This is the long-overdue Heidi issue. Heidi Junkersfeld and I met when we both worked for the catering service on campus at Laughingstock University. It was a bizarre job--weird hours, weird coworkers, forced exposure to Kenny G and Paul Anka in the same night. I have a lot of fond memories from that job (including being given a leftover gallon of organic carrot juice by George Clinton), and so many of them involve Heidi in some way. We were partners in catering. We were good friends. We were intimidated by each other.
Heidi, this is for you.
Heidi, who always reminds me of that lyric from Morphine: "She had a way of making people feel good to be around her, as it should be."
Heidi, who made (probably still makes) everyone--man, woman, or child--hot in the pants with her raw, molten sexuality. She was easily one of the sexiest people I have ever known. And a great kisser.
Heidi, who double majored in physics and dance. Because she is insane. Or something about her intellectual side and her creative side. Insane.
Heidi, the only caterer who was routinely louder and more unsettling to guests than I was.
Heidi, who is a great dancer and choreographer and is now a driving force behind a multimedia dance production group in our old hillbilly college town. And she has a day job, too.
Heidi, who just never did conventional things or accepted the status quo.
Heidi, who taught me how to just make fun of how fucked up everything and everyone was.
Heidi, full of energy and grace and boundless joy. Heidi, who first introduced me to the wonderful, if moderately pretentious, League of Evil Physicists. Heidi whose brain worked totally different from mine. Where mine was always a big mess of words and arguments, hers featured clean equations, vectors and force. Somehow we managed to communicate.
Heidi, I have missed you and your joie de vivre.
This is why I think you need a real Christmas tree if you celebrate Christmas. To anybody who doesn't participate in Christmas, this doesn't apply to you. Go do something else.
Look, there is no question that fake trees are more efficient and easy. You buy them once, and they last for many years. Most of them nowadays come prelit, so you don't have the annual cursefest of putting on the lights (at least it always seems to be a cursefest in our house). They fold up or disassemble for easy storage, so you don't have to find a way to dispose of them. They are perfect in size and shape--no gaping areas with no branches as you often get on real trees. They don't need watering, and they don't drop dry needles everywhere. Yep, definitely easier.
Unfortunately, though, they lack soul and scent. They lack a folkloric history connecting us to a past and a tradition. My problem with them is roughly the same problem I have with all such items that sacrifice what was once a family ritual--a focal celebration--on the sham altar of convenience.
In my family, we have cut our own trees on National Forest land every year since I can remember. My stepdad used to do this with an old-fashioned handsaw (talk about cursefest!!) while my mom and I stood by with a Thermos of (homemade) hot chocolate and sniggered. Now he has a better saw, which makes for less cursing, but he still cuts it. We hike. We enjoy the beauty and splendor of the Rockies. We compare the current weather to that of previous years. We evaluate a wide range of trees, all natural and imperfect. We bicker and laugh. We choose the one that seems the least imperfect. We cut it, haul it, drink hot chocolate in toast to it. We hang our motley collection of ornaments on it and admire it. Another tree that will suddenly reveal a maw without branches once we get it home. Another year.
Even families who buy the trees from a tree farm or tree lot still get to share in some of this. They still get the convivial discussion and laughter that comes with taking the time with your family to choose a tree. They still get the imperfections. They still make a decision, yearly, that they will gather around a focus and celebrate. They still get the folklore of the evergreen.
You see already how these tales of two trees differ? In one story, the season is celebrated by spending time with nature, time with family; it is a story of slowness. It is a story of deciding that the season is not superficial--it is not about the decorations per se, not about the gifts or the amount of money spent. It is about celebrating the passing of another year, or the birth of Christ, or the togetherness of families, or the quiet of winter, or whatever it is you are celebrating. It is a story that forces you to make a decision about what is important and how you will spend your time.
