We had invited an assortment of neighbors and friends to join us for a potluck get-together at our home last Sunday — Easter Sunday — and they all arrived promptly at the appointed time.
The sky was grey, but it did not seem threatening at that moment.
Darkening gray clouds had not dampened spirits in the slightest as our group of 12 assembled. However, dinner was destined to be delayed as the existing tornado watch was upgraded to multiple tornado warnings for our area, including the Hot Springs, Arkansas, area and the Village we call home.
At that time, Hot Springs Village was not included in the “take cover” area. But that changed before long.
With celebratory glasses of champagne or wine in hand, and a buffet well-stocked with hors d’oeuvres, we resolved to delay serving dinner until the severe threat had passed. Conversation was lively, and the appetizers alone could have served as our meal. We kept a watch on outdoor conditions and listened to the continuing weather updates, while sampling Argentine empanadas, deviled eggs, salmon-topped cucumber slices, toast points topped with savory olive tapenade, and an assortment of pickles, olives, and peppers.
Great appetizers kept us company during the storm watch.Our friends and neighbors are creative chefs.
We all knew there was more food to come, but somehow the worsening weather spiked our appetites.
The screen was ablaze with red and yellow blobs of color in our viewing area. Place names seemed eerily close and familiar, but the sky was still light, the air was calm, and no rain was falling. However, the weather forecaster repeatedly recommended that area residents take shelter.
The warnings kept us all informed of the storm’s progression through our area.
The 12 adults gathered in my living room and screened porch looked questioningly at me and my husband as the wind picked up and raindrops began to fall. Together, we explained to our guests that getting to our “safe place,” a room we use strictly for storage, involved going outside and walking down an incline that becomes treacherous in the rain. It is definitely not a place of comfort. It has no television, and it has a large window.
We had no intention to gathering in our designated “safe room” with plates filled with game hens, wild rice, peas and carrots, and fresh-from-the-oven homemade rolls. Instead, we gathered loosely around the television, and continued to catch up on one another’s lives and activities since we had last been together.
The consensus was to remain where we were, closely watching the TV coverage, monitoring our phones for the latest information, and enjoying our holiday get-together. We agreed that, should a confirmed tornado veer in our direction, we would all gather in the single interior room in our home, the guest bathroom.
It’s adjacent to a concrete block fireplace wall and chimney, has no windows, is fortified by plumbing pipes and drain lines, and boasts at least two walls in every direction between the interior and the outdoors.
The settings, complete with bunnies and chicks, invited conversation.Our Easter tables were upscale, but also playful.
Once or twice, 12 cell phones served up a cacophony of high-pitched weather alerts along and the concerned faces of our local news station weather forecasters filled the television screen. Weather alerts continued to preempt the scheduled golf coverage on television.
As the minutes ticked by, we all remained comfortable, albeit watchful; some surveying the clouds and breathing in the fresh odor of falling rain. The assortment of appetizers continued to disappear, wine glasses were refilled, and interesting conversation flowed non-stop.
When the tornado threat was deemed to be beyond our geographic area, we drank another toast to friendship and fine food, moving to take our places at tables adorned with ceramic bunnies and white linen napkins, a casually elegant setting combined with a playful sense of humor.
We enjoyed our dinner, with a sense of camaraderie and thankfulness.
We could, at last, give thanks for the holiday celebration — and for the friendships — that are anything but ordinary. This year has already brought our state, and the entire nation, repeated weather events that have been far from ordinary. We will hope that as spring moves into summer, weather patterns calm and we can enjoy the beauty of the seasons to come.
There’s just something wonderful about autumn, isn’t there? Cooler temperatures, back-to-school events, football, falling leaves, pumpkins, gourds, and savory spices all signal a distinctly different approach to life and leisure activities.
But fall has sped by for me this year, interspersed with travel and the demands of daily life. Suddenly, it’s Thanksgiving week and I’m not at all prepared.
But this year, instead of giving in to guilt, I am letting Thanksgiving week play out in an entirely different way. My husband and I are looking forward to the activities we enjoy rather than dreading the dawn of Thursday and lamenting what was left undone for a big family dinner.
You see, we will forgo the “feast” this year in favor of largely unplanned, spontaneous activities that are scattered throughout the week and into the weekend.
On Thanksgiving Day, we will be with friends who, like us, have no nearby family, and even less reason to want or need turkey with all the traditional sides. There will be no roast turkey with mashed potatoes and gravy, no green bean casserole, no sweet potatoes with marshmallows, and no jellied cranberry sauce. And, best of all, no last-minute worries before the guests arrive!
