Chef Bill

After almost 30 years of marriage I've been thinking that Bill should take on some of the cooking. After all, he is retired and I am still working long hours. To give my husband due credit, though, I have to say that there have always been a few things that he can cook, such as pancakes and cookies. But it’s time for him to expand his repertoire and we’ve been working towards that end.

So for now Bill has kitchen duty on Wednesday nights. I am in Bar Harbor all day teaching and practicing and he is at home. One night he made a delicious dish of chicken and olives from a recipe that we saved from our newspaper. He followed the clear, step-by-step instructions and it came out perfectly. Lately I’ve been trying to teach him how to make one of our absolute favorite dinners, salmon with roasted potatoes. These are dishes I’ve experimented and played with and I can’t give him an exact recipe. I tend to say add a little minced garlic or sprinkle with salt and pepper, while a bona-fide recipe would call for 2 cloves of garlic and a half teaspoon of salt. But he is getting the hang of it quite well and I see lots of potential! Who knows, maybe one of these days I’ll catch him searching thru my vast collection of cookbooks on his own, eagerly anticipating his next Wednesday night meal.

Baked Salmon

Rinse a 1 pound salmon fillet and pat dry. Put into an oiled baking dish, drizzle with olive oil, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Bake at 425 degrees for about 20 minutes, until fish flakes easily. While the fish is cooking soften a tablespoon of butter and add some chopped herbs (parsley, rosemary, oregano, etc.) When fish is done, dot with the herb butter. This serves 2 generously, with enough leftover to top a salad for lunch the next day.

Roasted Potatoes

Wash and dry some small red or fingerling potatoes, enough for 2 servings. If necessary cut some in half to make them of a uniform size. Place on a rimmed baking sheet and lightly coat with olive oil, salt and pepper. Add some minced garlic, to taste. Bake at 425 degrees for about 30 minutes, turning every 10 minutes. You can start these while preparing the salmon and have everything come out of the oven at the same time.

Serve this healthy and delicious meal with a salad or green veggie and a glass of red wine. Bon appétit!

Memoir

Hold on about the painting… I’ll get to it later.

The past couple of years I have been reading a lot of memoirs. Most are by women with some experience in life and two are even by Texans who left the state for the northeast. Naturally they deal with loss, sense of place, marriage and family, addictions and the usual gritty and difficult situations of middle age. Some readers may want to stop here, but if you can relate or just want to experience some excellent writing, here are my favorites in the order I read them.

Lit by Mary Karr. Karr grew up in southeast Texas, affectionately known as the Golden Triangle. I lived there, too, when I worked at Lamar University in Beaumont. It is an oil refinery culture and the flares from the wells make for a spooky type of nightlight. Lit follows two previous memoirs and tells the story of Karr’s trek to New England and New York and subsequent descent into alcoholism. But she is a brave and strong woman and her tale of overcoming this disease and making a good life for herself and her son is mesmerizing and powerful.

Woman Alone: A Farmhouse Journal by Carol Burdick. I stumbled across this book in the Bar Harbor library while looking for the new biography of Pearl Buck. Its stark cover showing a red barn on a snowy day, seen thru a window with an amaryllis on the sill, caught my attention. Burdick, in her late 40’s and on the heels of a painful divorce, has moved home to take care of her ailing parents. Reeling from her situation, she spends time each weekend at the family cottage writing in a journal. In this special journal I will try to censor my heaviness and merely report those things I do and see and hear, noting the small sensations and accomplishments which help to buoy a sinking spirit, restore an eroded ego. Good advice for those of us who rush headlong from one thing to another and a practical approach to living in the moment.

Let’s Take the Long Way Home by Gail Caldwell. A Pulitzer-Prize winning writer and former book editor at The Boston Globe, Caldwell is from Amarillo, only 100 miles from my old stomping grounds. Her first memoir, A Strong West Wind, compellingly speaks of both her need and difficulty in leaving Texas and her struggle to make a new life for herself in New England. (Yes, in respects both positive and negative Texas might as well be a foreign country.) Her recent book tells the story of her deep friendship with another writer and is a testament to the profound and extraordinary bonds of women. So many times in reading this book I was reminded of my own close relationships with my female friends.

The House By the Sea by May Sarton. This New England poet is equally well-known for her many journals. In this one she goes out on a limb, moving from a beloved town in New Hampshire to a friend’s big, empty house by the seaside in Maine. She chronicles the ups and downs of her health, writing, loneliness, gardening, social life and ageing. Particularly touching are her notes about a dear friend’s Alzheimers disease and the comfort of her pets.

In thinking about why I like to read memoirs I’ve come to the conclusion that I respect and am moved by how these writers have taken the time to honestly look at their lives. I suppose this blog is my own small attempt to do the same, which brings me back to the painting…my dear friend Kate painted this for me. It was inspired by a photo of when I was about 6 years old, taken in my grandparents’ back yard. I’m holding a trout that I caught in New Mexico, while wearing a Sunday dress. Can you see that my slip is peeking out from the dress? That is authentic, as are my super short bangs, courtesy of my mother. In the photo my grandmother’s black cat is rubbing against my leg, VERY interested in that trout. If I had to sum up my childhood, that photo, which speaks volumes about a loving family, vacations in the mountains and the importance of pets, would just about do it.

