5 February Monday

   In these lean days of rainy mid-winter, I open the freezer. What treasure from the past will become my dinner tonight? What a great thing, what an act of love that past me has bestowed on present me! First, a container of split-pea soup with thick red shreds of ham that I made probably in July when it’s really cold here. Then, minestrone from the summer with seasonal veggies and the wonderful chicken stock. When reheated, they are as fresh and scrumptious as they day they were made. Next, a pantry raid.

   OK, pantry raided. The above paragraph was written weeks ago, in the before time. See, since I’ve been back from my NYC trip, life has been lifeing, sometimes against my plans. The past makes the present indeed. In the first weeks of 2024, several teacher, mentor, and inspiration figures in my life died. They were long-lived, had done their work, carried their bales, and earned their rest. It is the good and natural movement. When someone from the past that I have not talked to for many years dies, I suddenly find myself recalling memories I hadn’t remembered having. It’s like the freezer of my mind. I open it up, and there they are, the encouraging words from long ago, ready to be thawed out at just the moment I need them, ready to be comforted and fed. It is sad and wonderful and all the things that are what life are. Who would you be without your people that made you who you are? Who would you be? You and I are the collection of the little bits of them that stuck to us, to our personalities and made us a little more ourselves. Like sesame seeds stick to bagels.

   

From the pantry-salt, yeast, flour, sesame seeds. Then

In addition to the death going around, atmospheric rivers. The atmospheric river Styx, if you will. Rain, rain, pouring down. What then to do but bake? Or, in the case of bagels, boiled then baked. Certainly wonderful, a great texture. Dense and chewy inside, light and crisp on the outside. And so easy, too easy. I would dare say the best bagel I’ve had on the West Coast. When it wasn’t raining, it was this:

Golden Gate Park on a late Monday morning, mid-winter. Between deluge and torrent.

  Life is good, and I am told, short, though my life so far has been well paced if I say so. Keep a’cooking, keep a’goin, and thanks thanks thanks to the good ole world for the funny people, and don’t forget to tell their jokes.