Instead, we have opted for an “orphan potluck” this year. We anticipate a casual, laid-back vibe, with good conversation interspersed with holiday spirit and cheers for our favorite teams.
We fully intend to celebrate, and you can be assured we are thankful for the blessings of home and friends this year. We will check in with our far-flung families and wish them well. And then we will celebrate the bounty of our table and the bonds of friendship with others in this small community we now call home. What could be more appropriate?
The dozen or so like-minded friends who will join us have all volunteered to bring a variety of favorite dishes. We’ll have appetizers and wine, perhaps a creative charcuterie board with delectable finger foods. And we’re not totally abandoning tradition – we have a smoked turkey breast ready to reheat!
This year, I am thankful for the freedom to read a book, listen to music, watch the Macy’s parade, or maybe even a Hallmark movie on television — all before our friends arrive in the early afternoon!
Times change, as do the seasons. I am eager to see what this new-fangled Thanksgiving celebration feels like. Perhaps it will become our new annual tradition.
A neighbor promised a hearty pasta dish, and others are likely to surprise us with their favorites. There will be home-baked bread and (again from a neighbor, with a nod to tradition!) pumpkin pie to top it all off. As always, at Thanksgiving, it’s not all about the food, but we’re certain there will be plenty of food!
I love many things about Thanksgiving, especially the presence of family and friends. And pumpkin! So, I am searching for pumpkin recipes with a new twist and updating my holiday favorites. Pumpkin, after all, need not be reserved solely for Thanksgiving. Why not enjoy pumpkin treats until it’s time to embrace hot chocolate and peppermint?
During an October trip to the San Francisco Peninsula, I was impressed by, among other things, the expanse of colorful pumpkin fields that stretched almost to the Pacific shore. Our group stopped at Farmer John’s Pumpkin Patch near Half Moon Bay – who knew so many kinds of pumpkin existed? The vibrant displays were eye-catching and tempting when most visitors were searching for the perfect jack-o-lantern pumpkin! I wish I could have brought several home to Arkansas!
Just last week, on a trip to Maine, I found that pumpkin recipes were the talk of the town, so to speak! And there were more pumpkin displays in local yards and grocery stores. That started me thinking, not only about Thanksgiving, but about the extended holiday season as well, about hot cider, roasted vegetables, sweet potatoes, chocolate, and creative soups that chase away winter’s chill.
This year, I’m trying to simplify my life while at the same time wanting to expand my food repertoire. I have been collecting new recipes since I returned from California. I have more from relatives in Maine, and a supermarket magazine provided even more.
Consider this a challenge to get creative this year, especially during the festive season that extends from Thanksgiving through the dawn of the new year. So many other flavors combine well with pumpkin that you can experiment to your heart’s content! Don’t limit its use to pie, cookies, or breads.
Incorporate unique and exotic spices. Ginger is one of the best, along with cloves, cinnamon, cumin, turmeric, saffron, and paprika. They not only add wonderful flavor, but many of them offer health benefits as well. Not only the flavors but the colors will add punch to your recipes.
What else goes well with pumpkin? How about maple syrup, caramel, chocolate, apples, apricots, raisins, cranberries, and cheeses? The best part? As good as fresh pumpkin is you can cook with canned pumpkin throughout the year. I have already stocked up on that!
Here are just a few recipes to get you in the spirit. Let me know how you like them!
Family Favorite Pumpkin Bread
This truly is a family recipe that has been a favorite for generations, and I can attest to its goodness! Why not keep some in the freezer to bring out when unexpected guests arrive? It also can double as dessert, with a dollop of whipped cream.
42 2/3 cups sugar
2/3 cup cooking oil
4 eggs
1 ½ cups cooked pumpkin (or Libby’s brand canned pure pumpkin)
3 1/3 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
½ teaspoon baking powder
1 ½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon cinnamon
1 cup chopped nuts
2/3 cup water
Mix sugar, oil, and pumpkin; then add eggs one at a time, beating after each addition. In a separate bowl, sift flour, baking powder, soda, and cinnamon. Combine pumpkin mixture with flour mixture. Add water and mix well. Then, add nuts and stir again. Pour into well-greased one-pound coffee cans, filling halfway. This amount of batter will fill four cans. Bake in a 300-degree oven for one hour. Allow bread to cool, then remove from cans. If you prefer, use medium loaf pans.
The bread freezes well: simply slip the cooled loaves back into the coffee cans and cover each with its plastic lid. T freeze pumpkin loaves, remove them from the baking pans when cool, cover them with plastic wrap, and then wrap in foil before freezing.
