Pizza around the world

Posted on June 5, 2011 by sheilawill

We started our road trip around 6 a.m. on Saturday May 21. The image of coffee loomed large so when Dan stopped at the Safeway I rushed inside — well as fast as I could go at that hour — to Starbucks. Marisa with the beautiful young skin tried to sell me a piece of lemon cake. “It’s only 400 calories per slice and it’s pretty good,” she told me.

I was more interested in her cheerfulness, and journalist that I am, I questioned her. “I get up at 4 a.m. so I’m out of my no-talking stage now,” she said. How we all adjust intrigues me.

Ethan emailed me from Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan today. He was sitting by a friend’s pool waiting for pizza delivery. Could be Tucson, Houston or Moscow, I thought. How regular, didn’t sound like much adjustment there. But that also comes with familiarity, since Ethan’s traveled a lot, is more of a global citizen than anyone I know.

Food variety, even in the United States, often surprises me. I wouldn’t expect the thrill of  eating the most velvety, tangy lobster bisque in Mt. Shasta, California, but there it was. The menu at the town’s Wayside Grill noted that chef Terry’s recipe had been handed down from his Louisiana Cajun grandmother. It was my favorite dish of the trip. The only seafood bisque that comes close is the crab bisque at Mainely Delights in Bass Harbor, Maine. (Comparison coming up in a little over three weeks. Who wants to go with me?)

When Ethan, Brook and Gianmarco arrive in Southwest Harbor we’ll hit Mainely Delights, our favorite neighborhood seafood joint a few times, I’m sure. It goes with the territory, unlike the Desert Lobster Cafe Dan and I passed a few weeks ago in Mina, Nevada. I wanted to interview the proprietor, discover his inspiration. That was left to my imagination.

On another road trip, a few years ago, Ethan and I stopped at a place in Gulfport, Mississippi. That eatery fit my expectations; extremely bulgy, unattractive people wolfed down horrifically overcooked fried food and dark green canned vegetables. All very depressing, but I wasn’t very happy at the time.

I don’t recall any good coffee or yummy breakfasts on that trip either. Thank goodness that Eugene — with all its darkness and rain — has Studio One, a fabulous breakfast place we’ve returned to repeatedly. Studio One has the best french toast ever! Thick slices of challah sloshed with local berry compote, topped by a luscious almond cream sauce.

Trying to diversify, at one breakfast there I ordered eggs benedict with locally smoked salmon and a dill hollandaise sauce.  Yummy too, but should have stuck with the known French toast.

Why veer from a winner? Discuss.

Then there are the California and Oregon (apparently) foodie trends worth knowing about. Intense ginger cappuccino at the Green Salmon Cafe in Yachats, which also had the best egg, spicy jack cheese and mushroom bagel sandwich. And ginger again, this time in garlic home fries served at our Big Blue Cafe breakfast in Arcata, California.

I don’t cook much but occasionally I’m tempted. I’ll try making more dishes with ginger…

And I always want to be at the forefront of change, at least acknowledge it, so I bought some ginger at Trader Joe’s this morning. We make choices daily — in food and everything else. Sometimes it just seems like too much: At the Getti-Up coffee drive-thru in Garberville, California, young hipster woman asked if I wanted light, medium or dark brew. I guess that decision could be useful but I wanted to live more simply at that moment.

The next moment I was happier, biting into their everything chocolate chip cookie, laden with coconut, fresh pecans and moist chocolate chips. I felt like one of the three bears, content because it was just right.

One thing about getting old is becoming more comfortable balancing change, repeating what feels comfortable, and trying something new. On our tiring 12-hour final push home we stopped at the Wildflower Bread Company that adjoins the Changing Hands Bookstore in Tempe. I had a scrumptious salad with lavender in it and a bowl of coconut chicken curry soup. Both seemed worth taking the leap.

 

 

 

Posted in Baby Boomers, Food/happy hours, The Rest of the World | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Is that Texas over there?