The fake tree, on the other hand, speaks of busy-ness. It forces the tree into a superficial role of decoration for decoration's sake, the role of mere gift-umbrella. The tree that was once a focal point, symbolic as evergreens have been for centuries across cultures, has become a bother, something to dispense with in as efficient a manner as possible. This is not what Christian fundamentalists mean when they decry the loss of meaning in Christmas, but it absolutely is a loss of the original meaning of Christmas (which was a winter solstice celebration--Christ was almost certainly not born in winter). This is the zenith of the commercialization of Christmas, both its progenitor and its enabler. If the tree matters so little to you that you have to just get it up and over with as quickly as possible, then why bother? If the tree is just another piece of overwrought decoration, then what exactly is the point? What exactly are you celebrating, then?
I hope to give my son (and husband, who is relatively new to this whole Christmas deal) the best Christmas gifts, and those are memories such as I have of my Christmases past. Not memories of gifts, because especially for children, most gifts don't really last, and usually they are not remembered clearly even a year later. Not memories of shopping and overscheduled activities. Instead I want him to have memories of laughing and drinking hot cocoa with his family, the feeling of accomplishment and joy that comes with hunting down a tree, the celebration of time and nature, the slowing down and centering of life that should go on at this time of year. I want him, as I did when I was young, to take pictures of each year's tree, because they are never the same, because no two years are the same. I want him to feel connected to all of this, a part of it all. I want to always send the message to him that these things are worth making time for. Fuck efficiency.
Over at the always-wonderful Traveler's Lunchbox back in August, there was a discussion of what are some foods to eat before you die. I think the list she has assembled is fairly complete and very good. Here are the 10 foods I've eaten that I think are most worthy of "eat before you die" status:
1. Mangosteen.
2. Black mole.
3. A meat or fish you have killed yourself.
4. Really fresh zarudofu, a tofu that is soft and pudding-like.
5. Tonkotsu ramen, preferably from a ramen house in Kumamoto, although there is some great tonkotsu ramen in Osaka, too. Even Margugen's tonkotsu is worth eating. In fact I regularly fantasize about Marugen primarily because of the chile-pickled nozawana (a leafy green) that they keep on the tables for garnish--I could eat that shit by the barrelful. Tonkotsu, by the way, is a pork broth.
6. Country ham with red-eye gravy on real Southern biscuits, preferably made by a grandmotherly type who has made them for so long she can make them without a recipe. Biscuits are so easy to ruin.
7. New Mexican posole. It's not really the same as real Mexican pozole. It's better. Don't even think about making it vegetarian, either, you communist. It needs pork and red chile, cooked slowly together for a long time. Ooooh. Runner-up: New Mexican green chile stew. Oh, my. New Mexican chile is a wonder.
8. Simple roast chicken, perfectly done, served with pickled peaches.
9. Homemade ice cream.
10. High-bush cranberries.
I could go on and on. I would add, for example, blackberry-lemon jam and currant-high-bush-cranberry jam. I make both of those, though, and I'm not sure they are really accessible to others. I could also add, as many people did, a tomato or a tomato sandwich made with vine-ripe, from-the-garden tomatoes. I could add avgolemono and pho and banh mi, but these are widely variable, and it seems silly to put "good avgolemono" because how do you know "good" from bad if you've never had it, and besides it's a matter of palate to some degree. How about buckwheat pancakes with real maple syrup? There are also certain flavor combinations that I think are worth trying: chocolate and lavender, chocolate and chile, coconut and coffee, orange and anise, salty caramel, avocados with sesame and lemon juice and shoyu, avocados with sweet milk (say, a milkshake or an ice cream). These are all foods that make me sigh with their glory.
God. And barbecue. The real Southern deal. Assuming you're a meat eater.
Restaurant version:
1. The fried green tomatoes at the Hilltop Cafe, Fredericksburg, Texas.
2. The spicy dog from Caliche's (an Angus hot dog in a sesame-seed bun topped with a spicy green chile relish and a sweet honey-dill mustard) followed by their frozen custard which has so much butterfat it leaves an oil slick on your tongue as you eat....but sweet Moses it's good.