Game Day Chili
If you like chili, I can almost guarantee you’ll love this one. It has all the traditional ingredients, with the surprise of a few extra veggies and a can of pure pumpkin. The bonus? It can be ready in a jiffy. Put it together quickly, then settle in to cheer your favorite team to victory. (Courtesy of Hannaford, a grocery chain committed to sustainability and the public good.)
Ingredients:
1 Tbsp. canola oil
1 finely chopped medium yellow onion
1 red bell pepper, seeded and finely chopped
1 pound lean ground beef
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 Tbsp. chili powder
1 tsp. ground cumin
½ tsp. ground cinnamon
1 (6 -oz) can of tomato paste
2 cups low-sodium vegetable broth
2 (15-oz) cans of no-salt-added diced tomatoes
1 (15-ox) can pure pumpkin
1 ½ cups water, divided
2 (15-oz) cans no-salt-added kidney beans, drained and rinsed
Heat oil in a large, sturdy pot on medium-high heat. Add onion and bell pepper, and saute 8 to 10 minutes, until browned and tender.
Add beef and season with salt and pepper. Cook for 6 to 8 minutes, until browned, using a wooden spoon to break into pieces.
Add garlic, chili powder, cumin, and cinnamon, and cook for 30 seconds. Add tomato paste and stir constantly for 1 minute, until the color darkens. Add broth, tomatoes, pumpkin, and 1 cup of water. Stir to combine and bring to a boil. Reduce to simmer for 10 to 15 minutes, until thickened. If chili is too thick, add the remaining ½ cup of water.
Stir in beans and season to taste with salt and pepper. Cook another 3 to 5 minutes, until thoroughly heated. Serve with your choice of sour cream and/or other garnishes.
If, like me, you’re a fan of the charcuterie board for impromptu get-togethers and are always in search of new additions to that board, you’ll love this one! Pumpkin deviled eggs, with their bright color and a hint of spice, are sure to become a favorite. As suggested, add some garnishes to make them extra special, and they’ll be gobbled up quickly — at Thanksgiving or any other time!
Cumin & Thyme Pumpkin Chicken Soup
Here’s a link to this tempting recipe that will easily serve six!
How great is that for a busy day during the coming holiday season? Prepare a salad, add a simple dessert, and you’ll have a weekday dinner to feed the family! Or double the recipe to feed a crowd!
Full Disclosure: I haven’t yet made this soup, but you can be sure I will. I have tried several other Paul Newman recipes and liked each one. In addition. This requires minimal prep and cooking time, and I believe you could easily substitute canned chicken to make it even easier. Finally, and this is purely a personal observation: I am fully behind the Newman commitment to support worthy causes and I like using products that contribute to that effort.
If those aren’t enough, here are some twists on traditional treats:
Pumpkin Hummus
There are any number of recipes available online. Search one out if you’re determined to start from scratch. However, if you’re in a hurry for a tasty dip or spread, simply buy your favorite plain hummus, then swirl in some pureed pumpkin and a bit of fresh lemon. Top with finely chopped cilantro, sprinkle with paprika and toasted pine nuts, and serve with your favorite crackers or fresh veggies. It couldn’t be easier.
Pumpkin Goat Cheese Dip
This is another go-to idea that is superb for unexpected guests, or a simple appetizer. The flavor is uniquely satisfying, especially in the fall and during the holiday season. Serve with a variety of crackers, mini rye or pumpernickel slices, fresh veggies or button mushrooms. It’s sure to be a hit!
Again, it couldn’t be easier — soften the cheese, swirl in some pureed pumpkin. Form it into a log, a ball, or pack in into a ramekin, and serve with a variety of crackers, mini rye or pumpernickel slices, fresh veggies or button mushrooms.
It’s sure to be a hit!
Pumpkin Ice Cream
I admit that this is a newfound favorite – I was introduced to it during my recent trip to Maine. It’s available seasonally and I absolutely love it! There’s not much more to say about it, except that it’s a distinctive and delectable taste treat. The brand I had in Maine came from Trader Joe’s. I’ll definitely be watching for it, even if I have to wait until next fall to find it!
Need more ideas?
You’ll find recipes everywhere right now – from pumpkin scones to hearty cheese soup with the surprise of pumpkin and beer! Create comfort foods that you can enjoy throughout the season and into the new year!
And have a safe and happy Thanksgiving, no matter how, where, or with whom you celebrate.
