License Revoked

Artichoke Hearts

2010-01-12T11:17:00.000-08:00

My wonderful wife, Cheryl, made these artichoke hearts earlier in the week (you can see a picture of it HERE, as well as find the recipe. I tried to link the image but ran into insurrmountable problems... ) We thought that we had panko flakes on hand for the recipe but discovered that what we had available was tempura batter, which still worked. It's a great, easy to make treat as an appetizer; we had it as a side with chicken. Plus, you bake them rather than deep frying them, so it's a bit more of a guilt free & healthy snack. Give it a try - I think you will love them, too!

Here is the recipe from the page where she found them, but you Really must go and look at the picture first, so that you will get the full anticipatory effect - and don't forget the Panko crumbs.Ciao!

Artichoke Hearts

Open bag of frozen artichoke hearts and add the juice of half a lemon (if it's juicy, a whole one if it's not).

In a bowl, beat one egg with a tbs of water

In a large zip bag mix
1/2 c of flour
1/2 c of breadcrubs (I used panko)
1/4 c of shredded (not grated) parmesan or romano cheese
1 tbs of dried oregano
S&P to taste

Coat hearts in egg mixture then drop in bag of breading and shake to coat.

Pour out in a single layer on baking pan, drizzle with plenty of olive oil and bake at 450 for about 20 mins or until golden brown, turning halfway through.

I serve with a dipping sauce of 1/4 c of unflavored greek style yogurt and about
2 tsp of sriracha or similar hot sauce.

Korma Chameleon

2010-01-12T11:15:00.000-08:00

I've been trying to perfect a recipe derived from one for Korma Curry from The Home Book of Indian Cookery by Sipra Das Gupta. I realize that this probably sounds counterintuitive to most people, since a recipe is supposed to be a fairly reliable blueprint for making a great, if not perfect, meal. I like to experiment, so for me, a recipe is more of a template, making the results to be less predictable than most people would prefer. leaving you open to either a delightful Happy Accident or a quick bail out from the local fast food restaurant.

I've had this book for at least ten years, ever since I found it and several others at Shalimar of India in Cambridge, MA. - a favorite place of mine that has great take out & is fun to go to just to explore the sundries available -and I use the book mainly as a reference guide. I tried making Korma with Chicken and Cashews twice in the past week with mixed results, but for your sake I'll post the version of the recipe that worked best.

Here is the original recipe:

Korma Curry

2 lb. leg of lamb

4 onions, thinly sliced

2 tablespoons grated ginger

3 cloves garlic, grated

1 teaspoon turmeric powder

1 teaspoon chili powder

2 teaspoons sugar

2 teaspoons salt

4 tablespoons ghee

4 tablespoons oil

5 tablespoons yogurt

1/2 cup peas

2 small turnips

1 1/2 cups water

I made many changes and substitutions here. Remember - to me it is just a template to draw from. First, while the recipe called for two pounds of lamb, I substituted chicken, and used only 1/2 to 1 pound of it. You could easily substitute that with vegetables, Second, no turnips. Never been very big on turnips and this was no place to begin trying. I also didn't use peas, not because I don't like them, we just didn't have any on hand. Third, since I don't keep ghee around for cooking, I used butter. It just so happens that we got a pound of Irish butter over the holidays, so I used that. The other substitutions are listed in the recipe. I scaled back the amounts to make up a half portion or smaller & ended up with this:

Korma Chicken with Cashews

1 lb. chicken (I used thighs)

1/2 cup cashews, toasted & chopped

1 - 2 onions, chopped

1 teaspoon powdered ginger (use fresh grated if you have it)

3 cloves garlic, diced

2 - 3 teaspoons Tandoori Spice Blend

1 teaspoon turmeric powder

1 teaspoon fenugreek powder

2 teaspoons sugar

4 tablespoons butter

1/2 cup plain yogurt

1/2 cup water

a pinch of aleppo pepper

salt and pepper to taste

I mixed the ingredients and put it in a small Pyrex baking dish with the chicken on top, covered it with foil and baked it, starting on 400 for about 10 minutes and then turning it down to between 250 to 350 while I prepared side dishes, which in this case were rice and spinach. You don't want to leave it on a high temperature for too long - only to get it hot and raise the internal temperature of the meat. Likewise, once it has heated up, you want to cook it at a standard temperature for 15 to 20 minutes, ensuring that it has cooked thoroughly and isn't too pink or under cooked inside. Baking will allow you to do something else in the meantime. Once the meat has cooked, it should be tender enough to cut with a fork.

At the risk of possibly repeating myself, here is a very simple recipe for rice that I like to use:

1 cup of jasmine rice

1 can of vegetable stock or chicken broth

1/4 to 2 cups of water

1 tablespoon of butter or olive oil

a pinch of salt

Stock/ broth cans often come in anywhere between 14 to 15 oz sizes, just shy of the two cup measure of liquid that is standard for most rice recipes. Who knows why. It's another mystery that ranks up with the 12 to a pack hot dogs vs the 8 to a pack hot dog buns, or why there is always a portion of three pieces of sushi among an array of sets of two, four or six.

Follow the usual procedure of bringing the liquid to a boil, adding the rice, stir, lower the heat to medium low and cover, cooking until the liquid has evaporated and you have - rice!

You can add other stuff such as chopped onions, diced garlic or sliced mushrooms. Go crazy - it's your dinner, after all!

For the spinach, I usually just steam it until it has just begun to wilt.

Bon Appétit!

Christmas Poem by G.K. Chesterton

2009-12-25T10:15:00.000-08:00

Christmas Poem by G.K. Chesterton

There fared a mother driven forth

Out of an inn to roam;
In the place where she was homeless
All men are at home.
The crazy stable close at hand,
With shaking timber and shifting sand,
Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand
Than the square stones of Rome.

For men are homesick in their homes,
And strangers under the sun,
And they lay their heads in a foreign land
Whenever the day is done.

Here we have battle and blazing eyes,
And chance and honour and high surprise,
But our homes are under miraculous skies
Where the yule tale was begun.

A child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam;
Only where He was homeless
Are you and I at home;
We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
But our hearts we lost—how long ago!
In a place no chart nor ship can show
Under the sky’s dome.

This world is wild as an old wife’s tale,
And strange the plain things are,
The earth is enough and the air is enough
For our wonder and our war;
But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings
And our peace is put in impossible things
Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings
Round an incredible star.

To an open house in the evening
Home shall all men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless
And all men are at home.

Fra Giovanni's Salutation

2009-12-25T10:13:00.000-08:00

Fra Giovanni's Salutation

I salute you.

There is nothing I can give you which you have not,
but there is much that while I cannot give,
you can take.

No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in it today.
Take heaven.

No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present instant.
Take peace.

The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within our reach, is joy.
Take joy.

And so at this Christmastime,
I greet you, with the prayer that for you,
now and forever, the day breaks
and the shadows flee away.

