Sing Up Some Joy

When is the last time you sang? At church? Washing dishes? In the car? Has it been years? I used to sing all these places and now I rarely do. I got busy, and I just got out of the habit. Maybe people didn’t want to hear me. I think I’ll have to change that. When we were kids we always sang in the car. We sang hymns with my grandmother. I sang lullabies to my dolls. There isn’t enough singing, I’m thinking. Go ahead, sing.

I used to sing with my brother. He has a strong tenor voice and we sang in harmony. Then parkinsons took hold of his vocal chords and it's hard to understand him - unless he sings. There is his voice, strong and clear with every note. You know what else? Our new grandbaby loves music. It quiets her. I sang her every one of those lullabies I know. And one day, I overheard her six year old brother singing her a lullaby that my mother used to sing to me. There’s the best reason. Sing out your sorrow, sing to your babies, sing up some joy. Sing!

Pass the Biscuits

There is a long view of life that gets clearer as I get older. Ten years seems like a short time and yet waiting a year for something seems a big investment of my days. In terms of family, I see now that we choose the memories to remember, and whether we know it or not, we choose the ones we create. It is the sum of these memories that becomes our experience - positive or negative - in the same way that it is the sum of our small, daily decisions that becomes our life. We can want our kids to remember happy childhoods but that takes two things - create happy memories with them, and then hope, when they are adults, they decide those are the ones to focus on.

It seems the things I remember most from my own childhood are things we did. They were physical and memorable - water fights with my brothers, camping in the redwoods, playing a fairy princess in our kindergarten play, cooking with my granny. I remember kneeling on a straight chair in the kitchen so I could reach the counter, sprinkling the flour on a board, cutting in the shortening, kneading, rolling. It was fun and delicious. My brother Dean and cousin Roger used to have contests of who could eat the most biscuits - I'm thinking they topped off at about fifteen each. We ate them for breakfast with butter and syrup, or sometimes with fried chicken at Sunday dinner. Then we slathered them with peach jam.

If you don't do homemade biscuits you should try, just once. Let the kids roll and cut. Don't worry about the flour on the floor. The dog will lick it up, or you always have a broom. I'll have to make a batch to get the measurements - Granny taught me to eyeball the ingredients. Going now to do that. Back in an hour with the recipe:

Preheat oven to 400 F. (about 210 C.) Lightly grease a baking sheet. Mix 2 cups flour, 1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon salt. Cut in about 1/3 to 1/2 cup Crisco until bits are smaller than peas. (Do this with two table knives. Hold one in each hand and pass the blades across each other as though they were scissors cutting the shortening.) Stir in about 1 cup milk until the mixture holds together and is sticky to touch. Turn it onto a floured surface. Knead the dough into the flour about 20 times until it feels smooth to the touch. It should be soft but not sticky. Flour your rolling pin and roll the dough to about 1/2 inch thick. Fold the dough in half and roll it out again. Fold again, this time leaving the dough about 3/4 inch thick. Flour a round biscuit or cookie cutter, or use the floured top of a small glass to cut your biscuits. Bake for about 12 minutes, until they rise and tops are lightly browned. Serve with butter and warm syrup.

My Virtual Kitchen Table

I wish I could invite you over for coffee, but many of the people I love live far away. So virtual coffee it is and this morning I'm serving Starbuck's Casi Cielo - almost heaven. It's my favorite. What to expect on this new blog? My opinions on books and maybe a bit of pragmatic politics. I'll share some recipes if it moves me, but mainly, I want to talk about families. And experience. I've earned that.

Like my friends, my family is scattered. So was the one I grew up with - back in the day - but I could count on my mom to show up if I needed her and to always put on a cup of coffee and dish up an opinion - even if it was just with a look. Now I'm in that position, and it occurs to me that there are many things I haven't said. Some of them never came up. Some seemed obvious. But now, I want to share.  I'm hoping this blog will be funny and helpful and a little crazy. Come back often to see if I'm successful. For now, pour yourself a cup of coffee. Here goes.

I have a newborn granddaughter. She's got big eyes and is learning to smile. I'm reminded again, that our children aren't born as blank slates. I believe they come preloaded with their own personalities and maybe with their own trajectory in this world. But they are master observers. They learn day by day from their caretakers. They learn to sleep, smile, babble. And that continues every month and year. You may not yet believe it, but kids see you, listen to you, and will pattern so much after you, the people who literally care for them. They want to be like you. So at the risk of being a bit preachy, I'll sum up where we're going -

Do you want your child to be respectful? Respect your partner, your friends, your family. Want her to be a reader? Don't just read to her. Be a reader yourself. Want your child to have a good vocabulary? It's not about flash cards. Talk to him, not at him.  Have a conversation - yes, with your two or three or four year old. Want him to be healthy? Eat healthy and be active. Take care of yourself. Want her to have high self esteem? Take time for yourself. Everyday. Model, model, model. That's the secret to teaching and to guiding your child.