I recently finished Bob Spitz’s delightful biography of Julia Child — Dearie. You may scratch your head when I say it was hard to put down. It was. What a read! And what an amazing story of success.
Julia Carolyn McWilliams was born in 1912 in Pasadena, CA. She attended Smith College and worked for several years as a copywriter in NY. When World War II came along, 6’2″ Julia was too tall for the WAC’s or WAVE’s so she joined the OSS. She was posted in Asia where in 1944 she met Paul Child – a low level career diplomat. They were married in 1946 and Julia followed Paul as he was transferred to Paris. Julia was bored by the lack of things to do. Sooo . . . she took up cooking and attended Le Cordon Bleu — the legendary culinary institute. At the age of 39 she began teaching cooking to American women — in her small Paris flat. And with two colleagues, she began writing a cookbook directed to American housewives. After nearly ten years of writing and at the age of 49, her book Mastering the Art of French Cooking was published by Knopf. Julia’s star began to soar. A true outlier. . . . .
In 1962, she appeared on Boston’s WGBH — a television program designed for the staid discussion of books. Instead of sitting and talking, Julia arrived with food and paraphernalia (including a one burner tabletop stove) and — much to the consternation of directors — she insisted on cooking an omelette. On camera! The producers feared no one would ever watch WGBH again. Of course, Julia’s appearance had the opposite effect. Her success spawned her own show “The French Chef” and Julia became a household name.
In 2004, Julia passed away at the age of 92. Her kitchen was moved to the Smithsonian where it is on permanent display. Bon appetit!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vNfSJIyFMVw&feature=related
Author: scottpetersen
Lawyer, guitar player (the Blues), magic man, chess player, father, grandfather, husband, linguist, etc.
Nigeria
Nigeria is Africa’s most populous country (200 million). It is a bit more than twice the size of California with less than 3% of the population over 65. It is an interesting country — amazingly wealthy in natural resources (31st in the world in GDP) yet more than 70% of the populace live below the poverty line. The country’s leadership over the years has been corrupt, venal and self-serving — sending billions out of the country for personal bank accounts.
There are three main tribes in Nigeria: the Yoruba (21%), the Hausa/Fulani (25%) and the Ibo (Igbo) (18%). While there are hundreds of indigenous languages, English is the official language of the country. Yoruba are half Christian and half Muslim. But it is interesting that Muslim and Christian Yoruba get along just fine. They intermarry and often attend one another’s religious services. The Ibo are primarily Christian. It is the Hausa – who are 95% Muslim – who seem to create issues — not only in Nigeria but also in the region. The terrorist group Boko Haram is composed of violent jihadists (Hausa) who want to impose sharia law (see my post of September 8, 2016). Boko Haram (means “Western education is forbidden“) has been an instigator of ongoing bloodshed in the northern part of Nigeria.
There are a fair number of Nigerians in Chicago. Most seem to be Yoruba. A large number of cab drivers are Nigerian (see my post of August 19, 2012). The Yoruba and Ibo assimilate reasonably well among other African nationalities. Given the strategic location of Nigeria (coastal West Africa) and its tactical resources (mainly oil), this is one country we should really want to understand. And – there are 11 golf courses in Nigeria. And yes – I am thinking about it. . . . .
It’s all about the “dash”
[A repeat from March 23, 2017] I read an interview with Julius “Dr. J” Erving. He was asked the question “What’s the best advice you ever got?” He responded that it was learning one simple lesson: “It’s all about the dash.” The “dash” . . . . .
Dr. J explained that in the cemetery, every tombstone has two numbers: the year you were born and the year you die. And there’s a dash in between. THAT — Dr. J said — is what it’s all about. “The dash [is everything]. What you’ve done with your life and how you lived it are in that dash.” At some point, we are all going to have two numbers. And a dash.
In my post of April 26, 2014, I suggested that it’s better to be a thermostat than a thermometer. Thermostats take control. Thermostats are on the playing field. Scoring points. Making a difference. Making a dent. Thermometers sit back and . . . . just tell you the score. The dash on your tombstone can be a thermometer. Or a thermostat.
What’s in your dash?
The President’s Lawyer
When the United States House of Representatives delivered the Articles of Impeachment to the Unites States Senate, our President was forced to secure legal representation. As might be expected, he hired the best and the brightest to defend him. After lengthy testimony and deliberation, the Senate found the President not guilty of high crimes and misdemeanors. And Andrew Johnson went back to serving as President. . . . .
