Endless Knots

Don't Bite Your Tongue by Ruth Nemzoff

The cliches about the difficulties parents have talking to their children (and v/v) are numerous - and once you've heard them, say, 20 or 30 times, you wonder why people aren't listening to themselves: "Teenagers never look you in the eye," "If I tell her anything, she goes ballistic," etc, etc. Not even worth wracking the brain for more - you know them well and have likely said them all.

Then there's Dr. Ruth Nemzoff's new book, Don't Bite Your Tongue: How to Foster Rewarding Relationships with Your Adult Children, which comes out in just a couple of weeks. I was lucky to receive the uncorrected proofs (now known as ARC, advanced reading copy) and have enjoyed it immensely. In a sentence, instead of stuffing it when you're afraid to engage a touchy subject, do the opposite, she says, and pay attention to how you're really feeling and what your child (or you and your parent) is/are really saying. Goes both ways. It's no news that we're trapped in a lot of unproductive patterns as parents and kids but as Ruth takes apart one anecdote after another, we (OK, I) begin to see shades of myself: an adult son, laid off, and his family move back in with his single mom, who's enjoying her life. Animosities develop and then the mom has the guts to throw some light into the dark corners. (For the record, my kids are not being laid off or moving back in - breathe easy, girls.)

Chapter titles hit the touchiest of touchies: Emerging Adulthood, Refilling the Nest, Weddings, Grandparenting, Money, Eternal Triangles...you get the picture. Ever had a fight over any of those, readers?

Everyone I've mentioned this book to has said the same thing: "I need to read that."

You do.

I don't make a practice of listing every speaking engagement that my writer friends have (yes, Ruth's a friend and a member of our famous Fiction Book Club) but given the tremendous response to the book evidenced by the LARGE number of talks and interviews she's already booked, I'm doing that here. Congrats, Ruth! And, for the record, she and her hubby Harris Berman are parents of four grown children (and six grandchildren) - and they're all still on speaking terms:

JULY 28  Monday

8:00 PM

            Wellfleet,MA Public Library

55 West Main Street Wellfleet, MA 02667

Contact: Elaine McIlroy, emcilroy@clamsnet.org,

            508-349-0310

  

AUGUST 9 Saturday

            8:00 AM and 2:00 PM

            Radio Interview

            WNSH "Countdown to College"

 

AUGUST 10 Sunday

              6:00 PM

              Radio Interview

              WNSH "Countdown to College"

 

Jessica Lipnack meet Jessica Lipnack

An unusual name has certain benefits. For example, you get to think you're the only one on earth, viz, I was 15 years old before I met another Jessica. This exclusiveness was mitigated big-time when the name Jessica became the most popular one for girls somewhere along about 20 years ago. That roar has died down but not so much that I don't frequently hear my name called by someone decidedly not trying to gain my attention. (Too many negatives in that sentence, i.e., I'm constantly turning around in grocery stores only to see someone, shall we say, considerably younger, responding appropriately.)

Now consider my last name. Very few Lipnacks (originally Lipniak, meaning white wood or linden tree, in Polish and Ukrainian, we've been told). At least I thought there were very few until a cousin, Alan Blank, appeared out of nowhere (well, San Diego) long about seven years ago, with his father, Jules, in tow. Turned out said father was my father's first cousin. Family reunited.

Comes then a message this past week from an Allyson Lipnack, saying that she only knows one Jessica Lipnack, who happens to be 17. Yes, friends, I have a doppelganger, and now Jessica Jr, as she's dubbed herself, and I are friends in the one truly modern way - on Facebook. So, Jess Jr., we'll have to start working on some really good stories that we can use to confuse people for many years to come. (And thanks to Cousin Alan, who follows such things, all the lines of connection are being drawn back to the old country where Jr's great-grandfather and my grandfather were most likely cousins in the small town of Mishnitz.)

