The Authenticity of the Moment

I have been ten days in this temple
and my heart is restless.
The scarlet thread of lust at my feet
has reached up long.
If someday you come looking for me,
I will be in a shop that sells fine seafood,
a good drinking place,
or a brothel.
        -  Ikkyu, fifteenth-century Zen buddhist high priest
                                                         (Intro to Momofuku)


It's a cookbook.  That's it really.  There are beautiful pictures of carefully prepared and posed dishes, lists of ingredients, detailed instructions and stories.

The authors are David Chang and Peter Meehan and the book is called Momofuku.  My sister gave it to me for my birthday.  I haven't made anything from the book yet, but I pick it up every once in awhile and savor the dishes and the stories with my eyes.

It is the type of book that could make your mind turn to jello.  Beautiful and surreal in its' utter intangibility.  But, somehow it manages to stay above the soulless corporate crap cranked out by the Martha machine.  It is so simple that you believe in it without feeling betrayed.

Life, is about figuring it all out.  It is about finding things that work and tucking them away to use, or share with someone, later.  I love that type of story.  Someone with no direction, no need for direction, just a need to know and the will to keep going; just to keep looking.

Someday I will visit Momofuku, or maybe I won't.  I see the heart and soul that made the restaurant and the dishes in this book come to life and I would hope that when the first taste of food touches my tongue I can feel all that passion.  But, I might not.

What makes it all so intriguing is the fact that David is just a guy who loves food.  He loves the simple noodle houses and family meals that make the milestones of life.  He created a restaurant that is nothing more than an expression of that love, and the world shows up at his doorstep.

You have to ask yourself, are people there because the food is so good, or because of the passion?  The struggle is, how do you keep that fire burning?  How do you feed the masses without turning your back on what it is that made you successful?

My world is one of speed and commodity and I struggle with the same thing.  How do you make something taste like home without putting out the light that makes it special?  How do you create a sense of warmth and happiness in a world that has so many demands?  How do you create passion in a group that is just trying to make it to the next rent payment?

The 5:10 egg.  There are directions on how to make the perfect soft boiled egg.  The photo elicits a taste on your tongue.  It is creamy and soft and the juxtaposition of the salty caviar in the photo is a perfect balance.  I haven't ever tried the dish, but I can tell.

"And that second meal at Noodle Bar just killed me.  It was so fucking good, 

and not in some lightbulby way, but because it was gutsy.  It was honest.  

It was delicious, that least descriptive of all food words, 

but it was 

and it was so in a way 

that made me want more."

                                                      - intro to Momofuku, Peter Meehan

When I was in college, a group of friends and I went to Key West, like thousands of other college kids, for spring break.  One night, my friend and I were walking down the street and heard a really good Jimmy Buffet cover singer from one of the bars.  Both of us were huge fans and we squeezed through the door.  Sitting on a bar stool, with a ridiculous looking floppy hat and a pair of dark sunglasses was a guy belting out Jimmy's biggest hits.  The room was relaxed and we all sung along with the music.  The guy was good.

The next day as we thought about how good he was and how goofy the guy looked.  We realized that it could have been Jimmy.  It was one of his favorite places, I had heard stories of him doing just that...  One way or another, the music was good and the room was warm and friendly and you could see why a performer who regularly played to thousands would want to come back to a small room.  It was all about that feeling, that warmth, that authenticity of the moment.

We all eat.  We shove things in our mouths to get us from today to tomorrow.  At one point in my life I remember eating just to eat.  Most of what I put into my mouth was crap.  I remember thinking that I would take one more bite, because the next bite will be good.  I would repeat that over and over through an entire bowl of cheese dip, at the end bloated and disgusted with myself.

With that in mind, how powerful is it to create food that satisfies just by talking about it?

To create is to satisfy.  Successful satiation is peace.

Hello Summertime... how you doin'?

Tomorrow is the last day of school.

Really, it is the last half day of school.  As my kids have pointed out, the last week of school is really the last 3 and a half days of school.  Teachers finished up last Friday and this week was all about fulfilling time requirements.

