musings | Change Is Hard

August 26, 2016
by dawnkinster 22 Comments

Free to take a walk

Back when I was working I’d glance out the window at the subdivision behind our building, a pretty neighborhood with tree lined streets. Often there would be someone walking their dog and I’d be struck with such longing. I wanted to be out there walking my dog in the sunshine on a weekday morning, enjoying the breeze, the light, the freedom.

And that’s what I was remembering this morning as I walked my dog up our neighborhood street enjoying the late summer blue sky, the cool breeze, the quiet. The houses were largely silent, empty of their people.

People who were off at work while I was out walking my dog.

I recognize how lucky I am to be retired. Katie recognizes it too, though she’s too much a princess to admit she enjoys the extra walks, the extra treats, the extra belly rubs. But she clearly does.

On today’s walk through the neighborhood she was too busy sniffing pee-mail on one side of the road to notice the twelve geese standing in a driveway on the other side of the road. They turned as a group and silently moved up the driveway, away from the princess. I smiled at them and we kept moving. Out of the corner of my eye I saw another three geese over in the yard. I turned my head to look at them as Katie tugged me down the road.

They weren’t geese. Standing stock still were three sandhill cranes — probably a couple with this year’s offspring. Without movement they blended into the trees, silent watchers of the neighborhood, vigilant but not disturbed by the princess.

And me without my camera.

With not even a phone in my pocket, you’ll have to see exactly what Katie saw which is absolutely nothing. The little princess continued to pull me up the street, nose to the ground checking out the latest doggy news left by her friends earlier in the morning. I continued to smile as I was tugged along.

Cause I’m not trapped in the office on this beautiful Friday morning.

Good morning mama!

August 13, 2016
by dawnkinster 16 Comments

Healthy menu report

My husband and I have been exploring the vegan/vegetarian lifestyle this summer. It’s not an easy transition, and I’ve written about it before. This week we really made an attempt to eat more plant based food, so I thought I’d tell you how our experiments turned out.

I worked mostly from two sources, the China Study Quick & Easy Cookbook and the Thug Kitchen Cookbook*.

First up was wholewheat penne with fresh herbed tomato corn salsa.

Fresh corn and tomatoes.

Looks pretty doesn’t it! The salsa was made with fresh corn cut from the cob and tomatoes out of the garden. A perfect meal to make this time of year up here in Michigan.

The salsa was good on it’s own; tossed with the hot pasta it made a nice meal – but it wasn’t filling enough. I was hungry a couple of hours after we ate. I think this dish would be good cold and as a side, along with something else to make up a meal.

Then we tried quinoa for the first time. The recipe, also from the China Study Cookbook, included white beans and kalamata olives and lemon juice.

The recipe made a huge amount. Next time I’d halve it, and probably double the amount of navy beans. But it turns out this stuff is good cold the next day so I managed to make a dent in it. We both liked the quinoa and I’ll be looking for more recipes that use it.

Pretty yummy!

For this meal I also made carrot fritters, from a recipe I’ve had for a few years, and fresh local corn. It was a great meal.

Midweek we noticed that our garden had produced one eggplant. We had one plant with multiple blossoms, but only one developed into a fruit. It was getting pretty big and I decided I needed to do something with it.

So I googled ‘eggplant recipes’ and found one for eggplant lasagna from Real Simple magazine. It looked a bit intimidating, using fresh tomatoes and broiling the sliced eggplant.

Eggplant in place of noodles.

But I followed along and it turned out great. Next time I might double the recipe (though that would take a long time, to broil slices of two really big eggplants!) so I could make it in a 9×13 pan v.s. the 8×8 pan that only really made 4 small servings. Either way I’ll definitely make this one again even though I’ll have to buy the eggplant at the grocery store.

Tonight we had black lentil tacos with jicama slaw. That had to wait until I could find jicama. I had never heard of it before, though lots of people seem to enjoy it regularly. I finally found it at a local grocery store, one I don’t normally visit – I guess it pays to change up your habits.

Jicima slaw and herb salsa.

Anyway…these tacos were somewhat complicated. The slaw, made up of jicama, carrots and cucumbers plus rice vinegar and lime juice, needed to be made ahead and refrigerated for a bit before dinner. And I made the herb salsa which had cilantro, green onions, basil, orange juice and rice vinegar, ahead too, just to be safe.

