The Great Divorce

“I seemed to be standing in a bus queue by the side of a long, mean street. Evening was just closing in and it was raining. I had been wandering for hours in similar mean streets, always in the rain and always in evening twilight.” So C.S. Lewis begins his narrative of “The Great Divorce.”

No, the book is not an argument against marriage, at least not in the way we first think of it. It’s a sort of fantasy/theology novel which underscores the insurmountable division between good and evil.  In his preface Lewis explains that his goal is to counter William Blake’s concept of “The Marriage of Heaven and Hell” – to refute the idea that somehow good and evil, or right and wrong can be brought together;  that eventually, with enough skill and patience, evil will be turned to good.

Evil is evil and good is good. They are opposites. They are forever going in two different directions – divorced from one another.

Lewis says, “We are not living in a world where all roads are radii of a circle and where all, if followed long enough, will therefore draw gradually nearer and finally meet at the centre: rather in a world where every road, after few miles forks into two, and each of those into two again, and at every fork you must make a decision…I do not think that all who choose the wrong road perish; but their rescue consists in being put back on the right road.”

This is a lot to consider in a culture where it’s rude – almost criminal – to say that there is actually a standard of right or wrong behavior.

Let me just say that, even though it deals with such deep and heavy subject matter, this is a really good story!  It’s written in first person, and begins with the narrator (C.S. Lewis, himself) waiting in the line on the dismal street of the grey town.  The grey town is Hell, and the people in line are waiting for a bus which will take them on an excursion to the borderlands of Heaven. There, they will have an opportunity to reconsider the choices they made on earth and they might choose to stay in Heaven.  (The original, working title of the book was, “Who Goes Home?”)

Far from the common stereotype of angels sitting on clouds playing harps, Lewis’s description of Heaven shows it to be more colorful, solid and real than anything he ever imagined.  He says when he got off the bus “The light and coolness that drenched me were like those of a summer morning, early morning a minute or two before the sunrise, only that there was a certain difference. I had the sense of being in a larger space, perhaps even a larger sort of space, than I had ever known before: as if the sky were further off and the extent of the green plain wider than they could be on this little ball of earth. I had got “out” in some sense which made the Solar System itself seem an indoor affair.”

He wanders around observing and listening as the bright solid residents of Heaven meet with ghostlike friends and relatives from Hell.  They have serious and loving conversations, but although most of the people from the grey town are fairly ambivalent about it, for one reason or another they reject the offer of Heaven and choose to go back down to what they know.

Lewis is not saying there will actually be an opportunity for people to change their minds and leave Hell after they die. The story is an illustration of choices made, seen through the lens of eternity.

He says, “There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, “Thy will be done,” and those to whom God says, in the end, “Thy will be done.” All that are in Hell, choose it. Without that self-choice there could be no Hell.”

I’ve probably read this book six times, and every time I read it I come away with some new gem of understanding.  It leaves me feeling stronger and richer, and closer to God. This morning was no exception. I closed the book and sat there in bemused awe. My very world and future and all of its prospects seemed larger and more full of promise.

Check out these links for more study and information about ”The Great Divorce

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Dim Sum

The chicken feet took me by surprise.  I didn’t expect them to look so much like…well…chicken feet.  But there they were, resting in their little dish of sauce, just waiting to jump onto a chopstick!

Otherwise the restaurant was lovely.  Elegant hangings and crisp white table cloths. Dan and Karen were waiting for us, and had already ordered a pot of good strong Chinese tea and a pot of hibiscus brew.  Karen had explained to me a couple of weeks ago that dim sum is kind of synonymous with the ceremony of taking tea.

She was right. An article on dim sum said “Who hasn’t spent a lazy afternoon in their favorite Chinese restaurant, sipping tea and feasting on the innumerable assortment of delicacies that make up Chinese dim sum? Literally meaning ‘to touch your heart’, dim sum consists of a variety of dumplings, steamed dishes and other goodies.”

Well it sure touched my heart! One of John and my favorite things to do when we go out to eat anywhere is to order a bunch of appetizers instead of a regular meal.  So this was right up our alley.

