Family and Food: Two F's Forever Connected

I am fascinated by how much food unites families and friends. I had previously written about my grandma's cooking which to me represents family, closeness, and long talks sitting on the table. Many families use breakfast, lunch or dinner as the time to reunite and spend some time together. The time I cherished the most before working was breakfast with my mom or grandma (or sometimes both). My mom would prepare breakfast (a treat on its own given she is a working mom), I would prepare the coffee and we would sit and talk about classes, work, the news or anything else that came to mind. When my grandma prepares pozole, enchiladas or even some basic chicken tacos, we not only enjoy our food. My uncles, aunts and cousin come over and we talk about our lives, books we've read and movies we've seen.

I was just at a neighbor's house eating some delicious tamales and celebrating a family friend's birthday. This family celebrates every birthday. In a small apartment they are able to seat their family and everyone has a great time. I am used to hearing laughter from my apartment late at night when they are celebrating. Everyone was complementing the hostess because she had mastered the grandma's recipe. Shortly after the compliment, discussion began on how the granddaughters had to learn this recipe in order to continue the family tradition. This family treasures its traditions and celebrates birthdays, anniversaries, graduations and any other important days with the whole family. The apartment is always filled and the parties last hours. The food is always delicious because the grandmas have made sure to set high standard. These aren't the "lets buy a tray of ______________" for the party tonight. Everyone helps to prepare the dishes and the drinks.

I hope my grandma is able to pass on her delicious dishes and cooking secrets so that we continue to get together and celebrate with the excuse of making special dishes. Perhaps my children or grandchildren will know a whole lot more about their great grandma when I make them certain food than they would otherwise do.

And another war...

Last week, I was discussing the significance of a famous photograph with a group of students. The famous photograph, whose titles include "The Kiss," "The War is Over," or "V-Day Kiss" is a wonderful portrayal of the wonderful feeling of a war ending. After having lived the second world war, people were happy to be free from the fear that had kept them going. Japan and Germany had surrendered and the Allies were happy to be done with the job. The kiss on Time Square is a reflection of the blissful happiness everyone felt after years of terror, fear and uncertainty.

And after all this reflection, I became envious of such happiness. I cannot say my life has been constantly plagued with a war like WWI or II but since September 11th, 2001, war seems to be part of every year, of every continent, of every religion, of every nation. I can still remember what I was doing the morning of the attacks in New York and what I was doing the night the U.S. began bombing Iraq. I remember wondering what a war so far away would mean in my life. So many things changed, most of which were not directly related to the war. With the Iraq bombings came the full invasion in both Iraq and Afghanistan and eight years later, the U.S. is still in war in those two countries.

This week another attack began with the promise of yet another war. France, the United States and England began an air attack against Libya to ensure Gadhafi does not harm the citizens that had been protesting against his dictatorship. Perhaps this attack will be short term; perhaps the Allied forces will attack only to scare or will see the repercussions behind a full attack against Libya. The truth is there is another war.

And for those of us that live in Mexico, we have the war against drug traffickers that President Felipe Calderon began. Although I see both positive and negative aspects of this war, the truth is that thousands of people have died, thousands of families have been plagued with fear, thousands have fled their homes, towns, and even the country to ensure their freedom and to end their fear. Will we be able to celebrate the end of a war the way thousands of people did after World War II? Will we feel the innocence they felt thinking the world would be peaceful again? Will we be able to tell our children and grandchildren about the hardships of war as a problem of the past and not of the present and future?

Will a kiss between strangers once again express so much shared bliss?

Un Piccolo Racconto

Le prime righe sono dal racconto di Renzo Montagnoli. Dopo ho scritto un finale diverso. Questo l'ho fatto per l'essame d'Italiano.

Ogni tanto, quando ho tempo, mi piace riordinare le mie carte, stracciare quelle che non hanno più nessun interesse, inserire in raccogliatori quei documenti che, a torto o ragione, mi sembra potranno avere una quale utilità. Generalmente, per effettuare questo lavoro, approfitto di quelle giornate grigie e tediose che ti costringono in casa; ieri é stata appunto una di queste ed allora ho cominciato...

...a riordinare le mie carte. Avevo molto e non mi piaceva avere tutto senza sapere bene l'uso di ogni carta. La prima carta era di credito. Questa solo l'uso per comprare libri e andare in viaggi. A volte facevo viaggi solo perché avevo trovato un buon libro e per me é molto rilassante uscire la mia vita e fingere un'altra in un altro posto. Me ne vado in un piccolo caffé, comincio a leggere e dopo un po' di tempo guardo la gente. Immagino da dove provengono, il suo lavoro, la sua famiglia, ecc. E' come guardare un fil ma io sono il regista. La seconda carta é per andare in palestra. A me non piace fare molto ma una bella ragazza mi aveva convinto di pagare per andare in palestra. Lei era molto giovane e il suo sguardo mi pareva più amichevole. Ma niente é succeso. Dopo quell'incontro, non sono andato in palestra mai. C'é qualcosa di bello d'immaginare un'altra vita ma non lo facio mai per fare realtà tutto quello che immagino. Forse questa é la ragione della mia solitudine ma quando sono più depresso comincio a scrivere e la vita dei personaggi mi fa compagnia. Ci sono persone che non sanno come stare con gli altri. Dopo poco tempo trovo un biglietto da visita che non avevo visto in moltissimo tempo, forse due o tre mesi. L'ho conosciuto in un caffé vicino a casa mia. Lei era bella, non cosí giovane ma molto interessante. Abbiamo parlato più d'un ora e mi aveva lasciato questo biglietto. Voleva che io la chiamass penso di chiamarla. Forse lei mi ricorda. Dopo 10 forse 15 minuti pensando mi alzo e me ne vado a scrivere. Solo cosí so com'essere.