They are everywhere, it seems. Sometimes by choice; sometimes by happenstance, often on orders and sometimes unwillingly. Americans travel the globe. Occasionally, they’re “ugly.” Almost always, when Americans “discover” a place, it is changed. And many would argue that change, though inevitable, is less than desirable.
There are other nationalities that also travel the globe; many of them English-speaking — Brits, Canadians, Australians. But there are French-speakers, Spanish-speakers, Scandinavians, Asians, and Africans. In fact, today, all nationalities travel extensively. Most travel rather inconspicuously. Americans tend to stand out and are occasionally the brunt of jokes and the subject of pervasive and less-than-flattering stereotypes.
But, there’s something about Americans.
On Christmas Day morning, on a beach in Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco, Mexico, a group of Americans gathers to hang stuffed animals, matchbox cars, soccer balls, footballs, Barbie dolls, and an assortment of other toys from the palapas and beach umbrellas of a local hotel. They wear Santa hats, blinking reindeer noses and silly, floppy reindeer antlers, candy cane shirts, and an assortment of other red and green attire with their swimsuits and shorts.
The beach chairs and lounges are circled to keep the public at a distance. No one really seems to be in charge. At 8:30 am on Christmas Day, it is quiet on the beach. And then more people arrive, some with armloads of stuffed animals, some with plastic bags from the Walmart on the other side of the Mexican city. Some come with one or two toys. Many dropped off their “goodies” earlier in the week. Word spread about the event, and the crowd steadily grew larger.
Volunteers bring ribbons and scissors. There is a festive spirit. Onlookers gather.
Soon, a group of children begin to form a line, off to one side. Quiet, and well-behaved, they stand with their parents and older siblings. They watch. They wait.
This ritual began more than 20 years ago. On Christmas Day 2004, I was on that beach that Christmas Day. A woman named Marge from Nashville, TN, one of the original group of Santa’s helpers, asked volunteers to walk down the beach to find more children. “This is the best year ever,” she said, “and I’m not sure we have enough children for all the gifts.”
There is no publicity. This is not an organized effort. There is no tax deduction attached to these gifts. There were lots of pictures taken. There are big smiles on the faces of the adults. The children look on with wide-eyed wonder. There are tears. There are hugs. There is a sense of excitement. There are cookies and soft drinks and music on a beach in Puerto Vallarta on Christmas Day. And there is a sense of community.
Even though most of the children speak no English, and most of the adults speak little Spanish, there is no language barrier.
One man with a distinctively British accent and a camera pauses to ask what is happening. When it is explained, he makes no comment. But he remains to take pictures, staying on the fringes but joining in the palpable spirit of goodwill.
At precisely 11 am, four Mexican children are allowed to enter the “garden” of hanging toys, each one accompanied by an adult American volunteer with a small pair of scissors. As each child walks through, he is allowed to take his time to look, and then his selection is snipped from its ribbon hanger and handed to him. It is almost silent. There is no screaming, no running. There is a sense of reverence as the child clutches his selection to his chest and then is escorted to the other edge of the toy-filled enclosure.
Children of hotel employees, youngsters whose parents are beach vendors, and children who have come to the beach for a day near the water and the sun with their extended families are the honored guests. They are all Mexican children. That is the only requirement.
It is not their tradition. Christmas, in Mexico, is a deeply religious holiday, with a family-oriented emphasis. Santa Claus does not visit most Mexican children.
But where there are Americans, there are some traditions that are hard to break. In the United States, there are toys for children. So, where Americans gather at Christmas, there will invariably be toys.
There is something about Americans.
Note: I first wrote this nearly two decades ago for an online publication that no longer exists. I was thinking today about that long ago Christmas on the beach, and it seemed appropriate to repost this piece this year, at a time when the world seems to need a large dose of goodness and cheer. I don’t know if the tradition continues in Puerto Vallarta. I hope it does. But, whether the beach party is still held or not, it is a wonderful memory. I wish Happy Holidays to all, no matter what holidays you celebrate or where you celebrate them. And may 2023 be a good year for us all!
This has been a year — or at least a few months — for examining past traditions. When the future seems uncertain, there is something comforting about remembering the past, getting lost in nostalgia, and returning to happier days full of memories of family, friends, fun and tradition.
It has been especially true during all the holidays of the year: Valentines Day, Mardi Gras, Memorial Day, the Fourth of July, Labor Day. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Christmas and New Years — many of those special times normally full of family celebrations and traditions have passed us by since 2020.
