Gone But Not Forgotten

         For 30 years I nurtured a friendship that was as constant as it was satisfying. It anchored me and gave me a safe place to belong. Without it I’d never have made it through some very rough times, nor would I have had so much joy sharing the best times. For 30 years my friend and I told each other everything. It’s not a cliché to say we laughed and cried together. During those 30 years we talked each other through weddings, births, deaths, and the ups and downs of our marriages. We navigated  the sharp reefs of young adulthood together, staying married, raising children, and forging what I thought was a lifelong bond.

Birthdays were special for us. We celebrated at museums, on home tours, shopping for antiques, or attending plays followed with a long meal somewhere new. Two days a year were blissfully filled with effortless conversation, good food, and something new to see. I’d think of a couple of things my friend might like to do and then give her a choice.  One year she wanted to browse the high end thrift shops in Pasadena looking for antiques.  Another year she took me to the Los Angeles Museum of Art in remembrance of my mother who had a favorite painting there that I longed to see again. 

We traded stories and advice about child rearing, supporting and validating each other. Both of us have one daughter and a younger son so we have lots in common. We could tell each other the worst stories about our children and know that neither parent nor child was judged. We loved and appreciated all four of our children.

Our husbands were roommates in college which is how  we met. Because of  our husbands’ close relationship as well as our own, we occasionally vacationed together.  Our families visited Hawaii when the kids were young and we drove to Mammoth Mountain, winter and summer, with kids and without. We cooked and ate lots and lots of meals together, sometimes planned, sometimes spur of the moment. As we all got older and our extended families spread out, we started to spend some Thanksgivings and Christmases together. Those were the best holidays spent with our best friends and filled with laughter, conversation, and love.

Then about two years ago something happened. I don’t know what. But I know when it started. My friend’s grandmother died and she didn’t tell me until weeks had passed.  How odd not to call me when something so important had happened in her life. I was surprised and a little hurt.  Some months later when we met for lunch  a couple of times, that’s all we did, eat and run. The vase that held our friendship broke then. Every other time we had met for lunch we drove together and spent the afternoon wrapped in conversation.  We never ran out of things to talk about. Never. Except now we did. She rushed off after each of the two lunches. Seemed like she couldn’t wait to get away.

One of those lunches was the last time I saw or spoke to my best friend.  She still lives a mere 5 minutes from me but I never see her. We don’t call each other for coffee or walks or shopping anymore. I, because I can’t be sure what her response would be and she – I can’t begin to know.  Most tellingly, she didn’t acknowledge my birthday or last Christmas either. So I know our friendship is over.

Now, here I am in transition from young mother and wife to middle-aged woman unclear about my identity and even my role in my own life. There’s no one now with whom to share my journey, to explore the possibilities and opportunities life still offers.  At least no one who shares my experiences and memories as my friend does. I’m floundering on my own trying to swim in rough waters with no life preserver. Certainly I have other friends, but none so close we can have coffee on five minutes notice, none whom I have known so intimately.

Honestly, I think about her almost every day and wonder what happened and if she misses me as much as I miss her.  Judging by comments she made when we last met, I think that she made a conscious decision to end the friendship – simply decided that because her life  had changed she simply had no liking or use for me anymore. I have written letters to her, left unsent. I am not prepared for the possible consequences of sending a letter. First, what if she doesn’t respond? Conversely, what if she does? I can’t take the risk and I think the message she’s sent just by her absence is fairly clear.

         Thirty years of shared confidences, memories, and closeness is difficult to lose, impossible to replace.

Teacher of the Year

There are many to thank on this auspicious occasion. First I'd like to thank George W. Bush for having the foresight to back No Child Left Behind.  Given his own struggles in education I can appreciate what this legislation meant to him.  I'd also like to thank the Congress for continuing down this path of testing and beating up schools that fail to meet the complicated criteria of NCLB. It really sets us all up for the failure we so richly deserve. The media has also contributed and I'd like to thank them for finding every way possible to condemn all teachers and make our FREE educational system the whipping boy for  society's ills. In addition I owe a debt of gratitude to the state of California for designing the most daunting and rigorous set of educational standards in the nation. It's a challenge to teach more standards than can actually be taught in 12 years. The people who brought us the recession deserve a mention for those furlough days that shorten the school year.

