Carnival Time

To celebrate Mardi Gras, here's a picture from the treasure trove I inherited from my parents. This one is of a 1954 costume ball at the Grimón residence during carnival season in Havana, which preceeded the beginning of Lent. My parents were newlyweds in this photo (lower left corner). My half-sister, Carely, is the little girl seated in the front, and the boy next to her is my first cousin, William, who eventually became my godfather. This constituted the younger set who dressed up in costumes. The elders unfortunately, did not pose.

Cassoulet boom!

Boy, I'm checking out the blogs of two sisters-in-law and two other friends and everyone's been traveling. The most exciting thing that's happened to me lately is blowing up my crockpot while learning to make cassoulet.

Here's the story: I was following a slow cooker recipe that called for sauteeing directly on the porcelain insert. I checked the manufacturer's booklet, and it said that it was stove-top safe. Well, they lied. As soon as it got hot, it cracked and made a horrible exploding sound. Fortunately, I had only just begun adding ingredients so the only thing I had to toss was the panko, and I had more of it so there was no need for an extra trip to the grocery store. The only problem was that now I had to make the dish in a regular dutch oven, so I had to alter the recipe. My old trusted "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" by Julia Child came to the rescue.
Cassoulet is really peasant fare. It's made with goose (left over from the production of foie gras), or pork, and sausages, cooked with white beans, tomato sauce and a few other ingredients. It's sort of the French version of pork and beans.

It turned out delicious, but after all the work, I realized it was similar in taste to a white bean soup recipe I make now and again, except that my soup recipe is a lot easier to make. All I need to do next time is add the pork and chorizo sausage, and add a little more thyme . . .

Still, it's been a while since I got to play in the kitchen, and I felt like a sorcerer conjuring up a new potion. It was very cool - especially when the crockpot blew up. Lee was asleep in the recliner and he shot out of the chair like a rocket! The man can still move.

The recipe took literally hours to prepare so here's the best advise if you want to try it:

• Buy a plane ticket to France
• Find a restaurant
• Order the cassoulet and a lovely bottle of wine to go with it
• Voilà! Enjoy. There's no cleanup with this recipe. And no exploding crockpots.

Not exactly a trip to the Caribbean, but we must try to find excitement where we can.

A Dream Deferred

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up

like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore—

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over—

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe is just sags

like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

—Langston Hughes

Time and again, I am drawn to the poetry of Langston Hughes. This wonderful poet of the Harlem Renaissance speaks in a language common to us all, transcending race and time.

Bath hoodies

These two pictures tickle me so. I never would have thought to put them side-by-side, except that I'm organizing the boys' baby pictures. I had to do a double take myself to make sure I could tell them apart. Can you guess which is which?

Post-Holiday Gathering

Get-together with Mary Ann, Bill, Joy, Andy, Rina, Bob and Laurie at the Langman's residence. Mary Ann, as usual, put out a delicious spread.

Here are two of my sisters-in-law, Rina and Mary Ann, playing with Rina's new camera.


I wish we had taken more photos, but we were so relaxed, the photos were taken by Lee as an afterthought.

Baptism - Take 2

All right, all right! This is for all the co-workers and friends who e-mailed me and requested to see more pictures of the baptism. Guys, you need to post comments on the blog!

Here I am, staring at the photographer, whoever he was.

Here I am with my parents.

This one shows the mosquito net draped over the back and sides of the crib.

The cousins being cousins. My half sister, Carely, is holding me.

My Baptism

This photo was taken on June 6, 1958, the day I was baptized. I love this photo. It contains a rich tapestry of cultural, historical and personal details. The humanist in me can spend hours attempting to decipher what it meant to be human to these people at this particular point in time, and, in trying to find the answer, explore the question for my own life. In a sense, studying this photo is a meditation.

I was baptized in one of the oldest churches in Old Havana, Santo Cristo del Buen Viaje, which means Holy Christ of the Good Voyage. It was a church founded within the city walls, so that sailors could attend mass and pray before setting off on another sea voyage. Cuba, because of its geographical position, saw a great deal of maritime activity, including pirates, as well as genuine traders, and, because of its natural coastal assets, it provided great harbors for larger vessels, who used it as a stop over on their way to Mexico or South America. This picture shows part of the old church walls and the massive door, that belie the size of the small church.

The photo is comprised mostly of extended family, with a few friends thrown into the mix.  In many ways, it's easy to tell that this photo was taken in the 1950's: The hairstyles, the cat's eyes glasses, the singed waist dresses, the plaid shirts the boys are wearing and the mary jane shoes on the little girls are dead giveaways. Then I see veils:  My godmother, Mama Lala, with the beautiful white chantilly lace mantilla covering her head, my aunt Olga, with her black veil still draped over her shoulders, just behind my father, a distant relative clutching her handbag and her veil, and finally, behind my Aunt Olga, a second cousin wearing both, cat's eyes glasses and a veil. The new merging with the old.

The men's clothing is also revealing. There are those in suits, like my father, looking so dapper in his white linen suit; my godfather, in a sports jacket, definitely a younger look. And then there are those wearing the "guayabera," the traditional and elegant shirt of the tropics. The guayabera is typically made of white cotton or linen, with vertical pleats running in the front and back, and four pockets in front (to hold guayabas, guavas, which is how it got its name). Cuban housewives would spend endless hours getting those shirts perfectly pressed. But then, it was chic to show a few creases in the back - not enough to look rumpled, but wrinkled enough to show that you didn't care.

So many relatives assembled for this event. I wonder if any of them had an inkling on this day of the turbulent decades that lay ahead for themselves and for their country. I wonder if they realized, that as this family was celebrating an ancient and sacred ritual, their way of life would abruptly come to an end in a few short months. Did they know what was coming? Did they realize the scope of what was happening in Cuba in the months prior to Fidel's revolution? Is there a societal lesson in this photo? What is my lesson? Is the lesson the importance of acknowledging traditions and rites of passage as a way to justify our existence. Or is it not to cling to the past too strongly? Is it simply to live in the moment?

I set aside those thoughts, and, instead, dwell on my mother's scant recollections of this day. She said that she remembers feeling that her energy was finally coming back after the difficult birth, and she remembers feeling happy. As I get older, I make a greater effort to capture memories as feelings, instead of simple impressions or chronological events. It seems my mother managed to learn that trick a lot sooner that I did. Is this, once again, the lesson to be drawn from this photo? To remember to feel and live in the moment?

I think I'm both, an idealist as well as a realist. I believe that it's essential to live in the moment, while acknowledging the importance of personal history in order to understand our actions in the present. What a remarkable way to be reminded of such a basic life lesson, and with so many family members gathered into one photo to impart it! And, don't they all look fine?