In the days leading up to fall holidays, few of us would have believed that the “norm” in 2021 would once again be another scaled-down version of Thanksgiving dinner. It may not have been potluck shared by extended family at socially distanced outdoor picnic tables in a state park, (yes, that happened the previous year), but for most it was, once again, a small table not heavily laden.
Many of our holiday celebrations, those that actually were held, have been accompanied by masks and elbow bumps, but no hugs. Who would have predicted that we would spend last Christmas alone, despite the hopeful news in 2020 that two effective vaccines were ready to be delivered nationwide? Who then would have believed that “the abundance of caution” against large family gatherings would continue for a second Christmas? Who could have imagined yet another mutated virus wreaking havoc with family get-togethers and travel plans now and for the foreseeable future? Yet, that is exactly what has occurred.
May you live in interesting times . . .
Depending on your upbringing and mindset, that phrase has alternately been considered a blessing or a curse. Although there is little evidence that it originated with the Chinese, and even less that it stems from a Yiddish expression or a rabbinical interpretation, it persists in the minds of many of us as a warning that we should never get too comfortable. Life is not to be taken for granted.
Our times — this past year and three quarters, and still today — are nothing if not interesting.
Many of us are still hopeful that we will once again be free to travel freely. But, with the return to mandated masking in many places, extensive travel disruption attributed to ill employees, and persistent warnings about travel, gatherings and testing, we are again uncertain. We hope that we will continue to care for others, by being mindful about where we go, what we do and how we act. But, as this last year has taught us, life is fragile. I am now even more convinced that we must savor the traditions that have brought us here.
For me, that means being with friends, not via face time, Skype or Zoom meetings, but up close and personal. It means sharing good times, welcoming the births of new babies and celebrating graduations and promotions. More importantly, it means being together to comfort one another during sadness and hard times. Working remotely may not be a great hardship. But, being continually remote — from family, friends and business associates — is devastating.
This past year, I lost several acquaintances to COVID. Many others in my circle of friends and family have been ill with the virus. Others, both vaccinated and unvaccinated, have tested positive recently, with varied symptoms and severity, with — presumably — the Omicron variant. I am learning more than I ever wanted to know about the SARS-CoV-2, commonly known as COVID-19.
Humans were not meant to be solitary animals. That is only too evident today, with increasing concerns about not only mental health, but the economy.
The path forward seems clear. We must not forget these past months, nor the shutdowns, the fear, the toll it has taken on lives and livelihoods. But, we also must not give up hope. Let’s don’t ever forget what makes life worth living. Let’s all honor those traditions that we missed so much in 2020 and were hesitant to resume in 2021. Let’s not return to the place of isolation and alarm. Let’s be smart rather than complacent, but let’s go on living our lives with confidence
Yes, COVID-19 is a scary disease. But all diseases are scary. And those who are sick need to be comforted, not left alone. No matter what or how you celebrate the special days that are to come this year, may holidays that are meant to bring us together in the coming months continue to bless you, uplift your spirits and prepare you for what lies ahead.
Today is a day for waving the flag. It always has been. On this most American of American holidays, Old Glory — the red, white and blue — is displayed prominently everywhere. Along with the fireworks, the hot dogs and brats, sauerkraut and beans, potato salad and beer, it is a quintessential American holiday. I love it, and so do most people I know.
Other countries also have national holidays, and they’re wonderful as well. But this one is mine. I am an American, above all, and I celebrate the history of my country and the heritage of my forebears who worked to build and preserve this nation.
This weekend I will celebrate! With outdoor concerts and picnics, with old friends and new acquaintances, on the lake and in the park, I will celebrate. Here in Hot Springs Village, the celebration has continued since Friday, culminating in a “beach party” and fireworks over Lake Balboa tonight. I have enjoyed it all, but at some point in the celebration, I will pause to remember why.
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I will celebrate the freedom that was proclaimed for us all 255 years ago, and won anew in skirmishes that extended for years, until a decisive battle was won against the British in September of 1814. It was the battle that led to the penning of the poem that was to become our National Anthem.
And it was the tattered American flag flying over Fort McHenry in Baltimore Harbor “in the dawn’s early light,” that inspired Francis Scott Key to write those words. How different history would have been had it been the Union Jack that he saw. However, it was not until 1931 that The Star-Spangled Banner was adopted as our national anthem.
