Cabbages and kings

Some people don't like the smell of cabbage cooking, it reminds them of harder times. Of being poor. It never reminds me of that, it makes me think of home and Grandma Helgeson, who taught me to make good vegetable soup from almost nothing.

She didn't teach me to make the bread that goes with it, because no one can teach me to bake bread. My bread is so dense you could build houses using my bread for bricks. Mother, now, makes excellent bread.

Cabbage doesn't make me think of being poor, because i have never been poor. No one who can feed seven people for a week on forty dollars is poor. Smart, canny, thrifty and careful, but not poor.

I like being free and I like to make do. Use it up, wear it out, make it do, do without. Those are good things. I like to think Saint Francis would approve.

I hear so many people grumbling about the economy, and I thought about how nice it is if the economy doesn't matter to you. I can do all the same things I ever could do, I enjoy them as much as I ever did, and I don't have to be afraid of anything.

I could manage perfectly well with a wood stove instead of a furnace--in fact, I wish I had one, it would be nicer than natural gas. I would be as happy with an oil lamp and a book as I am with electricity and if push came to shove I know how to make a button lamp and my own candles out of stuff I already have in the house.

I do love my computer, but if I didn't have it anymore it wouldn't severely impact my life.

I can clean a house without running water, bathe every day, wash my hair and even live with an outdoor bathroom. Privys are not something to aspire to, but they don't ruin your day either, unless you're kind of a Diva.

Americans are so spoiled. We have such an outrageous sense of entitlement. Like we're somehow entitled to all the things I just mentioned and will die if we can't have them and the world will come to a screeching halt if we suddenly lost all our conveniences and luxuries. Actually, I do know a few people who would likely die of the shock if they suddenly have to rough it.

And as a rule we don't give a fig about people like the homeless who have learned that being sure you're entitled to things is not a guarantee that you'll ever get them. I worry about us sometimes.

It's true that poverty you choose is easier than poverty that is thrust upon you by circumstances, But either kind means assessing those things most important and applying your energy in the right places.

You don't have to compete with anyone if you don't want to, life is not a contest. You can make it one if you insist upon it, but usually the only person hurt by a profound need to be better, richer, bigger, smarter than someone else is the person feeling the need.

It almost never bothers the person being competed with because he usually doesn't even know he's in the contest. And he wouldn't care. Ask yourself how much you care about how well the man that runs the bank is doing. You don't. And he doesn't care about how well you're doing either, unless he's the guy holding your mortgage.

Most people are concerned with their own lives, they don't often think about you and yours. I hate to tell you, but you probably don't matter much to anybody but you. No one is envying you, nobody even wants what you have. They're pretty busy with what they have. And who they are. And where they're going. And why.

So take a deep breath and smile for me. There you go. Wear what you like, say what you like, go where you like, do what you like and you know what will happen?

Absolutely nothing. That's why it's okay to do it. Cook yourself up some nice vegetable soup, eat it around a table with people you really like, get to know the people around you and afterwards, you can take your grandchildren wading in the river. Even if all the neighbors see you.

And if they see you, they might laugh. I hope so, because laughter is such a good thing. An outward expression of an inner contentment and security and sense of fun.

If I could ask God for anything for every person who reads this, I would wish he would send you joy. And cabbage soup.

Hugs from Pilly.