The Shadow Knows

Good Friday. A shadow day if there ever was one. As per usual, my mother called last night to remind me to attend a Good Friday service.

"I gave up church for Lent," I joked. She, being the good Catholic she is, didn't think that was funny. Having been brought up a good Catholic girl in a Catholic/Jewish household (for the first nine years of my life, anyway), I've always been "guilted" into faith. Or, at least, that's what it feels like to me. While my father conceded to my mother's need to raise us Catholic, he still held out for Passover each year. It wasn't until I graduated high school, that I took the time to learn more about my Jewish heritage.

The end result is that I have grown more and more detached from religion, and on days like today, Good Friday looms over me like a shadow.

I'd Rather Have Roses On My Table . . .

than diamonds on my neck. ~Emma Goldman

The First Day of Spring, I bring you flowers (for the last time) . . . and a lovely little poem by Robert Louis Stevenson from A Child's Garden of Verses; a particular favorite from my own childhood.

THE

FLOWERS

All the names I know from nurse:

Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse,

Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock,

And the Lady Hollyhock.

Fairy places, fairy things,

Fairy woods where the wild bee wings,

Tiny trees for tiny dames--

These must all be fairy names!

Tiny woods below whose boughs

Shady fairies weave a house;

Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme,

Where the braver fairies climb!

Fair are grown-up people's trees,

But the fairest woods are these;

Where, if I were not so tall,

I should live for good and all

Awake, Thou Wintry Earth

~Fling off thy sadness!

Fair vernal flowers, laugh forth

Your ancient gladness!

~Thomas Blackburn, An Easter Hymn

I'm glad. Winter was really beginning to wear on me.

Rotten Advertising

This was just too blogworthy to pass up. Last night, I was watching Deliverance and immediately following the scene in which Ned Beatty's character is raped, the program switched over to commercials. And what commercial did they so unthinkingly choose? Cialis. And Flomax. Need I say more!

And while we're on the subject. why have we been suddenly inundated with commercials for male enhancement and incontinence pads. My daughter and I almost fell off the sofa laughing the other night following a commercial in which a woman, stuck in traffic and looking miserable 'cause she really has to go, imagines a bathroom falling from the sky to save her. "This is never going to happen," a voice-over says. Suddenly she has a look of great relief on her face and smiles. I guess she used her pad. I wanted to be appalled but it was so unbelievable all I could do was laugh.

Éirinn go Brágh

Ireland forever. Funny how a feast day for a saint has morphed into an excuse for drinking. But, in households that hang on to any tie to Celtic origins (like the one I grew up in), Saint Patrick's Day was always celebrated.

We even had a traditional Irish meal every year. No, it wasn't corned beef and cabbage. Actually, what my sisters and I grew up eating every March 17 was Seared Filet of Salmon with Colcannon.

And once I left home, I took up the tradition in my own. So, here's the recipe. It's quite good, actually.

For the Colcannon

1 3/4 pounds red potatoes, peeled and cubed

1/3 to 1/4 cup heated milk, or to taste

salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

4 scallions, thinly sliced

2 Tablespoons unsalted butter

1/4 pound shredded cabbage

For the Salmon and Sauce

4 6-ounce salmon fillets, unskinned

2 Tablespoons oil

1/2 cup dry white wine

1 cup fish or chicken stock

1/2 cup heavy cream

Vegetables

This dish can also be served with vegetables such as cooked carrots, zucchini, asparagus . . .

1. In a saucepan set over moderate heat combine the potatoes with enough salted water to just cover, bring to a boil, and simmer, covered, for 15 minutes, or until tender. Drain the potatoes, transfer them to a bowl and mash them, adding milk and salt and pepper to taste.

2. While the potatoes cook, in a skillet set over moderate heat cook the scallion in the butter, stirring, for 2 minutes. Add the cabbage and salt and pepper and cook the mixture, stirring, for 2 minutes more. Cover the skillet and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes, or until the cabbage is just tender. Fold the cabbage mixture into the mashed potatoes and keep warm. Season to taste.

3. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees Fahrenheit.

4. Season the fish with salt and pepper. Heat the oil in a skillet over moderately high heat until very hot, add the salmon, skin side down, and cook until skin is crisp, about 3 to 4 minutes. Transfer to over and cook for 3 to 5 minutes more, or to desired doneness. Transfer salmon to a heat-proof plate and keep warm.

5. Pour off any fat from the skillet, add the wine and reduce by half. Add the fish stock and reduce by half. Add the cream and simmer until lightly thickened. Season with salt and pepper.

6. Serve salmon atop colcannon. If you are using vegetables, garnish the salmon and colcannon with them; Drizzle the sauce over each serving.

Serve with a good Irish beer like Guiness or Harp if you like.

Yield: 4 Servings

A Southern Cemetery

I've posted some more photos; these were taken in a small town cemetery during the annual trip to Fernandina, Florida. We (meaning my sisters and myself) have taken this week-long trip every year since the youngest of us turned 21 (more than ten years now) to escape the wonderful coolness of the mountains and bake in the Southern Steam Oven for a week. Fortunately, mudslides, margaritas and martinis help take the edge off the heat.

But, thinking about cemeteries, I can't help but remark on how much they've changed over the years from the skeletal heads that grimaced from the early tombstones of America to beautiful statues of angels and lambs and cherubs to flat markers with silk flowers. For quite awhile, we used to joke as we passed the latter type of cemetery, "Oh, so that's where they grow silk flowers."

Today, in cemeteries that encompass the gamut from early to late model tombstones, a new wave of statuary seems to be cropping up. In this case, I am referring to the tiny little statues that now abound on graves. They can be animals (cute little rabbits, deer and chicks) or angels or even things that relate to the person buried there, like miniature soccer balls, pick up trucks, guitars, you name it.

I'm not making fun of this as I can see how doing this might help some people work through their grief, especially when it comes to losing a child. I just know that personally, I would not be able to sum up my daughter's life using garish silk flowers and tchotchkes. Nor would I want to be remembered that way.

My question is: How do these phenomenons get started? I guess it only takes one person and then it just expands exponentially. This also seemed to happen with the crosses on the side of the road to mark where someone had died in an automobile accident. It's almost like roadsides have become cemeteries.

Beware The Ides of March

I give up! My youngest sister has been harassing me for months to start blogging. She says that it will be a great place to feature some of my photography. I guess she has a point. As a photographer for a small, bi-weekly newspaper, I am often limited as to what I can shoot. Perhaps here I can begin to let my imagination run wild. It also seems like a fitting way to begin my 40th year.

I have chosen to name the blog Desperately Seeking Susan because not only is that my name, but because I recently re-watched the movie and I had forgotten what a huge impact it had on me.

I turned 17 the year it came out (1985) and I was so into Madonna--that whole look. And, like Roberta, I wanted my life to be like Susan's. It was so exciting. Unfortunately, life has a way of changing our dreams . . .

1985 was an amazing year. Culturally, it was the year of New Coke (hiss! boo!) but fortunately THAT only lasted a few months. It was also the year that Calvin & Hobbes, Tommy Hilfiger and Windows 1.0 debuted.

Celebrities born that year included Keira Knightley, Lily Allen, Kyle Busch, Ashley Tisdale (yes, my daughter's way into High School Musical), Zac Hanson, Ciara and Frankie Muniz. I feel old.

Finally, that was the year we lost Marc Chagall, Karen Ann Quinlan, Laura Ashley, Rock Hudson, Yul Brynner, Orson Welles, Dian Fossey and Ricky Nelson.

I will leave this post with a few pictures taken on a trip south last year.