Today is Memorial Day. It was proclaimed so only in 1971, by an act of Congress, to be celebrated on the last Monday in May, but the tradition of decorating gravesites and paying tribute to those who died in battle, or as a result of injuries sustained in service, goes back a lot further in time. Some say it was always a Southern tradition. It is true that May 30 was celebrated as Decoration Day, beginning in 1866, following a declaration by U.S. Gen. John A. Logan, who took his inspiration from the practice of cleaning and decorating relatives’ graves each spring, especially the gravesites of Confederate dead.
I was privileged last Friday to be one of a small group who volunteered to place flags in a single section of the Little Rock National Cemetery for Memorial Day. In a little more than two hours, our group of nine decorated more than 1,800 headstones with the small, simple reminders that a nation still honors those who died in wars fought to defend the freedoms we now enjoy.
The day was first celebrated nationally in the United States in 1868, during a ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery in Washington, D.C., where both Union and Confederate dead are buried. As the years passed, it came to be known as Memorial Day, and after World War I, the same date was celebrated across the United Kingdom, and elsewhere in the world as Poppy Day or Remembrance Day. The tradition continues, but in many places, the date has come to be celebrated not as a tribute to those who gave their lives in service to the country, but as a party weekend that signals the beginning of summer.
Perhaps there is room for both.
I choose, each Memorial Day, to take at least a few moments to pay tribute to those who died so that my family and I can live in peace and enjoy the coming summer’s activities. As the proud daughter of a retired military officer, the wife of another former Army officer, and the descendant of many men who served honorably in war and peace in our country’s past, I cannot forget the sacrifices of those who served, both at home and in foreign lands and did not return to enjoy the privileges that they won in battle.
I have written before about myvisits to battlefields, and my feelings. I could not help but recall, as I planted small flags aside the headstones of men and women I did not know, those other visits and those other feelings. When the work was done, I took a few moments to walk alone among other markers at the Little Rock Cemetery. Sadly, there were not enough volunteers this year to place flags at all the headstones — many of them date to the Civil War. Separate burial grounds of Confederate and Union soldiers have been incorporated into the grounds of the National Cemetery.
The markers and their inscriptions are telling. Spanish American War, World War I, World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Gulf War. History is alive in this somber place. Veterans from all services who have markers here served in all the battles this country has been engaged in — from that war between the states to foreign battles in which we had no stake. Most of them did not die in battle; they died as old men, but they served, and that service changed them. I am sure that, until the end of their days, they took pride in their service, knowing that what they did allows the rest of us to live our lives in relative peace and prosperity until the end of our days.
A random Facebook post from a faraway friend captured my imagination this past week. And now it has become a “cause” because I can’t seem to help getting caught up in grand ideas that are designed to bring people together in quirky, frivolous ways. Great things often come from small and simple acts. This time it seems a lot of others have joined in with enthusiasm. I hope it lasts, and I hope it grows.
It has been reported that the effort was begun by a housewife and “mum” in the U.K. who thought it would be a good memory for her children in years to come. I learned about it via several Facebook posts, among them one from a relative in Norway; and the word is spreading fast!
Just as the balcony singing across Italy seemed so spontaneous and emotionally uplifting in the terrible, early days of the pandemic, this recent request for citizens of the world to gather on their front porches at 6 p.m. Christmas Eve strikes an emotional chord with me. I want to be a part of it. I want to hear bells ringing from every doorstep on my street. Then I want to watch the television news coverage of bells ringing in other time zones and in other nations. It will restore my faith that people everywhere — from Capetown to Chicago, From Anchorage to Ankara, from Dublin to Denver are more alike than they are different, in the words of Maya Angelou. I want to celebrate with those people on apartment balconies and front porches all across the world. I am gathering up my bells!
Does anyone remember Hands Across America?
It was 1986. It was a BIG IDEA. Organized by USA for Africa, the same organization that produced the star-studded video concert We Are the World in 1985, Hands Across America was designed to underscore the need for funding to fight devastating famine in Africa, and also to address hunger and homelessness in the U.S.
The thought of people from all walks of life clasping hands to form a human chain stretching from the West Coast to the East to highlight the plight of those who needed help was more than I could resist. I became an early supporter. It was conceived as a benefit effort, not only to address problems but to be a ray of hope for those who had little else to sustain them. The 80s were difficult times for many Americans and for the world, although the sting of those years has faded over time.
The route was designated and mapped, and for a small donation, individuals were assigned a place to be at a specific hour — 3 p.m. Eastern time, May 25, or noon Pacific time. It was a Sunday. I gathered up my family, including my husband and young son plus several equally spirited friends. We drove about 30 minutes to be at our designated spot along a highway not far from our suburban Dallas neighborhood. We arrived shortly before 2 p.m. to find only a few others scattered along the roadway. I remember being somewhat disappointed that the crowd wasn’t as large as I had hoped.
