Gnarled Beauty
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Friday, December 28, 2007
Airborne Dreams
I found this cool video online about an Indian engineer who has made a part of the air travel experience possible for local poor children. It brought up such an upswell of emotions for me. I had my own airborne dreams as a child and I saw myself in the faces of those Indian children.
Growing up in a rural area in Jamaica, we didn't have a lot of luxuries and the idea of flying on an airplane seemed beyond the reach of most oridinary people. Everytime we heard an airplane we'd rush outside to stare at it, with the naked eye or with our "spyer"--a surveyors scope that served as a telescope. We'd take turns staring at the miniature craft, imagining what it must be like to be way up there, free and flying. That was one way we got closer to the flying experience.
Another closer encounter with airplanes was through our infrequent visits to the airport to send off or pick up lucky relatives or friends enroute to " foreign". All the relatives, and always one village elder along for the ride, would cram into a festive motorcade, a caravan of jalopies with luggage hanging off the roof, for the hour- long trip along the potentially treacherous winding roads to "Palisados" Once at the airport, the non-travellers trooped up to the waving gallery--an open air deck looking out to the runway. When my own mother left Jamaica in 1978, I remember pressing my face into the chainlink fence, waving frantically as she disappeared up the stairs into the mysterious magical vehicle that was Evergreen Airlines. I could only imagine was as luxurious interior she was encountering. I was desperately sad but there was status to be gained from having a relative who had been on a plane and a so close a relative living abroad. Four years later it was my turn to take that ride. Funny I hardly remember the experience as it was so sad to be leaving my native country forever. I remember though waving frantically from the stairs to the people on the waving gallery--those whom I knew and others I didn't--it's like the grand marshall in a parade--you don't discriminate with the wave.
Nowadays air travel has become more of a bother than the marvel that it truly is. But every now and then, mid flight I catch myself thinking of what a wondrous thing it is for us earthbound creatures to be way up here. And sometimes I get excited by the cute little silverware and plates and the kitschy goodness that is inflight service (yes quite rare these days).
Monday, December 24, 2007
Chris-mus a come!
Christmas in Jamaica was sweet! It was about anticipation, not of gifts but just of Christmas--the pure joy of Christmas. Sweet, cool winter Christmas in the tropics.
As a child, Christmas took so long to come. It was an eternity--as long summer holidays. One way my sibs and I could tell that Christmas season was nearing, was by the white blooms on the "macca" (acacia) trees just on the ridge beyond our house. Whenever we saw those blooms we knew Christmas was just around the corner. Another way we could tell was by the sprucing up that began around the house. Christmas meant that we'd spring clean and paint the house in all new colors. I recall one Christmas we painted the house "duck egg blue." I think it was the last Christmas before my mother emigrated from the island. That blue didn't turn out quite like she wanted. It was the color in our house for all the years till we finally left and followed her "to foreign."
The slow approach of Christmas gave my father time to find and cure a nice ham leg. My aunties got the fruit drunk for the cake and pudding. And by the time Christmas eve rolled around, we kids would be knee deep in chores to make the house look good. Christmas Eve was for us, "Grand Market Night." In a place where most shops were closed by five and everything was scarce, Christmas Eve was the only time stores were opened late and stocked with stuff that was hard to get year round--stuff like dolls and all and sundry plastic toy goods made in China. (This was before lead was a care). Instead of presents, we kids traipsed around to the aunties and uncles with upturned palms into which would generously fall, the unheard of sums of $10s and $20s to fuel our Grand Market night shopping frenzy. We'd be our own Santa on this heady night. I never believed in Santa. It made no sense to me that this guy would traipse around dressed in furs, with reindeer and a sleigh. He'd be terribly hot there in Jamaica. Besides, we didn't have a chimney!
Christmas morning was filled with the smells of ham, cake and "new plastic toy" fumes. Oh yes and chocolate. Cadbury's Fruit and Nut! Pure olfactory joy. Church was involved and then a mighty feast of chicken or roast beef and "rice and peas." No turkey and stuffing for us. Not an island thing. A feast washed down with sweet, rum laced sorrel made from the dried fruit of the hibiscus plant. And a slice of black Jamaican fruit cake, laced with rum-drunk fruit.
