Healing Books

A while back a friend told me that she'd just finished reading Elizabeth Berg's book, "Home Safe," and thought about me all the while she was reading it.

I'm not really an Elizabeth Berg fan because I'm not much for women's books but I read "Home Safe" on the plane ride to Minnesota. I could see why my friend thought of me. The woman in the book is a writer who goes a little crazy when her husband dies. She can't write and can't read and makes some weird decisions like trying to get a job at the mall.

I went a little crazy when my husband died.

Berg writes easy to read, healing books. When I wasn't able to read most anything I picked up "The Art of Mending" and found it really helpful. A play on words, the woman mended clothes while her life was mending.

There are several people in my life right now who need mending. I guess, in some respects, we all do.


***

Happy Calorie Day

I hope tomorrow is a wonderful day for you. Dave and I are going to eat with friends. We are giving thanks for so very many things this year. And we're thinking about those who don't have much to give thanks for.

As for the rest of us, we'll probably pig out. I read that the average Thanksgiving dinner is laden with about 2,200 calories. The Pilgrims and Indians ate around 540 calories.

Do you have a favorite stuffing or dressing? I won't be making my famous oyster dressing this year but I thought I'd share the recipe with you anyway. Everybody loves it - and what's not to love.

I'm just glad that it's too late for you to make it so I won't have to feel guilty about that extra six pounds around your middle.

Oyster Dressing

1 stick butter
2 cups chopped onions
2 cups chopped celery
1 loaf white bread
2 teaspoons poultry seasoning
1 teaspoon pepper
6 cans oysters with liquid
2 cups chicken bullion

Cut crusts from the bread and discard. Tear bread into small pieces. Set aside in large bowl for several days. Stir often to dry.

Melt butter in large skillet. Add onions and celery. Cook on low heat until soft. Pour contents of skillet into dried bread crumbs. Add poultry seasoning, pepper and oysters. Mix. Add chicken bullion until bread is soaked and dish is a bit soupy. Spray large casserole dish with Pam. Add mixture. Bake in 325 degree oven for two hours. Serves 10.



***

Chickens

The new thing is for we Americans to raise our own chickens. And let them have "free range." We're told that it will be a beautiful experience. One that will include organic eggs and fresh fried chicken dinners. Thank goodness I live in a condo with strict rules about livestock.

I have some friends who have chickens on their farm. Well, they live there only half the year so they, technically, rent the chickens. And they have some sad and gory chicken stories. As all of us who've raised chickens do.

First and foremost, chickens poop. I mean they poop way more than you'd think. I mean that when you walk into the coop you will sometimes slip on the poop and fall into the poop so that you are sort of covered in it and all you hear when you get back to the house is "Why did it take you so long to gather those eggs?"

When I was a child, spending summers on my aunt and uncle's farm in Southern Indiana, we had chickens. Egg gathering was my job. Besides the aforementioned poop, I was afraid of the chickens. Some of them were mean.

Mostly they were in coops but a few at a time got to be yard chickens. The forerunners of free rangers. They must have thought that they had reached the top of the heap but the truth was that when they hit the yard, their days were numbered.

Because on Sunday mornings my aunt would chase down two or three chickens, ring their necks, and let the bodies, spurting out blood, dance around the yard - right before my eyes. Then they were dunked in hot water and I had to help take off the feathers before they were cleaned and made ready to fry for Sunday dinner.

I'm surprised I'm not damaged by all that violence.

When my son was 18 years old he went on a mission trip to Haiti. While he and his friends were repairing a school roof an old lady came by, built a little pen and put chickens in it. The young men climbed down from the roof and played with the chickens.

Later, and to the great surprise of my son and his city friends, she came back, chopped off their heads and prepared them for the workers' lunch.

My son later became a big game hunter. I hope he wasn't influenced by the old lady and the chickens.


***

Why I Don't Have a Job

When Sarah Palin was on Oprah the other day she pretty much dodged the question about whether or not she would run for president in 2012.  But she did suggest that having five kids, including a special needs child, would not be an issue because she has a big family support system. 

I, too, have a very big family and loads of friends.  We support each other.  But, at my age, the Dilbert cartoon pretty much explains why I sometimes don't have time or physic energy for much else. 