But, as happened in other communities, we joined hands at the appointed hour and stood in solidarity under the Texas sun for a cause that was born from a dream, a cause we believed had the potential to change the world. We stretched our line along the roadway as far as possible. It was reported that there were breaks in the line throughout the nation, but in a cornfield in Iowa, in the geographic center of the United States, 16,000 people gathered. There were throngs in New York, in California, and in Indianapolis, where the Indy 500 was rained out but people stood in the rain for another reason.
It is said that long-haul truckers honked as they passed the lines along the country’s highways. It is said that a few stopped and joined the chain for brief moments. In some small towns, church bells rang out as neighbors gathered along their streets, one hand in another. And anyone who participated felt uplifted by it all.
President Ronald Reagan joined hands with others at the White House and then-Speaker of the House Tip O’Neill brought the U.S. Capitol into the chain. Arkansas Governor Bill Clinton joined in in Little Rock, and scores of entertainers lent their names and their support to the effort. A theme song, Hands Across America, was broadcast simultaneously from radio stations coast to coast. For 15 minutes or so on one day in 1986, millions of people came together in a most unusual way.
Even though the actual human chain did not span the 3,000 plus miles as intended, it is estimated that more than five million individuals participated, perhaps as many as 6.5 million. Though there were empty spots along the route, it is also said that if those who joined the effort could have been equally spaced, the line would have stretched from coast to coast, and the effort was termed a success by the organizers, raising more than $15 million after expenses. Many of the participants donated more than the stipulated fee for the privilege of joining total strangers to see an audacious idea take shape.
So it is this year. It’s an outrageous request to ask people across the globe to step onto their front porches Christmas eve to perform a symbolic act — “to spread Christmas spirit and help Santa fly his sleigh” — with no thought of reward. But it’s also inspiring, isn’t it?
I want to hear bells echoing throughout my neighborhood the evening of December 24, and I want to see news reports of millions of people in scores of other countries shaking their own bells with an energy that could change the world.
Is that too fanciful a dream? Perhaps, but I hope not. Even if it doesn’t shake the world, perhaps it can open hearts, spark a new hopefulness, contribute to a happier holiday, and become the source of lasting smiles for many who have precious little to smile about this year.
So, enlist your neighbors, spread the word to friends and family, join neighborhood and online groups that are springing up to support what has become known as “The Christmas Eve Jingle 2020.”
Get those bells ready!
At the very least, perhaps it will be a fond memory, and provide a unique story for future grandmothers to tell their grandchildren in years to come.
We all know that 2020 has been a tough year. We all want the coming year to be better. And, no matter what holiday or holy day one celebrates this December, the year is coming to an end. Each of us must now look ahead to 2021. We cannot escape the passage of time, and we cannot turn back the calendar to a date that was more pleasant or more “normal.” All we can do is move on, so why not begin the process of moving ahead with a bell in each hand and new purpose in our hearts? It’s up to each one of us to make a difference.
I believe in hope and I know that we could all use a new measure of hope this season.
I remember Hands Across America, I remember We Are the World, and I want to be a witness as another Big Idea comes alive!
Note: A previous post, about a stopover in the Azores, was the first in a series of posts that chronicle a recent trip to Portugal, heavy on relaxation and good food, undertaken as a sort of “experiment” by two couples. As cousins, we have more than just family ties in common, but had no previous experience traveling together. It was a unique adventure.
We had embarked on the planning with gusto. We all agreed that daily schedules and strict timetables would not govern our trip. We would take the days as they came, giving in to whims, and choosing to explore both together and sometimes separately. We also agreed that picnics and snacking would be every bit as welcome as “reservations-only dinners,” and that off-the-beaten-path attractions held more appeal than guided tours or noted museums.
I hate to admit that our appetites guided our island activities, but that’s pretty much the truth of it. We heartily endorsed seaglass expeditions on lonely beaches, long lunches with accompanying local beer or wine, and lazy afternoons with our books, sometimes interspersed with naps. Even though early dawn light was beautiful, we felt no compunction to be overly active early each morning.
We overindulged in fresh fish and seafood prepared in traditional ways, and we sampled sardines, octopus, local mussels, sheep’s cheese, and plenty of olives. We did, unfortunately, miss the experience of eating cozido, a meat or chicken dish slow-cooked underground in the hot volcanic soil. And we did not venture a soak in the mineral-laden volcanic pools, although they are a highlight of the visit for many tourists to Sao Miguel Island.