Dog Belle Lipnack

Perhaps, like me, you were surprised to learn that dogs (cats too and, for all I know, gerbils, reptiles, and kangaroos) now can get health insurance. Granted it's not Tufts PPO or Blue Cross but if you have an old ailing dog, dang if it isn't worth it. So poor Ms. Belle, our 13-year-old Golden Retriever, is suffering from certain afflictions endemic to old age, namely arthritis. And she's got an underactive thyroid, which is helped by medication. The first round of NSAIDS to treat the arthritis helped a bit but they are tough on her old gut. So now we've moved to Tramadol, which must be procured from, yup, the local pharmacy.

When I went to pick up the prescription yesterday, they said I'd have to wait a bit.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

"No, it's just that Belle isn't in the computer," said the pharmacist.

(Good thing, I thought. Belle literally IN the computer might be trouble.)

Well, now she is and her Rx bottle came marked "Dog Belle Lipnack."

Happy Mother's Day 2008

What do I love about Mother's Day? The lilacs, with hearts for leaves, are always in bloom where we live.

Eliza Stamps for NY designers

The Cultivated Home (the NY Designer's Indispensable Resource) likes Eliza's work, recommends it for interior designers. Eliza's show, where Cultivated Home saw her work, remains up until May 17 at Mehr Gallery, 436 W 18th Streeet, NY, NY:

We are currently obsessing over the work by Eliza Stamps. Her show, Being and Nothingness is on exhibit at the Mehr gallery by Petra Projects. Eliza’s work is based on geometry, repetition and design, yet all of the final products created are part of a plan to map out an idea, express a period of time, or to tell a story entirely imagined. Each piece, whether textile or drawing comprises thousands of miniscule seed forms — either created by the stitch of a needle or by the renderings of pen. These seeds then form a cohesive whole, reminding us of the basis of all existence.

...There is an incredible balance between art and design, which is why they are wonderful for not only art collectors but for decorators.

Featuring Eliza...

Eliza's April 17th opening is featured at ChelseaArtGalleries.com. Please tell all your New York friends.

Dorothy

Dorothy Hershkowitz

dancer, choreographer, teacher
mother, wife, sister, aunt and friend

one year today since she died. loved and missed.

Eliza Stamps: Being and Nothingness

From the invitation:

Petra Projects is pleased to present new drawings and textiles in a second exhibition by Eliza Stamps at Mehr Gallery.  Entitled Being and Nothingness, this body of work features an expansion on Stamps' earlier designs in detailed ink drawings, which mimic complex and elaborately embroidered linen and thread textiles floating in thick walnut frames.  Through both mediums, Stamps employs her signature seed form to become one entity among thousands, together making up the cohesive whole.

Referencing Jean Paul Sartre's treatise in the exhibition's title, Stamps' ink drawings on paper visually exemplify the writer's viewpoint by using a single outline to counter this 'nothingness' and choosing to hearken a particular allusion, whether it be art historical, scientific, representational, or entirely imagined.  Stamps aims to remind the viewer that 'each whole entity, no matter how complex, comprises much smaller entities, whole in themselves, which is the basis of all existence.'

Stamps' textiles represent the 'multiplicities of form and definition within both organic structures and the art practice itself.'  Akin to the principle of existence preceding essence, these textiles demonstrate a highly developed technical process in which a resulting sculptural element is meticulously created by intricately overlapping and weaving the fabric, forming, and installation.

Observing the aim of ens causa sui, or completion, Stamps' drawings and textiles both demonstrate her technique in allowing an image to reveal itself as the first marks move across the paper or linen.  'When working with the sewing machine, the ebb and flow of the needle create the rhythm of the piece.  In drawing, both with the sewing machine and with the pen, I am dancing with the mark I make, sometimes leading, sometimes following. Ultimately, I am creating work that has multiple forms and references, while being, at its core, an artistic exercise in shape and composition.'

Stamps spent her formative years in Newton, Massachusetts, and pursued a Bachelors Degree in Visual Art and Art History at Bates College.  From there, she went on to receive a Masters of Fine Arts Degree from Pratt Institute in 2006.  Stamps also works as an art educator in Brooklyn, Queens and Manhattan middle schools integrating visual arts into curricula ranging from ESL to Social Studies.  She most recently exhibited in group shows at Sam Quinn Gallery in Philadelphia, PA, and NurtureArt in Brooklyn, NY.