Dad

My dear dad died over the holidays. Early Christmas afternoon I got a call from my sister Amy saying that he had taken a bad fall at her house, shortly after they had opened Christmas gifts. He was being loaded into the ambulance as we spoke. Immediately I knew this was bad-I buried my head in my hands and took a very deep breath.

Over the course of the week Dad’s surgery for a nasty broken leg was repeatedly postponed due to one thing or another. He was immobilized and in great discomfort. I was able to get a plane ticket to Dallas for December 29 and arrived at 2pm, the exact time Dad was scheduled to begin surgery. But fortunately the surgeon was running late and when I arrived at the hospital he was still waiting in his room with my mother and sister. I was taken aback by how he looked- my 6’4 father was an ashen and shrunken old man. He could barely speak and was very agitated from the morphine. But I was granted a marvelous gift…2 hours in a quiet room by my dad’s side.

Later in the afternoon he was taken to surgery and towards the end he had a serious problem with his heart. He died a few minutes later in intensive care, my mother and sister by his side. I was at the airport, picking up Emily.

The surgeon was a quirky type-big tattoo down his arm and a cross around his neck. He said something along these lines: When the Lord calls someone home, there’s not a thing I can do about it. While I might not have phrased it like that, I do think we all have our time and I believe that my Dad’s had come.

My happy memories of time with Dad could just about fill a book. We rode horses together, rewarded ourselves with banana splits, enjoyed the annual Father-Daughter Day at the Lions Club and drove around Texas looking for the right college for me. He came to my rescue a number of times, such as when my apartment in Beaumont flooded and I needed to move NOW. And one New Year’s Eve, when I was desperate to get back to Dallas and my new love, Bill, the roads were icy and I dared not drive the 350 miles alone. He came right home from work and drove me nonstop across the top of the state. We stopped by the airport for him to catch a flight, and well, you know the rest of that story.

We had 2 beautiful services for Dad- a memorial at my parents’ church in Irving and a graveside at the family plot in Lubbock. He was a very special man to many folks, as witnessed by the attendance at these services and the many, many cards and calls. I have not yet begun to grasp what my own life will be like without his living presence or the size of the gaping hole his death has left. But I know that I am one lucky woman, to have had my dad for 56 years.

George Edwin Morris, beloved husband, father, grandfather and friend, died on Thursday, December 29, 2011 at Las Colinas Medical Center in Irving. A memorial service was held on January 1 at Woodhaven Presbyterian Church in Irving. Visiting hours will be Monday, January 2 from 6-7 pm at Sanders Funeral Home in Lubbock, with burial and graveside services following on Tuesday, January 3 at 10 am at Resthaven Memorial Cemetery.

George is survived by his wife of 60 years, Janice Berry Morris; two daughters: Julia Morris-Myers of Ellsworth, Maine, and Amy Rangel of Farmers Branch; and four grandchildren: Emily Myers Stein of Washington, DC, Jacob Luther Morris of Amarillo, and Lauren and Trevor Rangel of Farmers Branch. He was predeceased by his son George Edwin Morris, Jr. of Amarillo.

George was born in Lubbock on June 4, 1929, the son of Harry and Ulma Morris. He graduated from Lubbock High School and Texas Tech University, where he played clarinet in the marching band. He served four years in the United States Air Force and was stationed in Alaska. For many years he and his father owned Lubbock Auto Company, the local Ford dealership. George ended his working career at University Medical Center in Lubbock, serving as Assistant Director of Volunteer Services. George served as a deacon at First Baptist Church, as president of the Lubbock Lions Club and the Boys Club, and was a member of the Scottish Rite Masonic Order. He also served as chairman of the Armed Services Committee, an alliance between the city of Lubbock and Reese Air Force Base.

George took great joy in sharing life with his wife Jan and their children and grandchildren. He was known for his kind and quiet ways and his infectious smile.
Memorial donations may be made to the Scottish Rite Learning Center of West Texas, 1101-70th Street, Lubbock, TX 79412.

A Very Good Book

I haven't read anything by Robert Olen Butler for years, but he was always an author who sent arrows to my heart. And I've found that to be true with his most recent novel, A Small Hotel, which I picked up on a serendipitous trip to the Bar Harbor library last week. I finished all 241 pages in a matter of days during a week in which I had little time for casual reading. In short, I was mesmerized and couldn't put it down.

A Small Hotel tells the story of the relationship between Michael and Kelly, a 50-something couple with one child and married over twenty years. The story opens on the day that their divirce is to be finalized. Their life together is told in flashbacks from the point of view of these two main characters, and despite the fact that Michael has a much younger girlfriend the story is not what one would expect.