The marina drew us . . .
After spending a morning exploring the town, we were drawn by the water, and the prospect of having a view to accompany a light lunch. We were walking along the rocky shore in what will someday be a revamped marina district of Vila Franca do Campo. Deadlines seem both non-existent and unimportant on this island, so there are no signs proclaiming a targeted completion date.
With a couple of eateries to choose from, we picked the one closer to the water, Atlantico Restaurante & Grill, and were ushered upstairs to a pleasant dining room with a stunning view. It was late by island standards, apparently; other diners were close to finishing their meals, but we were welcomed nonetheless by a server who smilingly said we had plenty of time. The kitchen would not close until 3 p.m.
And so our first encounter with Portuguese dining began:
First the obligatory sampling of bread, olives, cheese, and this time, paper-thin sliced ham and a tasty sweet jam. Our orders came and were consumed, along with a bottle of chilled white wine, and the minutes ticked by.
It was well after 3 p.m. when we finished, and we bade goodbye to Michael, our waiter, who had spent time in Chicago, as we recall, and spoke perfectly idiomatic English. He seemed not to mind being kept after “quitting time,” and actually invited us back for dinner, but then told us the restaurant would be closed for the next couple of days due to an annual — and, apparently, quite raucous — fisherman’s celebration. Indeed, while we ate, workers continued to decorate the street outside; we suspect it was quite a party!
Another day, we visited Mariserra, once again for a late lunch, in Sao Roque, nearer the large city of Ponta Delgada. We had yet another delicious taste of island life, this time highlighted by a shareable fish stew, served with pasta in a tomatoey sauce, as well as perfectly-prepared garlic shrimp (two orders) and flavorful mussels.
Crafting a memorable visit . . .
We kept busy, but we relaxed completely, interspersing long beach strolls and walks along cobblestone streets with short excursions to the market and a day trip to Sete Cidades at the far end of Sao Miquel Island. We drove winding switchbacks to the rim of the now quiet volcano, and marveled at the sight of twin pristine lakes, one blue, one green, that fill the caldera. There are numerous hiking trails, with plenty of scenic overlooks for photo ops.
We acted as “traffic cops” when a mama duck and her brood strolled through a lakeside parking lot, and we stopped to gaze in awe at an abandoned structure. Now covered in graffiti and spreading greenery, it must have once been an architectural gem. We never learned its history.
Another day we visited another shore, thoroughly enjoying a leisurely excursion to Cha Gorreana in Ribeira Grande. Family-owned and operated since 1883, the only surviving tea plantation in all of Europe is still farmed and harvested by time-honored methods, completely organic and pesticide-free. The tour and tea samples were free of charge, and we lingered at the site.
The story of how tea farming came to the Azores is fascinating, affirming that a volcanic island in the North Atlantic was a well-known destination to voyagers from the Orient and India, and by dealers in exotic spices and fruit, long before any of us might have guessed. Tea plantations arrived later, however. The tea harvest and processing is still done by hand, labor-intensive and a labor of love, as well as a booming business. Both black and green teas are wonderful.
A simple question . . .
“Meat or fish?” the proprietor asked, after he had brought our wine to a table perfectly situated near balcony windows, open just enough to let a light breeze waft through.
We chose fish, but the meat platter served to nearby diners looked equally tempting.
We had stumbled, quite by accident, upon Fim de Seculo Restaurante in the heart of Maia, a coastal village not far from the tea plantation. We had hoped for a quiet late lunch in a cafe along the shore, but instead we found this charming upstairs dining room, accessed via the outdoor patio and ground floor bar, complete with blue and white tile murals, white linen tablecloths and a dark wooden staircase that has borne its share of footsteps over the years.
This was to be a leisurely lunch, punctuated with laughter, good wine and interesting conversation with the proprietor and his daughter, who, we learned, had just graduated with a degree in hospitality management. It ended on a sweet note: a platter of freshly-sliced Azorean pineapple, perfect in its simplicity.
We will not soon forget the experience, and we did not eat again that day!
Three days on this island only whetted our appetite. A twist of scheduling became a highlight of our trip. We boarded our flight to Lisbon with a twinge of regret, at the same time looking forward to a planned cork forest tour and some highly-anticipated beach time on the mainland, in addition to more good food in faraway places.
on lonely beaches, long lunches with accompanying local beer or wine, and lazy afternoons with our books, sometimes interspersed with naps. Even though early dawn light was beautiful, we felt no compunction to be overly active early each morning.
Good Food and Faraway Places 