Christmas was also the time for the annual school pageant of songs and plays. I loved getting the lead. I remember one year I wasn't chosen for the lead but went home and memorised it as if I were the understudy. Call it voodoo or wishful thinking, but the next day,Lanya Smith fell ill and there I was prepared with all the lines.
Christmas of my childhood was sweet indeed. I have no memories of gifts, just the anticipation of that lovely day upon which an entire year seemed wait! I miss those days of simplicity and joy!
~~~
Click here to see what other J'cans miss about Christmas a "yaad" now dat dem deh abroad!
http://www.jamaicans.com/culture/christmas/MissJAatChristmas.shtml
As a child, Christmas took so long to come. It was an eternity--as long summer holidays. One way my sibs and I could tell that Christmas season was nearing, was by the white blooms on the "macca" (acacia) trees just on the ridge beyond our house. Whenever we saw those blooms we knew Christmas was just around the corner. Another way we could tell was by the sprucing up that began around the house. Christmas meant that we'd spring clean and paint the house in all new colors. I recall one Christmas we painted the house "duck egg blue." I think it was the last Christmas before my mother emigrated from the island. That blue didn't turn out quite like she wanted. It was the color in our house for all the years till we finally left and followed her "to foreign."
The slow approach of Christmas gave my father time to find and cure a nice ham leg. My aunties got the fruit drunk for the cake and pudding. And by the time Christmas eve rolled around, we kids would be knee deep in chores to make the house look good. Christmas Eve was for us, "Grand Market Night." In a place where most shops were closed by five and everything was scarce, Christmas Eve was the only time stores were opened late and stocked with stuff that was hard to get year round--stuff like dolls and all and sundry plastic toy goods made in China. (This was before lead was a care). Instead of presents, we kids traipsed around to the aunties and uncles with upturned palms into which would generously fall, the unheard of sums of $10s and $20s to fuel our Grand Market night shopping frenzy. We'd be our own Santa on this heady night. I never believed in Santa. It made no sense to me that this guy would traipse around dressed in furs, with reindeer and a sleigh. He'd be terribly hot there in Jamaica. Besides, we didn't have a chimney!
Christmas morning was filled with the smells of ham, cake and "new plastic toy" fumes. Oh yes and chocolate. Cadbury's Fruit and Nut! Pure olfactory joy. Church was involved and then a mighty feast of chicken or roast beef and "rice and peas." No turkey and stuffing for us. Not an island thing. A feast washed down with sweet, rum laced sorrel made from the dried fruit of the hibiscus plant. And a slice of black Jamaican fruit cake, laced with rum-drunk fruit.
Christmas was also the time for the annual school pageant of songs and plays. I loved getting the lead. I remember one year I wasn't chosen for the lead but went home and memorised it as if I were the understudy. Call it voodoo or wishful thinking, but the next day,Lanya Smith fell ill and there I was prepared with all the lines.
Christmas of my childhood was sweet indeed. I have no memories of gifts, just the anticipation of that lovely day upon which an entire year seemed wait! I miss those days of simplicity and joy!
~~~
Click here to see what other J'cans miss about Christmas a "yaad" now dat dem deh abroad!
http://www.jamaicans.com/culture/christmas/MissJAatChristmas.shtml
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Weathering LA
It's been raining in LA recently. Big news here. We're in a drought so any little bit of water is welcomed. With the rain comes the cold. And with the cold come the Angelenos who dress as if it were still a lovely summer day. It's the SoCal uniform-- Flip flops and surf shorts, no matter what. Even in the summer time when the difference between day and night temperatures is dramatic, people bop around town as if they were in balmy Miami.
I chalk it up to the fact that Angelenos are hopeful--at least when it comes to the weather. They like the idea of their weather identity--sunny and 70--even when it's not the case. For example, half the time during the month of June we are socked in by the gloom of that "coastal eddy" aka FOG. It usually clears up by mid afternoon but till it does, it can be pretty chilly. Yet, you still see people traipsing around in their flimsy clothes. People dress for the weather they hope for, not for the wather outside the door. It's gonna clear up is what they say to themselves. Even in the midst of the worst el-Nino rains, or the worst Artic storms, Angelenos leave the house without their brollies or wellies...it's gonna clear up. And they are usually right!