I couldn’t find black lentils…so I used green that I found at my local Kroger store. They seemed to be the same size as the ones in the photo that accompanies the recipe in the Thug Kitchen Cookbook, so I hoped they’d cook similarly, and they turned out fine. I think regular lentils would have worked too.

Looked kind of scary. But it was good!

The “meat” for the tacos is made up of the lentils, mushrooms, a little soy sauce, apple juice and sesame oil. Add a little cabbage, the jicima slaw, and the herb salsa, roll it all up and enjoy!

They were a bit messy eating, but really really good! There was a tang from the slaw and salsa that went well with the mushroom/lentil combination. I might add just a pinch of salt next time.

So….we had a good week. I’d make most of these dishes again. They weren’t really all that difficult, though I’m noticing I’m really slow at this type of cooking. It’s just a lot more chopping of fresh vegetables than I’m used to. Plus I stop to review the recipe more frequently than I would on things I’ve made for years.

And it takes a ton more planning. I need to know at the beginning of the week what we’re eating in order to make sure I have the ingredients here. I can’t just wander the grocery store and see what looks good if we eat this way. I did find it interesting that the last time I shopped I didn’t go near the meat counter, nor up and down most of the aisles. I was in produce and the aisle that has dried beans. I was in and out in what felt like moments.

At the moment, on days we’re eating plant-based, the meal seems to be the focus of my day as I plan and worry, chop and stir, check and recheck. Worry some more. I’m sure I’ll get better at this, and we’ll find our favorites that I’ll make more than once. Each time will be easier. Right?

Broil the egplant, puree the tomatoes. Lick the spoon on the ricotta cheese.

We’ll see how this all turns out. I don’t think we’ve totally converted to vegan. After all, that eggplant lasagna had loads of cheese. I love cheese. Still, those tacos tonight were pretty darn good…and there wasn’t a bit of cheese anywhere.

I think if we eat plant based a couple of times a week we’ll be improving our health. And moving forward maybe the number of vegetarian or vegan meals will increase. Either way, red meat has taken a vacation around our house.

Mostly anyway.

Garden goodness.

*Note: The language in the Thug Cookbook will probably be offensive to many. Just a warning.

August 4, 2016
by dawnkinster 10 Comments

Lunch with Mom

Home

I want to go to lunch with my mom. Just a casual lunch, no earth shattering things to talk about. Maybe in a little coffee shop after a day of shopping.

But we weren’t like that. We rarely shopped together, neither of us were really into it. We didn’t meet for lunch at little coffee shops, though she made all of us lunch thousands of times at home. No, we weren’t the stereotypical mother/daughter. Plus she lived in Alabama. I lived in Michigan. Each visit I made was a big deal, a family reunion. Something she’d plan for weeks.

An event.

The hellos were wonderful, full of anticipation of time spent on the lake or around the table, all of us together. The goodbyes were heart wrenching, never knowing how long until the next reunion.

I want to go to lunch with my mom. Just a casual lunch, nothing special. I want to talk about her ducks and my dog. Her garden and mine.

Sometimes at night I look at the sky, stare at the stars and ask her to please come home. Please. But I know she is home now, and there aren’t any flights that leave there.

I’m here and she’s there.

Someday I’ll have lunch with my mom. It probably won’t be a casual meal because it will be a pretty special reunion. An event. For now I guess I’ll go make a sandwich and talk to her in my head. About her ducks and my dog. What’s in her garden today, and the tomatoes in mine.

You know – just casual stuff.

Her lake.

August 2, 2016
by dawnkinster 10 Comments

Paddling the blues away

Morning light.

My family has come out to the lake and gone home again. The house feels empty and I’m feeling a little blue. But this morning the sun rose on another perfect day and there’s nothing to do when you’re feeling blue except take a paddle on a gorgeous lake.

So I set out.

Let's head out and see what there is to see.

Let’s go see what there is to see.

This is what we lake people call ‘water ski water’ because it’s the perfect glassy surface to fly free at the end of a tow line. I’ve had plenty of beautiful skis like that over the years but this morning was designed for more quiet refection.

Going around a bend I lost the perfect water and headed into a bit of a wind. And I realized I had forgot the sunscreen and the water bottle.

Paddle harder!