3. The lemongrass grilled chicken with rice vermicelli at Vietnam Noodle Express in Missoula, MT.
4. The crabs with the chile sauce at the open-air bar/cafe in the Portuguese section of Melaka, Malaysia. Preferably with Tiger Beer.
5. A green chile cheeseburger in San Antonio, New Mexico. I like The Owl, but others are partial to that other place. You can get a green chile cheeseburger at nearly any restaurant in the state of New Mexico, but I think The Owl's is really something special owing to the quality of the chile and the hand-formed, crusty-ass beef patties.
6. The set meal at the tofu restaurant in Kamakura near the Hachimangu Shrine. It's tofu in 8-10 ways. The zarudofu is especially worth the trip.
7. I suppose the tonkotsu ramen should be here, since it is unlikely you could or would make it at home.
8. Yakiniku (that's Japanese for Korean barbecue) in a restaurant that has charcoal grills for the meat, not those gas ones. Tie: Yakitori in a tiny hole-in-the-wall where you can talk to the guy slaving over the charcoal, such as Aoi in Ichinomiya, Aichi Prefecture, Japan. Three-way tie: Rock-grilled wagyu as served at finer izakayas throughout Japan. Japanese izakayas are generally worth eating at even if they don't have the rock-grilled meat. Oh, god, I miss Japan.
9. Anything and everything at Takohachi, Seattle, WA.
10. The roasted chickens at the Brazilian place in Osu, Nagoya, Japan. You'll see them. They roast them in a big rotisserie right on the street there. Their side dishes are fine, too. My husband and I used to get a chicken and finish the whole thing, just the two of us. Talk about your finger-lickin good.
Now here are 10 foods I have never eaten and would like to try before I die:
1. Michel Richard's Pont Neuf potatoes. French fries fried in clarified butter? Holy mother of pearl! Count me in! Actually there are a lot of Michel Richard dishes I would like to eat, including the Breakfast at Citronelle dessert. Michel Richard is dreamy.
2. Arepa.
3. Real Jamaican jerk.
4. The tasting menu at the French Laundry.
5. Dinner at El Bulli.
6. Cloudberries.
7. Truffles. Are they really all that? It seems like it must be hype. And, like Public Enemy, I don't believe the hype.
8. Shoofly Pie. Damn, I love to say 'shoofly pie.'
9. Kurt's family's potato dumplings.
10. Those little pea-and-cream-cheese popsicles that that guy made on Iron Chef America. I think I can duplicate it...or roughly anyway, and then tweak it. They looked so good.
Sigh. So, it comes to this.
I would not want to, and I am not going to, defend Republicans. I do think there are a few words to say in defense of the South, though.
To take a few of the "points" made by the anonymous ranter and give them brief responses: First and foremost, the South didn't go red until pretty recently. I can't find a date for exactly which election made the South "red," but historically the South was Democrat--very strongly Democrat. Where do you think the term "Southern Democrat" comes from, ass-pie? Secondly, what is this "we Northeasterners" founded this country shit? You Northeasterners didn't do jack-all. The Pilgrims may have landed there (umm...and in Virginia), but you northeasterners had nothing to do with it. Oh, are you a direct descendant of the Mayflower crew? How nice. Granted, 10 of the 13 original states are in the North. That is mainly due to the logistical fact that most of the South and West belonged at that time to Spain and France. Also, I don't think Southerners have a monopoly on people griping about taxes. Southerners might have to pay more taxes, and thus support their own stop-sign-buying, if they had something as basic as employment. See, the income tax--it only applies to income. After the collapse of the agriculture-based economy, not a hell of a lot has moved into most of the South to make up for it. The official unemployment rates don't begin to tell the story of the South because unemployment there has become so chronic a lot of them aren't even getting counted anymore. If you want to talk about self-reliance, when was the last time you grew your own food? Because you know what? My hillbilly fucking family in Arkansas doesn't give a rip who pays for their stop signs (they would just as soon not have stop signs--hell, one of my uncles has not been off his own property in over a year), but they damn sure grow the food they put in their mouths, unlike your sorry shrink-wrapped ass. Oh, yes, and the divorce rates--if you check those statistics carefully, you'll see that Massachusetts has a low divorce rate because it has a comparatively low marriage rate. Can't very well get divorced if you're not married first, jack-boy. So take your high-horse morality and shove it up the Liberty Bell or some other, more convenient and less historic crack. And the statistics on the murder rate? Yep, it's New Orleans. Louisiana has by far the highest murder rate. New Orleans doesn't quite equal "the South." Other Southern states have high murder rates, though most of them are not terribly higher than our national average, as noted in the very link you provided to support your asinine ranting. I'm not defending the murderers in the South, mind you, just pointing out that the South is by no means the ONLY place in the country with a murder problem. Ever heard of Detroit? Oddly, and you wouldn't know it from the rant, but the South isn't even the only place with nutjob evangelical Bush supporters.