~ Fra Giovanni, 1513

Christ Climbed Down by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

2009-12-25T10:11:00.001-08:00

Christ Climbed Down by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Christ climbed down
from His bare Tree
this year
and ran away to where
there were no rootless Christmas trees
hung with candycanes and breakable stars

Christ climbed down
from His bare Tree
this year
and ran away to where
there were no gilded Christmas trees
and no tinsel Christmas trees
and no tinfoil Christmas trees
and not pink plastic Christmas trees
and no gold Christmas trees
and no black Christmas trees
and no powderblue Christmas trees
hung with electric candles
and encircled by tin electric trains
and clever cornball relatives

Christ climbed down
from His bare Tree
this year
and ran away to where
no intrepid Bible salesmen
covered the territory
in two-tone cadillacs
and where no Sears Roebuck creches
complete with plastic babe in manger
arrived by parcel post
the babe by special delivery
and where no televised Wise Men
praised the Lord Calvert Whiskey

Christ climbed down
from His bare Tree
this year
and ran away to where
no fat handshaking stranger
in a red flannel suit
and a fake white beard
went around passing himself off
as some sort of North Pole saint
crossing the desert to Bethlehem
Pennsylvania
in a Volkswagon sled
drawn by rollicking Adirondack reindeer
with German names
and bearing sacks of Humble Gifts
from Saks Fifth Avenue
for everybody's imagined Christ child

Christ climbed down
from His bare Tree
this year
and ran away to where
no Bing Crosby carollers
groaned of a tight Christmas
and where no Radio City angels
iceskated wingless
thru a winter wonderland
into a jinglebell heaven
daily at 8:30
with Midnight Mass matinees

Christ climbed down
from His bare Tree
this year
and softly stole away into
some anonymous Mary's womb again
where in the darkest night
of everybody's anonymous soul
He awaits again
an unimaginable
and impossibly
Immaculate Reconception
the very craziest
of Second Comings

Put some seasoning into your ears

2009-12-04T07:47:00.000-08:00

Looking to beef up your Christmas song list with some eclectic, unusual, traditional & non-traditional music? Check out some of these mp3 offerings:

Amazon.com's 25 days of free - build up that Advent anticipation with a free mp3 each day
http://tinyurl.com/ygoqgoh

More Christmas music from Amazon.com - free and cheap classics and originals
http://tinyurl.com/yllqvdb

A Familyre Christmas Vol. I&II - 30 classic Christmas mp3s by some outstanding artists from the Sounds Familyre Record label
Vol.I: http://www.soundsfamilyre.com/blog/2009/12/02/a-familyre-christmas-is-back/
Vol II: http://www.soundsfamilyre.com/blog/2009/12/02/a-familyre-christmas-vol-2/

Making Spirits Bright: Ways We Can Renew the Christmas Season.

2009-12-04T07:42:00.000-08:00

This is a piece I wrote around Christmas several years ago for our church magazine, "The Gregarious Monk". The mag is now defunct (as is the church), but I feel that with the recent interest in refocusing our perspective on Advent, Christmas and beyond, the message expressed in the writing is still relevant today - perhaps even more so this season - as it ever has been.

I nearly blew it last Christmas. Locked away and tucked tight in my velvet canopied bed, futilely trying to sleep through the spiritual affliction of holiday pickled herring and organic egg nogg, I was barraged by a parade of ominous specters. The past was easy enough to ignore and I tried to feign indifference toward the present as I rallied for another round of sleeplessness. 3 A.M. arrived way too soon, and with it came the ghost of Christmas future, decked out as Martha Stewart from a production of “Beach Blanket Babylon”. (How they found their way to South Hadley I’m still at a loss about, but I am curious how their receipts fared. But I digress.) The spirit plied me with port cheese, savory crackers and crème de menthe aperitifs as she spoke frankly of my industrious shortcomings in seasonal cheer. Despite my protests and attempt to return to sleep, she gave me some pointers for the coming year and commanded me to share them with the rest of the world.

“Think shiny!” she bubbled effluviously. I rolled my eyes and she repeated the word. “Shiny! And stop being such a grump. It’s Christmas, after all.” And with that she departed in a flurry of tinsel and synthetic snow.

I pass on to you here some suggestions, in no particular order, how we all can make help to renew the Christmas Spirit and make it a little bit brighter.

Initiate a New Celebration Ritual

Whether it is returning to the richness of traditional observances or beginning a new spin off of it yourself, the Christmas season is made much more meaningful by rituals. Perhaps we need a new perspective to help bring some freshness to the holiday. Simple things, like trying a new recipe in place of an old standard, attending a Christmas mass or service, attending a play or choral performance, or just prolonging the day instead of rushing through it can make it a richer experience. I grew up in the Southern California desert, which is surprisingly free of familiar Currier and Ives images of New England Christmas. No chimney stoked clapboard houses with chestnuts roasting on the hearth, no horse drawn carriages crossing frozen rivers by the safety of a quaint covered bridge. No snow. But we did have customs from Mexico like enactments of the “Pidiendo Posada” by local residents and eating tamales for Christmas breakfast.

Years ago, while I was shopping downtown, I heard some interesting traditional Christmas music being played and went to inquire about it. It was from an annual theatre production called the Christmas Revels (www.revels.org). Rich in tradition and ritual, each year Revels features material from a different country and is set somewhere in the 1880’s. They perform hymns and carols accompanied by dancing, stories, games and a traditional mummer’s play, and the community of participants are warm, inclusive and inspiring. I grew up without such history but was quick to make the Revels part of my Christmas seasonal celebration.

Procrastinate a Little

I’m usually busy through the Christmas season. In the past I was working on the Christmas Revels show in Cambridge, which has eighteen performances (plus rehearsals) spread out over the four weeks of December, and I often worked a full time job during the day. I had very little time to go shopping before Christmas and it always worked out in my favor. I would go shopping immediately after the 25th, when all of the stores resemble ghost towns and the bulk of their merchandise suddenly drops in price. I could get twice as much for my spending dollar after the holiday than I could before, and I didn’t have to fence with flanks of surly sales clerks and battalions of disgruntled masses yearning to be free. There were no long lines at the post office either. Just imagine the drop in your holiday stress level. I became enlightened to an obvious fact of the Christmas observance: the birth and celebration of Jesus doesn’t end on the 25th; it is only just beginning. Who cares if you are a few days late in your giving to others? I have learned to trust that my lateness may serve as a blessing and a reminder of what the celebration is all about.

Buy Local

One of the fun things about New England living is the availability of arts and crafts we have. I know many of you are already aware of this, but it bears retelling as a reminder to others and advice to even more that we have options beyond what is flickered statically before us on television and thrust at us from store windows. Check out some of the many local, independent artists who work at their craft with love and dedication. Support their art and share it with others. Be inspired to try your hand at it as well.

Buy Eclectic

Every year there are scores of craft fairs where independent artists have gathered to sell their creations. They present a great way to find something unusual or particular for those hard to shop for people, and you can find a unique gift that you will be certain they won’t receive a duplicate of. Seek out traditional cultural gifts as well. Most areas have their own ethnic communities with gifts for sale.

Do it Yourself

Nothing says how much you care better than a gift made especially for another with your own time and hands, and there are a variety of ways to express your appreciation of others. Baked goods are always a popular annual treat. Spend some of your Christmas budget on materials to make cards for the people on your list. Offer gifts of your painting, knitting, needlecraft or bookmaking- whatever your talent is. You have a particular gift to share that others may not even know about.

Let it Go

I realize that Christmas is an important time for most people, and the pressure to buy each and every person a gift is great and costly, especially in these economic times. But what if it didn’t happen?