So paddling got more difficult physically and mentally. But I wanted to see how far I could go with a bum shoulder. So I’d rest a bit, floating silently, looking at all the lake houses, now empty of their people for another week.

And up at the next point I saw a tree. A tree that made me feel even more blue.

Not fall color. Not.

Because surely that was not fall color! Surely that was just caused by the drought. Even though it’s sitting right on the shore with plenty of water. Sure.

I quickly paddled around that point, and the water was smooth again.

Mom and Dad are everywhere on this lake.

I’d have to go way past that island and around that next point to get even close to the mountain where my parents’ ashes were spread. So even though I was curious about whether I could paddle that far I floated a bit and reluctantly turned around for home.

After all the turkey buzzards were circling above, waiting for me. And I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of dehydrating in the hot Alabama sun.

Ever hopeful circles.

As with any trip, the paddle home seemed a lot shorter than the going out had been. Partly because that breeze was at my back. Partly because I’d moved into a rhythm, one with the water and the sun and the breeze and the paddle.

Still, home looked pretty good.

Home and shade, plus a bottle of water, await.

July 21, 2016
by dawnkinster 11 Comments

Entering via Ellis

Ellis Island is waiting for you.

The best advice I can give you about visiting Ellis Island is to give yourself a lot of time because there’s so much to see. Take it slow and let all that history sink in. And try to take a ranger guided tour. (Check for times at the information center inside the building.)

Telling us the story.

In a short half hour guided tour you’ll get a great base of knowledge which will help you understand all the rest. Our ranger used the story of a sixteen year old girl’s experience as she traveled across the ocean and through the system at Ellis Island.

At the end he reveled that girl was his grandmother. And that his grandfather came across as a young man not too long after and lived only a few blocks away from his grandmother. And the rest, he says, is his family’s history.

People passing through Ellis Island today.

Did you know that only the third class and steerage passengers had to go through Ellis Island? I didn’t either. First and second class passengers got the run of the ship, and were able to begin their new lives here in America as soon as they arrived. Those who only paid about $300 (in current dollars) for their passage were brought to the island to be inspected.

The luggage was left in the luggage room and they were sent upstairs to wait. As they climbed the stairs they were observed. If they appeared sick people at the top of the stairs marked their coats with chalk. Those people were examined more carefully.

Both the luggage and the passengers had to be inspected.

The rest waited in benches in a huge and beautiful room.

The Grand Hall waiting area would have been filled with long benches.

Perhaps they had never seen such a place before, or if they had, as the ranger said, rooms such as this would have been built in castles, not for people like them.

Beautiful floors.

But this was America, where anything was possible. Note the curved tile ceilings and the mosaic floors.

An immigrant could wait for a few hours, or days for their name to be called, but once it was they moved forward to answer the inspector’s questions. They were the same questions the ship company asked; What is your name, Where are you going? Where will you live? How much money do you have? If you answered correctly and passed the eye exam and a cursory physical you were allowed to leave and begin your new life.

Notice the beautiful tiled arches. And the original fixture.

If you did not pass, say you forgot the address of the family member taking you in, you were sent to have a hearing. You could bring in witnesses to collaborate your story. Many immigrants had never seen government treat them so fairly. It was one of their first lessons about freedom in America, and ninety-eight percent of those that arrived were eventually allowed into the country.

Still, it was a terrifying experience, to travel in the belly of a ship, arrive in a strange place, listen to strange languages, be told where to sit, be questioned by uniformed strangers. What hope and strength they must have had to travel toward such an uncertain future.

Thousands of people a day. So many faces.

They told us that forty percent of Americans today can trace a relative through Ellis Island. Forty percent of us owe our lives to someone that took the risk and came to make a better life.

If you’re ever in New York take the time to visit this historic place. Look at the views of Manhattan from the windows of the grand building. Think about what it must have felt like to sit looking across that water at the place you’d dreamed about.

Over there was opportunity.

And think about all they had left behind; family they’d never see again, familiar homes and towns. Think about what it must have been like to have only a few possessions, a few dollars, to know only a few people here in the new country.

So many.

Then think about how lucky we are to have been born here. Regardless of your political views, regardless of the stress of an election year, regardless of economic times, this is still the greatest country in the world.

We should take time to appreciate that.

Freedom forever.

July 18, 2016
by dawnkinster 22 Comments

Paying our respects at the Freedom Tower

Pools and names.