And in return, I ask you Mr. Anonymous, what has the Northeast contributed to American culture since the Revolutionary War? Culture, here. Think about it. Is there a definitively American cuisine, say, that originated in the Northeast? Nope, but there are two (Cajun and soul food) that started in the South. Is there a distinct, American style of music that originated in the Northeast? Hmmm. OK, OK, I'll give hip-hop to NYC. Other than that? Let's see...jazz (and ragtime and Dixieland), country, bluegrass, rock-and-roll, blues? Huh. All from the South. There is also R&B; let's call that for Motown. [As an aside, I find it interesting that America has produced, in its short life span, such a number of distinct musical genres, genres that have really overtaken worldwide music. I find it especially interesting because a lot of those other countries who say we have no culture are aping our music.]
Sadly, the South has of late been taken over by the twin dragons of fundamentalism and apathy. Both of these can be seen to arise from deep, unrelenting poverty. It's not the first time poverty, lack of education (and, since Massachusetts is apparently already doing such a great job of funding the South, why can't Massachusetts do something about the state of public schooling there?), and hopelessness have joined together to foment the worst kind of backlash. A backlash against the backlash is not likely to be especially productive.
I do understand the urge, though. I hate what has become of the South's politics (though I live in the non-coastal West which is more steadfastly Republican, I'm afraid, although possibly less bombastic about it), but I love Southern culture. I love the food. I love the music. I love the front-porch sittin'. I love the dialect (my love of double modals has already been noted). I love the way history seems to still breathe there. I love Faulkner. I love being called "hon" by the waitress and plied with quarts of sweet tea. I don't think I could or would ever live there again--because for all that, it has chiggers and poison ivy and heat/humidity that will oppress you--but it's not all as red-state-shitty as it seems from outside either.
For most of my life, I thought I didn't want kids. It just goes to show that sometimes we don't know what we want. For the past (almost) 21 months I have had the good fortune to realize over and over how awesome this whole kid thing is. Here are some reasons I am glad I became a parent.
Young kids see things differently. Yes, I know, it's been said enough to be cliche. I don't care, because it's true. Kids don't look at a park and say, "Feh, another park, same as all the others." They throw themselves into this park with gusto, exploring each little blade of grass and piece of rubbish from someone's convenience-store snack. Nothing is so small or seemingly insignificant that they will leave it untouched. The times when I have tried to steer my son in the direction of the swings and slides and stuff--what adults and older kids generally see as the reason to go to the park--prematurely, my son fights me off and remains steadfastly focused on uncovering (and tasting) every rock. This used to annoy me, and I still get annoyed with it sometimes. But I now try to let us just enjoy these small things. I squat down with him and enjoy his discovery, his joy in every small piece of earth. We talk. We listen. We don't rush. We just find the things that are calling out to be found.
Kids will bring you into the now if you let them. By focusing on all the details on the journey--and not the endpoint, the goal, the purpose--they will remind you that life is now. Life can only be enjoyed now...and now...and now. Obviously we can't get through life without learning to plan and focus on some goals and endpoints. But neither can we enjoy life if that is all we do. The constant pursuit of goals and something better than what we have right now is the root of unhappiness. Good Christ, is my son turning me into a Buddhist?