On a more personal note though, special thanks goes to the District Office personnel who walked through my classroom and gave me such incredibly  insulting and negative feedback. I couldn't have done it without you. I don't want to forget the parents who also helped make this possible by forgetting to check backpacks, being absent from their kids' lives and generally abdicating responsibility for their children's education. That means a lot to me, that you trust me that much. And the kids, little angels, they helped too, refusing to make the smallest effort, turning in sloppy work, daydreaming during lessons.

One last thanks goes to the field of mathematical modeling and statistics that are now presented to us as FACTS. That field predicts the future from current data and manipulates statistics.  If it weren't for those tireless souls working away in cubicles on computers we wouldn't have the API and AYP numbers with which the government, press, administrators, and parents could club us.

To each and every one of you who made my final and complete demoralization and "fuck it all" attitude possible, thank you again. I'll never forget you.

Toaster Fish

Somewhere in one's late forties or early fifties one becomes painfully aware that one simply cannot afford the eating habits that have sustained one thus far in life. Unless one is running miles every day, one's calorie intake simply must be reduced in order to maintain a decent weight. The other realization is that after many years of cooking for a family, cooking has become an onerous chore accompanied by late evening clean up that no one wants to take on. One must look for menu and cooking alternatives.

Enter toaster fish. This is the "nom de guerre" of our favorite calorie friendly dinner entree. One can purchase this delicacy at a Costco or Trader Joe's along with time efficient side dishes. Toaster fish is available in many varieties including salmon, halibut, tilapia, and cod.  Some is battered, some coated in crumbs of some kind, and some is marinated. What they all have in common is that each piece is individually frozen, partially or fully cooked, and ready to eat in 16 to 20 minutes, sooner if you use a microwave. However, microwaving a battered piece of fish is not recommended since it ends up rubbery and soggy.

This is where the toaster comes in. Not your regular bread toaster of course but your seldom used and slightly passé toaster oven. I know, you had this vision of a trout going head first into a toaster slot, funny, but no. Toaster ovens heat to 400 degrees quickly and with a small piece of foil cleanly bake any frozen fish entree in 20 minutes from preheat to plate. Thus is born - toaster fish. Low calorie, quick, and no mess to clean up. It's the perfect entree for the over 50 crowd who can no longer afford to eat the beef stroganoffs, meat loafs, and chicken cordon bleus that made regular appearances at the dinner table in years past. Add to that a package of "cook in the microwave" green beans or broccoli and a salad and your meal is complete. The perfect combination of omega-3 oils, fiber, and vitamins. Sigh...

Eating this way on a regular basis is good for you, your heart and your colon and all those organs so prone to degeneration during aging. But is it fun, delectable, satisfying? Do you swoon with delight as your taste buds alight with savory flavors and textures? No. No. No. When I think of all the foods I've given up eating in the past ten years I get a little teary eyed. I used to eat real grilled cheese sandwiches with my kids, whip up Swedish pancakes on Sundays and drench them in real maple syrup. Snacks were cheese and crackers, I do adore extra sharp cheddar cheese.  And let's not forget pasta, a mainstay of my diet for years and now forbidden except for rare occasions. Sometimes I long for angel hair pasta mixed with fresh basil, tomatoes, peas, and fresh parmesan, crusty sourdough garlic bread and spaghetti with meat sauce, ummm. Dessert was apple crisp and vanilla ice cream or just ice cream and chocolate sauce.  Let's not forget baked potatoes with sour cream and rice with butter and salt. What about tuna salad sandwiches with real mayonnaise, remember those?  I even made my own mayonnaise once to go with asparagus that I now eat with lemon juice. Just doesn't have same "mouth feel" without the mayo.

Everything changes, things you never imagine will change when you're young.  Your body starts to betray you in oh so many ways. It tries desperately to store food for the coming famine while beginning to creak and squeak in odd places. The bottoms of your feet lose fat as your belly gains it. How unfair is that? So your pants don't fit and your feet hurt.  As your body becomes less and less the one you knew, you get to eat less and less of the foods that made eating and cooking worthwhile. My solution to this crisis is to spend less time cooking and thinking about food. I just open the freezer and pick a box.

Toaster fish: it's what's for dinner.