We sat at the table and servers walked by pushing carts loaded with small dishes of savory goodies in little bamboo baskets. You are supposed to look at the cart and make choices, or  wait for the next cart that might have other choices.  I can tell you it was a sensory overload for me! Everything looked delicious although I couldn’t exactly tell what anything was. Karen was a whiz though. She has obviously done this hundreds of times.

She explained that you don’t eat the lotus leaves which are wrapped around the sweet rice. She told us the shark fin is not usually real shark fin these days. And thankfully she didn’t recommend the beef tripe with ginger sauce.

The server puts a tally sheet at the edge of the table and each time you choose a dish from the cart they mark it on the sheet, so they can tally the bill at the end of the meal.  Karen told us when she was a little girl they left the empty dishes piled on the edge of the table and they would tally the bill by counting the dishes.  Different shaped dishes had different prices.

We had turnip cake, pork buns, lotus leaf sweet rice, sharks fin and shrimp dumpling, stuffed mushroom with shrimp, and more things I can’t even remember. We laughed as we tried to figure out how to cut things into smaller pieces with chopsticks, and how to use our chopsticks to gracefully eat those little chicken feet one knuckle at a time.

A Wikipedia article explains the history of dim sum like this. “Rural farmers, exhausted after working hard in the fields, would go to teahouses for a relaxing afternoon of tea. At first, it was considered inappropriate to combine tea with food, because people believed it would lead to excessive weight gain. People later discovered that tea can aid in digestion, so teahouse owners began adding various snacks.

The unique culinary art of dim sum originated with the Cantonese in southern China, who over the centuries transformed yum cha from a relaxing respite to a loud and happy dining experience.”

And that’s exactly what we had - a delicious, loud and happy dining experience! Thank you Dan and Karen.

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Tearless Fearless Onion Dicing

When I think about the movie “Julie & Julia” – which I love! – the image that first come to mind is Meryl Streep standing beside a mountain of diced onions. Fifty pounds of them piled on her counter. Julia Child had successfully learned to use her French knife to dice an onion.  I can do that. And when I do it the onions are lovely small even pieces…with more than a few scattered on the floor and flung to the far reaches of my counter.  Alas.

So I have a way that works better for me.

(David says he thinks Grandpa Frank does it this way too, and he is the one who pointed out that this method keeps the tears away because the onion fumes are confined.)

You can use your french knife, or a paring knife or whatever blade you are most comfortable with. Peel the onion and cut it in half. Place the cut side down on the counter, and hold it firmly in place. Now cut it into thin slices.

Turn the onion, still holding it firmly against the counter, and cut across the slices you have just made.

Voilá!  You have a little pile of perfectly diced onions and nothing to cry about. And your floor is clean.

Now about those smelly hands…

I bought a magic stainless steel ”soap bar” in a kitchen store a few years ago and it really works.  Just rub your hands with this stainless steel oval under running water and the onion smell is gone – really like magic!Or, as I have recently found out, you don’t even need the magic stainless steel soap. You can rub a stainless steel spoon on your hands under running water and it does the same thing.

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Not a Flat Adventure – Part 2

John had been checking the weather on his smart phone several times a day, and the storm warning over the Bay Area wasn’t going away. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked me more than once.  To be honest, I was a little nervous about backpacking in the wilderness under the threat of severe storm warnings. But I wasn’t going to be the first woman to throw in the towel.

Emily, Robin, Kathy and I had been planning this hike for several months. Robin is a teacher, so Easter break was the perfect time for us to go. Up until now we had been pretty secure in the fact that the weather had been unusually warm and dry this year.

So far…

Now the forecast began to look more and more ominous. We kept sending  texts and facebook messages to each other. “Are we still on for this?” “Rain or shine?”  (Apparently nobody wanted to be the first woman to throw in the towel.)

So there we were at the trailhead with Gordon, the Park Ranger.  He looked a little dubious, but he was also very interested in the process of loading three llamas for a three day hike on the Ohlone Wilderness Trail.