Tomorrow afternoon, one of the neighborhood families throws a huge end of year party at their house.  Complete with bouncy house sprinkler and plenty of adult beverages, the party is great.  I have actually been looking forward to it for a long time.  Even so, I love and hate this time of year.

My daughter has this smile that just won't quit.  When I ask her if she is looking forward to summer you can see the sense of relief in her eyes.  She has worked really hard this year and the summer will be a welcome break.  I, on the other hand have not been able to feel that sense of relief, well, I don't remember when I did.

I remember looking forward to summer but it never felt like a break.  I have had a job of some sort since I was ten years old.  I would mow lawns all summer then go back to school.  When I was 14 I bought this bicycle that was $480.00.  Some of my friends had bikes just as nice, but I am not sure that they paid for them.  (I still have it.)

This is not meant to complain about my childhood.  The truth is, I liked to work, and I was the one that made myself go out and get those jobs.  They were jobs that I did like a kid.  Not much responsibility and sometimes, it took two weeks to get back and do your yard again.  It made me understand that it is really nice to get jobs over with.

But I digress.

I look forward to sunshine and the pool opening up and seeing all the neighbors, but I just don't feel that sense of relief.  Summertime means that I have to get the kids to swim practice, then camp, then grandma's, then figure out how to get my work done, with less time than in the winter.  It means that I have to look at all the relaxed people around me and realize that I don't feel relaxed... that makes me even more uptight.

Summertime means that I am a year older and so are my kids.  They have both grown three inches since last year.  My daughter will be in 7th grade next year.  Only two more years 'til high school, then college, then leaving home and I go into the nursing home.

Crap.

See how this works?  Why can't I just look at the kids playing in the pool and enjoy the moment?

I have a friend that I go riding with (on a bicycle, not a horse.) He has always been very focused and very relaxed.  He enjoys riding and running just to do them.  I know right?  Crazy.

To me working out was always a job.  It was something that I had to do.  I needed to be healthy, so I could work, so I needed to work out.  Even when I was swimming in college, swimming was my job.  If I did not swim, I probably wouldn't have gotten into a college.  Maybe I would have, but that was the way it felt at the time.

These days I really do like getting on my bike just to ride.  I even find myself pushing myself up a hill really hard accidentally and enjoying the pain and the thrill.  I guess I do know what it feels like, I just need to let it happen to summer.

So, tomorrow I look forward to one (or two) too many beers and the freedom that comes from taking in the moment.  Come on summer, you and I have some bonding to do.

Why Bother?

My Grandfather was a very intelligent man.  When he was sixteen he graduated from Duke University with the highest grade point average that had been earned up to the year 1919.  He went on to earn a graduate degree from MIT and a PHd from Harvard.  He has several patents, one of which was used in the production of the nuclear bomb.  When Bell Labs was developing the Cellular Phone in the early 1970s, he was responsible for writing the technical manual.  I still remember him being able to make phone calls from his car, as if everyone could do that in the 1970s.

This is a small fraction of the things that he did in his lifetime.  Many things I do not know and probably will never know.  When he was getting close to his death several years ago, I realized that I really didn't know him.  (He would hate that I used a contraction.)  My grandparents moved from New Jersey to South Carolina, when I was a teenager.  That meant that we hardly ever saw them.  When we did, we heard lots of stories about the kids in their town.  They were very active in their church and I think that they acted as sort of surrogate grandparents to a lot of kids.

Just before my Grandfather died, we traveled down to his house to spend time with him.  We sat in his living room and told stories about our lives.  My Father, his two brothers and sister told stories about growing up in their house in New Jersey.  I'm not going to tell any of them right now, but soon I will.

I am writing this, because I don't want the story of my life to be told the way that he told his own.  In his final years he sat down and wrote an autobiography of his life.  It was about ten typed pages.  For a man that had worked so hard and taken part in so many incredible things; it was disappointing.  I realized that the story of a persons life is not just a list of events.  It is your thoughts and feelings.  It is the insight that you get from the person that was there.

