Tag: Life

FREE OF THE ENTOURAGE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

Most newspaper writing and editing is done is large, open newsrooms rather than small, private offices. It’s amazing to think anyone can actually concentrate and work amid the surrounding mayhem, especially when the scanner is blaring police and fire dispatches and the television’s on overhead. (Well, I took to streaming opera and music by living composers to blot out that hysteria.)

Still, a few management-level editors had offices, and we’d get visitors who’d head there or to the conference room for private meetings. Usually, the men would be in navy blue suits, along with a woman or two in high heels. That is, they’d arrive and depart as a team. Since New England Cable News also had a presence in our newsroom, I’d sometimes get a phone call from my younger daughter, the political activist. “Do you know who’s standing behind you?” No, I hadn’t looked. I was too busy working. And she’d call out the candidate’s name.

Not that they were all politicians. Sometimes they were business executives or lobbyists of one stripe or another. Even the writers and artists seemed to travel in packs. And often a face would look familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. Let me add that many of them look quite different in person than they do on video.

Late one afternoon, though, I looked up from my terminal and noticed a dignified solitary personage striding into the room. He was taller than I’d suspected but the face was one I soon identified. David Broder, a Washington Post columnist my college professor had called the best political reporter in the country decades earlier, an evaluation that remained dead right.

I didn’t interrupt with a greeting as he walked past. Respected his space and thinking. But I was far more impressed than I’d been by any of the celebrities who had posed behind me.

RAT-TAT OSCAR

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

The title of a chapter in Bill Adler Jr.’s Outwitting Squirrels says everything: “Know the Enemy.” (My copy was a Christmas present, one of many squirrel-related items the family wraps and presents me, in their own vein of humor.) While Adler’s focus is on the difficulties squirrels cause bird feeders, including me, the bush-tailed mammals can be a homeowner’ nemesis – “tree-climbing rats,” as one friend insists – causing a number of fires as they gnaw through wiring and insulation. Ditto for the electrical utility.

In combat, however, one side can begin to resemble the other: their actions and thoughts parallel and overlap. A canny devil may even earn respect.

Many of the poems in a series I call Rat-Tat Oscar poems originate in my encounters with squirrels as part of my second marriage – evicting them from the walls of the house, from their raids on the bird feeders and garden, and eventually from the haunts in the barn – and are spurred by my wife’s quip, watching me transport them away in a Have-a-Heart trap, that I was operating a squirrel taxi. They can drive a man to madness or violence.

The poems also draw on annual Christmas letters to friends and family over two-and-a-half decades, turning the encounters to a would-be squirrel’s perspective. Of course, my wife and children will also insist I’m often more than a tad squirrelly.

Surprisingly, there’s not a lot about squirrels in mythology. Maybe the most prominent one is the Norse Ratatoskr, along with a handful of Native American stories. Maybe they had as much trouble making sense of squirrels in the universe as I do.

THAT FRESH PERSPECTIVE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

When it comes to food, this time of summer is always a revelation, at least here in northern New England. The sheer abundance and variety of fresh produce is such a contrast to the rest of the year. One bite from any of the kinds of tomatoes we harvest is enough to make you ask just what those imitations in the grocery really are. You can go down the list.

Yes, this has been building up, beginning with the asparagus and lettuce in the spring and continuing through the strawberries and blueberries and a number of other crops along the way. Should we even mention peaches and apples, now coming on strong?

Let me argue that there’s nothing more marvelous than a sandwich loaded with real mayonnaise and sliced fresh tomato and nothing else. Forget the bacon. Lettuce is nice, if it hasn’t all bolted. Or a sprig of fresh basil. But that’s it. Pure and simple.

You can put all those cookbooks aside.

Another of those nothing-can-be-better experiences is one that sometimes follows a day at the beach. On my way home, I pull off the highway at a nondescript seafood wholesaler and boatyard where I purchase three one-pound soft-shell “chix” culls – the lobsters that may be missing a claw or simply not be visually perfect enough for the restaurant crowd. If it seems extravagant, I remind myself I’m saving 50 cents a pound, which makes each lobster cheaper than a McDonald’s fish sandwich this time of year, even before you get to New Hampshire’s added eight percent Meals and Rooms Tax aimed at tourists. And the lobsters are from local waters, rather than shipped in from Chile or wherever.

A bit up the road I stop at a farm market, if it’s not Wednesday, when I’d have already hit one of two farmers markets. This time, it’s fresh corn-on-the-cob – ears picked that morning.

As soon as I arrive home, I put a big pot on the stove, go outdoors and shuck the corn, which then goes into the pot once it reaches a full boil. Five minutes later, the corn comes out and the lobsters go in. The water’s already flavored.

Butter goes immediately on the corn, to melt thoroughly before I add fresh-ground pepper.

Ten minutes later, two of the lobsters join the corn on the plate – and that’s it, plus a squirt of lemon in the melted butter. Forget the little dish of butter you get in a restaurant; just use what’s come off the corn. Yummers, as we sometimes say.

