Grilled Cheese

We went on another health spree around here bout’ three years ago and it became evident to me that if starvation was to be avoided I had to master the art of the grilled cheese sandwich. I did some extensive reading on the subject from cookbooks that had a lot of butter in the recipes, most of which have been purged from the kitchen as we try to eat healthier by eating things that taste more like the packaging than the food.

I suppose the object here is to live as long as one can without actually enjoying the living. I will say this. Once you’ve had cardboard for about a month the taste buds seem to go away and then, when actual food is re-introduced to the tongue, it brings tears to the eyes as one remembers what one has been missing. But I digress. Over the course of the last three years I have made the grilled cheese in any number of ways, all of them bad for you but, very filling. I’ve discovered that the grilled cheese can be made from a variety of breads, most of which can be found at the “Pig” (short for Piggly Wiggly which, when you think about it, is a really weird name for a grocery store).

The bread ranges from white to black and if it stays on the counter for an extended period, you may see a little gray. Some breads have bird seed stuck to them but those can be picked off prior to grilling. When preparing the stove top for grilling I like to set the temperature to maximum heat. Sometimes this might be a number or perhaps a letter. Matters not, simply turning the knob all the way to the left solves the problem. Or, I might go just one click to the right. This ensures partial burning of the half stick of butter, (margarine if you’re a health nut) into the bread at maximum efficiency, leaving the bread slightly hardened and dark in color. This is especially helpful when using week old bread. The type of cheese used is not an issue as you’re only going to taste the bread and butter once the thing comes off the grill. I suggest using the cheese as filler.

The grilled cheese requires little equipment unless one wants to feel like a gourmet cook and if that’s the case, simply put on a hat when grilling and wear an apron with a slogan. “Bon appetite” comes to mind. That’s French for “I am starving”. The hat can set the mood for the sandwich. For instance, if you want to stay with the French motif, wear a beret and eat it in the afternoon with tea. Put a picture of the Eiffel Tower on the counter top and you’re dining in France. No decent grilled cheese presentation is complete without the added color of the dill pickle.  The pickle comes in rounds, slices and spears and can be placed strategically on the plate to illicit maximum saliva production. Be careful however to not allow the grilled cheese to become ensconced in the pickle juice for that would render it soggy and it is a rarity when one finds someone who likes soggy grilled cheese.

Slicing the sandwich into halves or quarters will make it easier for you to place it on the side of the plate and avoid the juice altogether. The quarter slice can be easily devoured in just two bites. If your health is still a concern, simply toss the sandwich in the nearest receptacle and eat the pickle. The rest of you may top off the meal with some chips and a coke and you have the perfect imperfect meal for the imperfect person. That would be me. Enjoy!

Look for the Helpers

They gave Linda Green a birthday party and what a party it was! But it had to be a surprise party so husband Willie took her to Macon for some shopping while the community of Wrightsville prepared the house and grounds for what was probably the social event of the year. Friends came from as far away as Atlanta and Columbus to celebrate with the family and pay their respects to a woman who has become a leader in this small southern town. Known by all as “Miss Linda” she works in a nursing home, helping the elderly with their problems while doing things in the community for anyone who needs a hand. “Miss Linda” is constantly involved in cooking for sit-ins, taking close to those in need and keeping an eye on neighbors who may need help getting to the store or with healthcare.

As I sat down to write about this wonderful woman, two bombs went off in Boston and my train of thought took a different turn, going from celebration to horror at the sight of people running, not in the Boston Marathon but from the noise or to help someone in need. And then I thought, we can all be Linda Greens in a way. Our wonderful country is loaded with people who will run to the aide of others when they feel the need. And so, as it does so many times when we have been faced with adversity, our media runs with the story and begin to focus as much on what the good people do as what the bad people have done.

The loss of an eight year old child is met with the heroics of a first responder saving another’s life. This is probably one of the things that make us different from those who hate. We find solace in the good our fellow citizens do and that makes us all feel better about whom we are and who we can become. Then we hear about Phillies’ outfielder, Ben Revere, who, having heard about the Boston tragedy, taped a message on his ball glove saying, “Pray for Boston”.

What a wonderful gesture from outfielder Revere that says so much about our country. We came together after 9/11 and we will come together again in the next few days as word of who was responsible and the positive deeds of those who heard the cries of help are told. As I write this I am comforted by the knowledge that we will find those responsible, but just as comforted in the knowledge that we will still be Americans, going to work, raising our families, attending churches and creating an environment where we all can prosper and grow as humans.

In a way, life is sort of like that Boston Marathon. We strive to run the good race, facing our personal demons, and confronting the evil brought to bear on ourselves and others while helping each other cross the finish line of life in a way in which we can all take pride. Some of us finish sooner than others and evil may have a temporary victory over good, but thanks to people like Linda Green and Ben Revere, evil never wins in the long run. May God bless the people of Boston and those who lost family members in this tragedy.

Fire in the Belly

I passed a turtle on the road the other day and couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking trying to cross a four lane road at zero miles per hour. It seems with the armadillos there’s enough road kill out there to feed half of Detroit.

When you’re my age everything tastes like chicken anyway.

But that turtle trying to cross the road makes you wonder, unless you understand that he really wants to get to the other side. If you watch carefully you’ll see him duck his head about the time you reach him. Obviously some higher order thinking skills here or why duck when a two ton car about to turn him into buzzard buffet passes by. Yes, you have to wonder what gets that turtle fired up enough to try to cross the road. I would guess it’s one of those basic needs we hear about.