Many years ago I was working at an extremely low paying job which gave me room and board in return for my services, and I had no income to even pay for local bus fare let alone the cost of shipping for a card. I direly prayed for an unexpected wind fall or at least a better paying position. That never happened, and I was left feeling sad and shameful that I couldn’t afford presents that year – not for my mom, my sisters, my children, friends, not even for myself. After some time spent wallowing and grieving over my poverty, it occurred to me that it really didn’t make any sense. After all, I wasn’t obligated to spend money on Christmas presents for others, and in this situation it was completely out of my hands to do so. There was a sense of freedom and release from what I thought was expected of me and how I felt others would view me. It was such a startling realization that I don’t think I’ve ever felt pressured to perform for Christmas since then. Maybe just letting the shopping go once in a while will help us see beyond the commercialization and into the deeper yet simpler spiritual truths that it offers to us – the gift of life and joy, of stillness and reflection, of close friends and family love and the freedom that is implicit in the gift of Christmas.

Be Startlingly Generous and Kind

Last year while I was out shopping I crossed paths with a rather ornery sales clerk. I had a fresh cup of coffee with me and he abruptly yet playfully implied that it would make his day much better if he were also caffeinated. Several times during the eight minutes it took for our transaction. I went out to the nearby Starbucks and got him and his co-worker a cup of coffee, and he was stunned at the kindness of the gesture.

We are all aware of how much the simple things in life matter, and how easy it is to shrug them off as insignificant. I like to believe that such a small gesture was great enough to change his day, his attitude and his outlook on Christmas.

We all encounter those who are up front about their need while we are out shopping, and they should be given our consideration as well, but take time to look for the person who is going to be surprised and blessed by unexpected generosity.

Reconnect with Friends and Relatives

Christmas is all about getting together with family and friends and making our community and lives stronger. We might also think about those who have been separate from us over the past years. Take time to give them a call, send them a card or even better write them a letter telling them how much you miss their presence and wish you could see them. Invite them out to stay sometime and catch up on lost time.

Spend This One with the Family

My family has never been very close. Not only are we separated by miles, we are also distant in heart, soul and spirit, and we have suffered from it. Holidays are symbolic times of the year set aside for bonding with one another and with God as well as with our chosen community.

While Christmas of 2003 wasn’t an easy one for me, it will always be one of the most memorable and significant. I hadn’t spent a holiday with my family in fifteen years and returned home to be with my mother who was dying. We did the traditional stuff like exchanging gifts and having Christmas dinner, but we also did simple things together. My mother loved Tim Allen and we watched “The Santa Clause” movies, and we went to a local gallery of Thomas Kincaid, her favorite painter. Mostly we sat and visited while watching television. Her strength prevented her from doing much else. It was the last Christmas we had and I’m thankful we had the time to be together.

Spend Your Day Where You Would Least Expect To Be

It has often been said that if Jesus were to return today he wouldn’t be found in the church preaching to the choir. That might suggest that he’d be found among non-Christians eating at the only Chinese restaurant open on Christmas day. Lest we forget that he still lives among us, he also takes special care of the weakest, the least and the disenfranchised of our community. Soup kitchens will be busy, full of the hungry and needy, the lost and forgotten, and while it takes some planning ahead of time to beat the volunteer rush it is a very renewing gesture. Check into the local retirement homes and communities to see if they could use some help. Offer some of your best loved baked goods or brush up on your musical and art talents to share with others.

I read about a Jewish man who once offered to work on Christmas day for a colleague so that he could spend the celebration with his family. It was such a gratifying experience for him that he continued to do it every year for a different person.

Be Mysterious

Sometimes anonymity is the best way to go, and it’s also fun! Who doesn’t like or need to be surprised by God’s love? We encounter so many people in our day to day travels, and notice those who are feeling lonely, left out and lost. Offer them a word of encouragement and smile. Pray with them. Send them a card with words of appreciation. Go to the phone book or internet and do a random search for addresses and send the person or people you find a card for Christmas.

Remember that you are a gift to others

We trust that this will be done in humility and deference to others. You were given to this world as a gift from God to others, and you carry within yourself the greatest gift of all- God’s love, Spirit and Presence. Share it warmly and generously by being with others. Woody Allen has said that 90 percent of life is simply showing up for it. Get out there and make it happen.

© emburke/ emberarts 2006

The Gleaning of Autumn's Harvest

2009-10-08T09:51:00.000-07:00

It's warm here in our patch of New England. Despite the blustery campaign of the wind outside and some clouds in the distance threatening to quash all prospects of fair weather, it's warm enough to open the windows, put on shorts and dally with dreams of one final sumptuous barbeque. Weather here comes with a moderate warning at all times. As Mark Twain is reputed to have said, and as we New Englander's live by as a sort of unofficial motto, "If you don't like the weather, wait a minute".

We had rain the night before, with the blustery-verging-on-storm type of wind rattling the vinyl siding and the window panes that are in dire need of re-caulking, which made the entire cottage sound like a sub-bass kazoo. Just as the warm weather is inviting, encouraging us to take one more bike ride or foothill hike, the mild rain storms are equally comforting, calling us to set still and read or reflect and write in journals. There is a sense of rightness about the world and our lives lingering in both. After the rain I went out to the garden to seek out tomatoes and tomatillos for dinner plans. The plants had taken on a low leaning crookedness to their once tall and vigorous stature, looking like undisciplined bonsai plants. Although we're at the end of harvest season for tomatoes and tomatillos, they either haven't gotten the memo or are ignoring it altogether. The tomatillos still have several dozen husks in differing stages of development, and every other day I come back with a container of fruit.

We are preparing for the winter by stocking up with containers of tomatoes and tomatillos, which have taken up a good portion of the freezer. Both are high on our list of favorite food staples. That's good. We'll be having plenty of it, and frequently. It gives you a little more insight into why there are so many variations of the same thing in Italian and Mexican food.

This past week Cheryl made a Sweet Potato Quesadilla from a recipe she found in Barbara Kingsolver's book "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle". The recipe is pretty simple, and I'll include it here, but we recommend that you get the book as well. It is a great resource for anyone interested in living simply by using what you grow or what is available locally and in season. Cheryl followed the recipe as written, except she substituted Saint-André cheese for the brie. The results were a delicious version of the traditional quesadilla which we'll be having again.

Here is the recipe, which I borrowed from "A Foodie's Guide to Getting Through the Year":

Sweet Potato Quesadillas

Ingredients:

2 medium sweet potatoes
4 flour tortillas

1/2 onion
4 oz Brie or other medium soft cheese

1 clove garlic
2-3 leaves Swiss chard (or other greens)

1 Tbsp oregano

1 Tbsp basil

1 tsp cumin

Chile powder to taste

Olive oil for saute

Cut sweet potatoes into chunks, cook in steamer basket or microwave until soft, then mash.
Chop and saute garlic and onion in a large skillet. Add spices and sweet potato and mix well, adding a little water if it's too sticky. Turn burner very low to keep warm without burning.
Preheat oven to 400.
Oil a large baking sheet, spread tortillas on it to lightly oil one side, then spread filling on half of each.
Top with slices of Brie and shredded chard, then fold tortillas to close (oiled side out). Bake until browned and crisp (about 15 minutes); cute into wedges for serving.

I highly recommend using my recipe for Roasted Tomatillo Salsa with the quesadillas. Especially if you happen to have more tomatillos than you know what to do with.

Be sure to share some with a friend.

Bon Appétit!

Tamale, Tamale,

2009-09-16T00:16:00.000-07:00

I love you, Tamale -
you're only a day away...

C'mon - do you think it is easy to come up with a witty headline every time I write? After all, I'm not Barbara Mikkelson of Snopes.com, who seems to have an endless inspiration for nifty one line zingers.

