hopelesshappiness.com

One morning this week I went to the garage in search of a handful of food books I had stored away this past winter; amongst them “In Defense of Food” written by Michael Pollan in 2008. That afternoon (unrelated to my book search) I went to the bank to reset my debit card PIN that I had inexplicably forgotten more than a year ago. The next day I opened “In Defense of Food” to a page where I had inserted a piece of mail I was obviously using as a bookmark. The piece of mail was a ten-year-old notice from my bank providing me with my Personal Identification Number; the one I had forgotten. How? Why? Was the Universe talking to me? Laughing at me? Pelting me from afar with mocking, rotten omnipotence? Or was it truly just an amazing, magical coincidence? I suppose each individual is allowed their own interpretation for experiences such as this, but being the reasonable, spreadsheet sort of person I am, even though here in its immediate aftermath this has left me somewhat uncertain and flung-flustered, I am sure within a few days I will land on coincidence to explain this odd alignment of circumstance. A large part of the reason for this is if I chose a different interpretation, I might spend time and effort looking for unknowable, unfindable answers. Coincidence allows me to move on; to maintain productivity.

Random, lucky coincidence…

Random: there are far more variables in play than we are willing to acknowledge or consider, and chaos is the rule far more often than it is the exception.

Lucky: good or bad.

Coincidence: a layering of random luck.

I believe the reason this PIN number coincidence has me flung-flustered is because it is 100 percent random luck. As a human I like to believe that I have control; or if not me, some greater power. I am uncomfortable with anything I cannot grasp or explain. When relating this series of unlikely happenstance, I even had someone trying to give me credit for subconsciously remembering where that notification was and manifesting it by thinking about my PIN number outside the context of that bookmark. We tell ourselves and we like to believe that “because I did this, this happens.” The actual equation is. “because I did this and because this happened and because this happened and because this happened and because this happened and because this happened… (potentially ad infinitum), then this happened. It is easy for me to leave out all the “and because this happened” factors but it is difficult for me to leave out the “because I did this” factor…

…unless the “this that happens” is bad - then many (and perhaps most) of us jettison the “because I did this” factor and eagerly blame the “and because this happened…” factors.

But as a nation and as a culture, to explain the homeless or hungry or poor or any number of other unfortunate circumstances we revert back to the responsibility equation and tell those people “because you did THIS (fill in the blank), this happened.”

We tell ourselves and we like to believe…

In 1760 General Jeffrey Amherst, commander-in-chief of the British army declared, “Indians always do mischief.” (Blackhawk, page 149). This sentiment set a tone that has persisted now for 265 years of white American antipathy towards all other races and (later) ethnicities. Unlike the French before them, when the British won dominion over interior lands hypocrisy and duplicity became their standard for diplomacy, and though this worked for a bit, by 1763 Native Americans recognized their tactics for what they were. It was at this time (during Pontiac's War of 1763) that Amherst purportedly ordered the delivery of smallpox-infected blankets to Indian villages saying, “We must use every stratagem in our power to reduce them,” and ordering that all prisoners “be put to death, their expiration being the only security for our future safety.” (Blackhawk, page 159).

This mindset solidified even further as colonists in pursuit of land began rebelling against the (half-hearted) British policies of consensus, pacifism and tolerance. This uprising alongside the more-often cited taxation eventually led to revolution. In his book “The Rediscovery of America” Ned Blackhawk succinctly states: “Indian hating is an ideology that holds Native peoples are inferior to whites and therefore rightfully subject to indiscriminate violence.” (Blackhawk, page 164) — this All-American precept would evolve over time to apply to others as well. America, for 265 years, has consistently visited violence in some form - (physical injury, hatred, separation, isolation, servitude, confinement, fear, hunger, homelessness) - on the poor, the powerless, the downtrodden (often synonymous with non-white race and ethnicity) all in pursuit of property, wealth and power…

…which is and always has been the true American Dream.

From where I sit, for those in power with wealth and property, it appears their dream has been fulfilled, yet they continue to pursue more property, more wealth, more power. In pursuit of our American Dream, it is obvious that enough is never enough. And it is this greed and desire dating all the way back to George Washington and the British colonists that to this day defines us as a nation and as a culture.

