Tag: I Love You

I Cried

“Never,” was my father’s answer tonight when asked if he ever thought he’d live to see a black man in the White House.

I cried. I cried when John McCain spoke from Phoenix. He was gracious, eloquent and uncharacteristically warm as he conceded defeat.

I cried some more when Barack Obama spoke from Chicago a few minutes ago. It was an inspiring speech. When his wife came out and they embraced, I read her lips as she said, “I love you.”

What a wonderful night to be an American. What a transformational moment.

“Never,” was my father’s answer tonight when asked if he ever thought he’d live to see a black man in the White House. Never is a strong word. It’s a long way from never to where we are today.

I remember, probably when I was around ten, walking past the F.W. Woolworths in a little strip shopping center at Parsons and Jewel-a block from where I grew up. There were men walking in a circle, carrying signs. I didn’t understand at the time, but it was a picket line. The protest had to do with the Woolworths lunch counters in the south that would not serve ‘colored.” It was the beginning of the civil rights movement. It’s a long way from those pickets to where we are today.

We face immense challenges. Obama comes in off-the-bench with the team down a few touchdowns and time running out. I don’t know if he, or anyone, can get us out of our dilemma. We are in so deep.

Tonight, at least, there is hope.

I Love You – What’s Your Name?

I’m trying to avoid late night snacks. I can’t totally eschew the pleasure nocturnal munching provides, but I’m doing the best I can… you know, considering I’m willpower challenged.

One of the simplest tricks is to avoid staying anywhere near where food is stored. So, recently, I’ve been coming upstairs to my ‘office’ and being on the computer here.

But then, I get hungry.

Hey, it’s nearly 2:00 AM. Is there a time when food tastes better?

I went downstairs, opened the refrigerator door and there they were – plums. I have no idea what this particular variety of plum is called. I wish I did. They are perfect.

This Chilean plum (how else could we have fresh fruit in February) is quite firm and very juicy. The skin is mostly red with golden flecks. As soon as you bite in, you get sweet and tangy at the same time. This is as close to sex as I get with fruit.

From past years, I know the availability of these particular plums is limited. I’m not sure, but there may also be a brief window, during the ‘real’ fresh fruit season, when the domestic equivalent is on the shelves.

I was going to ask if any of you reading this knew the name of the variety, but the plum has a website! I have sent an email asking the plum’s name.

I have gone off the deep end, haven’t I?