***

Hardware and Comics

Today, after going to lunch with my Oldies (By the way, Mrs. Oldie is having her pace maker recharged on Friday so keep her in your prayers) Dave and I went to Millers Hardware to buy a light bulb.

Millers Hardware is an institution Winter Park, Florida. Nothing fancy, but its customers are fiercely loyal. The Big Box Stores are absolutely no threat to them. One of the reasons is that they prided themselves on being "the women's hardware store" long before it was popular to do so.

Years ago there was a hardware store close to where we lived where the owners prided themselves on treating women like morons. It's no longer in business.

A coincidence, in this morning's comics section, The Middletons, which is a syndicated strip drawn by two central Florida cartoonists, had Grandma Middleton saying , I have a medication list...A list of senor activities... My doctors list...A Millers Hardware list...

A lot of us grandmas keep a Millers Hardware list.


***

Art Collectors

Yesterday Dave and I went to one of my very favorite art museums, the Mennello. It's very small. The size of a house. But it has wonderful, fun works of art and is on a lake, in a park setting.

Even kids or those people who say "I don't know art but I know what I like" like it.

Yesterday was special because this couple from St. Louis, John and Susan Horseman, has loaned their personal art collection to the Mennello. They were there, along with the St. Louis art director, to talk about their collection - which is, by the way, magnificent.

What would make a young couple with 6 kids start collecting serious art? Their first pieces are all about moms and children. Then they expanded into art work depicting the history of places they've lived.

They were very open and knowledgeable about the history of all 47 pieces. And answered all questions - a couple of which were very uncool.

How much did you pay for this one? What do you do for a living?

If you go to the Mennello - and I hope you do - and you see the Vorst painting of the black, southern mother and child - notice the small Hitler poster in the corner. Vorst was German.

It's fun to have an expert who loves and knows the paintings point out things I would never see otherwise.

***

It Could Have Been Worse

The last few days I've vacillated from feeling kind of devastated and extremely thankful. I guess we all do that from time to time.

Yesterday, everywhere I went, (Nouwen class, meeting with close friends) I was hearing about how God wants me to feel joyful - and thankful.

I guess if we didn't have some tough times we wouldn't know what joyful was or what to be thankful for.

Here's a little example:

The other morning Dave went out to get the paper. When he pressed the button to open the garage door this BIG, HEAVY spring flew off the top and ricocheted around the garage.

When we surveyed the damage it wasn't bad. The car was bumped up a bit but Dave rubbed it out with Turtle Wax.

Later, when the garage door guy came by he said that these airborne springs sometimes fly through windshields and cause terrible damage. Who knew?

Dave could have been hit in the head.

So instead of doing a lot of hand wringing and complaining about the cost of the fix, I decided to be joyful and thankful.

And I'm trying real hard to feel that way about everything.


***

Men Who Stare at Goats

I was aware that, around the time of the Viet Nam war, the government was experimenting in psychic research. I knew the Stargate Program had something to do with clairvoyants. I know that there was some controversy about one of these clairvoyants predicting David Berkowitz (Son of Sam) would do the things he did. Berkowitz confessed 20 years later to pretty much what the clairvoyant had predicted.

It was with this teeny, weeny bit of knowledge that I was excited about seeing the new movie, "Men Who Stare at Goats." After all, it stars and was produced by George Clooney. He has credentials and a reputation to uphold.

And it also stars that cute as the dickens Ewan McGregor plus old timers Jeff Bridges and Kevin Spacey.

So Dave and I saw it on Saturday.

It was a mess. One of the worst movies I've ever sat through - and that's saying something. What was the plot? I don't know. What happened? Nothing. Is it a comedy? I'm not sure.

One reviewer wondered if it was directed by an 11 year old boy. I don't think so. The kid would have done better.

What were these fine actors thinking?


***

50 Years of Flops

As you know, I love my AARP magazine - and the AARP Bulletin. The latter has a list of 50 of Americas flops in the past 50 years. Following are a few of them that are especially meaningful to me.

Smell-O-Vision - Remember when a movie came out in 1960 that was going to revolutionalize our senses, not only in the movies but in all sorts of ways? The movie, "Scent of Mystery" stunk. End of story.

Susan B. Anthony Coin - I loved it but it was a total dud. As well as the dollar coins that have come along after it. I think it's because there's no little cubby for it in cash register drawers. They first need to get rid of the penny to make room for the dollar.