Posted on June 5, 2011 by sheilawill

Driving across California’s desolate Mojave Desert, making our way home a few days early, it struck me. My life reflects geography. As a little girl I was intrigued with Texas, am not so much anymore, but that’s about to change.

On family outings around Connecticut I would ask my father if  Texas was over the next mountain — or hill — that seemed so far away to my young self. Maybe I wanted to be a cowgirl, or I was just a curious kid.

Texas will be be back in my life with Ethan attending graduate school at Rice University in Houston come fall. Although I keep hearing mixed reviews about the city I’ll like it because Ethan will be there.

At this very moment, I’m awaiting word from my adventurer son that he’s safely arrived in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, a frequent jumping-off point for his research and writing on Central Asia.

Back here in the Western United States, Dan and I arrived home last night after a 3,500 mile two-week road trip. Our trek doesn’t look like much on the map but there’s a saga to tell. Where to start? Eugene, Oregon, our primary destination where we visited Dan’s 20 year-old son? The lush green overhanging trees, cool temperatures and always anticipated rainy weather? Nah.

Arriving home to a 100-degree Saturday, which I prefer to the Pacific Northwest’s rain, I’ll admit that I like the dramatic. At least when it comes to geography. I can’t say the same about a political quagmire like Kyrgyzstan.

En route to Eugene, seeing the 14,000-foot-plus Mt. Shasta arise out of nowhere was a kick! I couldn’t stop staring. We drove up to 7,000 feet where tons of snow greeted us, and a van full of young Minnesota mountain men readied themselves to head off to the top. Not my game either.

Our trip grand finale was a quick visit to Yosemite National Park. Intrepid rock climbers scale the daunting El Capitan, which rises to 3,600 feet. I was glad that Ethan wasn’t facing that challenge. The poor mamas of those guys, I thought, and yes, I’ll bet those adventurers are primarily guys. Sheer beauty is enough for me.

A long trip always brings some new perspective upon returning full circle to home. Does vacation have anything to do with vacating stuck ideas? Meanwhile, my realm of beauty narrowed — I went for a pedicure.

Posted in Family Matters, The Rest of the World | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

From sea to shining sea

Posted on May 29, 2011 by sheilawill

The Pacific is majestic, stretching across the horizon islandless for thousands of miles. Perched above the Pacific in our little “Shag’s Nest” cabin in Yachats, Oregon, I watch the changing tides, the black volcanic rock — oh could that be a whale? — that intrigues me. Hunkering down under colorful wool blankets to read. Vacation brings relaxation, right? On the Oregon coast it brings lots of rain, or as we say in Maine, “You want the weather to change, just wait a minute.”

Similar to the Maine coast, Oregon’s coastal paths are slick and muddy, bordered by verdant jungle so unlike the Tucson desert I’ve come to love. On the coast, a fierce, cold wind may sock me in the face without warning. But that’s okay.

The Pacific coast isn’t as cozy as the Atlantic. No islands no harbors no boats in sight. On Mount Desert Island, Maine, the sea isn’t separate — it uniquely entwines with every tiny community and its inhabitants.

This Sunday morning I’m sitting in a Starbucks in downtown Eugene with my precious new MacBook Air. Dan’s found a cycling group to ride with for a good part of the day before we reconnect with his college guy son, Connor. I’d like to get some exercise, and may head for the river path soon, but rain is always expected here, which in my mind is the worst weather.

Other people do this a lot, go to a coffee shop and sit drink more coffee and sit. Definitely seems vacation-like to me. And there isn’t much to do in Eugene. Even if it’s raining, in Portland, Oregon, there’s alway the enormous Powell’s Bookstore. When Brook and I visited Ethan at Reed we’d head to Powell’s in the evening, each picking a stack of books to peruse in their cafe.

I’ve got the Sunday New York Times. If it starts to rain I’ll need more coffee. Our three days on the Oregon coast was relaxing. Loud surf to fall asleep to, cozy blankets to read under, collecting rocks on the beach.