As some of you know, I have been an avid collector and dealer of historic autograph and manuscript material and occasional rare books. Over the last forty-five years, my personal collection has focused on original letters and documents of famous lawyers. The President’s famed lawyer — William Maxwell Evarts (1818-1901) is one of them.
Evarts came from a long line of distinguished Bostonians. After his successful defense of President Andrew Johnson in the 1868 impeachment proceedings, Evarts was named Attorney General. He became President of the New York Bar Association and led the movement to defeat the corrupt Tweed Ring. He finished his career serving as United States Senator from New York.
In these last four decades, I have acquired at least 33 handwritten and signed letters of William Maxwell Evarts dating from 1856 to 1893 – touching on a variety of topics. But as with all things, the adventure will soon end. The Evarts collection and my (one of very few) complete collections of original letters and documents of Justices of the United States Supreme Court will be on the auction block at the end of this month. It’s been quite a ride – this collecting business . . . .
So this guy. . . .
[I could use a smile. Here’s one from January 23, 2012]
So this guy goes to the doctor. He’s nervous and fidgeting. The doctor says “do you smoke?” The guy responds “yeah – four packs a day.” The doctor shook his head and calmly offered “well, if you don’t quit smoking, you’re going to be dead in five years.” The guy is twitching and shaking and says “But Doc – I’m nervous. I gotta have something to keep me calm.” The doctor thought for a moment “why don’t you chew toothpicks?”
So the guy quit smoking and started chewing toothpicks. Three boxes of toothpicks a day. He died five years later. Dutch elm disease. . . .
My Father’s house has many rooms
In 1985, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints – the Mormon Church – opened a grand temple in Glenview, Illinois. It was the 35th Mormon Temple in the world.
Prior to its consecration in August 1985, the doors of the Temple were opened to the public. From July 15 to August 3d, an open house invited anyone and everyone to take a guided tour through the beautiful structure. There was no proselytizing and no sales talk. It was strictly – we would like to share with you – our neighbors – this new home for the Mormon Church.
I had seen the construction site – and later the completed structure. When I read that the Temple would be open to the public, I thought it would be interesting. And educational. So one weekend afternoon, Donna and I drove over to a very crowded parking lot and lined up for the tour. We must’ve spent close to an hour walking through – including a small, beautiful oval-shaped room, grand chandelier and four chairs – I believe called a “Celestial Room” – where one might pray more directly to God.
After the tour, we were met by two young men in white shirts and black ties. They cordially asked if we had any questions – about the Temple or the Mormon faith. I thought – and inquired about how Mormons viewed those of other faith traditions who worshiped God in their own way. The one young man responded by quoting John 14:2-3 – “My Father’s house has many rooms. . . . ” and he shared an ecumenical belief that while Mormons may have the upper hand in terms of their faith (not unlike the exclusionary attitude of soooo many others faiths, synods, religions), all Christians should have a reservation for lodging in Heaven. As to non-Christians, there is further latitude that acknowledges that all people are God’s children. A good thought for all to keep in mind. . . .
Perspective
If you had been born in 1900, you were 14 years old when World War I began. By 1918, 22 million people had been killed. Later that same year, a Spanish Flu epidemic erupted. And 50 million people perished in the space of two years.
At the age of 29, the Great Depression began. Unemployment hit 25%, global GDP dropped 27%. The country nearly collapsed along with the world economy. When you turn 39, World War II starts and when you are 41, the United States enters the War. Between your 39th and 45th birthdays, 75 million lives are extinguished. Nearly 400,000 Americans are killed – to the tune of 8,000 men killed each month. The Holocaust slaughtered six million souls. When you turn 52, the Korean War starts and another five million perish including 36,000 American servicemen.
Four million people died during the Vietnam War including 56,000 Americans. In 1962, the Cuban Missile Crisis is a tipping point in the Cold War. Life on our planet, as we know it, came close to ending. Great leaders prevented that from happening.
Think of those folks who were born in 1900. And the challenges, pain and heartache they endured. They survived through devastating times and a cosmic annihilation of humanity. The Covid virus – which affects primarily older adults – while serious and of great concern – is so far a relative drop in the bucket. Medical science has advanced exponentially. And nearly all of those afflicted will survive. If our forebears were able to survive their struggles, can we survive ours?