WIN - President Ford's 1974 buttons to help us Whip Inflation Now. I still have a bunch.

1982 DeLorean - What was he thinking?

Jell-O for Salads - With celery, mixed vegetables and tomato flavors. It was horrible.

Gerber Singles for Adults - 'nough said.

1975 Cher/Gregg Allman Marriage - I was telling somebody a couple of years ago about this marriage but they didn't believe it took place. It did. And didn't they have a son named Elijah Blue?

Geraldo Rivera Opening Al Capone's "Vault" on Live TV - (Yawn!)

1990 Cop Rock - A very bad drama/musical featuring singing and dancing police officers.



***

The Wounded Healer

Henri Nouwen was a Catholic priest, professor and author. Some people see him as one of the most influential spiritual leaders of our time - or any time.

His whole life was a journey toward a deepening spiritual fulfillment...a search for life's meaning. Along the way he experienced tremendous ups and downs. In his 40 plus books he was excruciatingly honest with his feelings.

A little criticism makes me angry and a little rejection makes me depressed. A little praise raises my spirits, and a little success excites me. It takes very little to raise me up or thrust me down.

Yes, I can relate to that.

Dave and I are taking a class based on Nouwen's book "The Return of the Prodigal Son." Nouwen focuses on a painting by Rembrandt with the same title.

By the way, this painting has been hanging in the Hermitage in Saint Petersburg, Russia since 1766 when Catherine the Great acquired it. So I'll be able to see it some day when I make my trip to the Hermitage.

Here is the only word I can think of to describe how Nouwen felt about this painting:

Obsessed.

He says about first seeing the painting...I had just finished an exhausting six-week lecturing trip through the United States, calling Christian communities to do anything they possibly could to prevent violence and war in Central America. I was dead tired, so much so that I could barely walk. I was anxious, lonely, restless, and very needy.

Yes, I can relate to that.

The book we're studying in the class is deep and emotional. The nonstop discussion is deep and emotional. Nouwen's writings bring that out in us.

By the way, the parable called "The Prodigal Son" is about a young man who returns home after squandering his his life and fortune. Toward the end of his career Henri Nouwen left his teaching position at Harvard to live the rest of his life in a community for mentally handicapped men and women in Toronto.

He said it felt like returning home.

I can't really relate to that. But I, too, am on a journey and I too am, at my best, a wounded healer.

***

City of Thieves

One of the top two or three places I'd like to see before I die are the Hermitage Museum and the Winter Palace in Saint Petersburg, Russia. It's been a dream for a long time.

I'd also like to see the museum in Saint Petersburg, Florida but it's a little more obtainable goal.

I'm just finishing up a book about Saint Petersburg by David Benioff called "City of Thieves." It's one of those books I'd never have thought to read. But my book club chose it. I like it when somebody assigns me a good book.

It takes place in Saint Petersburg during World War II. Possibly the most horrific time and place in modern history. From 1941 to 1944 the Germans starved, bombed and besieged the people in this city. And the Russian officials didn't treat their own people any better.

Thousands starved or froze to death. Many people became cannibals.

With this backdrop the "City of Thieves" presents us with two young men, one 17 and one 20, who are sent on a mission.

A Russian officials' daughter is getting married. His wife wants to bake a wedding cake. She's hoarded all of the ingredients except eggs. These young men are told to bring back one dozen eggs within two weeks. Or be killed.

Along the way they encounter cannibals who try to eat them, pitiful young girls being used as prostitutes in a Nazi"comfort station" in the woods, fierce freedom fighters and are finally captured behind the enemy line.

Early on they think they've found an old man who secretly keeps chickens in his apartment only to discover his frozen body and only a little child left hugging the last chicken. They're elated for a while, hoping the chicken can lay 12 eggs in the required time, only to be told that their hen is a rooster.

The book is savage, scary, blood thirsty, true to history and also sweet and funny.

In one of the final segments, the boys have been captured by Germans in the woods. But the officer in charge plays chess and hasn't had a decent opponent in a long time. The 17 year old offers to play with the officer. If the officer wins the boys will still be shot but they'll get what they've requested for their last supper.

A dozen eggs.

Can't wait to finish the book in the morning to see how this turns out.

***