But it’s a smooth black perfectly round Islesford, Maine, rock — a comfort when I flew to Alaska to see Ethan in 1999 —  that I take on every trip.  One month from tomorrow it’ll be in my pocket, traveling with me from the Pacific, back to Tucson, and back to the Atlantic.

Posted in Mount Desert Island/Maine, The Rest of the World | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

My father’s daughter

Posted on May 27, 2011 by sheilawill

I don’t know if my father really liked plants and nature, or if he just fell into the floral business by birth. My father, Sidney Edward Wilensky, was the son of Jacob Wilensky, who peddled fruits and vegetables on the streets of Waterbury, Connecticut, at the turn of the 20th century. He came from Vilnius, Lithuania, but I don’t know much about him.

Sometimes I helped at Cherry Hill Gardens, my parent’s flower shop (not shoppe). I watered or unwrapped newspaper from holiday plants in the garage out back. Did I even notice the flowers, their colors, shapes and dreamy fragrance? I’m not sure.

On our road trip to Eugene, Oregon we stopped in Mt. Shasta, California. Lilacs were everywhere! I so miss the purple and white lilac bushes in my Southwest Harbor backyard. But there they were! And when we arrived on the cosatal part of our trip in Yachats, Oregon, roadside clumps of lupine greeted us, along with purple iris poking through the lush green oceanside paths.

I don’t think about my father much. He died in 1969 after a long illness. But I call myself “nature girl,” and am happiest ambling along the beach, a desert trail or in the woods. I usually start humming without realizing it.

During the past few days, every time I venture outdoors on the windy Oregon coast, which is very similar to the coast of Maine, I pick something leafy or flowery and add it to our little bouquet sitting on the windowsill in our cabin overlooking the Pacific. Dan’s walking along the beach. Before he went outside he counted many seals on the rocks. I have to go see.

Shall I thank my father, even if he didn’t know how much he loved nature, because he showed me the way?

Posted in Family Matters, The Rest of the World | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Vacation, Revolution and the Rapture

Posted on May 21, 2011 by sheilawill

I’m in vacation mode. We’ll be heading to Oregon early tomorrow morning; sure hope we beat the end of the world! Will we be safe in Eugene with all the other progressive sinners? Will we be safe snuggling up in our little cottage for three nights on the Oregon coast (built by Ken Kesey, I kid you not), heading to Northern California and the Redwoods, then to Bezerkeley to visit dear friends?

All this hoopla about tomorrow being “IT” reminds me of “The Hunger Games,” the gripping teen political science fiction trilogy I’ve been devouring. I finished the second book this morning over coffee that I barely tasted.

“District 12” is gone! Everything is topsy-turvy; the revolution is about to begin! I had to get the third book “The Mockingjay” to take on our trip, but I didn’t want to spend $18. I finally located a copy at the main library downtown. When the librarian reminded me that “this is a three-week express book and can’t be renewed,” I replied, “I’ll probably read it in a day or two.” Ah vacation…especially if it rains.

There will be more time for reading, for hiking, for just hanging out. I see this trip as an adventure before I turn 65 in June. And there will be more adventures. As Dan does most of the driving through Nevada, I’m going to jot down/fantasize about everything I still want to do in my life.

I’m too old to start a revolution. Leave that to younger folks and good political science fiction. Taking more time for my own writing is at the top of my list. I’ve pretty much decided that my 65th birthday present to myself will be a MacBook Air. It’s so elegant, so light, it may inspire me.

But I’m not sure if I’m going to blog while we’re gone. I may do a different kind of writing. I may not. I just don’t know.

I don’t believe that tomorrow is the end of the world. It’s the beginning of something we don’t know about, and that scares a lot of people. The world is always changing.

Have a happy, healthy, fun, inspiring two weeks. I shall return!

