Lunch after Thanksgiving Dinner

I announced to my husband at dinner I'd volunteered our family to help serve the evening meal at the local homeless shelter Friday after Thanksgiving, after attending the monthly meeting of the health concerns advisory group at our church.

Members of the group are mostly nurses from different practice areas such as family, mental, hospice, nursing instruction, and public health. There's a pharmacist, hospital administrator, and a retired high school business teacher, too, but membership is open and could potentially include the whole parish, as everyone has health concerns.

Last year, before more immediate and urgent matters pushed one of our programs to the back burner, we were preparing an after Mass program on Advanced Directives, to better inform those entering the hospital to consider getting their home and decisions in order to facilitate others' assistance in asserting an individual's choices in the matter, long before the past governor of Alaska announced that this type of discussion about decisions ahead of time was considered part of a Death Panel. In the past, our group sponsored the parish health fair, and helped promote a Lenten Pilgrimage focusing on wholesome sacrifice and pursuit of healthful activities in anticipation of Easter, daily reading and meditation, family and social fun, daily exercise, etc., sort of a month-long exposure to a more homemade relaxed retreat and Way of Jesus.

For the most part, though, over the past couple years only a few regulars show up for the six meetings each year, so our role right now has evolved to help navigate the filling in of health-related niches that other ministries might need assistance such as providing someone in charge of the AED at the parish picnic.

This year we'll work with the health department to host a flu shot clinic on the college campus, as our students of all parishioners would probably be the most reluctant to participate. From my vantage point, however, at my job out of the county we ordered our supply early last year, and the bulk of it was distributed and administered even before the official 'flu season' began at the beginning of October. It was quite an about-face from previous years when there was leftover drug to outdate in the spring.

One concern of my director is that the giving the shots so early might require a second short by the time the regular flu shows up in February and March. I relented and got my first flu shot, ever, and told our facility's employee health nurse that it was her doing if I got the flu and died. I figured that with so much illness and virulence of viruses, I'd better build up some resistance to something before the Christmas holidays and other parts of deep winter. One year when my homelife was terribly fraught with stress and marked by lack of sleep, in my rundown state I contracted a virus which required a year of thrice weekly injections from which my endocrinologist specializing in hepatology subsequently pronounced I was 'cured'. However, it was quite a blow to be whacked by illness after enjoying a strong constitution for many years. And, so my reasoning for finally consenting to a flu shot is that a mini-flu now while I'm relatively healthy for resistance for the future, so that I remain on the front lines for when the virus makes its full presence felt.

In any case, the flu shot is over and done with. It hurt for a week or so. I don't know why, and can only think it has to do with the deep I.M. administration which helps provide prolonged depot effect. Since our area of the country received the first shipments of free H1N2 vaccination, and has started its administration I'll probably get one of those, too, as I'm in a health risk group, and the illness has struck the area.

One of the participants at out church health concerns advisory group mentioned there was a spot still open to help serve a meal after Thanksgiving Day. Folks from churches in the area take turns helping prepare and serving a nutritious meal at the city homeless shelter throughout the year. Our parish's turn comes up on the day after Thanksgiving, after Christmas, and one day in spring and late summer.

The last one I helped out was a menu of bean soup, carrot sticks, and baked cheese sandwiches. In a large soup pot, we mixed cans of prepared spicy southwestern bean soup, then added canned cooked beans, petite tomatoes and other vegetables. I was working that night so just helped with preparation The time before that we assembled and served bacon, lettuce and tomato on mayo sandwiches and fresh vegetables, for a menu suggested by a member whose affiliation with the health cabinet was not in nutrition. We had guests come back for seconds and thirds. I haven't eaten real mayo for ten years, as my digestive system can't stand it, nor the bacon, however cooking smells with its preparation were quite appetizing.

The meal organizers have directed that it must be very simple, as the intent is to provide nourishment, as well as motivation to persist in pursuit of self-care measures to find more permanent housing as well as value of home-prepared meals. So, no desserts or second course, and the drink is water. Rarely, families are involved in staying overnight, but if there were children, they would have fruits and milk.

One of the member's family has a tradition of serving meals to the homeless on Boxing Day as a tradition, special soup and bread, and all. So, she picked up that day for herself and family to prepare the church contribution.

I thought about the day after Thanksgiving still open as a day to serve, then thought about what my family's tradition consists and whether there might be conflicting plans. My family's traditions at Thanksgiving do not exist. At this time of year with both my mother's and husband's birthdays one day apart and such similar personalities that they do not get along with each other at all so poignantly that it turns into a shouting match spanning thousands of miles. Thanksgiving at my home sometimes turns out to be an anti-American political diatribe against people like my family portrayed as ugly Americans persecuting American Indians.