I've been meaning to post a step by step illustration of tamale making for some time now, but these things just tend to slip away so easily. This is actually a repeat post from good golly tamales, but laid out in picture book fashion for those of us who don't like reading. So, without further, ahem, a-dough, here we go...

You'll need approximately 2-3 corn husks for each tamale.

Soak the Corn Husks over night in water, then drain in a colander. Leave them moist so that they remain pliable to fold.

Using a clean flat surface - a counter top in your kitchen is perfect, but make sure it is at a comfortable height for you - lay out two or three good sized corn husks:

Layer them one half way over the other, making sure there is enough room to spread out approximately 1/4 cup of dough into a 4" x 7" (approximate) rectangle.

Place 1/4 cup of dough and spread it with a spatula, a fork, your fingers - whatever you have handy - until it makes a 4" x 7" rectangle with the dough.

Place 1/2 to 2 Tbs. of filling lengthwise in the center, leaving a border of dough around it.

Gently fold the sides of the corn husks up so that the dough covers the filling.

I found that it worked best to turn the sides up first to form the shape of the tamale, then wrap one side of the corn husk over first, then the other side:

Next fold the ends over and then lay the tamale down upon the folded sides.

You can leave them that way if you prefer - the weight of the tamale should be enough to hold it closed in place while you cook them - but the traditional way is to tie them like a package using string or thin strips of corn husk.

Repeat each step four to eighty four times as needed.

Don't worry if you have problems folding them into a rectangular package shape. The dough should mold to the form of the corn husk as you fold it into place. If they come out on the small side, that's OK also - you'll just have to serve extra.

Be sure to share some with a friend.

Bon Appétit!

Things we like

2009-09-16T00:15:00.000-07:00

of which there are very many, but Mukhwas Sada Bahar, which you will find at the entrance of any Indian restaurant, is among those at the top of our list. Intended to be an after dinner digestive and breath freshener they are, quite simply, sugar coated fennel seed and they are delicious. I recently had to make a run to my local ethnic supermarkets for ingredients to make spices with and I made sure we bought a bag of it, and its a bargain at $1.89 for seven ounces. We disregard the traditional protocol and eat them in small amounts. May our breathes always be fresh and our digestions always on tract...

Remembering Aafia

2009-09-12T10:11:00.000-07:00

So, it's the day after, and we move forward from the brief collapse of all that we thought we knew into a still uncertain future, only with another new heart wrenching pain to solemnize the passing anniversary. It's like we are all together as one, sitting shivah, reciting kaddish, comforting and supporting one another. Currently it's Ramadan in little pockets spread all over the world, and presently we'll turn our hearts, our minds, and our wills toward God through Rosh Hashanah in preparation for Yom Kippur, collectively or not. But this day is different. It's the day after, another day of remembrance, and on this day, in this moment, let us also remember to move forward.

I originally wrote this in 2005 for a small independent zine that I was involved in, and posted it on my blog here: http://emburkewriting.blogspot.com/2007/04/remembering-aafia.html

Remembering Aafia

I have a matching pen and holder which I received as a gift years ago. Crudely carved of wood and coated in something resembling soft rubbery tar, it is ornamented with a pattern of brightly colored beads and small bits of mirrored glass. If you look into it you can see a mosaic portrait of yourself reflected back — one which is by design distorted and shattered into sparkling fragments. This cup and pen have taken on varying shades of symbolic meaning for me since they were given to me nearly a decade ago. Common objects have a way of becoming historically larger than life and we often miss the connection they can hold for us. Our homes are filled with such items: knick knacks, baby spoons, photographs, rocks and leaves, books and drawings. In a similar fashion we can see ourselves reflected back through the value we place on so many things which make up our lives.

I met Aafia while I was working as a sales clerk at the M.I.T. student center. She was finishing her graduate studies at M.I.T. and would often sit with others at a table in the common area offering Qurans and tracts on Islam to whoever showed an interest. While I was on my lunch break I would go out and talk with her about her faith. She was a congenial young woman who always smiled and shared freely her thoughts about theology and science, particularly creation and genetics, two subjects which to her were inextricably woven together. Not having found many non-Christians who believed in God, or the Creation, I was interested in hearing what she had to say about Islam and its perceptions of the matter. When you talk to individual believers you often don’t receive dogma or theology as much as you do a personal witness to matters of faith and hope which have been born and nurtured through experience. She could have given me a small tract or a copy of the Quran (which she did) – yet she also gave me her time and thoughts, something far more valuable and intangible than that which might be measured against historical canons and doctrines. We crossed paths frequently and she would often stop in to give me something she wrote, invite me to gatherings of Islamic friends or just to see how I was. I still have all of her material on Islam, including essays on theology and creation as well as a one act play exploring the views of an atheist and a theist about genetics.

Aafia came in one day, dressed in the traditional clothing of her country Pakistan, to tell me that she was returning home for several weeks. She asked if there was anything that she could bring back for me while she was there. It was such a generous and thoughtful gesture that I really didn’t know what to ask for from her. In retrospect I could have come up with so many possible items of interest: music, art work, books of folktales or plays. I couldn’t think of anything, so she said she’d find something for me while she was there. I thanked her and wished her a safe trip and enjoyable time with her family. She returned a month later and offered me the pen and holder, an example of folk art from Karachi. I kept it prominently displayed where I can use and admire it, until the beads and mirrors began to fall off it and I was forced to keep it in a plastic baggie so that none of the pieces would be lost. I only saw her a few more times after that. We went our separate paths and I’ve held onto the pen and cup, as with so many other things, as a reminder of unexpected gifts and blessings which come from unexpected sources.

During the days and weeks following 9/11, while doing what many of us were doing – praying and trying to make sense of a world seemingly gone mad – I was watching the recurring news coverage of our entry into a strange battle with an ambiguous enemy. I had no faces or pictures to place upon this new threat other than the footage of terror played over and over again until it started to look like a scene edited out of a bad catastrophe film from the seventies. Below faint bomb flashes across a dim night time horizon on the television screen was the teleprompter feed giving breaking news about the war. F.B.I. officials were trying to locate several people suspected of having connections with al-Qaeda and the attack on the World Trade Center. I was surprised to see Aafia’s name scroll across the screen and went to the internet to see if it was the same person. She seemed to have gained her affiliation with terrorism and classification as dangerous through her marriage to a man from whom she was divorced and estranged. She and her three children disappeared mysteriously into the Pakistan countryside with hushed tales of abduction by her ex-husband, the F.B.I., the U.S. Secret Service or the Pakistani government.

The face that I was offered to place upon the effigy of our new collective fears was one of a friend with whom I’d discovered and shared a brief common bond of humanness. While I knew that much of what makes me who I am was being attacked along with others like myself, I felt I had little to be afraid of or uncomfortable about, yet still much to be saddened over. I didn’t lose anyone on the morning of September 11. No friends or family were caught up inside of that gigantic trestle of dreams and aspirations when it was struck, gave way and collapsed into itself, throwing off refractions and fragments of individual portraits. I didn’t personally lose anyone in Washington D.C., or Pennsylvania. I haven’t lost anyone in Afghanistan or in Iraq. I did lose an acquaintance whom, like many people we meet each day and like many items we collect and add to our lives, helped make it a little bit richer and more valuable. I have friends and family and acquaintances who lost some of their souls to hatred and a good part of their spirits to vindictive diatribes against people they have never met and in all likelihood never will. Along with many others I lost a small belief that members of the human race could share with one another the gifts of our arts and crafts, our beauty, culture and faith and with it a hope that the world was growing larger and more accessible rather than smaller, colder and more alienated.