And it is quite a process, although my friend Emily has it down to a science. She has led pack llama excursions for about 25 years. The most important thing is to distribute the load evenly on the animal’s back, so we carried along a handy hanging scale to weigh the packs when we were loading them. As little as a pound of uneven weight can be uncomfortable for a llama.

Each llama can carry about 75 pounds. That’s the nice thing about llama-packing. You can bring a lot of luxury stuff you can’t take on a regular backpack trip.  We had bagels, lox and cream cheese for breakfast. Our dinner was fresh chicken and vegetables one night and shrimp with Cajun beans and rice another night.  No dehydrated soup mix. And the llamas do most of the work while we just stroll along carrying our personal things in light day packs.

The two younger llamas, Inca and Patches, carried most of the load. Seventeen-year-old Josh helped out a little, but the old herd boss has worked hard on dozens of pack trips over the years, and this trip was mostly to give him a fun outing in his old age. Llamas are very social, and they’re great team players, so Emily and Kathy also hoped the old gentleman would be a good teaching influence on young Inca, who had never been out on the trail before.

We hooked the three llamas together in a string, with Josh in the lead, and started up the trail.

Take note of the word, UP.

Looking at the topographic map – although I didn’t really know much about topographic maps – we knew there would be lots of ups and downs. Strangely, it seemed that there were more ups than downs. The Ohlone Trail is 28 miles long, with over 8000 feet of elevation gain/loss. Our hike would cover only 15 miles, but with all the elevation you could wish for.
Robin’s dad was the park ranger years ago, and it was he who actually laid out the Ohlone trail. Trudging up some of those perpendicular slopes, we had some choice comments for him. Apparently the man did not believe in switchbacks!

In my last blog I talked about how Robin, as the park ranger’s daughter, lived in a wilderness cabin when she was a little girl. They had no electricity and her mother cooked on a wood stove. They lived a rugged and adventurous life, and Robin said that the lives of her friends in the city seemed sort of flat by comparison.

“Well, there will be nothing flat about this trip,” we assured her. “The Lord has a sense of humor!”  We trekked up and down the hills, ignoring the spattering raindrops, and tried not to think about the thunderstorms in the forecast.

My friends’ red, blue and yellow ponchos billowed brightly in the breeze. I didn’t have a poncho, but I was perfectly dry and comfortable in John’s hunting rain gear. How I appreciated it — especially his warm down vest — although I know I looked a lot like the Michelin man.

The first day we had scattered showers and a little wind. It wasn’t bad walking weather until around 4 pm, when it began to pour.  We knew we wouldn’t make it three more miles to the designated camp site, so we decided to set up the tent on a wide part of the trail, and take shelter just until the rain let up.

We sat in the tent laughing and changing into dry socks and rummaging for something to eat.  We had just set up the little back-pack stove in the vestibule of the tent to boil some water, when we saw the last thing we expected to see – two men walking up to the tent.

The men were drenched and distressed, and asked us if we had passed a woman on the trail.  They had been searching for her for hours and their cell phone battery was now dead. We told them we hadn’t seen another human being all day.

We got out our map and figured out our location, and Emily gave them her cell phone to call the Park Service and 911. We also invited them to pray with us, that their companion would be found, and that she would be unhurt.  They seemed to be caught off guard by the idea of praying, but they were willing to join us. By then the water was boiling, so we made dinner and shared it with them.

Finally, it was getting dark when the Park Ranger arrived.  He told us we should stay camped where we were, and he told the men to return down the trail to the place they had camped earlier in the day. The park personnel would search for the missing woman.  He said he didn’t want any more people getting lost on such a night.

We gave the men some granola bars, and Emily actually insisted that they take her cell phone and an extra battery. (We had been kind of chuckling about the fact that Kathy’s expensive “smart phone” didn’t have reception at all on the trip and Emily’s and my dumb ones worked pretty well off and on.)

She gave them her address so they could mail it back to her. “But it’s only a $50 phone,” she told us. “If they don’t mail it back, it’s no big thing.”


For the remainder of our time on the trail we thought about the lost woman and prayed for her when we thought about her.  In a happy postscript I’m delighted to say that Emily got her phone back the Tuesday after our hike. The man mailed it with a very gracious letter telling us that their hiking companion was safe and how much they had appreciated the phone, the food and the prayers.