One story that my grandfather told puts this into perspective.  For many months in the early 1940s he traveled to New Mexico to work on a project for the government.  He knew that what he was working on would be used in the war effort, but he had no idea where.  The government took the Philadelphia Project (the code name for the project that developed the nuclear bomb.) and divided it up into parts.  If none of the scientists knew the whole picture, or very few, the project was that much more secure.

One day when he was back in New Jersey, he was getting a haircut and a news reporter interrupted what was being broadcast on the radio to announce that a nuclear bomb had been dropped on Hiroshima, Japan.  That was the moment that he realized what he had been working on.

I really don't know how he felt about the whole thing.  I don't know what song or radio show was on the radio.  Wouldn't it be great to know if they talked about it in the barbershop after the announcement?

So, what I want to do with this blog, is tell a story.  Maybe it will be a good one, maybe it will suck.  Either way, it will be my story.  It will be a look at the world though my eyes and I will tell it in pieces as it comes to me.  I want to know what I was thinking about now, when I get old and I hope that other people will be interested too.

Getting Old, Getting Better

Got to spend some time with my son tonight.  It was "Boy's Night Out" for his elementary school and we had the run of the local sports park.  We've visited the park every once in a while, but we should go more often.  It is a pretty nice park and my son loves the place.  Most of the trips to the park have been for my son to skateboard.  He is pretty fearless, so watching him is usually pretty fun, but it is just me standing to the side watching.  Tonight we hit the batting cages.

Growing up, I played one season of baseball when I was eight or nine.  There was a lot of sitting, and I was not patient enough to deal with that.  I also managed to break my front tooth bouncing a bat while sitting on the bench.  My heart wasn't really in the game.

This of course meant that my son was guaranteed to pick baseball as one of his favorite sports.  Not having played much, I was not anxious to take this task on.  There is always that fear of screwing your kid up. I know, it's inevitable, stop worrying.  He can now catch and throw with pretty impressive speed and accuracy.

When I was a kid I swam year round.  That meant that my shoulders hurt pretty much all the time.  Any sport that required swinging a bat, a club or throwing a ball was not on my list of fun things to do.  As my son and I spent more and more time playing catch I could feel my control getting better and my perception of the ball change.  I tried different throwing styles and found that my shoulder didn't have that oh so familiar feeling like it was going to dislocate.  Not only was Rowley getting better but so was I.

Because I picked a sport that required a ridiculous amount of time and dedication, it was more like a job for me than it was a game or a sport.  It was my job.  I even told people that.  Many kids that I knew had other jobs, I swam.  When it came to getting into college, thank goodness that I did.  My grades weren't great and I wasn't the fastest swimmer, but the two together got me through.

As my kids have explored the multitude of sporting opportunities that are out there today, I have tried to make sure that they enjoyed what they were doing more than anything else.  My daughter is now a dancer.  Seeing her rise up on her toes with her ballet shoes on, makes the hair on my neck stand up with pride.  She is so graceful.  My son is unstoppable.  He wants to try every sport that he sees and his exuberance and willingness to practice is inspiring.  Both kids like what they do, they know how to play.

Tonight as we hit baseballs, I watched Rowley set up and swing.  He connected on the first pitch.  When it was my turn to get up I was pretty sure I would miss every time.  When the ball came out of the chute,  I could see the path with amazing clarity.  I sensed the arch and I connected.  I was amazed. I connected with every ball that came at me.  They weren't all pretty, but I hit them.  In the end I am not sure who had more fun.  We hit baseballs and just enjoyed the moment.  I was relaxed and not worried about how well we did, it was just fun to get up and try.

I guess my kids have taught me well.

Wanna be famous?

Have you ever met someone famous?

I have.  One time, I saw Ronald Reagan come out of a hotel and get into a limousine.  When I told my third grade teacher about it the next day, a glob of spit flew out of her mouth and hit me in the forehead.

"You did!?" she exclaimed.

Seeing the President was cool.  (Getting spit on wasn't.)  It was exciting, people were running around, he got into one car and a stream of other cars whisked him out into the D.C. traffic.

When I was in college, I worked in a convenience store off campus.  One day when I was working, Ted Koppel came in with his son.