I chalk it up to the fact that Angelenos are hopeful--at least when it comes to the weather. They like the idea of their weather identity--sunny and 70--even when it's not the case. For example, half the time during the month of June we are socked in by the gloom of that "coastal eddy" aka FOG. It usually clears up by mid afternoon but till it does, it can be pretty chilly. Yet, you still see people traipsing around in their flimsy clothes. People dress for the weather they hope for, not for the wather outside the door. It's gonna clear up is what they say to themselves. Even in the midst of the worst el-Nino rains, or the worst Artic storms, Angelenos leave the house without their brollies or wellies...it's gonna clear up. And they are usually right!
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
If you didn't know what your age was
Today is my birthday. Though a whole year older today than I was last year on this same day, I am only a day older than I was yesterday. It's a much better way of handling the numbers once you get to where my numbers are. And no, I am not going to say my age, even though I look good for my age. Which is another clue as to just how advanced I am.
Years ago I met this little old lady who was homeless and living in her car. She was a petite Polish lady--a very spry 76 years. Her name was Kristina. I helped her out with some car repairs and while we waited for the work to be done we grabbed lunch at a nearby diner. She said when she looks in the mirror who wonders who that old person looking back her is. She said she felt like that young, happy 20-something woman she used to be and still feels like inside.
I know what she means. My age and how I feel can't be reconciled in the number.
Someone once told me that someone famous asked: what would you do if you didn't know what your age was. Maybe it was Satchel Paige, maybe not. But the point is not to get hung up on the number.
My birthday challenge for this year is to practice patience and all that it implies in all aspect of my life.
I am grateful for the years and the experie
Years ago I met this little old lady who was homeless and living in her car. She was a petite Polish lady--a very spry 76 years. Her name was Kristina. I helped her out with some car repairs and while we waited for the work to be done we grabbed lunch at a nearby diner. She said when she looks in the mirror who wonders who that old person looking back her is. She said she felt like that young, happy 20-something woman she used to be and still feels like inside.
I know what she means. My age and how I feel can't be reconciled in the number.
Someone once told me that someone famous asked: what would you do if you didn't know what your age was. Maybe it was Satchel Paige, maybe not. But the point is not to get hung up on the number.
My birthday challenge for this year is to practice patience and all that it implies in all aspect of my life.
I am grateful for the years and the experie
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Thanks for the Pilgrims
Face it America, we have become a profligate nation, full of self-indulgent, self-absorbed, unreflective, religiously intolerant fatties! I hope the Pilgrims, God rest their souls, are turning over in their graves at what they have wrought. The spirit of their journey to Plymouth Rock undoubtedly gave to this nation and all those who fell upon her shores--either by choice or chains--a sense of creative innovation and self-reinvention. For years, these traits, have served America well, if not so much her native peoples. But "too much of a good thing is good for nothing." As we spread out from Plymouth Rock, cutting, burning, slashing and paving our way into a post-industrial-modern-digital future, we became blinded and bloated by our prosperity. We shed temperance and good sense for continuous re-invention and progress. Now we stand at the tipping point of self-destruction. We have laid the foundation for an unsustainable lifestyle and an unliveable environment. Our future, like our vast oceans now smothered by indispensable and indestructible plastic, is being choked by the output our own history and behaviour. In our race to the future, we failed to see how we were undoing its very foundation today.
So on this Thanksgiving day, I think about how those Indians saved those Pilgrims from starvation and certain death. And what did those Pilgrims and their offspring do to return the favour? Just look at what we've done to this planet and you will have your answer.
So on this Thanksgiving day, I think about how those Indians saved those Pilgrims from starvation and certain death. And what did those Pilgrims and their offspring do to return the favour? Just look at what we've done to this planet and you will have your answer.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Rhymes with Mountain & Fountain
It's Plantain. It's delicious. Fried, baked, boiled, broiled, mashed or microwaved.
It's NOT a banana, people! And for God's sake and mine, please learn how to say it right. It's not Plan-Tayn. Do you go around saying "what a beautiful Foun-tayn? sheesh!