Posted in Journalism/Writing, Tucson Festival of Books/good books | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

New Yorker cover

Posted on May 16, 2011 by sheilawill

It’s artsy and clever: An eraser eliminates Osama bin Laden’s face. The “decider” did nothing except bluster. No matter what President Obama does I appreciate his reserved style, his smarts (you can almost tell when he’s just blabbing). And bin Liden had to go. I’m not sure that it happened the right way but it’s done.

The May 16 New Yorker has it all, bin Laden’s history with the United States, the unerased suffering of 9/11 families, the effects of bin Laden’s demise on Pakistan and other Muslim countries.

But two things stand out in my mind: the image of bin Laden scruffily hanging out in front of a television in his “compound,” and instructing his children, in a will supposedly updated on Dec. 14, 2001, not to work for Al Qaeda after his death.

“If it is good, then we have had our share; if it is bad, then it is enough,” wrote bin Laden,  which the New Yorker reported in its May 16 “Talk of the Town” section. I find this fascinating. Underneath it all, there’s some fatherly advice — don’t get yourself killed for the cause.

But in 1999, bin Laden’s son Omar said he lost faith in his father, who suggested that he and his brothers consider taking up suicide bombing in the Taliban’s cause. “My father,” wrote Omar, “hated his enemies more than he loved his sons.”

Maybe bin Laden changed his mind after his horrific 9/11 success. He still espoused jihad, but not for his own sons.

The son of a Saudi billionaire, bin Laden chose to advise others to give their lives for jihad. Did he have any regrets, or just want his own kin to have cushier lives? Many of his numerous children (not sure how many with four wives) had already taken other paths.

Supposedly,  lot of porn has been found on bin Laden’s Pakistani premises. Porn and TV, that’s what his life became. Who was paying attention to him these days? Almost sounds like a regular middle-age guy bored with life, but without the six-packs.

But how many people have died in his name?

“Abbottabad Postcard” was illuminating. Two Pakistani real estate guys, who sold the land for bin Laden’s hideout, give their take on the  whole deal. It was all very ordinary; somebody wanted to buy land and they sold it to bin Laden’s couriers, not knowing who the place would be for.

The two found it “funny that the United States was portraying the house as opulent.” They’re concerned about terrorism, but noted, “it is only one of many.” More important, they say, is the state of the Pakistani economy, the same subject that underlies most people’s daily lives.

Forget about religious fanaticism for a minute. Why do megalomaniacs stir up such hatred and violence in young men who are unemployed? Duh. Erase that.

Posted in politics, The Rest of the World | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Oh, the places you’ll go

Posted on May 14, 2011 by sheilawill

Wherever you go around Tucson today there are congratulatory signs to University of Arizona grads, whisking me back to my own college graduation.

It’s 1968, and I’m sitting next to my first real boyfriend, among 2,000 plus other College of Liberal Arts and Science grads at the University of Connecticut.  Many of us are snoozing (hope I didn’t snore back then!) listening to the U.S. director of the federal budget. What did he tell us? Save your money, buy a house, invest in America — I don’t have a clue.

What I remember about that day is that my mother, who was around the same age as I am now, stumbled off a curb and fell into the street. She was embarrassed, and I’m sure I helped her up, but was I kind enough? She often annoyed me with her complaints, her unspoken regrets, her spoken fears.

Now I wish I could go back, like in “Being Erica,” a Canadian TV series that we’ve been watching. Every episode features a theme from the life of 32-year-old Erica Strange, an editor at a strange publishing company.  She returns to an event via unscheduled visits to her therapist Dr. Tom, who magically appears at the appropriate time.

Oh, to have such a therapist! He’s also very wise and sprinkles his advice with meaningful quotes from the likes of Dr. Martin Luther King, Henry David Thoreau, and Ralph Waldo Emerson.

I’d like to return to my college graduation day. I didn’t understand how my mother could be so awkward. But now I do. Back in the ’90s I broke both my ankles on two separate occasions — one talking and missing a step while trespassing at a Maine summer home and the other not paying attention to ice on the road.