© emburke/ emberarts 2005

A Late Brunch Between Neighboring Worlds

2009-07-24T11:37:00.000-07:00

Due to my new position as a freelance correspondent for the Belchertown Sentinel, the local newspaper, our landlord/ neighbor lent me this great book, "Make Hay While The Sun Shines: Farms, Forests and People of the North Quabbin", by Allen Young, a journalist who lives in the area and has been writing about the local residents of North-West Massachusetts since 1973. In his book he covers the "back to nature" movement that began in the early seventies, stemming from the traditional way of farming and living off the land that has been a common and popular mainstay of New England since we stumbled and tripped upon the shores of the region.

In the third chapter of the book he writes about the Diemand Egg Farm in Wendall, which is still producing eggs and can be bought in local stores here. The next time I went shopping I specifically sought out their eggs so we can try them at home, and as a fitting tribute to farmer and author alike, I made the Finnish Pancakes from the recipe provided at the end of the chapter. It is really rich and filling, but it is also really easy to make, so it just might become a regular brunch item here.

Finnish Pancakes

(from the Massachusetts Poultry Association)

Six large eggs
1 quart milk
1/4 lb. butter
1 cup flour
4-5 Tb. sugar
1 tsp. salt

Melt and brown the butter in a 12" x 16" pan.

Beat the eggs and milk together, then add the sugar, salt and flour, mixing it in until well blended and without any lumps. Pour the mixture into the baking dish and bake in a pre-heated oven at 450 degrees for 20-25 minutes until golden brown and firmly set.

The "pancakes" will have the consistency of custard (or a flan) with a slight crust.

I didn't follow the recipe but still got fair results. Since we have some wonderful wild blueberries that are grown in our neighborhood, I added 1 cup of them into the batter. We are also going away for the weekend and we had a pint of heavy cream on hand, so I used that for half of the milk amount. I also added a couple drops of vanilla extract. The dish needed to bake for approximately 10 minutes more than the recipe recommended, probably because of the blueberries and the cream, and it came out with the consistency of bread pudding.

Bon appétit!

Life Skills program trains students with special needs to live life to its fullest.

2009-07-24T08:38:00.000-07:00

GRANBY, MA. - The Granby Jr./ Sr. High School Life Skills Program has proven to be a great success since it was introduced five years ago.

The program has been instrumental in helping teens with special needs prepare for life after they graduate from school. In the classes that are available to them they learn how to take care of themselves, interact with others, how to deal with interpersonal issues that may arise and to speak confidently for themselves. A vital part of this is the School to Work program, which partners students with local businesses to help them learn while on the job. Teens work about two hours a day, four to five days a week at various places such as Granby Grain, Big Y supermarket, Alphabet Soup Daycare and some work in the school cafeteria kitchen, and they can change jobs each semester so that they get a better feel for what they are best suited to do. The goal is to be a catalyst to their work in the school by giving them exposure and experience through different work environments. Between the two programs they will become educated for the vocational careers of their choice and be prepared for full time work when they get out of school. The Granby Jr./ Sr. High is small. A little more than 500 students attend grades 7 through 12, and special education students make up a handful of that number. The proximity of all grades together and the inclusion of students with disabilities and special needs make the school unique, helping to foster a strong community that is prepared for life after graduation. Granby Jr./ Sr. High is one of a small number of local schools that feature the Life Skills and School to Work programs and curriculum, which was introduced only five years ago and has been a great success.

Christian Whittaker teaches class

The mission statement of the class states “Granby Junior Senior High School fosters academic achievement, personal responsibility and respect in order to develop conscientious and productive members of society”, while the sign in front of the school proclaims “Excellence Is Our Expectation”, and they are earnest about their ideals and standards.

The Life Skills classes are guided by Christian Whittaker and staff who lead the students through a series of daily lessons designed to engage and challenge, help them develop their strengths and skills, to set realistic goals and to work to attain them. Students from the school also help out with the program. Michael Sawicki, a Senior at Granby, assists in the classroom through a community service program that is offered through the school.

Michael Siano helps Zach with his presentation

“We want to expose them to a variety of possible routines so that they can approach each situation with their own initiative and independence”, says Whittaker. “Many students may go on to live in group homes or in assisted living programs where they will be expected to take care of themselves and participate in group activities. They have their own personal areas here that they maintain and clean themselves, and each person is expected to contribute to the goals of the classes as well as toward their own. We work creatively to give them structure to their day, giving them multiple opportunities to participate in the class, and each student has an individual education plan that we help them develop and keep track of. We have a motto – “Don’t watch your life go by - be a part of it!”.”

On the chalkboard is an outline of goals for the week which the students will use to chart their progress. It’s an intricate weaving of academics involving reading, writing and math as well as work study and life skills, and the each student is expected to demonstrate an applicable proficiency in each area. By the end of the week they will be able to make connections between what they have learned and how it relates to their personal world; to pose questions about the lessons and share with the class what they have discovered, and to contribute their new expertise with students in the classroom.

It works. The students are actively involved in making decisions toward their own futures, participating in classes that stimulate their interests and make them excited about the world of possibilities before them. They get to try different jobs to see what fits them best and then go on to work in their chosen careers.

The day begins early for these teens much as it does for any other adult. By late afternoon they have completed their school day, which may involve attending a biology class, learning graphic arts, or studying health or home economics. They learn how to organize their time and budget the minutes of their day, developing real time management skills necessary for success in their professional careers. By 2:00 pm they’re off to their jobs. Some work in a bakeries and cafeterias, others at the Big Y supermarket or at a local grain supply store. Chances are you’ve crossed paths with them and encountered their familiar smiling faces as they offered their assistance to you.

They recently made Sloppy Joes for an early lunch or, rather, being teens, as an appetizer to their regular meal. Everything from setting places with plates, napkins and plastic flatware, to cooking hamburger meat, opening a can of chili, warming it up and mixing it in with the cooked meat; toasting buns; serving themselves and others, and then cleaning up their area and washing their dishes. The teens join in the production easily, excitedly and with confidence, enjoying the meal that they made together. When they broke for their actual lunch, they joined the rest of the school in the cafeteria.

After lunch, teacher Michael Siano presented two students, Danielle and Zach, who shared their graphic design work to the class. The students are encouraged to do everything involved from conception to finished product including layout of graphics, organization of space and writing the text to accompany it.

Christian Whittaker then led the class in a workshop exercise to develop their skills in problem solving and working together. Placing a handful of Smarties candies in a clear plastic container, he passed it around for them to look at and guess how many were in the cup. Each student carefully looked over the cup of smarties and then passed on to their neighbor after determining what the correct amount of smarties it held, then they paired up to discuss their answers. Teachers Michael Siano, Laura Amazeen and Michael Sawicki assisted the students in asking questions about the process. The actual number being sixty, most of them guessed the amount to be around forty-six, and the winning number went to Kerr, who shared them with his classmates. In previous classes they have explored conflict resolution exercises and how to negotiate various situations through improvisatio

Dawn Cooke, School to Career Coordinator for Willie Ross School for the Deaf in Longmeadow, knows the ins and outs of the program. Her son, Corey, is a student at the school and is in the program, and he has learned valuable skills through the class as well through his experiences at work. Corey works bagging groceries at the local Big Y supermarket and loves the job he has there.