If you want that nice sweet plantain taste, you are going to have to let the skin turn black. the blacker the better. I know in the USA where spots on fruits or fruits with dark skin tends to turn folks off, this is hard to take. But if you want nice sweet plantains you are gonna have to let it get dark. It always tripped me out that Americans eat bananas when there are still green streaks on the peel. I wonder who sold you that bill of goods? A nice full flavoured banana, like a plantain needs to have the sugars develop and that means getting a few brown spots, and black blotches for the plaintains. Of course you can twice-fry a green plantain--yummy with salt. Slice them thin or thick (smash them between frying). But if you want to enjoy them in their full sugar flavour, you gotta get past this perfect waxy store fruit look. Get the dark, spotty blotchy plantains. I can tell when a fried plantain is going to be sweet, just by looking. If the color is pale yellow and doesn't have a nice caramel glaze, you are going to have a mouthful of starchy yuck. So many people think they know what plaintains (rhymes with mountains) are supposed to taste like but until you get yourself some made by someone who's not afraid of dark skinned fruit, you are sadly mistaken.
It's NOT a banana, people! And for God's sake and mine, please learn how to say it right. It's not Plan-Tayn. Do you go around saying "what a beautiful Foun-tayn? sheesh!
If you want that nice sweet plantain taste, you are going to have to let the skin turn black. the blacker the better. I know in the USA where spots on fruits or fruits with dark skin tends to turn folks off, this is hard to take. But if you want nice sweet plantains you are gonna have to let it get dark. It always tripped me out that Americans eat bananas when there are still green streaks on the peel. I wonder who sold you that bill of goods? A nice full flavoured banana, like a plantain needs to have the sugars develop and that means getting a few brown spots, and black blotches for the plaintains. Of course you can twice-fry a green plantain--yummy with salt. Slice them thin or thick (smash them between frying). But if you want to enjoy them in their full sugar flavour, you gotta get past this perfect waxy store fruit look. Get the dark, spotty blotchy plantains. I can tell when a fried plantain is going to be sweet, just by looking. If the color is pale yellow and doesn't have a nice caramel glaze, you are going to have a mouthful of starchy yuck. So many people think they know what plaintains (rhymes with mountains) are supposed to taste like but until you get yourself some made by someone who's not afraid of dark skinned fruit, you are sadly mistaken.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Electronic Birth Contol
My petite pregger pal is clearly trying to keep me from blithely wandering into motherhood. This one scared the Uterus out of me. She sent this email to a select group of her friends. Consider it "electronic birth control."
Hi girls, So I am going to be one of those women that tells it to my dearest friends straight up. This way you are in for NO surprises when this happens. Sorry this is early in the morning, so don’t read on an empty stomach.When I envision a smiling baby it does help to cheer me up..i get there by trying to chat OM. .it actually works for about 3 mins, and then I have to pee..which takes about 10mins to do (by the time I heave my body up). It’s bad enough that the baby is SO on top of my bladder that I have to pee frequently, but I got diagnosed with another bladder infection. So, during the 3 sec intervals of my life when I’m actually NOT peeing, I am now spending it feeling like I have to pee, along with all the fun burning as well. Add 2 more horse pills to my daily 7 pills, and I’m at a total of 9 pills..half of which you take with food, the other half you take 2hours after food. Huh? It’s all very confusing and I’m convinced I’m going to have a jello baby. My morning always starts off with a bloody nose, and last night ended with me on the floor, waiting for indigestion to pass. Indigestion! Me! Ms Whole grain, green veggie, 3 pieces of fruit a day! I avg about 3-4 hours of sleep, and I get sooooooo happy when it happens. Usually the sciatica, groin, contractions, or pee wakes me up. [my hubby] has given up completing his repeated question “ Honey, are you okay?”…now he just shortens it when he hears me move, “Hon?” then…Snore.
