into cars and hung out at drive-ins.  (Think Ron Howard in American Graffiti or Happy Days.)  If we were lucky enough to have money we ate tenderloin sandwiches the car hop brought to the car on a tray that she attached to the window.   

The Tee Pee was one of the places where we hung out.  Probably would not be socially correct today but we were clueless teens in the 50s who loved to hang out and eat tenderloin sandwiches and listen to Elvis.  

So next time you're in Indiana ask somebody where to get one.  It doesn't matter who you ask.  Every Hoosier knows, including Jim Gaffigan.

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How to Make Friends and Influence People in a Pandemic

 This is a story I read in my New Yorker magazine.  It's about a woman named Zoe and a pricey sectional sofa she ordered from the Cobble Hill line of ABC Carpet & Home. 

As you can see in the photo, it's custom-upholstered in a deep-pink velvet called Vance Blossom. 

Not unsurprisingly, due to Covid, there have been delivery delays.  The waiting sent Zoe into a bit of a meltdown.  She said on Facebook, "I decorated this whole apartment around this very statement-making, coral-colored, massive couch."

(Those of you you've lost your jobs and your grandmas can relate to Zoe's Covid pain. Right?)

 

Months into the delay Zoe received a personal note of apology from the company's CEO.  This was a grand gesture BUT, unfortunately, the note was accidentally cc'd instead of bcc'd to two hundred and three other couch-expectant folks.

Whoops!

The reply-all avalanche started immediately.  Frustration crescendoed into anger.  "This is an outrage."  "I ordered in October. Paid in full!"   "This is just ridiculous."

Then a strange thing happened.  A woman wrote "Oh come on.  Like you've never had a bad day at work because you're exhausted, covid-weary, and stuck with the song 'never eat soggy waffles in your head?'"

This precepited a complete turnaround. 

Zoe replied to this group of 203 strangers, "I'm a single woman in NYC looking for a Jewish man."  That opened up the floodgates for a total attitude adjustment for this family of complete strangers.  

"Looking forward to meeting you at Zoe's wedding."

"I'd invite you all over but I don't have a couch."

The group started a fundraiser on "GoFundMe" for a family in (real) need.  Photos were exchanged.  When the cargo vessel was blocking the Suez Canal they surmised that their couches were on board.

Jane, an interior designer, who'd ordered the couch for her clients felt guilty so she wrote, "I  now wear the Vance Blossom fabric swatch as my scarlet letter." 

Henry wrote, "I have just reconnected with my friend Melissa.  Now I don't have to go to Zoe's wedding solo."  "We're in this struggle together.  The couch is minor."

The couch company, ABC, matched the donations raised by GoFundMe. And 204 strangers had their hearts strangely warmed.  

***

Limited

 

Forum met with live human beings this week.  But I chose to stay home and Zoom in my PJs. My smart friend, Trish, led a short discussion on (as you know) one of my favorite topics:  Death.  Unfortunately, most people, initually, are not as comfortable with this kind of discussion.  

But Trish had my smart friend Bill, who's well versed in many areas, including, unfortunately, this one, read a delightful poem called Dead is Dead by Alan Balter.  It was filled with euphemisms for death like....buying the farm and went belly up.

The last line was:  And should you come to my funeral, don't bring a thing.  Just sit back and listen to the fat lady sing. 

Folks in their 70s and 80s have, by design, limited life spans.  This is sad for those who love us but when we come to grips with it, it makes our remaining years rich.  Talking about the wonder of it and pondering on what's next, is rewarding and tends to take the fear out. 

 And, by the way, we oldies know that when the fat lady sings refers to Kate Smith.  When she sang God Bless America, the show was over.  

Below is one of my favorite poems on our shortsightedness in facing this reality.

Limited 

Carl Sandburg

I am riding on a limited express, one of the crack trains of the nation. 

Hurtling across the prairie into blue haze and dark air go fifteen all-steel coaches holding a thousand people.

(All the coaches shall be scrap and rust and all the men and women laughing in the diners and sleepers shall pass into ashes.)  I ask a man in the smoker where he is going and he answers:

"Omaha."

***

Two Events Yesterday

 First, Judge Belvin Perry, former newscaster Carol Nelson Pond and Photo/Journalist Tee Taylor were welcomed as lifetime members of the University Club in downtown Orlando.  This would have been unheard of 40 years ago when the only folks who were welcomed in the University Club were rich, old white guys. 

So congratulations to these three who, in significant ways,  have changed the landscape for good in Central Florida.  And congratulations to the University Club for extending this lavish invitation. 

The other thing that happened yesterday is that legendary Congressman, Alcee Hastings, died.  

As a young attorney, Alcee arrived in Fort Lauderdale, Florida around the same time we did.  It was a time when Blacks could not stay in hotels, eat in restaurants, go to while schools - and the list goes on.  He and my husband, Ken, became good friends and worked together on projects, not only for African Americans but for women's rights.  And in later yers Alcee went on to champion the LGBT community. 

In June of 2019, when we received word that Alcee Hastings had pancreatic cancer, I wrote a blog posting about the "soup incidents." U.S. Representative Hastings was the longest serving member in Florida's congregational delegation.  He was the first African American to be elected to Congress in Florida since  Reconstruction and was reelected 14 times. 

My husband, Ken and I knew Alcee Hastings in the 70s and 80s when we lived and worked in South Florida.  Alcee, the son of house-servants, was born in my current hometown, Altamonte Springs.  But we knew him in South Florida at the height of racial tensions.  He was a great friend and mentor to us in civil rights issues in the 1970s.  At that time Ken was an urban minister (think community organizer.)

One of the things he taught us was how to keep our cool under pressure.  A couple of times we witnessed the "soup incidents."  The first time we were at a banquet.  Alcee was seated next to me.  A one point the waitress spilled soup all over him.  His response was charming.  I was concerned.  He explained that spilling soup on him (by white waitpersons) was a common occurrence.  I had to witness it one more time before I believed him. 

Alcee Hastings political life back the was highly  controversial, full of ups and downs.  In the 1980s he was impeached in the House, tried in the Senate and ousted from office.  This, despite having been acquitted of bribery charges.  Ten years later, as a respected member of the House, he voted "no" on the impeachment of President Clinton.

And now, since 1992, he has served (and easily won) his seat in the House.  Until the end he remained a savvy and popular congressman but, of course he was still controversial and still poking fun at his Republican opponents.  

I hope the soup spilling stopped at some point. 

 ***