I’ve since lifted weights, walked more mindfully, and exercised more regularly to build muscle. I’ve fallen since but haven’t broken any bones. I’ve taken better care of myself, and wish I could have helped my mother do the same.

I like the idea of returning to amend regrets, erasing hurtful or insensitive comments, or doing something differently — perhaps even taking more risks, which was Erica’s last theme. But not if it took up too much time. Maybe I’d go back if I could choose just three life experiences to correct.

But I still have places to go! Maybe Italy or Turkey, but at least the three states I haven’t yet visited — Hawaii, Oklahoma and South Carolina.

A week from today Dan and I will head out on a two-week road trip to Oregon and the Northern California coast. We’ll probably visit dear friends in Bezerkeley, perhaps spend a day in Yosemite National Park. Better than visiting those elusive inner places? Maybe.

Posted in Baby Boomers, Bopping Around Tucson, Family Matters | Tagged , , , , , | 8 Comments

Mother’s Day/Reading Day

Posted on May 9, 2011 by sheilawill

We went out for breakfast. I spoke to Brook and Ethan; nothing else matters on Mother’s Day. I wished a few dear friends and Dan’s wonderful mom a happy day. Then I read.

First the Sunday NYTimes — Week in Review all about ObL/Pakistan, an article about the aging Boston Celtics, and a blurb about the Oregon Shakespeare Festival’s current production of “Julius Caesar,” who’s played by a woman. I’d like to see that; we’ll be traveling through Ashland, Oregon. Maybe…

My niece Amy recommended “The Hunger Games,” a young adult title by Suzanne Collins. I call it political science fiction, like one of my all-time favorite chapter books, “The Giver” by Lois Lowry.

“It’s violent,” Amy told us, “but like nothing you’ve ever read.” It reminds me of “Divided Kingdom,” a grown-up, little known fabulous read but Rupert Thomson (I’ve probably mentioned it before). I already got the second of Collins’ trilogy out of the library for seamless continuity, to see where her saga about war — “for adolescents” — takes us. See what happens to our doomed society. Maybe she has a solution. I hope so.

Then there’s “The Love of my Youth,” the new novel by Mary Gordon. I started it but can’t say it’s drawing me in.

I’m also reading “Under the Banner of Heaven. A Story of Violent Faith” by Jon Krakauer for my book group. I balked after the very violent first 60 pages, but the person who chose the book assured me that there’s more to it, that it’s fascinating. All those Mormon gold tablets, Joseph Smith sticking his face into a hat to get the word is just plain wacky. And this book isn’t even about regular Mormons. I found a used copy at Bookman’s. It was was shelved in the true crime section. But I’m reading it because I want to be a good book club member. Yes, it’s riveting, although I’ve had to skip a few sections.

Then there’s the “Minders of Make-Believe: Idealists, Entrepreneurs, and the Shaping of American Children’s Literature” by Leonard Marcus. Great title, I wanted to confirm a few facts for my forthcoming article in Publishers Weekly. Still working on it. It could be a book!

Dusk. Birds singing outside my window. Gardenia flower fragrance wafting through the room. I’m going to finish “The Hunger Games” tonight.

I always long for reading days with a big bowl of popcorn nearby. I’m happy that I’ll see Brook in Maine for her first book event at the Southwest Harbor Public Library (July 14, 7 p.m.!). Hoping Ethan will be there too. That’s what Mother’s Day is for.

Posted in Family Matters, Tucson Festival of Books/good books | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Riding my blue bike

Posted on May 7, 2011 by sheilawill

Purple and white streamers, spongy purple grips, I could have been 10 years old. But I’m talking about today — my triathlon — cycling, yoga, swimming. First I rode five miles to yoga class, then rode back home another five miles, then I jumped in the pool.