“The program is invaluable to parents and saves the community money by having students working together rather than in separate facilities”, Says Cooke. “My son has learned to be self sufficient and has developed the necessary life skills that he needs to be a successful, productive individual. These are skills he can apply daily, and he has a greater opportunity to interact with others in school and at work.”

“I also help drive students to their school and jobs. We had a snow alert one time and I was helping a student contact his employer to let them know he wouldn’t be in. Corey noticed this and went to the computer, found the information on the internet that he needed to contact his employer and then called to let them know that he wouldn’t be in to work, either. I was so impressed. He wouldn’t have been able to do this on his own without the help of the school program.”

This feature article in the Belchertown Sentinel may be viewed as a PDF document at: www.belchertownsentinelonline.com/021909sentinel.pdf

Remembering Aafia

2007-04-30T01:24:00.000-07:00

I have a matching pen and holder which I received as a gift years ago. Crudely carved of wood and coated in something resembling soft rubbery tar, it is ornamented with a pattern of brightly colored beads and small bits of mirrored glass. If you look into it you can see a mosaic portrait of yourself reflected back — one which is by design distorted and shattered into sparkling fragments. This cup and pen have taken on varying shades of symbolic meaning for me since they were given to me nearly a decade ago. Common objects have a way of becoming historically larger than life and we often miss the connection they can hold for us. Our homes are filled with such items: knick knacks, baby spoons, photographs, rocks and leaves, books and drawings. In a similar fashion we can see ourselves reflected back through the value we place on so many things which make up our lives.

I met Aafia while I was working as a sales clerk at the M.I.T. student center. She was finishing her graduate studies at M.I.T. and would often sit with others at a table in the common area offering Qurans and tracts on Islam to whoever showed an interest. While I was on my lunch break I would go out and talk with her about her faith. She was a congenial young woman who always smiled and shared freely her thoughts about theology and science, particularly creation and genetics, two subjects which to her were inextricably woven together. Not having found many non-Christians who believed in God, or the Creation, I was interested in hearing what she had to say about Islam and its perceptions of the matter. When you talk to individual believers you often don’t receive dogma or theology as much as you do a personal witness to matters of faith and hope which have been born and nurtured through experience. She could have given me a small tract or a copy of the Quran (which she did) – yet she also gave me her time and thoughts, something far more valuable and intangible than that which might be measured against historical canons and doctrines. We crossed paths frequently and she would often stop in to give me something she wrote, invite me to gatherings of Islamic friends or just to see how I was. I still have all of her material on Islam, including essays on theology and creation as well as a one act play exploring the views of an atheist and a theist about genetics.

Aafia came in one day, dressed in the traditional clothing of her country

Pakistan

, to tell me that she was returning home for several weeks. She asked if there was anything that she could bring back for me while she was there. It was such a generous and thoughtful gesture that I really didn’t know what to ask for from her. In retrospect I could have come up with so many possible items of interest: music, art work, books of folktales or plays. I couldn’t think of anything, so she said she’d find something for me while she was there. I thanked her and wished her a safe trip and enjoyable time with her family. She returned a month later and offered me the pen and holder, an example of folk art from Karachi. I kept it prominently displayed where I can use and admire it, until the beads and mirrors began to fall off it and I was forced to keep it in a plastic baggie so that none of the pieces would be lost. I only saw her a few more times after that. We went our separate paths and I’ve held onto the pen and cup, as with so many other things, as a reminder of unexpected gifts and blessings which come from unexpected sources.

During the days and weeks following 9/11, while doing what many of us were doing – praying and trying to make sense of a world seemingly gone mad – I was watching the recurring news coverage of our entry into a strange battle with an ambiguous enemy. I had no faces or pictures to place upon this new threat other than the footage of terror played over and over again until it started to look like a scene edited out of a bad catastrophe film from the seventies. Below faint bomb flashes across a dim night time horizon on the television screen was the teleprompter feed giving breaking news about the war. F.B.I. officials were trying to locate several people suspected of having connections with al-Qaeda and the attack on the World Trade Center. I was surprised to see Aafia’s name scroll across the screen and went to the internet to see if it was the same person. She seemed to have gained her affiliation with terrorism and classification as dangerous through her marriage to a man from whom she was divorced and estranged. She and her three children disappeared mysteriously into the

Pakistan

countryside with hushed tales of abduction by her ex-husband, the F.B.I., the U.S. Secret Service or the Pakistani government.

The face that I was offered to place upon the effigy of our new collective fears was one of a friend with whom I’d discovered and shared a brief common bond of humanness. While I knew that much of what makes me who I am was being attacked along with others like myself, I felt I had little to be afraid of or uncomfortable about, yet still much to be saddened over. I didn’t lose anyone on the morning of September 11. No friends or family were caught up inside of that gigantic trestle of dreams and aspirations when it was struck, gave way and collapsed into itself, throwing off refractions and fragments of individual portraits. I didn’t personally lose anyone in Washington D.C., or Pennsylvania. I haven’t lost anyone in Afghanistan or in Iraq. I did lose an acquaintance whom, like many people we meet each day and like many items we collect and add to our lives, helped make it a little bit richer and more valuable. I have friends and family and acquaintances who lost some of their souls to hatred and a good part of their spirits to vindictive diatribes against people they have never met and in all likelihood never will. Along with many others I lost a small belief that members of the human race could share with one another the gifts of our arts and crafts, our beauty, culture and faith and with it a hope that the world was growing larger and more accessible rather than smaller, colder and more alienated.

© emburke/ emberarts 2005

Formative lessons in world fusion music: a musical biography of sorts

2007-01-24T06:20:00.000-08:00

I grew up surrounded by popular music and, like every red blooded American boy in the throes of hormone overdrive, I was bent on being a rock & roll star. I was also good with electronics and had a dubious fascination with stripping down and reconstructing anything I could get my hands on, including the family entertainment console which was about the size of an old Volvo. In Junior High I had a paper route and earned enough money to buy a cheap amp and an imitation Gibson SG solid body guitar, which I ran through an old Webcor tube reel to reel and into the entertainment console. It sounded something like Jimi Hendrix's freak albino mutant twin- shrieking, distorted polyphonic sonic booms which left the neighborhood windowless for months. Later on I had a band in High School but no one ever showed up for practice unless there was beer, so we did the sensible thing and retired after having our farewell tour of the lower desert.

Around the same time I discovered "world music" through buying foreign records from thrift store bins, which gradually began to dethrone American rock and heavy metal- actually, nearly everything western- from being the main point of my life. I regularly scoured the bins of local stores and came home with my arms full of foreign music. Groups like Kraftwork, Focus and Golden Earring were already growing in popularity and I soon found other bands which were seminal in the growing new wave of art rock, synth and world music- Amon Düül II, Tangerine Dream, Nectar, early Genesis with Peter Gabriel, Can, and a slew of others. My mother found it incomprehensible that I preferred to listen to music that I don't understand what they are singing about, but to me that was the beauty of it: it was pure, simple and practical, it wasn't American and there were no stupid, meaningless lyrics to get in the way. My all time favorite discovery was a recording of Middle Eastern music titled "The Devil's Anvil: Hard Rock From The Middle East".

