I
Twenty years ago today I wrote my first Ocean post. I had little idea where this was heading, how long I'd stay with it, what content would fill these pages. I did make one promise to myself: that I would try to find the time, the ideas, the internet to write something not entirely stupid, and not ever harmful, every day.
And so Ocean was born.
I take this date as a time to think about the year ahead for Ocean. I am deeply aware, of course, that Ocean can affect the people that are referenced in it, as well as those who read it with more than a passing interest. Writing with great care is always at the forefront, but I have to admit that I have the ambition to go beyond just "doing no harm." I want so much to smooth some paths, to bring smiles (even though, as I have said time and again, I am, unfortunately, not funny!), to prompt good thoughts for those who start their day reading Ocean posts. And if that sounds puffed up and pontifical (who am I to want to make your day better?!), yes, I agree. Being positive and attempting to lay out a good, thoughtful framework for each day does smack of some conceit, but hey, isn't it a heck of a lot better than pounding away at a negative text?
And maybe there's some good that comes from reading someone who truly does believe that each day is singularly quirky and ridiculous and banal but beautiful nonetheless. Maybe. At the very least though, Ocean is a record of moving between stages in life. I began when I was fifty. I'm not fifty anymore! But here's an important caveat: observing, recording, taking note -- these are not the same as giving advice! I know too well the horror of a constant trickle of "words of wisdom," usually coming from those who have no idea what your life is like. What pain and what trauma and what insecurity you are dealing with. I will never presume that my days make sense for anyone but me. Your smile, if it comes, will come from finding something sweet or ridiculous in my story, nothing more than that. Your life is your own and I wish I knew more about it, because I love learning about what makes others tick, but I steer clear from suggesting that I have any wisdom to offer you on how to lead it, how to age, how to be a grandparent, or a partner to someone with whom you have nothing in common!
II
And now to get on with the day. Which starts early. Ed gets a 5 a.m. call from Denmark (it's all about machines!) and we are off and running.
Good morning, farmette lands! Good morning wisps of sunshine (that stayed with us for all of maybe half an hour)!
Good morning, Unfriendly Snowflake! Thanks for joining us for breakfast!
III
In the afternoon, I do a lot of reading. Progress on a very dumb novel, but one I need to finish for who knows what reason. A few chapters on a city I'll be visiting early this year. Two articles, roughly about ancestry, and here is where I will pause. Because it is related to a question that a daughter asked while we were all at the table enjoying my son-in-law's cooking of a "Very Estonian Christmas Dinner." She asked, not accusingly, but knowing well the answer -- and what Polish foods have you brought to the table for the holidays? Of course, the answer is "none" or you would have heard about it here, on Ocean.
But why? Polish cooking is rich with tradition and I have several Polish cookbooks to prove it. And my friends always talk about it. They show off photos of their own Easter cakes. They hunt down the best herring for Eve dinners. Each one, I'm sure, has a favorite recipe for Bigos (a sauerkraut and sausage stew that every Pole knows and loves), and, well, you all know about pierogi (Polish dumplings, for the uninitiated).
The thing is, I swear my daughters were born with American taste buds. They've subsequently expanded and at the moment one loves Scandinavian, the other loves Italian, but Polish? I just couldn't see it. And convincing their dad that stuffed cabbage rolls were actually delicious would have been a challenge. In family life, I often steered us toward minimal disagreement around the dinner table. (I'm not saying this was a good strategy on my part, but it is a fact.)
I suppose in part, I am a product of a mixed-up family myself. No one at home cooked Polish foods. (Read about it in Like a Swallow if you want to know why.) My grandma did, but I never believed her foods would fare well on this side of the ocean. Central European bland. Not flashy. Wholesome, but low on the wow factor. (Though I, of course, loved it all. I was a kid, she was my kitchen hero.)
Is it too late? Or let me phrase it this way -- how much of my Polishness do I still want to bring to the table? To my own family? I have a rather erratic relationship to my country of birth, which perhaps is a function of my lifetime of comings and goings there and back. True, I would give a lot now for authentic baked goods that I once purchased at fantastic Polish bakeries -- poppy seed cake, Polish doughnuts, Polish cheesecake. None of these can be found here. But I'm afraid I am alone in my love for all that. Ed is wedded to his own strange baked items and probably would pass on picking poppy seeds out of his teeth all day long after eating something densely packed with moist dark seeds. Ask him about favorite childhood desserts and he'll tell you about rainbow cookies and Hostess stuff from the grocery store. Like their apple pockets or cupcakes. Do you see what I am up against??
Food culture, like freshly baked stuff, doesn't necessarily travel well. I remember after taking my younger daughter to Poland, she proclaimed that she really loved the Polish babeczki waniljowe. Tiny little bundt-like cakes with vanilla custard. On my next trip to Poland I bought a bunch to bring back for her. They crumbled in the suitcase.
I'm thinking it's time for me to go back to Poland. Before I grow too old to want to run around bakeries, and pick out old coffee shops for long visits with friends. Or invite myself over to a home for a good piece of Polish cheesecake (I'm thinking of yours, Bee!). Maybe this year, maybe next. I'm thinking about it.
With love...