No, it was not a flat adventure.

One night it was so windy I really was afraid the tent would blow away.  The side of it was flapping so wildly it was coming down and hitting my face with wet smacks. I lay there praying and trying to remember where I had stashed my glasses. As I pictured all of us stumbling around lost and blind on the storm-tossed mountain, I called to mind every scripture I ever read about the Lord’s deliverance.

The next morning dawned glorious! It was blue-skied and bright, with magnificent cloud shadows on every slope.  We saw mist hanging in the hollows of valleys, and enchanted vistas we would never have seen if it hadn’t been for the rain.

Then that afternoon the sky darkened and it began to hail. Hailstones the size of peas piled up on the llamas’ backs as we walked dismally along. After some time of walking, we decided to set up the tent and wait it out.  Sure enough, after a couple of hours and a nice nap, the weather cleared and we were able to pack up and hike to the next designated camping area.

By the third day both pairs of my shoes were thoroughly soaked. I learned the trick of lining them with plastic bags to keep my last pair of socks dry. By that time the storm had spent itself, and the day was stunningly beautiful.  But we were so tired! We trudged along singing every song we could think of to keep our spirits up for that last mile. At Del Valle, our husbands would be waiting to pick us up and take us back to a nice flat life with electricity and bathtubs full of steaming hot water.

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Not a Flat Adventure – Part 1

Newspaper photo of Robin and a llama on the opening hike of the Ohlone Trail, May 15, 1987

Robin’s dad laid out the Ohlone Wilderness Trail 25 years ago, and a very young Robin – along with my friend Emily and her llamas – were part of the group that made the first hike to open it.  So you can imagine that I was thrilled to be part of The Fellowship of the Four  who planned an “anniversary hike” on the trail this spring!

Robin, who is now a biology teacher in Southern California, was excited to return to her roots and hike in the land of her childhood.  Emily and Kathy have llamas, and looked forward to the hike as a training experience for one of their new young animals. I just felt privileged to be included for any reason.

At the ranger station, on the morning we began our trek, Robin was as giddy as a little girl! She and her family used to live here…and she played in that creek…and the old green barn hadn’t changed a bit (except now it was a visitors’ center, which happened to be closed that day) We walked along the water looking for the remnants of an old bridge. Robin told us about sitting and watching out the window of the ranger station as a violent storm washed the bridge away years ago.

left to right: Robin, Emily, Kathy and Andrena at the trailhead with "Josh"

Her dad, David Lewton, was Park Ranger for The East Bay Regional Park District, and the family made their home in a rustic cabin, deep in the park.  They didn’t have electricity, and although they had running water in the house, they didn’t have a flush toilet. Her mom cooked on a wood stove, or sometimes with propane gas.It was the life they chose, and Robin says that even as a child, she knew she had benefits that could never be purchased with such modern amenities as electricity or television.

She told us about going to school each day in the modern world, and then returning home to her adventurous real life in the wilderness park.

She said sometimes she spent the night with friends in town, and their lives seemed sort of flat. It was never really dark because there were always street lights, and little lights on the appliances in the home.  It was never really completely quiet.  And when she woke up in the morning it was always the same temperature – never hot and never cold. It was nice enough, she admitted, but just sort of flat.

I think the Lord must have been grinning during the weeks we were planning our trip.  We set it up for Easter break since Robin is a teacher. We’d had a remarkably mild, dry winter and spring, and we felt confident that the lovely weather would continue.  Little did we know that our three day hike would be during the biggest rain and wind and hail storm to hit California this year.  It would definitely not be a flat adventure!  (To be continued.)

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Thoughts on Garlic, Sun Dried Tomatoes and Olive Oil

There’s nothing like fresh garlic.  But sometimes – especially for soups and stews – it’s convenient and inexpensive to use the peeled cloves you can buy in a bulk package at places like Costco. I usually split the three-pound bag with my friend Emily, and I keep it stored in olive oil.

About 25 years ago I was part of the craze of making decorative bottles of flavored oils by putting garlic cloves and sprigs of rosemary and peppercorns in olive oil.  They looked lovely setting on the countertop, and the oil was yummy. As far as I know nobody died from eating it; but I gave a lot of them to people as gifts before I found out that garlic in olive oil at room temperature creates a perfect breeding ground for botulism.  (Ooops.)

**So make sure you keep this garlic olive oil in the refrigerator.

Garlic cloves can be safely stored in olive oil if you keep it cold and don’t make more than you can use in about a month.  And there are hundreds of tasty things to do with it! (You can also freeze it for several months if you make more than one jar.)

Place the garlic cloves into a small dry jar, and cover them with olive oil.  Be sure to cover the cloves completely. When the olive oil gets cold it will congeal or solidify, but it will melt almost immediately when you spoon it out to use. (Use a dry spoon to scoop out cloves)

Garlic oil is wonderful to brush on shrimp or asparagus or peppers for grilling, and the oil-soaked cloves of garlic go easily through a garlic press.  Or you can use them whole.

I also buy sun dried tomatoes that have been preserved in olive oil.  When I use some of the oil, I pour more fresh oil on top of the tomatoes in the jar.

Here is a delicious recipe John and I made last night on the spur of the moment. It took about 20 minutes from start to finish, and it was delicious!

Pasta with sun dried tomatoes and fresh veggies

½ lb pasta

8-10 mushrooms, sliced

6 fat green onions, chopped

About a cup of chopped fresh broccoli

1-2 tablespoon garlic oil

2 tablespoons sun dried tomatoes with olive oil

Freshly grated parmesan cheese

Salt and black pepper to taste

While the water is boiling and the pasta is cooking you have 15-20 minutes to slice the mushrooms, onion and broccoli and sauté them in the garlic oil.

Just before you remove it from the heat, stir in the sun dried tomatoes.

Drain the pasta when it’s aldente.

Stir in the sautéed veggies.

Top with freshly grated parmesan cheese.

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The Ides of April

It was the soothsayer’s warning to Julius Caesar. “Beware the Ides of March!”  And sure enough, Caesar was stabbed to death in the Theatre of Pompey on that day. March 15th, 44 B.C.  The Ides of March.

But what do we know about The Ides of April? April 15th — that fateful day in the middle of this month!

Okay, to be accurate, I know April 15th  isn’t really “the Ides of April”. Ides comes from a Latin word that means “the middle”, so it seems like it should be.  But the Ides is on the 15th only in the months of March, May, July and October.

In all the other months, the Ides is the 13th. Which makes absolutely no sense to me, since that would mean there are only 25 days in all those other months.  (If anyone has insight on this, I’d love to know how it works.)

So for now, apart from the fact that April 15th isn’t really “the Ides of April” – that TODAY is technically the Ides of April – it makes an interesting conversation.

Beware the ides of April, 1865!

April 15th is the day President Lincoln died, after being shot in Ford’s Theater on the evening of the 14th. Recently I was reading “Manhunt: The 12-Day Chase for Lincoln’s Killer” at the same time my friend Jennifer was reading “Killing Lincoln”.  We had fun comparing and discussing the two books.

Beware the ides Ides of April, 1912!

Probably by now everyone in the world knows that April 15th marks the hundred year anniversary of the sinking of the “unsinkable” Titanic.

But that doesn’t seem to have fazed my niece, Erin. She’s getting on board a cruise ship today – Friday the 13th– and she’s very excited to be at sea on April 15th.

And finally…Beware the Ides of April 2012.

The taxman cometh. April 15th is the deadline for filing Federal income tax returns.

Now for the good news!  April 15th is my son, David’s, birthday.

(As an interesting sideline:  April 15th became the tax deadline in 1955.  Prior to that it was March 1st, which is my other son, Matthew’s, birthday.)

As a toddler. David heard so many comments about this, that by the time he was two years old, he was proudly telling everybody that his birthday was on Tax Day.

And so, today, on the true “Ides of April”…IDE like to say bon voyage to Erin as she sets out on her cruise, and Happy Birthday to David!

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