Sukiyaki for supper

Tonight, we invited a Chinese student for Christmas Day supper. She's not a Christian, which is not to say, of course, that she's unchristian. From her hometown across the bay from Shanghai, the occasion of the holiday is enjoyed as more of a chance to enjoy time with family and join those silly Engrish in a celebration.

I asked her what religion she professes, and she replied her heritage is Buddhism as those from many Far Eastern (or Near Western) traditional cultures. I considered for a second that some might 'accuse' her of being an atheist, or even pagan. Those words, like agnostic are used in the context and usually insulting manner by those that call themselves Christian as a 'fault' comparatively by those that aspire to call their ownselves Christian, quite unfairly to those that choose to believe in another religion.

My faith is something in my heart not in whether I take Communion as a wafer, or a piece of bread, or a Triscuit, but in my belief system a transubstantiation to the Body and Blood, not rituals but acceptance of God’s love within me and my life and can not be taken away by deliberately changing my belief as a result of someone elses' persuasive abilities.

I wonder at the evangelization goal of Christians for those that already passionately believe what they believe. It is unfortunate many Christians believe that those not of a particular religion nor choosing a Christian affiliation, might consider other cultures primitive, equating their own Christianity as the highest form and most civilized of religious belief systems. Christmas is a good time to reconsider ones' personal beliefs.

I choose to continue to believe what I've believed from my childhood upbringing, perhaps, as testament to pragmatism, or refusal to update confirmation in early adolescence. I've come to realize that the church of my childhood has many fundamental beliefs reflecting rational utilization of universal truths. And, much of the religion builds on dogma expressed in symbolic concepts and terminology which underlies an intent of speaking for all across the spectrum as a set of catholic beliefs.

I could no more deny their entirety as deny my heritage, than think that wishing is a rational way to do business. It might make things easier if we were all to believe Jesus Christ as the son of God came to lead and live with us, but that is an acceptable Western tradition, no greater or lesser than any other belief system that advocates for equality, order, respect, a time before and afterwards, and striving to live for a higher purpose.

Tonight, we had sukiyaki for supper. Not Chinese cuisine, but a pleasant alternative. From the night before, slivers of beef had been marinating in brown sugar and shoyu. Cubed tofu and konnyaku, shirataki strands, sliced bamboo shoots and mushrooms awaited the deft hand of a chef, and the hokusai (or napa) was set out for my husband to cut when he cooked the meal. I remembered the taste of gobo root other times we'd prepared the dish, so bought 6-7 stalks, but realized on the fresh smell when peeling it that we only needed a half a store-bought root cut into matchstick pieces for flavor.

While watching a movie set up on the dining table, my husband cooked a meal in the wok on the electric wire, cabbage leaves overflowing the top as the liquid of it and the other vegetables were released in a flavorful blend at the bottom the wok. Sukiyaki served in bowls over hot steamed rice and the 'soup' ladled in. It was delicious. Mango ice cream and a strawberry for dessert. Three color Jell-O of green lime, vanilla puddington, and red raspberry layer on the top. Our Chinese friend learned to cook a very simple Japanese dish, and how to make gingerbread cookies for a traditional holiday custom.

Older son showed a movie about a train trip from Shanghai to Tibet on Discovery Channel which was quite impressive because of the landscape the route traveled. It seemed as if passenger could look out their windows to see Denali within shouting range passing by on the way from south to north, or say, observe antelope and moose of northern Colorado on a train trip paralleling the Trail Road to the Snowies.

So, these pseudonyms I've used altogether might give an idea of who I am in the way of Shakespeare with his analogy to a rose; opinionated, for sure. Coming up with a false name is as creative an exercise as anything else possible for an older person who hasn't time to devote to writing poetry, nor wherewithal to retire and reinvent oneself as a composer of music. If I were to retire now, I doubt at age 65 --in 13 years, I would be anywhere close to approaching the musical genius of Felix Mendelssohn, a child prodigy who took less than 15 years to develop expertise in providing outward musical expression of his innermost inspirational muse. His sister Fanny didn't take too long, either. Of course, Wolfie took less time than F. M-Bartholdy. There's no accounting for true genius. One cannot expect that the idea of even a sniggle of genius will come into play after 50 years of 'life experience', without the fresh egotism, fortitude and invincibility of a child.

One of a favorite anonym used is Mabel LeBeau; first at age 10 or 11 years old, just to have a nom de plume for an alternate identity. Alternate identities such as virtual identities have evolved into an entirely different concept than that of my childish imagination. At the time, Mabel was an old-fashioned name that sounded grown-up and mature, and easy to roll off the tongue. Unfortunately, over the years it's evolved into a allonym not easy for me to look at without any degree of irritation at the obfuscation it engenders, entirely devoid of any hint its user attempts to hide a flibbertigibbet personality.

Perhaps, if Mabel was spelled Mable, Mabyl, Maebelle, Mabol, Mabyll, or even Maybo, the name mightd seem less plain and utilitarian. However, the alternate spellings would probably throw off a spurt of enthusiasm every time I saw it in my mind, distractingly to refocus on what a person with the name 'Mabol' could stand for. It's far easier to work with black and white persona, when trying to fit into the image of Mabel rather than Mabo, to imagine a person named Mabel wearing plain blouses or polo shirts of polyester, Tencel(R), rayon, or poplin with 3/4 length sleeves, worsted wool skirts, and cotton underwear or that the opposite, 'anti-Mabel' prefers traveling to faraway places wearing paisley silk shawls, and simple chartreuse Ponte Di Roma dresses and leather heeled mules.

LeBeau is a throwback to a French Canadian heritage. With a meaning 'the beautiful' in French, it's more a nod to the commonality of anglicized 'Bo' as a surname in cajun country, an ancestry one cannot deny even as it's never been researched or specifically developed.

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.