I’m proud of myself! It’s a hot Tucson nearly summer day. Riding home from yoga was much easier than I expected. I even figured out a route that lessened the steady, but I’ll admit small, incline going south on Dodge. It was easy. Yoga stretching must help everything.

Dan says my type of bike is called a mixte, designated by the position of the three steel tubes to the back of the bike. He got the bike for me last year so I could ride faster than on his son’s old mountain bike. I’m in training now before taking off on a two-week road trip to the Pacific Northwest and Northern California. We’re taking our bikes, Dan’s fire-engine red recumbent Hurricane (is it a low-racer?) and my fluorescent blue mixte.

Fifty-five years ago, I had a similar blue bike with hand brakes, something new at that time. I was a cautious kid. Somehow I got going pretty fast down a neighborhood street and lost control. Boom, crash, bang! Next thing I knew I was in the street; I may have blacked out. A kindly neighbor helped me get home.

A blood vessel broke in my eye. My eye looked bloody, icky, for a few weeks. People stared at me. I was embarrassed. I was too scared to ride a bike again.

I’ve been reluctant to ride on streets all these years. I still remember that scary out-of-control feeling — losing my balance, knowing I was about to fall, being unable to stop myself. Sure, I’ve ridden a third blue 10-speed around Southwest Harbor, which I won in a drawing from Bicycle Bob at Southwest Cycle around 20 years ago. I never would have bought another bike myself. Was I excited to win anything, so dang, I had to use it. It wouldn’t be right not to.

When Dan came to Southwest Harbor five summers ago I figured we’d bicycle around town. With no bike lanes, no shoulders, and tourists going wild over the ocean views, he thought it was too dangerous.

Could I have predicted that I would ride another blue bike on Tucson city streets, in traffic, among honkin’ big trucks? No way. That’s what I like about life, you never know.

Posted in Bopping Around Tucson | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Sharing the pain, part I

Posted on May 6, 2011 by sheilawill

One thing that came across loud and clear at last week’s Schorr Family Forum, held at the University of Arizona’s Centennial Hall, is that it’s time for mental illness to emerge from hiding, and that it’s called illness for a reason.

Young folks are getting it. Students learn to listen to classmates for words of despair. It may be hard for young people to say the words out loud, but there are helpful resources online that can start the conversation.

“I feel very strongly that denial will never reduce the stigma of mental illness,” said Dr. Thomas Insel, director of the National Institute of Mental Health, and this year’s recipient of the 14th Schorr Family Award for Distinguished Contribution in Furthering Public Understanding of Mental Illness.

Why do we as a society neglect mental illness so mercilessly? The statistics are astounding. Seventy-five percent of people with mental illness — which all have a biological basis — show symptoms by age 24. Detecting risk can be the same as in heart disease or diabetes, but the amount of funding for research is nowhere in the same ballpark.

Yet the first symptoms usually occur two to four years before full-blown mental illness, panelist Laurie Flynn, executive director of Columbia University Medical School’s Teen Screen National Center, told the audience.”Let’s promote early detection, making routine screening for mental illness part of early health care,” she asserted, adding that the Teen Screen Center offers a five-minute, self-administered psychological screening.

Might the teen years be a good time for such screening, considering that the leading cause of death among college students is suicide?

One-half of the people with mental illness get no care at all  in our society, according to Dr. Ken Duckworth, an assistant professor at Harvard Medical School, and one of the panelists at the forum.

“I think it’s easier to get access to firearms in Arizona than to get mental health treatment,” he quipped, although we all know that’s unfortunately true. “It’s easier to get into Harvard Medical School than it is to get psychiatric treatment,” he added.

Flynn said that her daughter tried to commit suicide 20 years ago, and that three members of her extended family had committed suicide. “But no one had said a word” prior to her daughter’s diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder. With adequate treatment, her daughter now lives a normal life. She hasn’t been hospitalized in 12 years, holds a good job and got married seven years ago.

But she’s one of the lucky ones.

Posted in Bopping Around Tucson, Mental illness | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment