I’ve spent the morning catching up on some of the blogs that I enjoy and thinking about the direction of my own work. I haven’t been blogging consistently lately, which I attribute to a couple of factors. First, I’m not teaching this Summer, which, oddly enough, makes it harder for me to find time to write. Lacking a clear structure, I don’t make the time to sit down and get work done. And, of course, I’ve been busy spending time with Mimi, which is the whole point of my taking time off from work. Another factor, however, is caused by the tenor of the times in which we live.
The American economy continues to sputter. Contradictory economic indicators are released every week, and economists have no idea what to make of them. Perhaps the engine of the economy is revving back up? Oh, but maybe it’s really just grinding to a halt. So many people are out of work, with only the faintest hopes of future employment. Meanwhile, thousands of gallons of oil are spewing out into the Gulf, wreaking impossible havoc that we can only wait for and watch. No matter where you live, it all takes a psychic toll.
People are suffering; ways of life are coming to an end; delicate ecosystems are being destroyed. Tar balls — both real and metaphorical — just keep rolling in with the tides. There seems to be no stopping them.
These are difficult days, and sometimes it seems frivilous to write about food and cooking in the light of that fact. Besides, often I can’t muster up the jocular tone needed for this kind of writing.
Like today, for instance. I meant to write a piece about lemonade, the quintessential Summer drink, but then I was struck by how sad this Summer is turning out to be.
So, you know, no lemonade. Not today.
Today, I have no recipes to offer, no descriptions of food, no helpful hints, no insights, no wisdom, no photos even. Nothing but sour thoughts.
Which, of course, are not terribly productive. So, here’s a little something to hum as the tar balls wash ashore.