The needs and wants of kids are very basic. They don't care about how much money you have or how far you are up your career ladder. They don't care--at least not until a certain age--what brand their clothing or juice is. They don't care if splashing in the puddle will make them wet and dirty. They don't care if picking their nose is considered rude. My son is always reminding me of these things. He is always reminding me of what I, also, need and want. At a very basic level, his needs and mine are the same, but it's easy to forget that.
My son has helped me to focus on what it means for me to live a good life. The good life requires laughter. Not just mean-spirited laughter, taken off the skin of others, but real gut laughter, laughter that springs from pure enjoyment of this, whatever it is, a positive thing, not a lack. The good life requires spending time just being and just discovering the hidden beauty in the world. Bend down to pick up the fallen leaf and really examine it. Let nature speak to you. Let beauty speak to you. The good life requires satisfaction with what you have. I have long failed to realize this, but what I have is actually quite a lot. My son reminds me.
I'm sorry if any readers (like, the three of you) find this overly sentimental and cheesy. I'm not really sorry, but I will apologize. Being a mom has turned my ass to mush, if we're being truthful. I'm so happy that it has.
I'm just reminded, having written this, of A Soldier of the Great War by Mark Helprin (one of my favorite books). John will correct me if I am remembering wrongly, but the main character, Alessandro, was a cultured student of aesthetics and art before he became a soldier. He came from a prosperous family and had excellent prospects. After the war, he begins a family. He takes a job as a wood cutter (not woodcuts, as in art, but actually cutting wood) because the hours of work allow him to spend time with his family. His wife and child have become more important to him than going after a career or a higher education. When I first read that, I found it very romantic. Now I see, though. Now I see Alessandro's point. That time with your family is irreplaceable, invaluable.
What are some of your favorite holiday traditions?
Submitted by sami711.
When we were all kids (my cousins and I), we were forced to put on a skit every Christmas Eve. We had to write, produce, and perform the thing. We could not open gifts until we had done the skit (our family does gifts Christmas Eve, stockings Christmas morning--and Christmas Eve dinner is for some reason always chili and cornbread). Every year this went on.
I don't remember all the skits, I guess. I do remember one year doing a take on the nativity story using a vacuum cleaner as a camel. I also remember jenifer's extremely clever rewrite of that old chestnut, 'Twas the Night Before Christmas, that ended with Aleesha trying to steal a gift. I don't think our parents realized this, but I do believe that was the same year that we had indeed (jenifer, aleesha, and i) stolen our gifts from the grotesque Mrs. Wilmoth (a semi-relative), carefully unwrapped them in the bathroom while everyone else was probably out there playing A Question of Scruples, and exchanged them with each other, rewrapped them making sure that we each got the right nametag on the one we wanted (they were all necklaces, but slightly different--I, oddly, still have mine), and put them back. Mrs. Wilmoth never noticed, and no one else knew.
My favorite holiday tradition has always been just the gathering 'round of the family. The board games. The shouting sadness. The chile and cornbread. All of the cousins sitting at the kids' table making fun of the way Mr. Wilmoth chewed. The skits. That we have traditions as a family. That we still keep to many of them.
For me that's what the holiday season is all about. The rest of the year--especially spring and summer--is expansive. Everyone has so much to do. The late fall and winter are times for hunkering down with the people you love most, reminding yourselves of why you love them so much despite the different courses your lives are taking, laughing, celebrating another year of being alive. Life and love deserve celebration. They deserve to have time spent just on being thankful and happy that we have them.
What is your pet peeve, the one thing which really drives you mad?
Submitted by Beki.
One? We're supposed to pick just ONE?
I can cover most of mine with the generic term "ignorance" I guess, by which I mean a willful refusal to listen to anything new, any opposing viewpoint, or learn from anything at all.
People who violate traffic laws frankly piss me off, too. The traffic laws are there for the good of all, people. Mind them. If you harm me in any way through your lawless driving, I will kill you. I will not rest until I do. I will only forgive you if you are Vietnamese, because I've been to Hanoi, and I know you don't know any better.
