Live By the Pen

“I wonder if people in the past knew they were living in the past.  Didn’t they know their clothes were old fashioned?”  —seven year old Frankie

Writing things down has been my saving grace.  First of all, my memory is not to be trusted.  When I create delicious dishes, I feel sure I’ll remember how to make them again.  Big mistake.  Grocery shopping is another example of my misguided self-confidence.  Sometimes I write down my shopping list and then forget it, or even challenge myself by leaving it my pocket until I hear, “That’ll be 97.02,” to which I grimace and say, “How did that happen?”  The clerk reminds me, “You’re at Whole Foods, Ma’am.”  Prices aside, I’m pleased to know I’ve remembered everything on my list.  Research tells us, we remember 10 percent of what we hear and 30 percent of what we hear and write, or something like that; I didn’t write the numbers down. 

But there are even more advantages to writing things down.  My dear friend Beth, who I’ve known since second grade taught me this tool.  She was visiting while my daughter was revving up her adolescence.  Casey was throwing one of her tantrums and I tantrummed right with her while Beth sat at my right side silent.  When Casey climaxed with, “I can’t live off of one pair of jeans for the rest of my life!” Beth’s eyes lit up gloriously.  Her shoulders shook in silent laughter; she grabbed a slip of paper and pencil and wrote down Casey’s announcement.  Writing it down twisted my anger into laughter, at least for the moment.  It didn’t fix the situation, but I had a fun moment. 

I’m reminded of my social work days when I interviewed the father of a patient and took notes on his interesting language.  He said his son had a “corrupted hunion,” which took me a minute to decipher as an erupted hernia.  When he asked me to “spang fuh what dee speak dat dere,” I asked him to repeat it.  Can you translate that one?  Yeah, it took me a while, too.  He wanted me to explain what I was saying.  Isn’t that charming?  Wouldn’t you want to write that down, too? 

The simple act of writing can twist an attitude just enough to move us out of anger or confusion or feeling out of control, and help us slide into joy, or be charmed, romanticizing a moment, or simply give us something to do to hide our powerlessness.

Obama taught me that last one.  During the presidential debates with McCain, Obama listened and jotted notes every time his opponent said something he disagreed with.  He remained composed when McCain attacked his ideas or record, and just made a note.  Obama could have been writing his shopping list for all we know.  The simple act of writing showed the viewers that he disagreed and had something to say about it, something noteworthy, therefore legitimate, and that he was smart and calm under stress.  Mature.  His opponent, on the other hand, rolled his eyes when he disagreed with Obama, showing the audience his irritation and adolescent mentality.  Likewise, when my students swear at me, refuse to move to their assigned seats, or disrupt the class and I am powerless, I find refuge in a clipboard and pen.  I emulate Obamian calmness.  My viewers get quieter and I hear whispers. “She’s writing something down.”  For a moment, at least, I smile on the inside because no one knows I’m impotent.  If they looked at my notes, they’d either see the perpetrator’s quote, or my shopping list.   

Here’s a short list of noteworthy quotes:

In last winter’s snow storm, my daughter phoned to say she was holed up in a shelter in Dixon, IL.  She and her friend were driving in the storm and, according to Casey, “We couldn’t see anything and then we got into a snowball.  I couldn’t even open my door.”

Mathew, a freshman was writing the vowels.  He left out the e.  I whispered, “Mathew, you’re missing one.”  He whispered conspiratorially, “Which one?”  I said, “I can’t tell you.”  He asked, “What’s it start with?”

Elvis, also a freshman, refused to work one day. The following day I asked, “Elvis, are you going to work today?”  He said, “Do I have to tell you?”  I suggested it would be in his best interest.  He said, “Well, I am going to work, but I’m not going to tell you.”

And finally, three-year-old Charlie loved trucks more than anything.  When his mother’s friend was visiting, she asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up.  He answered, “A garbage truck.”

And now for a shopping list of ingredients you’ll need for this twist on chili.

Green Chili

½ large onion, chopped

1 chayote squash, peeled, cored and chopped

1 yellow pepper, chopped (organic: on the dirty dozen list)

1 zucchini halved and sliced

1 yellow zucchini, same

1lb. ground turkey (free range if you care)

2 cans of cooked black beans, red or white kidney beans, or garbanzos, whatever you fancy

1 and ½ c. of salsa verde

2 t. cumin

1 T. chili powder (optional—the salsa verde is usually quite spicy on its own)

Salt and pepper to taste.

Sautee onion and chayote for about 7-8 minutes in vegetable oil.  Add yellow pepper and cumin and desired amount of chili powder, stir and cover for about 5 minutes.  Add zucchinis, stir and cover for about 3-4 minutes.  Add ground turkey, stirring and breaking it up as it browns.  Finally add the salsa verde and beans.  Cover and stir occasionally for another 5 minutes or so, until everything is hot and yummy.

Not sure which is mightier: the pen or this chili.