Cairo -- 1981

Reading about and watching the upheaval in Egypt has triggered memories of places I went and people I met in Egypt thirty years ago this July. It was so easy to fall in love with the country and its people and it breaks my heart seeing how they are suffering now. The Egyptians I met were gracious, intelligent, warm people proud of their history and heritage and eager to share it with visitors. The passionate and peaceful protests are entirely in character. We happened to arrive during Ramadan, a month-long fast for Muslims. I was impressed with the Egyptians' discipline. It was terribly hot, yet they would not touch food, water or even chewing gum until after sunset. Their daily sacrifice was quickly relieved when sunset was announced each evening from minarets around the city. My sister, Janet and I enjoyed sitting on our hotel balcony watching Cairo nightlife rev-up in Tahrir Square each evening. Nearly every building surrounding the square was topped with huge, colorful neon signs. The city became magical at night. A crowded bus terminal was also on the square, not far from the Egyptian Museum. Morning and evening rush hours meant people jamming into and onto buses. I still marvel at how they were able to hang on while riding on the roof or hanging from windows. Roads leading onto the square were jam-packed with cars, buses and taxis. Crossing streets was challenging because signals and signs seemed to be considered just decorations. Every time we ventured out on foot, we had to boldly step right into the traffic to get across a street. We had close calls, but never were hit, so the "system" seems to work. Coptic Christians are a small, distinct minority in Egypt. Visiting their Cairo neighborhood was like entering another world. The churches, houses and other buildings are quite old, with low doorways and narrow passages between them. Cars won't fit there, so pedestrians are free to stroll and enjoy each others company. Images of St. George appear everywhere. Families with little children strolled the neighborhood nibbling on little round loaves of bread, cucumbers or melon slices. Several times, we were offered a share of someone's snack by means of smiles and torn bits handed to us. The rest of the city was solemnly fasting and the Copts were sharing what they had with strangers on a hot, summer day. We visited several impressive, old Coptic churches. The most memorable was a tiny one with an equally small, walled courtyard. A children's choir was practising on an upper level of the church. Both of us had sung in church choirs, so it was a special moment. Egypt and Cairo have changed immensely in thirty years. I wouldn't say it has all been bad, but for the Egyptian people it is past time for Mubarak to step down. I hope the change of leadership will be intelligent, merciful and expeditious. Representative government takes belief in and dedication to the principles of democracy. It requires every business, political and religious faction to put the welfare of the people and country ahead of their particular faction's interests. I hope that Egypt can carry it off. I think they can. [Please forgive the poor quality of my pictures. They were taken with a tiny, cheap camera 30 years ago and have faded considerably.]

It's Time to Grow Up, Danny

True confession one: I am not a huge football fan, much less a rabid Redskins follower. The name of the team is an embarrassment, and the team's owner is just plain out of his league. There are many reasons to dislike Dan Snyder. His removal of mature trees to improve the river view from his monstrous Maryland estate was the beginning for me. It was not only illegal (he's a lawyer, by the way) but did long term damage to the ecology of the region. His actions seemed to say "I don't care about erosion or where eagles, woodpeckers, squirrels, raccoons and other critters live. I want a water view and I'll have it, dammit!" As I've already admitted, I really couldn't care less if the Skins win or lose. What I do care about is financial incentives given to team owners to keep them and their teams where they are. I also care that the ridiculous salaries paid to players are paid by the fans. You can be sure that owners don't lose any of their wealth to pay these guys -- they simply raise prices for everything from seats to parking to concessions and licensing deals. If the Skin's go to the super bowl, more bucks for everyone. If they don't, no sweat off the owner's back; he still gets his bucks. True confession two: I am a huge fan of Gene Weingarten in the Washington Post. His smart-ass commentaries appeal to my smart-ass mind and I have yet to disagree with him. Reading his op-ed in today's paper had me laughing outloud and, if he'd been here, I'd have given him several high-fives. Judge for yourself by reading Gene Weingarten - Memo to Dan Snyder: Thank you for your stewardship of the Redskins.

Hey guys -- it can't be that hard.

I have a solution for the conundrum the federal government and big, regional employers face every time we have difficult weather. No one has figured out how to control Mother Nature, but human nature is something we can deal with. Where people choose to live is a personal choice. Spouse and I choose to live in the District so that we can walk most places, including to work. Others choose to live in Loudoun or Montgomery or Prince William or Calvert or wherever even though they work in the District. No one should be penalized for their personal choices. [To me, having to commute on 95 or 50 or any other clogged highway is punishment enough.] Be that as it may, there should be a reward system for close-in workers who stay on the job during foul weather because they live within walking or biking distance. How about compensatory leave for workers who continue to work as their suburban co-workers hightail it out of town during bad weather. To determine who is released when, take a map of the D.C. region and, starting at the Capitol, draw concentric circles at five mile intervals away from the Capitol heading out into the far Maryland and Virginia suburbs. Then draw four quadrants: north, east, south and west. It will resemble a darts target. When the weather service indicates a storm is heading in, say, from the northeast, allow employees who live in the farthest north and east sectors from the Capitol to leave earliest. An hour later, release those living closer in and so on until actual D.C. residents are the last to be released. Of course release patterns would depend on the track of a storm and how quickly it is moving. Any such arrangement would require cooperation of schools, businesses, and governmental offices, public and private transportation services. Public works departments would clear evacuation routes ASAP then focus on secondary roads and neighborhoods. It seems logical that regional emergency management agencies should coordinate weather related evacuations of this sort similarly to how they would conduct any other sort of mass evacuation. The one goal would be to get everyone home safely, expeditiously and with as little trauma as possible. That's my idea. It sounds rudimentary even to me. However, I confess that I no longer take pleasure in watching commuters jammed up on local streets while I'm safe and warm at home. It's just not right.

Is it a Bird?! Is it a Plane?!

No, silly, it's just a condensation trail.

Thanks Border's Books

Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese was a recommendation from Border's Books website. I visit the site and their store often because they offer huge selection and good prices. I'm so hoping recent rumors about Border's demise are false.

I don't normally buy books simply because they appear on best seller lists, but I made an exception for this one. The title told me nothing, but the synopses intrigued me.

The story is about several Indians who take medical training in India and wind up in a poor, Catholic mission hospital in Ethiopia. The time period is during Emperor Haile Selassie's reign and exile and Mengistu's power grab. Ethiopia and Eritrea are struggling with the legacy of Italian colonialism and have yet to separate. The entire Horn of Africa is a mess having just gained independence from various European interlopers.

This is the stage onto which conjoined twins are born to an unlikely pair and barely survive their birth and separation. Their mother dies in the process and their father, a gifted surgeon, abandons them in shame and horror. The twins go on to take medical training and work with their surrogate parents in the mission hospital.

The story is deeply compelling and the characters are beautifully developed. The situations they encounter are wrapped in the political turmoil of their times and places. As complex and passionate as the characters and situations are, the multiple tales Mr. Verghese tells are perfectly interwoven and though the ending is surprising, it is completely satisfying and believable.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

The first time I saw The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society I knew I had to read it. I'm a big fan of BBC America and the British comedies and dramas on PBS. [OK, so I was curious about the pie, too.] The British Channel Islands, of which Guernsey is one, were occupied by the Germans during WWII. Nazi planes bombed key locations on the islands then moved in for five years. I doubt it was that simplistic, but the story skirted many of the really ugly details of the occupation. The book is comprised entirely of correspondence between a young British author, her publisher, her publisher's sister (who is also her best friend) and a slew of fascinating Guernsey residents. The friendly, sometimes earthy banter in the letters makes me wish people still wrote letters to each other -- the kind written on paper with a pen. From the first page I was laughing out loud. Tears and sadness inevitably came because it is about WWII. By the end I felt I knew the characters so well that we could have been friends. Their integrity, loyalty, humor, courage and generosity survived despite five long, hard years being held captive on their own island. Gotta add a trip to Guernsey to my "bucket list". If you've read it, I'd love to hear your take on it.

Demolition Derby in the Kitchen

(Please don't think I'm insensitive to last weekend's tragedy. I just can't cope with it right now and needed something light to help me get through the week. I may take up the topic later, but it will probably have been beaten to a pulp by then.) I love cardamom. True confession and the reason for the above. Several weeks ago, I found a cookie recipe - online - for Swedish ginger snaps, a.k.a. Pepperkaka. Eagerly printing off the recipe, I realized I actually had all the ingredients on hand, including an expensive little jar of ground cardamom. It was a little too close to Christmas to attempt something new, so I filed it away for a later time which turned out to be yesterday. For those of you who may not know this, I come from hardy Norwegian stock on my dad's side. Norway and Sweden have not always been on loving terms and there are old jokes to prove that, e.g. "Did you hear about Norway's new zoo? The put a fence around Sweden." Ha . . . Anyway, I hereby curse whichever Swede put this recipe out there for innocent me to stumble upon. By no means am I a new cook. I'm older than dirt and have cooked and baked my way through several different cuisines. I also have developed recipes of my own that I've shared with family members in a family cookbook. None have died, so far as, a result of eating any of my concoctions! So -- back to the Pepperkaka. It's a two day process. The recipe states that one must mix and heat an enormous amount of sugar, molasses, spices (there's the cardamom), a touch of water and a full cup of butter. No prob. The aroma of all that coming to a boil is beyond words to describe. The fun begins when one adds five cups of flour and a tiny amount of baking soda with an electric mixer. [I kid you not!] Now my hand mixer, being a hideous harvest gold color is also older than dirt, but still works. It vents through slots on the bottom of the mixer which is, of course, directly over the hot pot of sugar and butter now topped off by five cups of flour. Even at slow speed, flour blew up and out of said pot, straight up my nose. After a short break to blow said nose and to slap flour off my face and front, I returned to the electric mixer which very nearly died from the effort of incorporating five cups of flour. At that point, the directions say to cover the cookie dough and refrigerate overnight. Knowing I couldn't put my pot with it's long handle in the frig, I efficiently transferred the lovely smelling, warm, soft dough into my favorite mixing bowl. [I have had this Danish bowl since I bought it for serious bucks in a duty free shop on St. Thomas, USVI in 1973. I intend to pass it on to one of my nieces or nephews. -- It's special, OK?] We all know what happens to melted butter when it is refrigerated, right? Today, when I eagerly reached in to pull out the bowl of dough for the hour I was advised to let it soften up a bit, I thought it would probably take a bit longer because it had a whole cup of butter and five cups of flour in it. After two hours, I set the oven to preheat then approached the bowl -- my favorite bowl -- my most used bowl -- to scoop out some dough to roll and cut into perfect, delicate, spicy, yummy cookies. Peeling back the plastic wrap, I realized the dough had become roughly the consistency of a thick block of leather. There would be no scooping. This looked like a job for hammer and chisel, but it was in my favorite bowl! So, I let it sit on the counter for another hour. No change. By then our tiny kitchen was getting really hot, so I pulled out a table knife, planning to cut the dough into workable wedges. Yeah, right. Half an hour later I was searching for a sweat band and cursing words I thought I'd blocked from my vocabulary. It didn't help that I was standing directly next to a metal box that had been preheated (for a long time now) to 350 degrees. Nevertheless, I clawed out a chunk of dough and slapped it onto the counter to roll out. Good thing I have a serious rolling pin -- not one of those cutesy glass, marble or porcelain ones. Mine is silky smooth, seasoned, solid maple allowing for me to beat the dough into submission. I was really glad I'd found my sweat band because by the time I finished beating and rolling the dough into 1/8" thickness, carefully cutting perfect rounds and baking 600 dozen cookies (remember those five cups of flour) I was dehydrated and exhausted but glad I hadn't dripped onto any of them. Now all I have to do is let them sit in a tightly covered container for a month so they can develop their full flavor. Yeah, right . . .

Why Must The Good Die Young . . .

[To spare those suffering from this all too recent loss, I'm changing their names.] Twenty year old John was found staggering along a highway ramp late one recent night. Police who found him thought he'd been a victim of a hit and run driver and called an ambulance. Doctors at the hospital soon discovered that John had been shot twice in the back of his head. He died two days later, never regaining consciousness. This young man was looking forward to starting a full-time job next Monday after working part-time so that he could raise his adored little girl. He had forgone his senior year of high school to care for his baby daughter while her mother finished her schooling. John then returned to graduate himself. According to John's mother, Mary with whom he and his daughter lived, he did everything for his baby girl. They were inseparable. The baby's mama, Ann, was a regular visitor and was always welcomed by John and his mother. She was younger than John, but trying to take part in her child's rearing. So far, authorities have not developed a motive for John's execution-style slaying. He wasn't into drugs or illegal activities -- just trying to finish his education, find work and support his daughter. Even if he had a history of misbehavior, he was clearly off that path and trying to be a responsible adult. This sort of story is all too common. It breaks my heart to think about the last thoughts of young people - so many of whom had rough beginnings - when their lives are suddenly taken from them. John was a role model in so many ways. He and his girlfriend may have been irresponsible in the heat of the moment, but when push came to shove, John embraced his role as father. Unlike other young men, he didn't simply walk away. Now his family and friends are left to grieve and his beloved daughter is fatherless. How does one explain to a toddler that she will never see her daddy again? What can the rest of us do to prevent this from happening to more young people? Guns and greed are two culprits in senseless killings. Stricter gun laws and equal and fair employment practices might help, but . . . jealousy, disrespect, prejudice, misunderstanding and hopelessness also play huge roles. I didn't know "John", but I'm familiar with another stupid, senseless killing. The brother of a friend of my husband's was shot dead by a young man who thought he'd been "dissed" when they bumped shoulders on a crowded sidewalk. Most of us would have accepted a mumbled "sorry" or "excuse me." Why couldn't that guy? What has given some the idea that they have a right to end another's life simply because they feel miffed?! Can't blame it all on TV, movies and video games. American society needs urgent attitude repairs.

Auld Lang Syne So Quickly

Tomorrow feels like it should be five months away rather than mere hours. I'm not ready for a new year! So much happened in 2010 that I'm still trying to come to grips with it all. Snow was a huge feature here, in the nation's capital. Snowmageddon was an apt name because the sky seemed to keep falling on us week after week! There simply was no respite. Despite that, some good came with the blizzards. People got out and actually communicated with each other -- verbally and snowbally. There was such a festive atmosphere as people had snow stuffed down their pants and shirts. Such gaiety! Uh, except for the cop who didn't take kindly to his personal SUV being pummeled with snow balls. There really wasn't any need to draw a gun, but I guess when you're out-numbered, edginess is to be expected. Sadness and disbelief also slipped into our lives. A lot of extraordinary people died during the past twelve months. Losing Lena Horne was unbelievable. She seemed so ageless and immortal. Thank goodness we still can listen to her magnificent singing and watch her movie performances. Though he was old enough to be my father, I've had a life-long crush on actor John Forsyth. Not only was he incredibly handsome and elegant, but he was an admirable man who managed a fairly regular life in the crazy world of Hollywood. Elizabeth Edwards' passing was painful because she had been so vital and uncomplaining. Breast cancer would have been enough to derail many women, but her husband's bad behavior had to have felt like the last straw. Her enduring dignity and devotion to her children will outshine anything John does for the rest of his life. I don't even want to think about the never-ending disaster in the Gulf of Mexico. Reverberations from that disgraceful and preventable event will continue for years as will the pain felt by the families and friends of those killed. The continuing ecological damage may never be completely realized and the lives of those who worked and lived on the Gulf are forever changed. Shame on B.P.! Natural and worse, man made, disasters crippled millions around the world and started me thinking about how human activity is responsible for much of the suffering. We're pretty cavalier about drilling deep into the Earth for coal, oil, gold and other "commodities." Is anyone thinking about the huge toll this is taking on Planet Earth, herself? And how about the humans who must go down into those deep holes? As we enter a new year and decade, I hope and pray that we learn from mistakes made during the last decade. Hope is a good thing but it cannot be allowed to overrule action. We cannot hope ourselves into breathing cleaner air, drinking purer water. Improving standards in education, health care and lifting people out of poverty will require hard work, sincerity, realism and sacrifice. The best I can do is hope that Congress quits the political bickering to work out practical solutions. Sadly and unfairly, hoping is the best I can do. The incoming House leadership has already decided to strip the District's non-voting delegate of her committee voting rights. At that point, the over 1/2 million District residents (local and federal tax-paying American citizens) will be completely muzzled and silenced. So much for hope . . .

Mother Nature's Firey Finest

I hope you can forgive my obession with sunsets. I just can't resist when they're this splendid! The sky towards the east this evening was hot pink and made the bare branches of trees stand out beautifully. The Washington Monument also looked lovely in front of a pink glow. ;- )

The Agony and Ecstasy of Christmas

Children agonize over listing all the stuff they want for Christmas for months in advance. Some adults do, too. There are those "gotta have" gifts that can spawn great agony and mourning if they don't appear under the tree. [In my memory, thoughts of those "gotta-have" treasures evaporated soon after the new year.] Then there are the "that's nice" gifts -- usually from one's grandparents, but not on the child's official list. If you had your druthers, you would trade all of them for just one from your list . . . but no way. If your grandparents are in the room when you open their "that's nice" gift, you are expected to graciously thank them for it, even if you have to fake it. That's a whole lot harder than it sounds, particularly for kids under the age of 14. Parents watch closely for appropriate reactions and if they don't happen there'll be hell to pay later on: "Grampa and Grandma aren't made of money you know" -- or -- "They went out of their way to find something nice for you and I expect you to appreciate it" -- or -- "Grandma made that crocheted toilet paper cover with her own, two hands; you WILL LOVE IT!" Teens have a particularly hard time with Christmas because the symbolism of Christmas gifts is incredibly important. I'm not talking about the Gift of the Magi here. I'm talking about those all important gifts given between boys and girls. Back in the dark ages when I was in middle school, "dog tags" held huge significance when exchanged between a girl and boy. These silver disks were engraved with the owner's name or initials and worn on a chain around the neck. An exchange of these necklaces meant a couple was going steady. That meant the boy should carry the girl's books as they walked home together from school and they could hold hands in public. [I know - sounds pretty dorky, but that's how it was.] Of course at the ages of 12 or 13 most boys were clueless about girls and what we expected of them. Girls matured faster than boys and often underwent growth spurts before the boys did. Many girls learned to slouch to try not to tower over the boys. My dad wouldn't have any of that. He was a stickler for good posture so for a few years, I had to just tower over boys until they caught up to me. In junior high school we put on an annual Christmas Pageant. Yes, it would have been politically incorrect by today's standards, but I was never aware of any complaints. The program wasn't overtly religious, but it did mention the reason for celebrating Christmas. The choirs were a mixed bag and sang beautifully -- no prob.