My best friend, Richard Anderson, and I shared a love for strange bands that played unusual songs with curious subject matter in odd and experimental tempos. For me it was Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention (which my oldest sister introduced me to) and City Boy, a band from England. For him it was BeBop Deluxe, also from England, and Crack The Sky, from Ohio. We hit it off socially and musically and, fresh out of high school, formed a musical collaboration/ band and wrote our own music and lyrics, following the model of Fagen and Becker of Steely Dan. The band fell somewhere off-center of punk, power pop, and new wave, with a delight for montage-like experimentation with differing styles (I ask you- have you ever heard a Calypso-Punk version of Khatchaturian's Sabre Dance before?). Through the next several years- and several name changes, from Little Baby Strangers, A Soft Zoo, and Freaks Amor- we worked and played with some interesting and talented musicians in the area- The Reactors, The Neophonics, The Avatars, Pagan Myth, Montage, Cabazon Dinosaurs, The Unforgiven and some folks who would later form Camper Van Beethoven. Our home quickly turned into an artist commune, first with Casa de Cara in San Bernardino and then the Mellow Manor in Riverside, which was also home to Spike & Mike's Animated Film Festival. We recorded a couple records of original material and remained largely unnoticed except by local artists and party goers. We did get to open twice for Suburban Lawns, a punk band from Los Angeles who we mysteriously got hooked up with and who seemed to enjoy our music.

The most influential person I met during this time was Jack Johnson. He was brought in to play bass for us and quickly became our artistic mentor and creative muse. Jack was the sort of person who could do anything and was suspicious of formal education. Mostly self taught in everything he did, he studied dance when he was in college and then taught himself music so that he could understand dance better. He often showed up at our house with an instrument he'd never played before that he'd just picked up at a pawn shop and would have it figured out in a few minutes, or with raw materials, like hollow bars of iron which he cut into varying lengths to build a make-shift gamelan with. Through him I discovered another world of sound which was only hinted at in my attraction to foreign music, and he introduced me to microtonal and serial composition, atonality, foreign and experimental tunings, and through him I discovered the composers John Cage, Steve Reich, and Terry Riley. If we accomplished anything of note in our music it was all due to his inspiration, encouragement and guidance. My waning interest for playing contemporary music continued to grow. I eventually decided that it wouldn't benefit anyone, particularly myself, to pursue something that I didn't enjoy, and I eventually left the world of music to concentrate on writing.

I returned to music composition several years ago while I was adapting the book of Tobit for theatre. It seemed particularly suited for opera so I began studying music of the Middle East, Judaism and Islam. Oh, and opera, too- just in case it might prove handy. Something about non-western music has always appealed to me more than contemporary American music, and I discovered a vast world of musical creation outside our boundaries that never seemed to be part of the country's melting pot. From there it branched out and blossomed, and I felt like I had returned to the thrift stores of my youth, bristling with excitement at the discovery of new worlds. Composing and orchestrating music, experimenting and exploring it's possibilities continues to provide that same spark of wonder and elation.

© emburke/ emberarts 2004

Making Spirits Bright: Ways We Can Renew the Christmas Season.

2007-01-24T06:16:00.000-08:00

I almost blew it last Christmas. Locked away and tucked tight in my velvet canopied bed, futilely trying to sleep through the spiritual affliction of holiday pickled herring and organic egg nog, I was barraged by a parade of ominous specters. The past was easy enough to ignore and I tried to feign indifference toward the present as I rallied for another round of sleeplessness. 3 A.M. arrived way too soon, and with it came the ghost of Christmas future, decked out as Martha Stewart from a production of “Beach Blanket Babylon”. (How they found their way to South Hadley I’m still at a loss about, but I’m curious how their receipts fared. But I digress.) The spirit plied me with port cheese, savory crackers and crème de menthe aperitifs as she spoke frankly of my industrious shortcomings in seasonal cheer. Despite my protests and attempt to return to sleep, she gave me some pointers for the coming year and commanded me to share them with the rest of the world.
“Think shiny!”she bubbled effluviously. I rolled my eyes and she repeated the word. “Shiny! And stop being such a grump. It’s Christmas, after all.” And with that she departed in a flurry of tinsel and synthetic snow.
I pass on to you here some suggestions, in no particular order, how we all can make help to renew the Christmas Spirit and make it a little bit brighter.

Initiate a New Celebration Ritual

Whether it is returning to the richness of traditional observances or beginning a new spin off of it yourself, the Christmas season is made much more meaningful by rituals. Perhaps we need a new perspective to help bring some freshness to the holiday. Simple things, like trying a new recipe in place of an old standard, attending a Christmas mass or service, attending a play or choral performance, or just prolonging the day instead of rushing through it can make it a richer experience. I grew up in the Southern California desert, which is surprisingly free of familiar Currier and Ives images of New England Christmas. No chimney stoked clapboard houses with chestnuts roasting on the hearth, no horse drawn carriages crossing frozen rivers by the safety of a quaint covered bridge. No snow. But we did have customs from Mexico like enactments of the “Pidiendo Posada” by local residents and eating tamales for Christmas breakfast.
Years ago, while I was shopping downtown, I heard some interesting traditional Christmas music being played and went to inquire about it. It was from an annual theatre production called the Christmas Revels. Rich in tradition and ritual, each year Revels features material from a different country and is set somewhere in the 1880’s. They perform hymns and carols accompanied by dancing, stories, games and a traditional mummer’s play, and the community of participants are warm, inclusive and inspiring. I grew up without such history but was quick to make the Revels part of my Christmas seasonal celebration

Procrastinate a Little

I’m usually busy through the Christmas season. In the past I was working on the Christmas Revels show in Cambridge, which has eighteen performances (plus rehearsals) spread out over the four weeks of December, and I often worked a full time job during the day. I had very little time to go shopping before Christmas and it always worked out in my favor. I would go shopping immediately after the 25th, when all of the stores resemble ghost towns and the bulk of their merchandise suddenly drops in price. I could get twice as much for my spending dollar after the holiday than I could before, and I didn’t have to fence with flanks of surly sales clerks and battalions of disgruntled masses yearning to be free. There were no long lines at the post office either. Just imagine the drop in your holiday stress level. I became enlightened to an obvious fact of the Christmas observance: the birth and celebration of Jesus doesn’t end on the 25th; it is only just beginning. Who cares if you are a few days late in your giving to others? I have learned to trust that my lateness may serve as a blessing and a reminder of what the celebration is all about.

Buy Local

One of the fun things about New England living is the availability of arts and crafts we have. I know many of you are already aware of this, but it bears retelling as a reminder to others and advice to even more that we have options beyond what is flickered statically before us on television and thrust at us from store windows. Check out some of the many local, independent artists who work at their craft with love and dedication. Support their art and share it with others. Be inspired to try your hand at it as well.

Buy Eclectic

Every year there are scores of craft fairs where independent artists have gathered to sale their creations. They present a great way to find something unusual or particular for those hard to shop for people, and you can find a unique gift that you will be certain they won’t receive a duplicate of. Seek out traditional cultural gifts as well. Most areas have their own ethnic communities with gifts for sale.

Do it Yourself

Nothing says how much you care better than a gift made especially for another with your own time and hands, and there are a variety of ways to express your appreciation of others. Baked goods are always a popular annual treat. Spend some of your Christmas budget on materials to make cards for the people on your list. Offer gifts of your painting, knitting, needlecraft or bookmaking- whatever your talent is. You have a particular gift to share that others may not even know about.