Sometimes, on Thanksgiving the arguments and slamming doors, and family members leaving for the rest of the day before the meal is served results in no one in attendance. I generally am conflicted with stomach cramps all day, and ask my boss to work that day. I've usually had to walk on eggshells for the week leading up to the holiday, then play the cards carefully and close if want to roast a turkey. The rest of the fixin's I've perfected to be prepared at a moment's notice. in case someone has a sudden change of heart and the game's on again.

One year we visited a state park to observe the Woodland Indians Mounds with a turkey sandwich on cranberry bread. I think McDonald's served pumpkin shakes for drive-thru dining. Another year, we all sat together for a meal that featured grilled salmon, baked potatoes, spinach salad and pumpkin pie.

One year we had sukiyaki and rice. Traditional sukiyaki is a group meal served in a heated electric skillet on the tablet so that pre-cut ingredients such as green onions, and Chinese cabbages, and yam threads can be added to a marinated meat broth, then scooped to be served over fresh bowls of rice. The 'Sukiyaki Song' has as much significance to this meal as if 'Rambling Rose' was entitled 'Beef Stew'. The Japanese song is very, very sad, especially if recalling the circumstances that made it the top J-POP song to ever hit the U.S. charts. The young singer, Kyu-chan, was a popular children's entertainer before a singing career. He was known as a plucky cheerful performer for kids always providing a positive and happy mien despite the fact that as one of the youngest in his large family (Kyu means 'nine' as he was child number 9) he was relied on to provide a sense of stability with his reliable and gifted showmanship.

His story hit his country's nerve with the knowledge that he continued to sing with boyish good cheer despite a very hard life in a large family right after atomic bombings and continued strafing. While a teen, he had a chance to perform in a national talent show which he had long prepared. YouTube captured the performance as one of the most heartwrenchingly electric public singing performances ever viewed. The song content not only is very sad and speaks of hardship, but despite nearly breaking down several times, he continues to its finish, and only afterward is it reveals Kyu Sakamoto has just come from his mother's deathbed to perform.

One year younger son and I invited a lonely friend to a meal served at the International Center. Last year, younger son was mad at the world and refused to come out of his room, when invited to drive to dear auntie's convent up north. We brought the family dog and she amused the sisters and behaved very well. My sister is always a joy to be with, and so it turned out to be a very nice time, though uneasy at the thought that younger son was on the internet all day in his teacups.

So, I volunteered for my family to help prepare and serve a meal at the homeless shelter the day after Thanksgiving. Something simple, especially if the family tide is out for the day and I end up doing all the cooking, for 20 people or so. It has to be something easy to transport, serve, and clean up.

I've thought of three ideas. One, a sweet potato casserole and Waldorf salad, or two, a sort of Beef Bowl on rice, like sukiyaki at Thanksgiving, again. Marinated strips of top round, and cooked in a broth of soy sauce and dried tuna fish shavings, and with strips of gobo root, bamboo shoots, and yam threads, slivers of carrot (non-traditional), tofu cubes, and napa. On a cold, damp autumn evening it sounds delicious. A third suggestion is mild spiced vegetable and chicken curry from the prepackaged roux at Vermont House or S & B. The third suggestion would be the easiest with precooked chickent, baby carrots, potato cubes, with apple and green pepper chunks added at the last minutes of cooking served with rice.

Well, no matter what kind of Thanksgiving meal, this year, the day after Thanksgiving should be a happy celebration. Except for the house, we could all be homeless at any instant. And, even, some of us in our homes are 'home' less. We can keep Thanksgiving in our heart in recalling the many blessings we've been given.

There's snow in the Rockies; Rocky Top (TN) another day

Setting the alarm a little earlier helped immensely this Sunday morning. Normally, I always wake a few minutes before the alarm, always, no matter what the time it's set to ring. (This may be due to the fact that I'm a light sleeper, that I can hear the dog member of the family rustling in her box, or possibly I have some kind of 'internal clock' set for the prevailing time zone. I don't recall having too much trouble adjusting when our part of the state went from no daylight savings time which meant Central Time in the summer, and Eastern in the winter, or was it vice versa? Anyway, I still call ahead when I have shifts to work in the northern parts of the state or across the state line westerly to ensure I'll have that extra hour to sleep in after figuring out Mapquest travel time and the beginning of a shift. When working the east side of the state, I call to verify the time to avoid showing up an hour late! Imagining angry customer patients cursing and beating down the gate just sends a shiver of dread. But it's not the customers that I'm afraid of...the co-workers glaring with dagger eyes until we catch up with all complaints--which sometimes is not at all! Not that I have been late, but sometimes when I come in and I'm expected to know the very unfriendly computers or read the handwriting of every Tom, Dick and Harry, or arbitrate with an insurance company why someone cannot get something at such and such time for this or that price, and I know nothing, it's a shear battle of will to not turn tail and run at the first opportunity.)

