Lights Out

When I was a kid, we lost power a lot. It was the nature of where we lived (Long Island) and the antiquity of the electric grid. My mother filled the bathtub, and cooked with sterno. We had candles and flashlights. It was like camping inside, which explains why I've always liked outdoor camping, as well as living in Costa Rica.

The power rarely goes out in New York City, except for the so-called outer boroughs, which everyone knows isn't really New York. Even where we lived in suburban Rhode Island, basically in the woods, the power rarely went out.

Here in my cozy Catskill cottage, we've lost power once when we weren't here and once in the aftermath of hurricane Sandy. Late Saturday afternoon, while Marty was out with my niece and her husband, a tree fell up the street and snapped the power line. I knew I could cook dinner with propane and that we had a lantern, but as it got darker and I couldn't see to read, I lit a candle, which was how they found me when they got home. It all felt very old-fashioned.

The electric company, along with a huge rescue truck and several volunteers filled the street and fixed everything in about an hour. Not bad in my book.

Life in the Slow Lane

Country life is definitely the life for me. It's so friendly and personal, because it's small. Life in big cities can be socially exciting but stressful, too, especially when you have a huge dog in a 1-bedroom apartment. The suburbs can be isolating, especially when you hit middle age and the kids are teenagers and then gone.

Today, I went to the post office (hi, postman Jack), the bank, (where they all ask me about my dog), the supermarket, where I often meet other locals I know, and the pharmacy where, unfortunately they know me so well, they go straight for my medications. That used to happen sometimes in Rhode Island, never in Manhattan, where the pharmacy staff was so stressed, they could be curt or even rude.

And I can walk to all these places. Later in the day I went to the local beauty salon where I got a great haircut and some highlights for $60. The same services in RI would be double, and in Manhattan, triple. I left my reading glasses there and my stylist, who knew I was going to the market (again), walked over and handed me my glasses. Plus, she left a message on my phone saying if she didn't find me in town, she'd drive by and drop them off.

I hope this friendliness is rubbing off on me.

Books of Note

I really have to put the books down and do some cleaning.

If you've ever read Lionel Shriver, you know you're in for psychological trauma. I read We Need to Talk About Kevin in a book group back in Rhode Island. I highly recommend this beyond-noir account of a very troubled youth. Shriver's latest novel is Big Brother. Nominally it's about obesity in the Heartland. Psychologically/emotionally it questions how much can family do to heal a member's extreme problems, in this case over-eating. This sister-brother tale is a bit of a let-down in that it uses a time-worn device to wiggle out of the ordeal cum triumph, but it's worth reading anyway, especially for the doll Baby Monotonous which you can order to look like someone you know and have it say phrases that person uses ad nauseum.

I'm ashamed to say I've never read anything by the Haitian writer Edwidge Danticat. Her new novel Claire of the Sea Light is a beautifully woven tale, sprinkled with Creole patois, about a small village outside of Port-de-Prince. Most of the the inhabitants are dirt-poor and have little control over their lives. Mothers die giving birth, children die capriciously, young women are raped by their employers, fisherman die at sea leaving their families even more poor, and the government can be bribed to sanction murders of innocent people. Shining through this so-called life is Claire, a seven-year old girl who is innocent and yet wise. The luminosity of her spirit washes over the townspeople like a powerful wave, and they are better for it.

Hot Soup on a Hot Day

Mushrooms are on sale this week so I decided to make a batch of mushroom bisque. Fancy restaurants have switched to their Fall menus so why not me?


I bought the mushrooms on Monday, when the temperature dipped down to 36 degrees at night. On Tuesday, Summer made its return. I started making the bisque, because why would I waste mushrooms? I had already soaked the wild mushrooms so the soup was on.

Most of the South Americans I know drink hot liquids when it's caliente outside. They say it cools them down. It's counter-intuitive but apparently works. Americans treasure their ice, especially when it's hot, but try to get an ice-cold drink outside North America and you will be disappointed. I include myself in this ice versus fire dialectic,  although when I lived in Costa Rica I became used to room-temperature water. 

I'm ready for lunch but it's 88 with a heat index of 94. Maybe I'll make an icy fruit smoothie.

Not to worry, it's supposed to be 58 as the high on Friday.

Contraversial

Continuing my Christopher Hitchens exposure, I checked out god is not great, which Salman Rushdie said was a good title but should've stopped with "not."

It's no secret that Hitchens is an atheist. His venom toward what we call organized crime, I mean religion makes him discuss the 3 major brands (Judaism, Christianity and Islam) with a causticity that nearly bursts into flames. You'll be thankful for the dashes of exquisite wit he uses throughout his merciless tirade.

I will be truthful with you dear readers. I did not finish the book. After Chapter 5, I skimmed the rest. The research he presents tightens his case. Read the whole book if you wish. I suspect the only believers who are even exposed to this book are either reviewers, media opinionators, or religious persons who want to get all angles of an argument so they can devise new strategies of protecting their kingdom. I, after all, have occasionally stomached my way through Rush Limbaugh radio shows.