at midweek

The Poor Man's Feast Shortlist

What are you reading-cooking-watching-listening to today, Wednesday June 29th?

Today, June 29th, is my birthday.

Happy Birthday to me.

Impossible for me to celebrate.

A hard week.

A very complicated time.

Some of us never thought we’d be back in this place; others of us are not at all surprised. As a child of the Seventies, I fall into the latter camp. I’ve been watching and listening very closely. I read everything: left, right, center. And the most important lesson I’ve learned over the last decade is this:

when people show you who they are, believe them.

Doesn’t matter whether they’re friends, or “friends,” or moderate politicians on either side of the aisle, or or OR. When someone says I am going to do THIS THING, they are going to do THIS THING. Nothing — not hope nor shouting nor civil conversation —- will dissuade them.

Years ago, I worked at a now-defunct publisher that made its name in the 1950s by publishing condensed versions of famous books. (Upside: during the neighborhood cocktail party, you got to say you read War and Peace. Downside: you only read what this publisher decided was important for you to know.) When I worked at this now-defunct publisher, there was someone in my department who made it her work to destroy me. Her M.O.: she picked one new woman hire in the department every year, and turned her cannons on them. That particular year, it was my turn. Rather than cave, or quit, I did the obvious: I went to human resources and said This person is trying to destroy me by creating a hostile work environment. The nice HR lady asked me why I thought that. I took out my little notebook and gave her ten specific examples, plus the dates, plus the names of the other people present. At which point, the nice HR lady reached into her file drawer and pulled out a two inch-thick manila envelope with the destroyer’s name written on it in thick red Sharpie. Then she asked me for more examples. And I pointed to her gigantic manila envelope and said:

when people show you who they are, believe them.

(It isn’t complicated. There are no buts.)

This is true in every part of life. Destroyers destroy, and usually tell you they are going to. Best to pay attention, and think of your response as you would a squash game: three steps ahead. Whatever you do, though, do not be surprised.

But back to my birthday.

I woke up on Monday of this week in my usual pre-birthday funk. I’m not a big fan. Birthdays make me incredibly, witheringly sad and mopey. Don’t get me wrong: I am not a materialistic-type, and gifts often make me squirm (and always have, since I was a kid). This year, my mother couldn’t quite remember the date, and that was impossibly difficult. I am reminded of my father who, without two nickels to rub together, made me understand why birthdays are important. They’re markers of time, of living, of love, of plans made or dashed or nailed. They’re markers of life: another turn around the sun. No birthday celebrant should ever hear the words Sorry to disappoint but. Be glad you’re here. Gratitude. But do celebrate, no matter what.

This year marks the end of my fifties. What is next for me? My thoughts, this midweek:

1. Surfing. I have never been on a surfboard in my life (okay maybe once at sleepaway camp, on a lake), and now I would like to try. In saltwater. With waves. Maybe here. Or here. Maybe Mirna Valerio and Shelby Stanger can help.

2. James Taylor on July 4th, at Tanglewood. Believe it or not, there are still tickets available after two years of canceled concerts. The great thing? You can sit outside the Koussevitzky Music Shed, pack a picnic, and enjoy the music. You may not actually see James and his extraordinary band, but you will hear them, along with a few thousand other folks rejoicing in his distinctly topical, beautiful, moving music. James Taylor is an American treasure. Everyone who loves him should do this at least once in their lives.

3. Food from Catbird Cottage: We have been cooking a lot from this extraordinary cookbook, and it’s my hope to get there in the next year, and stay at Melina Hammer’s beautiful Accord, New York cottage.

4. Join me and the brilliant author of Wintering, Katherine May, for a workshop at Barnswallow Books in Rockport Maine on 8/8, with a reading/conversation on 8/9. Details to follow, but you do not have to be a writer to join us. This is not technically a birthday gift, but it actually is: it’s an honor to co-workshop with Katherine. Her book meant, and means, the world to me. If you don’t know it, you should. Especially at this strange, disturbing moment in time.

Stay cool this holiday, be safe, and remember to hydrate—-