-------------------

Getting back to the agony and ecstasy of Christmas -- several years ago I decided to enter holidays with no expectations. That way, I'd always be pleasantly surprised. It's worked well for me. A neutral state of mind allows me to accept the disappointment if I goof with a gift for someone who clearly wanted something else. It also allows me to be thrilled when an unexpected gift (one not on the person's official list) brings pleasure. Besides, too much changes from year to year -- family members move away, or loved ones die. Traditions that were the glue of a family celebration just can't hold up to those transitions. So, in closing -- I believe that Christmas is for children and adults need to back off. Our only role should be reiterating the reason we celebrate on December 25th. It's not to make merchants happy and wealthy; It's not to see how much stuff you can get; It's not to compete with your friends to see who gets the latest gadget first; It's not to snarf-down pounds of fat and sugar; It's not to gripe if you don't get that thing that "everyone else has . . . whine" Christmas celebrates the birth of a baby in a barn of all places about 2,000 years ago. Because he was special, cool stuff happened after his birth and the world changed after the baby grew up and started walking and talking. Keep it simple.

Merry Christmas, y'all!

HUGE mistake / tiny correction

Though I applaud The Washington Post for correcting it's mistakes in print, at times I'm appalled by the way in which they do it. The following appeared at the bottom of page 2 in the A section today. Until now, I haven't gone looking for corrections to earlier stories, but now I'll make a routine of it.

A Dec. 15 A-section article, about the requirements of the new health-care law that Americans buy insurance, incorrectly said that, according to estimates by congressional budget analysts, the federal deficit would increase by $250 billion over the next decade if the mandate were removed. The analysts predict a decrease in that amount.

Confusing plus or minus $250,000,000,000 is not simple semantics. It's a huge mistake and should have been addressed as such! If you ask me, this called for something far more upfront than a bullet point among six other corrections. I have learned to live with the regression in the paper's attention to grammar and spelling, but this sort of thing is inexcusable. Come on, Post editors: you can do so much better than this.

It just occurred to me. . .

. . . how shocked Richard Holbrooke must have been when he discovered he was no longer among the living. One minute he was in a important meeting with the United States Secretary of State, discussing matters in which he had been deeply and completely involved. What must have seemed like minutes later, he was heading toward that "loving, white light." Holbrooke was an incredibly smart, capable diplomat who was completely devoted to his country and his mission. He was strong-willed and opinionated; characteristics that often rubbed people the wrong way. Nevertheless, he earned hard-won respect from colleagues and adversaries alike for his efforts to stop the carnage in Eastern Europe and more recently in the Middle East. There is much speculation about the short term and long term effects his loss will make on U.S. foreign relations. His inherent knowledge of human nature and the idiosyncrasies of world politics will be hard to replicate. Sure, there are capable men and women out there who are willing and able to step-in, but Holbrooke was one-of-a-kind; a legend in his own time. The personal loss for his family and friends is, naturally, enormous. The impact of his loss on world politics and peace will reveal itself soon enough. Perhaps the suddenness of his death will make others think twice before stepping back into full-on-war-mode. I hope his dogged determination to protect life and to secure and maintain peace will inspire others long after his funeral tomorrow. Rest In Peace, Richard.

Ambiguity at its Finest

Forgive me, please. I received the following in email and simply HAD to share. I have no defense other than it's a cold, windy Monday and I ain't got nothin' else . . . 1. Don't sweat the petty things and don't pet the sweaty things. 2. One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor. 3. Atheism is a non-prophet organization. 4. If man evolved from monkeys and apes, why do we still have monkeys and apes? 5. The main reason Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the bad girls live. 6. What if there were no hypothetical questions? 7. If someone with multiple personalities threatens suicide, is it considered a hostage situation? 8. Is there another word for synonym? 9. What do you do when you see an endangered animal eating an endangered plant? 10. Would a fly without wings be called a walk? 11. If a turtle doesn't have a shell, is he homeless or naked? 12. Can vegetarians eat animal crackers? 13. How do they get deer to cross the road only at those yellow road signs? 14. One nice thing about egotists: they don't talk about other people. 15. Does the Little Mermaid wear an algebra? 16. Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery? 17. How is it possible to have a civil war? 18. If you try to fail and succeed, which have you done? 19. Whose cruel idea was it for the word lisp to have an "s" in it? I don't know who came up with these, but some sound "George-Carlin-esque". Such brilliance gone too soon!