Why did I like this book so much? These all too real characters are my contemporaries and I know and at least hope I understand what it's like to be in a long-term marriage. Butler's adept weaving of the past and present made me have to know what was coming, and in the final section as Michael is racing against time, the author resorts to run-on sentences of such gripping intensity that my heart was racing, too.

The book speaks eloquently and convincingly of the importance of saying I love you to those we do, in fact, love. Words of wisdom.

Sunday Psalm

Yesterday's Psalm spoke to me.

Lord, you have been our refuge
from one generation to another.

Before the mountains were brought forth,
or the land and the earth were born,
from age to age you are God.

You turn us back to the dust and say,
"Go back, O child of earth."

For a thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past
and like a watch in the night.

You sweep us away like a dream;
we fade away suddenly like the grass.

In the morning it is green and flourishes;
in the evening it is dried up and withered.

Return, O Lord; how long will you tarry?
be gracious to your servants.

Satisfy us by your loving-kindness in the morning;
so shall we rejoice and be glad all the days of our life.

Psalm 90:1-6; 13-14

I've been feeling a bit like the tree in the photo above...struggling and weatherbeaten by the winds of life. One evening last week, all of a sudden, something went wrong with my left eye. I was seeing flashes of light and big black blotches everywhere. I was scared. Everything that just a minute before I'd taken for granted seemed to be at risk. But fate was kind and the next morning, after some frantic searching, I got an immediate appointment with a specialist only 5 minutes away. The technical diagnosis is posterior vitreous detachment which will likely heal itself if I can rest and avoid heavy physical activity and reading.

Yes, reading...that's a hard one. Of course I read music, too, and my usual solitary hours of practice are out for awhile. But I now have the OK to do what I need to in order to play on Sundays and keep my students in order.

I am grateful that healing has begun and you can believe that I will take care of my eye. And that means signing off now...but one more thing: this Psalm spoke to Brahms, too-he used it in his Requiem.

Summer of Love

This was the summer for memorable weddings. First it was the one with Yo-Yo Ma and then Emily's on August 14. And between these two I played for a same-sex commitment ceremony at St. Saviour's. Although it is not yet legal here in Maine for a same-gender couple to marry, I am fortunate to work for a church and denomination that allows and even encourages blessings for gay couples.

Rick and Josh are about 40, I'd guess, and had a civil wedding in DC. But they wanted a church blessing as well, and being die-hard Episcopalians fate led them to us. I realize that gay marriage is controversial and I'd dare say some of my dear friends and family would not support the idea. But I am of another opinion and feel that two people who love and care for each other have the right to get married, period. I know several long-term gay couples that could teach us heterosexuals a thing or two about a loving relationship.

For the purpose of this posting I will call Rick and Josh's ceremony a wedding. And what a glorious one it was...never have I worked with a couple so intent on designing a service which spoke to their love for each other, their friends and family, and God. Every hymn and scripture reading was carefully chosen and their vows, while traditional, included some timely modern adaptations. Communion was a big part of the service, and the hymns chosen for that spoke inclusively of God's love for all. The whole thing was capped off by their yellow lab emerging from the wings to recess down the aisle with them.

I have played for so many weddings where the couple and their friends are ill at ease and just anxious to get to the party. Not this one...I felt that we were all part of something beautiful, meaningful and even eternal...the way weddings should be.

Harvest

It's fall here in Maine-sweaters and fleece jackets have come out of storage, nights are cool, and the furnace has even been on a couple of times. A fire is laid and ready to go in the woodstove. As hard as it is to give up what was a beautiful summer, there is one thing I'm happy about and that is the garden is just about finished! I've slaved over pasta sauce from our tomatoes and pesto from the basil, and numerous servings of both are in the freezer for a cold winter night. I'm glad that we still have chard, lettuce and herbs, but I've cooked and eaten enough green and yellow beans to last a year. By far, though, it's the summer squash which have just about driven me batty. Almost every day since late July Bill has harvested one, or two, or three, or the occasional zucchini baseball bat. A plethora of squash, yes. If man could live by squash alone...

In the past couple of weeks I've served the following dish 3 times at dinner parties and potlucks, always to great acclaim. I like it because it uses up lots of squash and you can put it in the oven and forget about it. And, by the way, it tastes great! Enjoy.

Scalloped Squash

1. Preheat the oven to 350. Butter a 9 x 13 baking dish.

2. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, melt 3 tablespoons butter. Whisk in 3 tablespoons flour to make a smooth paste. Whisk in 1 1/2 cups milk and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and stir in 1 1/2 cups sharp cheddar until melted and sauce is smooth.

3. Slice 2 medium yellow squash and 2 medium zucchini in rounds. Slice or chop 1 onion. Layer these in the baking dish, sprinkling with salt and pepper frequently. Cover with cheese sauce and 1/4 cup dried bread crumbs.

4. Bake for 60 minutes, uncovered, and serve hot.