So I retreat to the Smoking Garden, where making a mess is no problem, and delight in my classic twin lobster repast as the dialogue in my head asserts the king of France never ate better. Gold flatware and rare porcelain would add nothing to this meal. Julia Child, for all of her insistence on fine culinary technique, would have to admit that all of those skills existed only to try to emulate the wonder of this simple afternoon glory. Tamar Adler, with her advocacy of one-pot meals, would no doubt be on my side here.

The third lobster, you ask? It goes into the refrigerator for lunch or even breakfast the next day. I’ll add a dollop of mayo on the side, for dipping, and find myself re-creating lobster salad, minus the bread.

If we’re really being ambitious, we save all of the shells for chowder stock or lobster ravioli, the latter dish sometimes getting an extra lobster all its own for the meat. Either way, that step really lowers the per-serving cost.

This hardly makes me a foodie or even give me any creds in the kitchen. So? The fact is that we’ll never be able to subsist on the food we raise on our little city-garden. But it, and the local farmers and fishermen we visit, give us many reminders of the inescapable wonder of freshness on the plate. You can’t beat quality ingredients after all, and this is where it all starts.

As Julia would say, Bon Appetit! With or without the king of France in the background.

OPA!

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

The Friday and Saturday of every Labor Day weekend here features Dover’s Greek Heritage Festival, which is much more than a fundraiser for the Assumption Orthodox church.

It’s more a community-wide FUN-raiser, with traditional food (the teenage workers in the kitchen, reflecting the instruction of patient grandmothers, is something I wish we had in our own congregation), conversation and mingling, cultural displays, crafts for sale, and best of all, live music and dancing.

But oh, my, am I really there dancing in that YouTube clip? All the dancers wearing white aprons, by the way, had dashed out from the kitchen, taking a break before returning to the cooking and cleaning. But, heavens, I still look like a New England contradancer. Lighten up! I really was having fun, but I’ll promise to stand straighter and smile more this time. OK?

STROKE OF GENIUS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

“Do we have any cream rinse?” I asked, heading for the shower.

“The WHAT?” replied the chorus.

“You know, the stuff you put in your hair after you’ve used the shampoo.”

“Oh! You mean the CONDITIONER! They haven’t called it cream rinse for decades.”

Yeah, that stuff. There I go again, showing my age. Only to be corrected by my wife and kids.

Actually, I have to admire someone’s marketing savvy, however far back. Cream rinse, introduced to me by my first lover, always sounded like an indulgence – a luxury, superfluous but comforting. (She did have silky hair.) But conditioner? Now that sounds like something you might need to counter the, uh, harshness of shampoo. Not a luxury, but a necessity, making it all the better for marketing and sales.

Just goes to show the power of one word, doesn’t it.

THIRD TIME’S A CHARM

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Just want to thank all of you who have downloaded your own copy of my novel Hippie Drum and to say how much I hope you’ve enjoyed it.

Since it’s my third published novel, and another in what’s considered the “experimental” literature realm, I’m grateful for all of the positive reaction.

If you haven’t yet joined the club of readers, let me encourage you to join now. Just click here for your own free copy.

GETTING FREE OF GUILT EDGES

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

A renewed compulsion had me rethinking, reworking, pruning, and punching up much of my earlier writing – the dozen unpublished novels; the genealogy research and narrative; several hundred poems, many of which had been published in literary quarterlies; and varied essays and journal entries. It hit with a vengeance, and was given extra clout at New England Yearly Meeting one August when, in a prayer circle, it was made clear to me that these labors are an exercise of talent, a gift, rather than a self-indulgence that had too often before stirred feelings of guilt.

For the first time in my life, I felt free to undertake this labor, the writing that does not pay the bills but somehow keeps me intellectually and artistically alive. What a blessing! (Never underestimate the power of prayer!)

Again, cleaning up these works and seeing them published may be one more way of bringing some closure to what too often seems a honeycombed life! Writing pulls so many of these threads together.

I began trying to set aside one free day each week as a no-automobile day, a kind of sabbath for writing, reading, or reflection; even with my usual three days off at the time (Sunday News worked a double shift every Saturday), achieving this goal became surprisingly difficult – but wonderfully rewarding when it did.

In some rich ways, it became a kind of retirement, even while being employed elsewhere full-time.

SMOKING GARDEN

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment
At night these strands twinkle.

I’ve mentioned the space we whimsically call the Smoking Garden – the funky patio, as it were, beside the barn.

It’s great for late afternoon and evening dining all summer, or parties ringed by Tiki torches, though it’s been a while.

Even so, here it is.

BIRDS AS BYSTANDERS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

A ring of blue jays is sounding an alarm somewhere close by. Who knows what it is this time.

So I stop typing, get up to look out the window, just in case they’re in view. What I see instead is a grandstand of smaller birds – sparrows, juncos, chickadees – all sitting contentedly on branches and facing the action.

Here we have it: the idle curiosity of us all.

SPLITTING THE RENT

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Yes, splitting the rent, as I remember it, way back when leaving home and living not with a spouse or a lover, but instead sharing a dorm room or an apartment as a matter of economic necessity. You would wish otherwise, of course, for a space all your own, with privacy. In all of this transition, all the same, the unanticipated connections. As if you would ever go back.