"May I have... a pack of Carltons, please." he said, in his deep and dusty voice.

Sounded just like he did on TV.  His son, was just some kid.  I probably had seen him before.  Couldn't identify him from any other schmo on the planet.  But you know what?  Ted Koppel was just some schmo too.  Just a guy who had to get the hell out of the house and get some smokes.  A guy with imperfections and insecurities and faults.  He was short too.

Around that time, I was starting to realize the impact TV had on the way I thought.  I loved TV, still do.  I watch way too much.  I find myself getting wrapped up in a series and watching it from beginning to end, thanks to DVRs and Netflix.  Recently, my son and I watched the entire six seasons of Psych.  My poor wife.  We didn't watch it all at once, but every time we turned the TV on, we would watch at least one episode.  (... and yes, shut up I realize that I am dragging my children down the same rabbit hole.  The difference is, I've already been there.  I've got a map!  We spend a lot of time living in reality world too.)

I realized after I waited on Ted, that we are all just people, trying to figure out what the hell this world is all about.  We are all just trying to get paid, get laid, make a difference... not die.

We all deal with it in different ways.  Some of us face things head on, some of use run the other way, some of us turn to religion, some of us break down.  No matter what happens, nothing gets wrapped up in a 20 to 44 minutes. (because of commercials) Happy endings are relative and even the Brady Bunch was two broken households that ended up living in the same modern style house.

Life is what you make it.  Crappy things happen.  People do shitty things to each other.  Each day we get up and try to do things better than we did the day before.  It is amazing how much you can screw up and still lead a happy productive life!

In today's 24 hour news cycle, we watch celebrities succeed and fail.  They make ridiculous life choices, we judge and demean them.  (Tom Cruise, scientology... WTF?) The funny thing is, most people are doing the same idiotic stuff, they just don't get filmed every time they leave their house.

I think that would make some awesome TV.  Just pick one random person and treat them like a celebrity for 24 hours.  Follow them from place to place.  Poke cameras into their windows and surround them when they leave McDonald's.  Would that guy make decisions that are any different than a kid who ended up in the spotlight because of some gig they got with Disney?

One time, I was at an event in Baltimore.  Daisy Fuentes walked with her entourage in front of the crowd.  I saw her coming and pulled out my camera.  I was busy trying to point the camera and shoot a photo along with a hundred other idiotic people like myself.  She walked by, I didn't get the photo and I have no idea what she looked like.  I was so busy trying to "capture the moment" that I forgot to just live the moment.

Big events make big news.  Big celebrities make us jealous and make us question what we are doing wrong.  In the end, we all have the same problems and one life to do the best that we can.  Being a celebrity is sometimes a good thing, sometimes a bad thing; just like most things.

I try to remind myself everyday to just do one more thing right today, than I did yesterday.  Sometimes, I get that one thing, sometimes I screw three more things up.  I think that if we all tried to just do one more thing right and remember that we are all struggling with the same issues, we all might appreciate what we have a lot more and wish we were someone else, a lot less.

"May I have... a pack of Carltons, please?"  I can still hear it in my mind like it was yesterday.  As if, it were a TV rerun.

Good Wines

So, in an effort to remember and be able to enjoy a wine that I try when I am out, or whenever... I am starting a list 

Silver Palm- Cabernet 
My wife and I enjoyed a glass of this with lunch on my 41st birthday at Clyde's.  Good wine, great company.

Alamos Malbec - Argentina - light body drinking wine. Not my favorite. A little too light. $25.00 at Lee Lynn's. Lunchtime special with Wendy. Jan 2013

Feundi DiSanMarzano - Primitivo Puglia. Victoria Gastro Pub... Another lunch date. This is getting to be a good habit. This was a good one. Zinfandel grapes. Deep flavor.

Abraham Lincoln Second Inaugural Address

Abraham Lincoln

Second Inaugural Address

Saturday, March 4, 1865




Weeks of wet weather preceding Lincoln's second inauguration had caused Pennsylvania Avenue to become a sea of mud and standing water. Thousands of spectators stood in thick mud at the Capitol grounds to hear the President. As he stood on the East Portico to take the executive oath, the completed Capitol dome over the President's head was a physical reminder of the resolve of his Administration throughout the years of civil war. Chief Justice Salmon Chase administered the oath of office. In little more than a month, the President would be assassinated.