There are no words adequate to describe the sheer size while looking up at the tower gleaming against the bright blue sky. No words to describe the deep emotion running through a crowd that stands mostly silent around the perimeter of the two pools ringed with names of the nearly three thousand that died.

Reflecting somber thoughts.

No words.

Each day memorial staff place white roses in the names of those victims who would have been celebrating birthdays. Their lives are remembered by their families still and now complete strangers linger to gently touch the letters of the names cut into the smooth stone. Showing respect. Honoring.

Inside the museum our tour guide provides detailed history. She is careful of our feelings, telling us it’s a difficult story to hear, to have experienced, to remember.

Fire truck. Cab is destroyed. All died.

She reminds us that there are those among us that were not yet alive on that day and that it is important to tell the story. To not forget. To pass the lessons on.

Part of the antenna from atop one of the towers.

In the great hall there stands the last piece of formative steel to be removed from the site. Taped to it are pictures of some of those that died, put there by the construction crews and city employees working on the cleanup. A makeshift memorial captured and preserved forever.

Back wall is the original footings of the tower. Last formative steel removed covered in heartfelt graffiti.

A long wall is covered in tiles, each of the 2,996 a different shade of blue, no two alike, because each of the 2,996 victims was unique. Blue, because the sky on September 11, 2001 was the wonderful clear blue of a perfect autumn day.

“No day shall erase you from the memory of time.” -Virgil

There are things inside the museum that are hard to see but important to remember. There is a room with photos of each of the victims. Photos lined up, from floor to ceiling, row after row of faces smiling, eyes looking back, stories to be told, memories captured.

Hard.

But our guide reminds us that this memorial wasn’t built with hate. It was built with love. And that coming to visit is an act of love and respect and honor.

Old and new can exist together in harmony.

So we swallow our tears and we promise to pass the story on to the next generation in hope and peace.

Wings of hope.

And then we move out of the museum and back onto the streets of New York City under a brilliant blue sky.

Never forget.

July 11, 2016
by dawnkinster 19 Comments

Monday

Happy flowering clematis.

Not so long ago Saturday mornings were my favorite time of the week. The weekend stretched before me; hours and hours of time to spend however I wanted. But by Sunday morning I was already beginning to grieve.

Now that I’m retired I’ve noticed that my spirit picks up on Monday mornings. Early morning I settle into my chair to check the news and the weather, to contemplate life or to do nothing at all. Perhaps to fall back asleep. My choice.

Cheerful mikweed.

The dog asks to go out, and I stand with her in my front yard and listen to the roar of the freeway a mile away. All those people headed back to work. It makes me smile.

I know that sounds smug. Possibly even evil. But with everyone back at work grocery shopping gets easier. Driving into town is less insane. Going to the park is more peaceful.

Joyful zinnia.

It seems like the sky is blue just for me. I notice the roses glowing, the birds singing. I have time to watch the light move across my back yard.

Mondays are special because they remind me again, every week, how lucky I am that I’m not jumping in the shower and then into the car, heading back into the fray.

Roses smell sweeter.

Monday is my favorite day though the rest of the workweek isn’t bad either. And I’ve learned to tolerate all of you crowding up my weekend. I’ve learned to just hang on because Monday will roll around again soon.

Monday. It’s my favorite day.

What’s yours?

Makes me smile.

July 8, 2016
by dawnkinster 12 Comments

What has happened to us?

Confusion. Guilt. Grief. Embarrassment. Hopelessness. Sad.

All these feelings swirled around inside my head last night as I watched the news. And they are somewhat subdued but still hovering in my mind this morning as I watch the analysis unfolding.

Many people, much more eloquent than I, will write about the incidents in Louisiana and Minnesota that apparently led to last night’s multiple killings in Texas. Me, I’m wondering if these latest incidents will wake us all up. Because maybe our country never made the progress with race relations that we middle class, middle aged, white people liked to believe . Maybe social media and a continuous news loop have made that painfully obvious. It’s more difficult to ignore, erasing our excuses that we didn’t know.

Last night I watched black male adults relate conversations they’d had with their own parents about being safe out in public. Conversations they’ve had to have with their own children. Conversations I never had growing up, never considered. In my white bread life we were taught to be respectful to police officers, but the men killed in Louisiana and Minnesota didn’t seem disrespectful. Just black.

