Oh No She Didn't

Have you ever had a moment, after a short (or long) span of the woe-is-me's, when you got gently smacked in the back of the head - back to the realization of how blessed you are?  I know you have. Who hasn't? Well I'm sporting a furrowed-brow smirk smile right now because I've just had a moment like that.  In a moment when my review of an upcoming work presentation is on a continuous loop; I'm hating that I missed an opportunity to work out today like it was the day the weight loss fairy was making a Gold's Gym guest appearance; I'm tiring of all the distant drips my symphony of a house has to office and I reluctantly postponed this week's small dinner party with friends; I got my little nudge of a smack down while chomping on some Publix lemon-pepper chicken, mixed greens with raisins and candied pecans fighting for equal time with the Penfold's Chardonnay. Cut to the smack of a nudge

Two weeks ago Anna Stoessinger had her stomach removed. She's two years my senior. Two years my senior and a newly married foodie who loves her biological family and that which came by choice. She's eaten a lot better than I in the time we've had on this earth but she, like me, has a deep connection with food, linking memories and smiles, great trips and satisfied exhalations with the wonderful gift of cuisine. She blessed me with her story via the New York Times and I thank her for it. She spoke of trips with her mother where they became kindred spirits, comrades in their quest for escape through food. She conveyed the close bond she'd formed with her husband and the cherished backdrop food had been in their journey together. She painted a perfectly vivid picture of years spent with food a cherished companion. I'm certain her story also struck me because she was battling the very disease that snatched my maternal grandmother's life with what seemed to me little warning. But Anna was armed to fight. She's lost the battle in losing her stomach but was poised to win the war. She spoke of her journey to her last meal and personally I'd like to know every single thing she ate along the way in explicit detail. Who better to get food recommendations from than a foodie who's eating their way to their last heaping spoonful?  Anna also made clear that she knows she's extremely fortunate. Faced with the eventuality of my grandmother was undoubtedly the biggest threat of her whole experience. I'm happy for her that she was able to face that adversary with the weapons early detection and modern medicine.

How hard it can be to live like we're dying or like something or someone will be taken from us at any moment. We certainly know it to be true. I don't think even little ones and teenagers feel truly invincible anymore.  All I know is every time I'm introduced to someone like Anna or someone who is not blessed with a renewed chance at life puts me back on track, gives me that gentle smack on the back of the head, reminds me that I'm unarguably blessed beyond my measure and I should take that furrowed-brow half smile for all it's worth.

Side note: Anna Stoessinger's last meal with her stomach was eaten at Le Bernardin in Manhattan. Their site is currently closed for restoration and their taking reservations for September.

Read her words for yourself in The New York Times. And when you're done, think of a last meal and set a date in the near future to go out and get it. While you're at it, plan to look nice. It's good for you.

A quote I couldn't resist:

“Great restaurants are, of course, nothing but mouth-brothels.

There is no point in going to them if one intends to keep one’s belt buckled.” - Frederic Raphael

All Things Considered

You know what I love? National Public Radio. Now most people who know me well already know that fun fact but I'm feeling particularly fond it this evening. Trust me when I tell you you really should give it a try if you're not already a fan. Or should I say if you THINK you're not a fan. Every time I click that button that lands on Public Radio I just wait with eager anticipation of what I'll learn next. These are not mindless stories that pretend to be headline news. The ones we've heard so many times  that we begin to believe that they're actual of serious concern or at the very least mildly informative. The foolish drivel that no doubt kills my brain cells and lowers the IQ of my grandchildren not yet conceived.

I'm talking about the meaty, thoughtfully prepared pieces that provoke me to ponder, to wonder, to marvel, to THINK. The stories that lead me down paths and introduce me to people I otherwise would not know. People I might have otherwise looked upon with nonchalance or skepticism had I had an opportunity to look upon their faces before they spoke. Public Radio asks those questions I might ask if my world was quiet enough for me to think about point A, point B and many many points in between. And then it follows up that question with meaningful information. Imagine that. I know I know - there are other sources of information and thousands of books at my local library. But I guess that's part of the appeal of public radio to me. That wet, full, healthful well of information, point-of-view and personal experience after personal experience is right there at my finger tips every day - and it's free. Free I say!  I would say amazing but I really try to hold on to that one for something truly mindbogglingly. Like the universe.

Public Radio is pretty awesome though. Probably an equally overused word but hey I've got to give it something better than "neat". 

Give it a try - say maybe the show "This American Life" (from Public Radio Interntional via National Public Radio to us) Try to idle your attention span for just a bit, find a quiet spot (the car will do - it's kinda like holding yourself hostage) and check out Public Radio. If you become addicted - have no fear. The radio is our last free meal ... give or take a donation or two.