Fellow-Countrymen:

AT this second appearing to take the oath of the Presidential office there is less occasion for an extended address than there was at the first. Then a statement somewhat in detail of a course to be pursued seemed fitting and proper. Now, at the expiration of four years, during which public declarations have been constantly called forth on every point and phase of the great contest which still absorbs the attention and engrosses the energies of the nation, little that is new could be presented. The progress of our arms, upon which all else chiefly depends, is as well known to the public as to myself, and it is, I trust, reasonably satisfactory and encouraging to all. With high hope for the future, no prediction in regard to it is ventured.

On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impending civil war. All dreaded it, all sought to avert it. While the inaugural address was being delivered from this place, devoted altogether to saving the Union without war, insurgent agents were in the city seeking to destroy it without war—seeking to dissolve the Union and divide effects by negotiation. Both parties deprecated war, but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive, and the other would accept war rather than let it perish, and the war came.

One-eighth of the whole population were colored slaves, not distributed generally over the Union, but localized in the southern part of it. These slaves constituted a peculiar and powerful interest. All knew that this interest was somehow the cause of the war. To strengthen, perpetuate, and extend this interest was the object for which the insurgents would rend the Union even by war, while the Government claimed no right to do more than to restrict the territorial enlargement of it. Neither party expected for the war the magnitude or the duration which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with or even before the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces, but let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered. That of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes. "Woe unto the world because of offenses; for it must needs be that offenses come, but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh." If we shall suppose that American slavery is one of those offenses which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through His appointed time, He now wills to remove, and that He gives to both North and South this terrible war as the woe due to those by whom the offense came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to Him? Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said "the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether."

With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.

Annabel Lee

Because Poe is a son of Baltimore.

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of ANNABEL LEE; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love-I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsman came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me-Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we-Of many far wiser than we-And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride, In the sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Edgar Allan Poe

Jabberwocky

I just like this poem.

Jabberwocky

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.

'Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!'

He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought --So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood a while in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came!

One two! One two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back.

'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!' He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.

Lewis Carroll

In the name of Zeus!

"How dare you speak against The Great God Zeus?"  he roared, pulling a sword out from under his cloak.  He raised the sword above his head and with a single swing severed the Senator's head.  

The body of the Senator actually stayed vertical for a beat, then dropped to the ground.  The head hit the ground hard making a sound like a melon being dropped, then rolled down several steps.  Somehow it stopped with the face up.  The expression was not one of surprise, as you might think.  It was calm.  His mouth was closed, his eyes were open.  Struck in mid thought, the Senator would never get a chance to respond.

You may read this and think that it is a depiction of a moment in ancient Greek history.  You may picture the two men standing on a marble staircase, each man wearing a toga.  The Senator with a wring of olive leaves around his head.  The scene seems melodramatic and corny, but it is in line with what you might picture from the height of Greek power.

Now, imagine the scene again.  The staircase is the marble staircase at the U.S. Capital.  The men are dressed in suits.  How realistic does the scene seem now?  It seems like a scene from a Tarantino movie.  You could almost see the lips moving purposely out of synch with the dialog for effect.

Besides the fictional plot line of a movie, no one would ever see this type of scene and think, "Well, you got a point there, the Senator did question The Great God Zeus."  (Yes, the part with the sword would be a stretch too.)

Now imagine that a group of people decided that they were going to hold a rally at the funeral of a young man who died fighting for his country.  They claim that America's war dead are God's punishment for America "embracing homosexuality."  How does that make you feel?  Do you think the church members are right?  Does it make you sick?

What happen's if you substitute God with Zeus?  They claim that America's war dead are Zeus's punishment for America "embracing homosexuality."
Does it change anything for you?  Ridiculous, right?

Who the hell would do anything in the name of Zeus?  We know that Zeus is not a real God.  Not like the other God... Jupiter.