For additional information or images please contact Anastasia Rogers at 1.917.679.5496 or Anastasia@PetraProjects.com.

 

Monique: "It wasn't supposed to turn out this way"

My friend Monique Doyle Spencer has another doozie in today's Boston Globe, Working women, where did we go so wrong?

When my kids were little, my "sister" Judy came to visit. Sister is in quotes because by birth neither of us legally has a sister, which both of us regretted, so after about 20 years of friendship, we adopted each other. Judy was sitting at the kitchen table and I was cooking food to take to my mother in the nursing home (situated one good cry's worth away). I don't remember all the details anymore - but the weekly cooking was only one responsibility (my mother hated the food there so...). I was working full-time, the girls were perhaps 5 and 7 (no further explanation needed), Jeff and I had a looming book deadline, and on and on and on. "You never take anything away," she said. "You just keep adding things."

This is what Monique's piece is about. There are too many pieces for the puzzle yet we keep jamming more in. Thanks, Monique, as always:

IT'S ALMOST the end of National Women's Month and I have a big confession: I think we women ruined the workplace.

Ouch. I don't want to feel that way, but take a look. Once upon a time, when a woman took a professional job, she worked a 60-hour week on average. Her boss was a man and she thought she had to prove herself. She didn't make any more money than the guys who worked 45-hour weeks. She thought this was the glass ceiling, so she started working 65 hours instead. Still, she made no more money. She did, however, get promoted to head of her department. She was the lowest-paid department head in history, so she worked even harder.

Here's the honest truth: Her boss didn't even know what she made. He didn't care, either. She never felt secure enough to negotiate her own raise, so she waited for somebody to notice. They never did. So the extra $10,000 a year that would have made a world of difference to her family never came home. It stayed at the company where it meant absolutely nothing to anybody...

        Monique Doyle Spencer is author of "The Courage Muscle: A Chicken's Guide to Living with Breast Cancer."

One woman show - Eliza Stamps, April, 2008

Being and Nothingness
Eliza Stamps

New drawings and textiles
Opening Reception: April 17, 6-8 PM

Enmeshed, ink on paper, 15" x 22", 2008

Exhibition on view: April 17-May 17, 2008
Tuesday-Saturday, 11-6

Petra Projects
Mehr Gallery
436 W. 18th Street, New York, NY
1.212.255.0009

Join me there.

 

Happy Birthday, Jeff!

Going home

This one's personal.

When I was fifteen, I was lucky enough to receive a scholarship to George School, one of the US's truly great independent secondary schools. A co-ed Quaker boarding (and day) school in Bucks County, Penna., George School has been much in the news of late due to its unexpected good fortune, when an alumna whose father was a teacher and partner of Warren Buffett's bequeathed the largest gift ever awarded to a private school. The school is deserving and I am forever grateful for my extraordinary education there. As I've written before, college, including my year abroad at Oxford, was easy after George School.

Point of all this is that once I left for George School and except for the following summers, I never really went back to Pottstown, Penna., where I was born and raised. But those summers proved critical to the life I've chosen. When I was sixteen, I was hired as a reporter for The Pottstown Mercury, a daily and a feeder paper for The Philadelphia Bulletin, then that city's leading paper.

Thanks to our daughter's art opening in Philadelphia this past Friday night, we had the chance to go back to Pottstown, snap some pictures, and remember my childhood.

We drove past the two houses where my family lived, stopped at the (unfortunately closed for the season) ice cream shop where my brother, our friends, and I could walk to get penny candy and Eskimo Pies.

We visited the cemetery where my father is buried. As this week is the anniversary of
my father's death (he died on Lincoln's birthday and was buried on Valentine's Day), it was especially poignant to make this pilgrimage.

 

 

My mother is buried next to him, her tombstone bearing a sage line she wrote for us to read at her funeral: Love each other despite differences and because of them.

 

And my childhood friend, Shelly Kostiner, who died when she was twelve, is buried just across the path. I've written - and will continue to write about my parents here. Someday I will publish  "The Zernsville Lions," my short story about Shelly and her death.