And here’s the bestest part…at week 34 (where I am)…they encourage you start massaging your perineum. Perineum you say? Oh, the fun area right at the end of your vagina and btwn your anus..the area that RIPS or TEARS when you are having a kid shoot out of you. Massaging is a misnomer. You are supposed to lay 2 fingers down on the ring of the perineum and push back and forth so it stretches. imagine a U shape and your fingers are at the round part of the U and you are to increase the pressure there for a couple of minutes, daily, for the following weeks till labor. This is all to avoid the dreaded episiotomy…you know, when the dr has to sew you up because you ripped at that special part. The theory is (as many midwives and drs attest) that a bit of pain each day will help keep the episiotomy at bay. ...To further humiliate yourself, you must remember that you can not see past your belly at this point, so never mind finding your perineum on your own. This is when I truly do envy long armed women.Anyway, because of my bladder infection and (let’s not forgetting contracting uterus), I am not to do the perineum massage yet. Basically nothing but toilet paper is allowed near my parts at this delicate time. I’ve been getting contractions since week 29..but the ones this week have been really strong. The right side of my belly becomes completely raised, totally lopsided in sight and feel. It’s really trippy..and the insides tighten up, exactly like a menstrual cramp but you can SEE it as well as feel it. Some contractions have lasted about 3-4 mins. Dr says it’s ok as long as I don’t get 5 qty in an hour.. Keep in mind, all the above is completely individual to me.. I mean, I had 2 great trimesters, and some women have 180 days of vomiting..so it’s all about perspective. And yes, I’ve had to pee for real and for fake, like 18 times while writing this. I know I got myself into this and I’m totally happy about the baby..I don’t want the baby to come out early..but I so want the pregnancy to end. Please remember to guilt the baby for me..please!
Hi girls, So I am going to be one of those women that tells it to my dearest friends straight up. This way you are in for NO surprises when this happens. Sorry this is early in the morning, so don’t read on an empty stomach.When I envision a smiling baby it does help to cheer me up..i get there by trying to chat OM. .it actually works for about 3 mins, and then I have to pee..which takes about 10mins to do (by the time I heave my body up). It’s bad enough that the baby is SO on top of my bladder that I have to pee frequently, but I got diagnosed with another bladder infection. So, during the 3 sec intervals of my life when I’m actually NOT peeing, I am now spending it feeling like I have to pee, along with all the fun burning as well. Add 2 more horse pills to my daily 7 pills, and I’m at a total of 9 pills..half of which you take with food, the other half you take 2hours after food. Huh? It’s all very confusing and I’m convinced I’m going to have a jello baby. My morning always starts off with a bloody nose, and last night ended with me on the floor, waiting for indigestion to pass. Indigestion! Me! Ms Whole grain, green veggie, 3 pieces of fruit a day! I avg about 3-4 hours of sleep, and I get sooooooo happy when it happens. Usually the sciatica, groin, contractions, or pee wakes me up. [my hubby] has given up completing his repeated question “ Honey, are you okay?”…now he just shortens it when he hears me move, “Hon?” then…Snore.
And here’s the bestest part…at week 34 (where I am)…they encourage you start massaging your perineum. Perineum you say? Oh, the fun area right at the end of your vagina and btwn your anus..the area that RIPS or TEARS when you are having a kid shoot out of you. Massaging is a misnomer. You are supposed to lay 2 fingers down on the ring of the perineum and push back and forth so it stretches. imagine a U shape and your fingers are at the round part of the U and you are to increase the pressure there for a couple of minutes, daily, for the following weeks till labor. This is all to avoid the dreaded episiotomy…you know, when the dr has to sew you up because you ripped at that special part. The theory is (as many midwives and drs attest) that a bit of pain each day will help keep the episiotomy at bay. ...To further humiliate yourself, you must remember that you can not see past your belly at this point, so never mind finding your perineum on your own. This is when I truly do envy long armed women.Anyway, because of my bladder infection and (let’s not forgetting contracting uterus), I am not to do the perineum massage yet. Basically nothing but toilet paper is allowed near my parts at this delicate time. I’ve been getting contractions since week 29..but the ones this week have been really strong. The right side of my belly becomes completely raised, totally lopsided in sight and feel. It’s really trippy..and the insides tighten up, exactly like a menstrual cramp but you can SEE it as well as feel it. Some contractions have lasted about 3-4 mins. Dr says it’s ok as long as I don’t get 5 qty in an hour.. Keep in mind, all the above is completely individual to me.. I mean, I had 2 great trimesters, and some women have 180 days of vomiting..so it’s all about perspective. And yes, I’ve had to pee for real and for fake, like 18 times while writing this. I know I got myself into this and I’m totally happy about the baby..I don’t want the baby to come out early..but I so want the pregnancy to end. Please remember to guilt the baby for me..please!
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