Sunday, December 7, 2008

Breakfast on Pearl Harbor Day

Come on, said Scott. I wanna show you something.

Wait a sec, I said. I've gotta put on my full regalia, meaning sox and clogs and warm sweat shirt.

We went out my side door which leads directly to our now-frozen vegetable garden. The sun had just come up & shone on the thin dusting of snow. I glanced across the street at their Christmas ornaments spread across the lawn. The huge white reindeer and sleigh look so out of place in the daylight.

Don't tell me where they are, I said to Scott. Let me find them myself.

I stared down at our summer veggie garden. It was still green. Would the winter turn it brown? I suppose.

All right, give me a hint, I said. Where are they?

In the middle he said, pointing.

Oh my God! I don't believe it. They're beautiful!

Pointing toward the sky were 2 blooms of broccoli flowerets. So this is how they grew. Smack on the end of the thick stalk, surrounded by leaves.

I'll put it in our breakfast omelette, I said, as Scott picked the only 2 flowerets that made it. We'd planted them the end of June. They were tiny plants that grew and grew but never produced a thing except leaves. What went wrong? The soil? Crowded out by too many tomatoes? Frightened off by the menagerie of birds & animals who came to stare but couldn't get in our tightly-fenced garden.

This is delicious, I said, eating a tiny bite. I'll go make breakfast now.

I always use 5 eggs. Sautee the onions first, then put in very thin strips of the broc, cover with the eggs & when eggs are set, add grated cheese.

It was spectacular. I served it with left-over fennel & celery chunks.

We'd gotten up at 8 and went right into Movie Mode. From the library I checked out Salaam Bombay, dedicated to all the children living on the streets of Bombay. Amazing how the human being adapts. Ya know how they say dying children find a maturity & a philosophy as if they were adults? Same here with these little kids, as young as four, who for various reasons are separated from their families. They form new bonds on the streets - whether Bombay or Rio - our world has gotten so huge and traveled so far from our tribes and clans - but instinct keeps our herd-natured species depending on one another. Salaam India is a good introduction to this unknown world of chance, cruelty, violence, lost dreams and the love that sustains its survivors and its losers alike.

Contrast this world to the bar mitzvah I went to yesterday. All was pomp and jewels and the gilded Torah as I sat in the freezing chapel in Lafayette Hill, PA, rubbing my legs to get warm. Rob couldn't find a seat so he waited out in the hall. The bar mitzvah boy chanted in a sweet high voice.

Rob and I got there quite late. He's a man of the world so he told me to go check my coat, which I did. Then we took a brief tour of the temple. I've been to many temples. Many many temples. Of all the ones I've been to - and this includes one with a dirt-floor in one of the Caribbean islands - this was the dullest. I mean, if you wanted to steal one item - and I mean only one - you'd give up your trade.

After my people finished davening, I left the chapel and caroused in the hallways with Rob. We were waiting until the group moved en masse to the party in Manyunk. We sat over by the windows.... guess what? I so can't stand the environment that I'm gonna move us, Dear Reader, directly into Rob's car.

As a man about town, Rob knows the entire google map of the area. We headed toward Manyunk but first we passed by his new condo, located in his new town of Conshohocken. It's a blue collar town, he said. Ah yes, I said, noting it looked like one of John Updike's towns in his Rabbit Run series. Updike created such luminous descriptions of these dying decrepit towns that even though I read these books 30 yrs ago, they still remain with me.

We were very high up on an expressway. We had a great view. I love being a passenger. Rob is a mellow driver. I don't have to worry about him trying to 'beat' other drivers or weaving in and out lanes.

He suggested I check my warm coat at the restaurant. I felt vulnerable without it cuz I didn't know anyone. People were chatting away. Rob and I felt like outsiders. The worst thing to do when you feel like an outside is to ONLY talk to the person you came with. That is cowardly & despicable. Rob, I said, I'm gonna find some nice people for us to talk to.

There was an attractive couple who weren't talking to anyone. They were sitting alone for about 7 minutes. I inched toward them. You wait for them to meet your eye. They refused. Obviously they found us despicable.

I turned on my heel and saw a very friendly looking man. Nice to see you, I said, going over to him with my glass of red wine & shitake mushroom or derve, my napkin, & my 2 hands.

I'm Eugene, he said.

Eugene, Oregon? I said.

(Not really.) But that's how we worked our way into feeling like we ALMOST deserved to be invited to the party.

We happened to sit at Table Number One with the hosts. I was introduced as her closest friend.
Her mother said to me, There's lots of business for you here, Ruth, lots of bipolar people.

Frankly, I didn't know what she was talking about. That's how people think of me - Bipolar. Ooch! What an ugly word. I just stared at it. As you know, or know NOW, I much prefer manic depression. Ya know what? When I was first diagnosed, I almost levitated out of my chair. It was such a shock. Plus I thought only the elite suffered from it. I sure proved that diagnosis wrong.

But let me tell you something. It IS a diagnosis to be proud of, as long as you don't let it kill you.

Rob and I did a little dancing. Scott said he looked like a doctor in his fancy suit and tie and his soft hands when they shook hands. I'll have to tell that to Rob. So, after this one song by the Temptations is done, I said to Rob, ready to go?

He eagerly said Yes. It was a strain for the 2 of us to think of nice things to say to people. I get paid for that at New Directions & I don't like to do it on my days off. We walked out into the fresh crisp air & waited for the valet to bring us his car.

Interesting, I said to Rob, that the coat check girl remembered my coat & I didn't have to show her my ticket.

She was good, said Rob.

Yeah, I'm thinkin she remembered cuz she thought I was such an idiot, a total outsider, a misfit.

Hmmm, said Rob. I was thinking just the opposite. That she remembered you b/c you're such a distinguished individual.

I just laughed & blew my nose in my Dunkin Donuts napkin.