The Hotel Selu
[A repeat from February 17, 2017] Cordoba, Spain. 1972. Donna and I had been married a few months and we took a belated honeymoon trip – 3 weeks – to Spain and Portugal. Two 25 year olds driving around with no reservations. No plans. No itinerary. Getting up each morning and going “what shall we do today?” We were in sync on pretty much everything so the trip went swimmingly.
We stayed in state-run “Paradors” for about ten bucks a night. We dined on the “big four” — calamari, coffee, churros and chocolate. And we followed the famed matador Diego Puerta as he wound his way through Spain – featured in weekend corridas. The bullfighting was special having just read Hemingway’s 1932 classic Death in the Afternoon. And Michener’s Iberia.
Then – we got to Cordoba. It’s late. The Parador was booked. Other hotels had no room. Finally – tired and hungry – we found a room. In the basement of the Hotel Selu. Cue the theme from “Dragnet” . . . .
Now today – the Hotel Selu may be a four star offering. But in 1972 it was . . . . “different.” We checked in. There were chickens cackling outside our window. And some guy was yelling at his wife in the next room (I think the walls were made of cardboard). Donna sat down on the bed and began to cry. . . . And that was before the rooster woke us up at 4:30 a.m. . . . .
I felt like an idiot. But mind you – I am not as dumb as I look. So I resolved that there would be no more Hotel Selus in Donna’s future. Over the years, we’ve come close a few times (once with the pillow cases filled with paper) but so far I’ve stayed out of that kind of trouble. . . . .
Night
It’s a Wednesday evening. You’re at home having dinner with your family. Smiling. Hearing stories from your children about their day. And the doorbell rings. Again. Again. Sharp banging on the door. You put your napkin on your chair – get up and answer the door. Seven hard-looking men in uniform, carrying guns, are there. One, an officer, spits out the words “you have one hour to pack. Be outside in one hour.” He turns on his heel while the six men press into your home. Guns leveled. And your dinner begins to cool. . . . .
This scenario happened over. And over. And over again from 1939 to 1945 for those in Europe who were Jewish. Once outside the door, often families were separated. Sobbing children dragged away from hysterical parents. Occasional shots rang out. An infant might be tossed in the air and used for target practice. Families stuffed into trucks or trains. And transported to their death. During the Holocaust, 6 million Jews – two thirds of Europe’s Jewish population – were murdered. Elie Wiesel’s classic Night recounts a small chapter of the horror.
The United Nations gives a smiling pass to China, Russia, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and other totalitarian governments. The United Nations Human Rights Council includes Sudan, Pakistan, Somalia, Libya and Venezuela. Who do they condemn? Israel. A lone democracy in a troubled region. A nation trying to survive despite the violent networks that surround them.
Increasing numbers of people – even supposedly educated elites in academia – rise up and spew hatred at Israel and the Jewish community.
There are 2.1 billion Christians in the world. 1.8 billion Muslims. One billion Hindus. And 14 million Jews. And who gets it in the neck – from increasing numbers of people in Europe, the Middle East and even America? Read my post on anti-semitism (June 1, 2019).
It’s a Wednesday evening. You’re at home having dinner with your family. And there’s a knock at the door. . . . . .
Night.
Peace
[A repeat from January 12, 2017] Pax vobiscum. As-salamu Alaikum. Shalom. Shanti. Aloha. Peace be with you. . . .
It’s interesting how most faith traditions include a blessing to others — extending peace. And asking for peace in return. In my church, there is a time when we “share the peace.” Peace – be with you. And also with you.
The Prince of Peace has been around for 3,000 years (Isaiah 9:6). Plato encouraged moderation and a sense of limits that bring peace. There is a Nobel Peace Prize. There’s a peace symbol. The Paris Peace Conference of 1919 was to end the war of all wars. There’s a Peace Corps and the United Nations has “peacekeeping” missions.
With all the peace being promoted around the world, you would think that peace would be bubbling over. But no. Families suffer discord. As do school boards. City councils. Communities. Counties. States. Washington D.C. Other countries. The world. Pain. Anger. Hatred. Violence. Discord. Just how serious are we about being peaceful? Seems like everyone wants peace. But nobody wants to give it. Peace is like a bridge. It’s always been under construction. But it hasn’t been completed in several millennium.
So – what’s the answer? That is the 64 dollar question. Perhaps peace begins at home. Or in the workplace. We need peace in the political arena. That’s for sure. I believe charity of heart can help. Along with an understanding that good people can have differing views on different subjects. Not everyone agrees though. But can you try?
Peace be with you.
Renaissance Hombre 