Vietnamese people do not, however, get a free pass on the ignorance one. Just the driving.
What books did you love as a child?
Submitted by hearts.
And also the ValueTales, especially The Value of Believing in Yourself: The Story of Louis Pasteur, The Value of Fairness: The Story of Nellie Bly, and The Value of Courage: The Story of Jackie Robinson.
OK, guys, I've given this a lot of thought, which should tell you what kind of a geek I am. I have also done some research on this, because I like to have references, which tells you what kind of asshole I am. Anyway, after all this deliberation and realizing that there is much disagreement in the field of social misfit taxonomy, here is what I think:
Nerds are people who all around like learning and academics and four-dollar words. The subject matter to which they are most attached is not of the utmost importance here. Physics or philosophy, literature or linguistics--every major has its nerds. Nerdism can be mitigated by several factors including: Physical attractiveness, physical fitness and/or athletic prowess, a great sense of humor, wit and charm, a recognition of how nerdy one is, gregariousness. Nerdism is intensified primarily by being either a geek or a dork (or, worse, both).
Geeks are people who are particularly obsessed with one thing, be it science fiction, computers (particularly Macintosh computers), Shakespeare, baseball statistics, genomes, whatever. In general, I would say geekiness is associated primarily with academic, or at least literate, fields, but to me those people obsessed with RBIs and other athletic statistics are just as geeky as people who quote from The Hobbit (or, much worse, compare editions of The Hobbit to find discrepancies--Ian, I speak now to you). I think geekiness is being focused on something to an extent that is not normal (which isn't the same as being bad) and often to an extent that renders what should be normal, enjoyable conversations with laypeople excruciating to those laypeople. Geekiness can, again, be somewhat alleviated by recognition of one's geekiness (so as to render those conversations much less excruciating for the poor laypeople) and, importantly, by being geeky about something that is otherwise cool. For example, you're somewhat less of a geek if you're a Big Lebowski geek than if you're a Sleepless in Seattle geek. Geekiness is made much, much worse when combined with dorkism, in particular if you dress up as a character from a book/film you're obsessed with and especially if you--gasp! shudder! perish!--go out in public dressed as such on a non-Halloween day.
Dorks are people who lack social skills. They are frequently also nerds or geeks. They lack an ability to make small talk, to make new acquaintances easily and often, to entertain and be the life of the party, to find significant others (although, in my experience, dorks often find a few close friends who are also dorks). They are often klutzy and have overly loud laughs. They may have overactive salivary glands. They may wear the highwater jeans. You know. Those are dorks.
There is a very revealing test here to see which you are. I'm solidly nerdy: I tested an astounding and invigorating 92% nerd, while I am a mere 58% geek, and only 24% dork. I find that to be basically true of me, given the above definitions. I am a Big Lebowski geek.
Kurt, my friend who thinks of himself as a dork, may send me a response by email (he doesn't do Vox), and if so I will post his thoughts (assuming he gives me permission). Kurt does lack some social skills, I guess, although since he is my friend, I think his social skills are just fine. The long, long silences are probably off-putting for most normal folks, though, and Kurt doesn't do a lot of small talk. I don't think Kurt flirts either. Yep, dork. He is also, by my definitions, a nerd and a geek. This is totally mitigated, though, by his hiking and his ability to dress himself in the modern Missoulian style and his general Cool.
Of course, since I'm such a nerd-geek, I'm not sure my saying he's cool counts for much. I'm thinking he's cool because he's one of the few people I've ever known who can really begin to fathom how much I love Wallace Stevens and also discuss Stevens intelligently. So, um, pretty nerdy, pretty geeky. Maybe even pretty dorky, since that ain't great party talk.
I can make great party talk, though. I flirt extremely well, sometimes far too well. I can be witty and charming. I apparently seem very gregarious and friendly to most people, until they come head-to-head with that pent-up aggression in the form of my hate-radiation. If you have never encountered someone who actually sends out a vibrating force field of hatred, I caution you that it is not only not pretty, it may cause radiation sickness.
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