As previously described, this year I was forced into retirement and forced to take a part time job. I got on as a bank teller and every day I work I see wealth and entitlement and I see poor people struggling to play by the rules; and there are a lot of rules. This week I saw a man (in the drive-thru) get angry over having to explain a technicality on a $300 check (less than 1/10th of 1 percent of his account balance) so he drove off, leaving the check and not caring about the fate of his $300. A few weeks ago I saw a man confused and near tears over multiple $35 non-sufficient funds fees from multiple ACH withdrawals (some automatic) totaling less than $100 - he received a check register and an academic lecture (from the branch manager) on how to balance his checkbook.

Do we have our priorities turned around?

A little bit?

Maybe?

Though he didn't appear to care, would Mr. Carte Blanche object if we took his $300 downtown to hand out to the homeless?

All this from “Indians always do mischief.”

Food and Music - two of the most magical things on this planet.

I am writing a Cookbook in which I am also sharing my love for (and taste in) music. This idea has evolved from my original thought of a standard cookbook format to include Top 5 lists based on feedback from those who consistently taste my food. The working title has also evolved from ‘Not my best effort…’ to ‘Structured Chaos: The Process of Preparing and Cooking a Meal’ to ‘Food as Song: My Culinary Playlist’. I can't imagine cooking at home without listening to music. I am inspired (by the finished product that is song) to work similar magic on a dish and/or a meal; to bring contrasting and complementary ingredients together in a fusion of flavors, textures, aromas, and presentation. To this ultimate end of layering food and music I am (somewhat randomly) assigning a subgenre of music to each category or section in the cookbook. Examples: Rockabilly to Starters/Appetizers and Hard Rock to Potatoes; yes potatoes get their own section - I love potatoes. I am also assigning a particular song from the associated subgenre to each recipe. And I still intend to have a Top 5 in each section and I will include an historical note or two with each song entry and with each recipe.

In recent weeks my efforts have been reined in; not as a lessening but as a tightening. This is me giving up on the world. I have always worked hard. In the beginning the driver was a sense of responsibility for those immediately around me. First, I did not want to disappoint my parents and (perhaps to a slightly lesser extent) my siblings. Then, (married at the age of 20 with three children over the next ten years), I worked hard to do right by my own family and I continue to do so today (extended to in-laws and grandchildren) and I will continue to do so until I am no longer able. But in addition, somehow in my nature and/or nurture, by the time I became a hard-working adult with my own family my efforts expanded and I also acquired a strong sense of responsibility towards the world at large; I worked very hard at improving an ever-widening circle of surrounding circumstance. So to this end, as I continued to live and learn I developed a stubborn mindset that frequently refused to just go along to get along and more often than not insisted on moving against the current because I was learning that in most circumstance improvement comes from moving against the current. My determination in this regard has grown stronger with each passing year and decade. I rejected the way of this world, instead chasing dreams and believing in some greater fulfillment; something more meaningful than mere ego, prestige, capitalism and ownership. I wanted to make things better. I wanted to wreak Goodness on this misguided world. But after 4 plus decades the world has responded to politely inform me that I am the misguided one so I can just go sit down now - and I will, turning my back on this world that is not at all interested in what I have to say. I sort-of get it; I am only one tiny, tiny, small, insignificant voice of disagreement, and power prefers/demands status quo, and human nature tends to fear change; but I think I could have helped…

Two months ago I semi-retired. At the time I didn’t think I was ready and it made me angry that I was forced out. That said, perhaps they did me a favor. I am coming around to the perspective that these extra days off are in many ways pretty great. I am finding I am okay (and perhaps more than okay) with being forcibly removed from the world. Now that I have slogged through a good portion of the bureaucracy (social security battles, insurance hassles, healthcare negotiations, and part-time job hunting), I am finding myself going back to from whence I came in my adolescence and early twenties; cinching my focus to work harder for family and friends (one in the same) and even some for myself. The world let me go and each day I am finding it easier in turn to let the world go. Thank you World.

Covid.