0. EVERYONE HAS BELIEFS/KNOWLEDGE about the nature of the (inner) world; while I don’t much like labels attached to such things it seems fitting to call mine “Religious Agnosticism.” Here’s a handful of relevant definitions (partly because a handful of anything is all we ever have):
Digital Vittles
ONCE UPON A TIME, I subsisted on frozen meals from Lean Cuisine and Amy’s Kitchen. Then I “got religion” via two sources: Tamar Adler‘s An Everlasting Meal — Cooking with Economy and Grace (which also contains one of the finest essays on cooking I’ve ever read), and the video version of Michael Pollan’s Cooked. Both preach the gospel of self-sufficient cookery and the evils of processed food, and filled me with the fiery zeal to cook for myself.
Of course, any budding home cook needs a bit of help. Fortunately, that help is only a click away. Here are some websites which send me daily emails filled with recipes, cooking tips and the various wisdoms of household management:
I’m Ed, He’s Johnny
FOR MOST OF THIS YEAR, and health permitting, I have been co-hosting a weekly radio show every Thursday afternoon with my rabbi (and showhost), Steve Finley. It’s billed as the Sonoma Valley Interfaith Ministerial Association Radio Hour, and is an exploration of different faith traditions and communities as represented by their local spiritual leaders; each episode also features a lesson from engaging cantor/musicologist Jonathan Friedmann. You can hear it on livestream at 4 p.m. PDT at http://ksvy.org; or if you’re in the Valley, on 91.3 FM. (Missed us? Here’s a link to the show archives.) It’s always a rousing conversation, so if you like this sort of thing (and what metaphorager doesn’t?) dial or click us in!
Fie on Death, and the Pale Horse He Rode In On
He was a man. Take him for all in all. I shall not look upon his like again.
— William Shakespeare, Hamlet
John Wheeler, c. 1981
WHEN I FIRST MOVED INTO an Oakland apartment in 1986 with John Woods “Wheels” “Spoonhead” “Calvin Biggins” Wheeler, our mutual friends were laying bets as to who would kill who first.
“We’re both so obnoxiously self-aggrandizing,” John told me. At that point in my life, I couldn’t argue with him. We were in our mid- to late-20s, after all, and such things are expected of young men.
“When young people ask me about death, I tell them: ‘We die a little every day. When you get to be my age, you get used to it.'”
— Near-centenarian Richard Meyers
Not Like It Used To Was
Mom in the drug store
Called out to her son: “Brooklyn!”
Am I getting old?
Overheard in Sonoma
(For Leah Garchik’s back-page-of-the-San Francisco Chronicle feature.)
Ms. Garchik,
I was walking on the west side of Sonoma Plaza this morning when I passed a middle-aged touristy couple, just as the man was saying to his female companion, “Someday, she’ll know what beer is.” His words are a mystery to me, and I hope amusing to your readers.
Be well,
Neal