I'm the only one working in my department when scheduled on Sunday mornings, so I did feel a certain amount of leeway (not having to be there a certain time to unlock the door for my co-worker, though she does have a key, though the state doesn't know, and what the state doesn't know, then we'll just count on having an official reason for being here at certain time, eh?)

When I talked with birthday Jims who lives farther north, he expressed surprise about sunrise and sunset times compared to where my family lives in the mideastern part of the country(relatively speaking--though many on the eastern seaboard might might say we're in the midwest. A childhood in the far north, and acute awareness of geographical location of various parts of this grand country, it's probably past time for a more realistic acceptance of updated colloquialisms, much along the line of accepting the logic of widely adopting the metric system--However, we sometimes get our panties in a wad over the most provincial kinds of issues!) Jims was wondering what time it starts to get dark here and when the sun comes up. Of course, it's much different than the land of youth, nearly 20 hours of daylight at summer's height, and sunrise mid-morning in winter. Our siblings participated in marathons running up (and down) the sides of mountains at midnight. Fancy having to wait until 23:00 to see 4th of Juy fireworks off Fire Island in the inlet! Jims lives at a somewhat of a similar latitude than when we were kids, but my family is much farther south. Here, we grow pumpkins, and squash, and corn, for Pete's sake! Summer warmth, along the westward oceanside and Jimsy can grow chestnuts, peaches and apples. But, when we were kids, despite the actual length of summer sunlight, it was not warm enough for more than a potato and cabbage patch (cabbage leaves to cover your head), peas, and zucchini, and wild berries.

So, in rising earlier this morning, I had time to post e-mails to family members, 'where's your bike? I didn't see it on the porch when I got up this morning' and 'drop by Monday night for curry, if you're so inclined', and leave a postcard at younger son's college dorm, as well as stop by the side of the road for photos of the magnificent sunrise at 08:00.

And, so it was; beautiful and poignantly brief, but evolving into daylight before my eyes. Pink, greyish purple (from impending stormy action this afternoon--red sky at morning sailor take warning), pure golden rays through the clouds, the special quality of early sunlight highlighting the sharply outlined cornstalks in a farmer's field. (It's a very inexpensive digital and details may not show up, but capturing images helps to recall the clarity of vision I felt this morning out of my own retinal photoreceptors.)

I was 4 minutes late, a rarity, usually 15-20 minutes earlier than expected when I have my own choice in the matter (a situation sometimes occurring when 'other' people are involved in decisions about fixing breakfast of tea and toast or cinnamon rolls and scrambled eggs, ensuring someone is up in time for something, or the dog member has an inclination to dilly-dally, etc. I know, I know, I should always anticipate those issues and get up even earlier, no more of this timing to the minute lifestyle I've maintained since age 14 (which used to drive my mother bonkers when everyone was in the vehicle ready to leave for 08:00 Mass --we always got there at least 15 minutes before the service (I remember arriving so early to other events with my family under the unwavering guidance of Mother that we sometimes had to help set up for the event--arrange chairs, etc. but I was still usually still finishing with a shower, when everyone else was ready to leave--always arriving with wet hair). So, this morning, I figured that since I was the only one there, I'd even stop for coffee in the cafeteria before arriving to the department and start the morning's work with some real bright-eyed bushytail!

When I got to the workstation, washing my hands at the sink before starting work, I looked out of the window at the gas station across the street (it's an endless source of amusement to watch daily, hourly gas price updates--actually a little amazement thrown in considering how earlier in presidential primary campaigns last year one or two candidates were 'guaranteeing that they could do something about setting the prices--like a Queen or King). It was already yellowy sun streaming from the east; I felt blessed in some way that I'd been able to take time to record a gorgeous mid-October sunrise on the way in to work this weekend. A delusion or whether the camera recorded what I saw in my mind's eye, we'll see later at the photo shop, but for now... get back to work! The surgery nurse has come by to restock her emergency cart for two STAT D & Cs and a Caesarean-section. They've been busy, and it's time for me to finish, too.