Of course there may be more to these stories. But neither event is an excuse for what occurred in Dallas. Ever.

So as we all wake up this morning it’s hard not to contemplate that seven men are not waking up. That their families must be feeling as though they are living a nightmare that will never end.

And so I am feeling confused about my version of history that is now challenged. I’m feeling guilty about my sheltered life. I am feeling grief for the loss of good people. All seven of them. I’m feeling embarrassed that I didn’t understand, even after seeing this sort of thing on the news over and over, the reality of life outside my own existence. I’m feeling hopeless faced with the enormity of the problem.

And I’m feeling sad.

Race. It’s like the gun issue and the truck issue. Only bigger. It’s an overarching social issue that changes the trajectory of our country. We can choose to go down the spiral of hate and revenge. Or we can use this time to sit together at the table and talk. And then follow up with the hard work that is required.

Let’s not fool ourselves any longer. Change is hard.

June 23, 2016
by dawnkinster 9 Comments

Vegan virgin

Several of my friends are vegans. Their diet includes no meat, no dairy, no eggs, which means no cheese! I’ve read enough to understand the health benefits of that sort of diet. And I haven’t been particularly interested in meat for a long time. Still. It seems overwhelming to move to the Land of Vegan.

I’m considering it more seriously now after attending a Veg-Fest last winter with vegan friends. I learned a lot, saw a lot of interesting things, but felt a lot of the booths at the show were hawking treats, chips and other type things that I’m already trying not to eat. I can’t imagine spending money to buy vegan versions of things I’ve been avoiding for years.

Like brownies. Or vegan ice cream. Which, by the way, was amazingly yummy. I ate two samples.

Still, I am beginning to explore recipes for main dishes that exclude meat and dairy. I’ve read 3 or 4 cookbooks, and gone to a healthy grocery story to find ingredients foreign to me. Seriously, what do you do with millet? I thought that was in birdseed? And ground flax? Chia seeds??? People eat those?

Today I made Lemony Red Lentil Soup. Hearty, easy and delicious. Could be a main course with some crusty homemade bread. Do I have time to make homemade bread? Well…yes…if I get organized.

Maybe there’s something to this vegan thing.

Yummy!

What is it about new things that frighten us? For me it takes longer to cook vegan because I’m always checking the recipe. Plus it seems like there’s a lot more stuff that needs to be chopped up. More planning ahead required. Different shopping at a different store takes time too.

For now I’m looking for a good bean burger recipe. If you’ve got one, feel free to share. And any other advice is welcome too. I’m going to try to incorporate a meatless meal into our weekly schedule — at first once a week, then maybe two days. We’ll see how it goes.

And I wonder if my vegan experiments should be described in a second and separate blog? Can I manage two blogs? Would anyone read them both? Would I just split my readers up or would I gain a different following? Does the world even need another vegan blog? I’ll have to marinate on that.

Marinate. Get it?

I crack myself up.

Veggies rule

June 19, 2016
by dawnkinster 8 Comments

Nothing left to add this Father’s Day

For days I’ve felt Father’s Day coming. And I’ve tried to conjure up a Father’s Day post, something sweet and reminiscent like I wrote last year. But for some reason I just don’t have anything profound to say. Nor anything less stirring. This year my mind can’t get around the fact that he’s not here.

He should be.

I should be able to give him a call, send him a card, even go for a visit. A couple weeks ago I did an interview and at the end the reporter asked me to send her pictures of me and dad. I realized I didn’t really have any of him and me together, just the two of us. I thought to myself that I should get a few taken next time I was home.

And then I remembered. Again. I have to keep remembering over and over and it’s just as painful each time.

I can’t make any more pictures. Can’t make any more memories. What I have is all there will be. All there will ever be.

I know I’m lucky that I have the vast number of memories and life experiences that our family created over the decades. Some people don’t have any memories at all. But I’m feeling greedy and wish there could be more.

He was a good man, a good provider, a good dad. He was doing the best he could to adjust to the loss of his life partner, my mom, when he was taken from us.

He should still be here.

This Father’s Day seems harder for me than most of the last twelve that our family has managed to get through. I don’t know why. But I know that tomorrow will be better. And I know we were lucky to have had him at all.

Still, I wish he was here today.

Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.

Tag Archives: musings