Sort of like a politician’s need to be re-elected again and again. Some of us are turtles and take a little more time crossing the road (some become the armadillo) and others get there fairly quickly, like a squirrel for instance. It’s the fire we’re sometimes missing, the fire that burns in the turtle’s belly and moves him across the road.

When I read about some of our schools I want to ask, where’s the fire and who’s got the matches? I don’t give a rat’s rump about scores on a test. Also, I’ll let you in on a little secret, not all our kids are going to find the fire in college. Another apparently little known fact is that some aren’t even going to college. Where did we get this idea that all fires are lit in college anyway?!

If I were a high school administrator I think I would find a way to ask my faculty a couple of questions at the end of each year. “How many fires did you light this year and how many times did you become a fire extinguisher?” Those are the important questions. If you want to pay on merit (a good idea if they can get the fire extinguishers out of the buildings) find out who’s lighting fires. As a parent I would be asking the administrator, “Who do you have lighting a fire under my son/daughter?” Not, “uh excuse me Dr. Doolittle, can you tell me why Tabitha can’t score high enough on the SAT to get into UGA?”

The answer to that is as plain as the deer in the headlights look on Doolittle’s face. Tabitha is sitting on marble and her rear end is as cold as that armadillo that wasn’t fired up enough to cross the road. Tabitha will glow like a roman candle whenever someone lights her fire, be it teacher, parent or maybe somebody at church. There are fire starters everywhere so why have we put ourselves in this box of can’t strike anywhere matches when it comes to our kids? It’s time we began to develop children where we find them, stopped trying to push college for every child who enters the first grade, renew a since of gratitude for those people who can fix stuff that breaks around our houses and put some money in teaching vocational skills again.

Every time my toilet breaks I’m wondering what course I slept through at Georgia Southern that taught us the intricate workings of the commode. The answer is always the same…none. We’re reading articles that tell us the sky is darn sure falling if the governor cuts the budget for higher education. Well, there’s somebody out there all fired up about fixing toilets and sinks who isn’t all that concerned about the governor’s budget. I’ll bet ol’ Sonny himself needs a toilet fixed now and then.

Don’t get me wrong, studying art literature and history is time well spent but when you think about it you can read about these things. Teach your child to read and he or she will always be able to “study” art, literature or history. Take pride in that child of yours who wants to learn a trade instead of attending college. Ever ask yourself why scores are considered so important to school folks? It’s simple…they can be measured and compared. Fire, on the other hand, is something beautiful to watch but difficult to measure.

A Burden on Society

I never thought I’d be looked at as a burden on society at the age of sixty six but it seems the day has dawned. After putting hundreds of dollars a month into my social security (that’s right, mine) fund since 1965, the year I worked a summer camp and discovered I was not actually making what I thought I was making because somebody said I needed to “put something aside”, I now find that my “benefactor”, Uncle Sam and my future caregivers, the ones that can manage to get through nursing school, are slowly coming around to the idea that I just might be a burden.

Scary thought because I don’t see myself as that, having contributed to my fund for so many years and now reaping the benefits thereof. But I hear bits and pieces coming from youthful sources that seem to be saying, “If it weren’t for these old folks, we’d have all we need!” Well, yes and no. See, we old folks are currently providing untold millions of dollars to the economy through health care in the form of Depends, cholesterol meds, chronic joint juices, hearing aids, plastic surgery, (did I mention insurance premiums?) and dental implants (thank you Dr. Argo you are fantastic!).

And that is just the tip of the surgical knife. There’s also the multitude of drug peddlers pushing products that don’t work. They’re raking in the cash off those of us too ignorant to know the difference between incontinence and large continents, not to mention the Cialis/Levitra/Viagra crowd intent on using memory enhancing pills designed to improve performance when most have forgotten what it was they were to perform. And speaking of working or not, young folks need to do that to keep me in my social security. There is nothing better than a good hard day spent in toil to make one’s self-esteem rise and since we are all about self-esteem with the youngsters, let em work! Plus it’s good for the soul and seldom has a negative effect.

The sad thing to me is, as I consider my peers, I see many of them suffering from what are known as hypokinetic diseases. I call them the “couch potato diseases” because we seem to have a tendency to acquire them when we sit around too much. Heart disease, diabetes, osteoporosis, low back pain and other ailments drive a health care industry from which the young folks are deriving benefits. If we stopped sitting on the coach after work, they just might lose money in the form of fewer jobs. Sitting on the couch after work decreases the body’s demand for energy and it responds by providing less of the thing we need. I’m tired after work so I don’t give away energy and I don’t give away energy because I’m tired after work. Sadly, this is a “catch twenty two”.

Whew! Makes me tired just writing this stuff. Movement requires energy and energy is like love, the more we give it away, the more it returns. So, for instance, when you are bedridden in a hospital your energy level drops considerably but after a few days of recuperation at home it returns. This would be considered a low level of energy for sure but never the less the same is true of higher levels. Our bodies crave movement, we digest food better when we move, we create endorphins when we move and all manner of other good stuff that makes us feel good.

 I have to be honest here and confess I’ve not contributed much to the over-all wealth and self-esteem of our young people. Through continuous exercise, walking, and the blessed recumbent cycle, I have managed to stay healthy and away from pharmaceuticals for lo these many years. Walking, by the way, is the one word you will not hear on an infomercial espousing exercise machines. It’s free, requires only a pair of shoes, unless at the beach, and the will to do it. It’s probably the best way we have as old folks of keeping money out of the hands of the young.