Be Startlingly Generous and Kind

Last year while I was out shopping I crossed paths with a rather ornery salesclerk. I had a fresh cup of coffee with me and he abruptly yet playfully implied that it would make his day much better if he were also caffeinated. Several times during the eight minutes it took for our transaction. I went out to the nearby Starbucks and got him and his co-worker a cup of coffee, and he was stunned at the kindness of the gesture.
We are all aware of how much the simple things in life matter, and how easy it is to shrug them off as insignificant. I like to believe that such a small gesture was great enough to change his day, his attitude and his outlook on Christmas.
We all encounter those who are up front about their need while we are out shopping, and they should be given our consideration as well, but take time to look for the person who is going to be surprised and blessed by unexpected generosity.

Reconnect with Friends and Relatives

Christmas is all about getting together with family and friends and making our community and lives stronger. We might also think about those who have been separate from us over the past years. Take time to give them a call, send them a card or even better write them a letter telling them how much you miss their presence and wish you could see them. Invite them out to stay sometime and catch up on lost time.

Spend This One with the Family

My family has never been very close. Not only are we separated by miles, we are also distant in heart, soul and spirit, and we have suffered from it. Holidays are symbolic times of the year set aside for bonding with one another and with God as well as with our chosen community.
While Christmas of 2003 wasn’t an easy one for me, it will always be one of the most memorable and significant. I hadn’t spent a holiday with my family in fifteen years and returned home to be with my mother who was dying. We did the traditional stuff like exchanging gifts and having Christmas dinner, but we also did simple things together. My mother loved Tim Allen and we watched “The Santa Clause” movies, and we went to a local gallery of Thomas Kincaid, her favorite painter. Mostly we sat and visited while watching television. Her strength prevented her from doing much else. It was the last Christmas we had and I’m thankful we had the time to be together.

Spend Your Day Where You Would Least Expect To Be

It has often been said that if Jesus were to return today he wouldn’t be found in the church preaching to the choir. That might suggest that he’d be found among non-Christians eating at the only Chinese restaurant open on Christmas day. Lest we forget that he still lives among us, he also takes special care of the weakest, the least and the disenfranchised of our community. Soup kitchens will be busy, full of the hungry and needy, the lost and forgotten, and while it takes some planning ahead of time to beat the volunteer rush it is a very renewing gesture. Check into the local retirement homes and communities to see if they could use some help. Offer some of your best loved baked goods or brush up on your musical and art talents to share with others.
I read about a Jewish man who once offered to work on Christmas day for a colleague so that he could spend the celebration with his family. It was such a gratifying experience for him that he continued to do it every year for a different person.

Be Mysterious

Sometimes anonymity is the best way to go, and it’s also fun! Who doesn’t like or need to be surprised by God’s love? We encounter so many people in our day to day travels, and notice those who are feeling lonely, left out and lost. Offer them a word of encouragement and smile. Pray with them. Send them a card with words of appreciation. Go to the phone book or internet and do a random search for addresses and send the person or people you find a card for Christmas.

Remember that you are a gift to others.

We trust that this will be done in humility and deference to others. You were given to this world as a gift from God to others, and you carry within yourself the greatest gift of all- God’s love, Spirit and Presence. Share it warmly and generously by being with others. Woody Allen has said that 90 percent of life is simply showing up for it. Get out there and make it happen.

© emburke/ emberarts 2004

Eulogy For My Mother

2007-01-24T06:02:00.000-08:00

Betty Burke Webb

Born on Columbus Day, October 12, 1933.
Died on Ash Wednesday, February 25, 2004.
Delivered Upon Her Inurnment Saturday, March 6, 2004.

It is said that the relationship which you have with your parents intrinsically defines how you approach your relationship with God. It's true; after all, the care that you are given on earth by a parent greatly affects how you perceive your creator.

I can't say I really knew my mother well. I've always found the defining characteristics of our relationship evasive. We lived in vastly different worlds which I had long ago accepted yet was uncertain that she recognized. I'm sure she must have. I'm sure, like most things between us she was playing along and accepting me on my own terms while firmly reassuring me of hers. I always loved trying to make her laugh, which was my way of delving deeper into who she was. She often seemed more puzzled by my humor than anything, but she would smile and shake her head in disbelief. Just as with God I really wanted to please her but found it to be a difficult process. Maybe I was too analytical, trying to know certainties and quantifications, or too artistic, needing to see a perfect form and perspective.

I came to understand over the years that she had taught me some of the most vital and basic approaches to understanding better and deepening my relationship more fully with God, and for years I never saw it this way. Part of what made up my view of our differing worlds was a sense that I didn't quite belong or that she didn't quite know what to make of me. As a consequence I had loads of downtime by myself to chase my creative impulses, and somewhere in this luxurious freedom they were developed. I was able to show her my love through my own creative expression while trusting in and knowing her love. The other aspect of our relationship involved long periods of silence. When I came to visit I would sit, both of us saying very little, seeking to sense the deeper stirrings of her spirit. In the stillness and the silence between us I also trusted in and received her love. There is a different type of discipline I was taught by her which has become crucial to my spiritual walk with God, and I can't imagine having a peaceful life without it. It is important having long stretches of quiet time in prayer and contemplation as well as being alone to explore and express my creativity. I learned these from my mother and I wished I'd been able to share this more fully with her. In this she also taught me to trust in her constant love just as God teaches me to trust in His unfailing love. I came to realize that it really is quite simple and not a difficult process at all.

Last year we drove to Las Vegas together. Her illness was already making her weak and she apologized for her constant falling asleep. We sat in long stretches of silence as I drove and prayed, and occasionally she would wake up and we'd chat. She recalled how as a child I often saw forms and shapes hidden in the landscape or suggested by the sparse architecture of the desert. We scanned the radio and found a local Mexican station playing lively conjunto music, and she lit up as she talked of being a young woman, going to dances where this music was played. Mom danced to conjunto? It was hard to believe let alone imagine. We talked about popular music, about Elvis, her all time favorite singer, about how there are no longer singers like Frank Sinatra any more. We talked about the simple, home-spun humor of Andy Griffth. I was able to share with her about some of his earlier comedy recordings before he became well known through television, and about Harry Connick, Jr., the contemporary successor to old blue eyes. She listened intently in the stillness of the long drive. We pulled into a truck stop where I happened to find among a bargain bin of cassette recordings the early recordings of Andy Griffith and a tape of Harry Connick, Jr. I eagerly bought them both and played them for her through the rest of the drive. It was a special treat for me, being able to share this with her, seeing her smile and laugh with enjoyment, our different worlds joining together. She was more than happy; she was content. Maybe it really is simple. Maybe our worlds aren't all that different after all.

I've come to see this much more clearly through the past week as I've talked to neighbors, as I sorted through pictures and remembered events and moments. The passing of a loved one is an overwhelming force which you can't look at entirely and objectively. Your scope is limited to fuller details no matter which way you approach it, and words can hardly even begin to express who they are, your appreciation for them or the beginning of your loss. The sharing of memories of events and moments, the extended words of friends and neighbors, and photographs have to make up that other area which is in your heart and is inexpressible. She is finally through with her job here. She has put off the anxious cares of this world for good and has flown from our presence to alight at the breast of God. This is where I once again have to rely upon and take solace in the silence, to trust in the love she showed to me and others, and wait to see what arises from the heart of creativity where she will always reside and where I will always be with her.

© emburke/ emberarts 2004