 

Even newer work by Eliza Stamps

In honor of her opening Friday, February 15, at Sam Quinn Gallery in Philadelphia, new work by Eliza Stamps. Drawings here and textiles here.

Inside Out, silk thread and linen on walnut, 6" x 6" x  4", 2008

Intertwine opening Feb 15 in Philadelphia

For those in/around the City of Brotherly Love, please join us for the opening of Intertwine, featuring the work of artist Eliza Stamps, at Sam Quinn Gallery, 4501 Spruce Street, Phila.

Reception, 6:00-8:00 PM, Friday, February 15, 2008. The show, featuring four artists around the theme of connections, runs until April 11.

This is the first of three consecutive shows for Ms. Stamps, the next two taking place in New York, where she has her studio. This show includes both her textiles and drawings.

And now for the grand disclosure for those not in the know: Eliza is our daughter.

Happy Birthday, Daddy

The newspapers are full of pictures and tributes and quotes celebrating Martin Luther King Day. When I think of Dr. King, I see my father, Marvin Lipnack (no middle name), standing at the TV on that famous day, August 28, 1963, when millions turned out for the March on Washington. We had stopped at the country house of my mother's best friend on our way back from our last vacation with my father. All three adults were kicking themselves for not being in Washington for the march, all three active in civil rights from the time they were young adults, all three early members of NAACP. We didn't know that my father would die suddenly six months later on Lincoln's Birthday.

On this day in 1907 my father was born in his parents' tiny apartment on what was then called East 8th Street (now St. Mark's Place) in New York City, just below Avenue A. The oldest of four children and the only son, he was funny, tall, handsome, and incredibly smart. He was my encyclopedia. When I needed to do a sixth-grade school report on "an African country," as the assignment went, he filled me in on the Angolan Revolution. Remember, blog fans: there was barely television in those days, never mind the Internet (but we did have the Britannica, of course). It was the only time in my school career that I got an A+++.

My father had virtually no education, dropped out of high school (he said he actually ran out of the building) at 15 when a teacher made fun of him for his stutter (which he eventually overcame), got his GED at 29, and was studying at Ursinus College, in hopes of becoming an attorney, at the time he died of a massive heart attack just a few weeks after his 57th birthday.

When my brother, Eric, three years older than I, and my hubby, who is one day younger than my brother, turned 57, I held my breath for nearly the whole year. The same is true when my friends turn 57. I just can't wait until they're 58.

Happy Birthday, Daddy. I was still so young when he died that I called him that. Happy Birthday, Daddy.

By request

Ravel-detail, ink on paper, 22” x 30”,  2007 As per the request below, more work by Eliza Stamps.</p>

Buroeast features Eliza Stamps

Container, silk thread on linen
8 by 8 inches, 2007

Buroeast, a monthly magazine featuring sculptors, illustrators, designers, painters, poets, and musicians, this month features daughter Eliza Stamps.

Eliza's next three shows:

Intertwine, Sam Quinn Gallery, Philadelphia, Penna., February 2008

Serial Meditations, NurtureArt, Brooklyn, NY, March 2008

Title Pending, Mehr Gallery, New York City, April 2008

"Why are all the words sticking together?"

Priceless Department: On Zoetrope, Sue O'Neill posts this note about her father's attempt to reply to his first email (here with Sue's permission):

When Dad was 80, we hooked him up with a Mac. I remember when he got his first email message, from my sister in St. Paul, and pushed the "reply" button. He was so excited.

A minute passed, then I heard him say, "SUSAN???" He only called me by my proper name when he was pissed or generally unhappy, so I rushed up and hung over his shoulder.

"Why are all the words sticking together?" he asked.

So...I showed him how the Space Bar works.

Networking is going to the dogs

Photo by Annie Marascia Luongo

Ever up on social networking developments, Bill Ives has spotted the newest trend: animals. Belle, get out your pen, I mean, keyboard.

Happy birthday, Grandma Rae

On this day 130 years ago, my grandmother, Rae Berlin Goldstein, said hello to the world in a shtetl in Belarusse (she called it White Russia) as the youngest of thirteen children. Fled with her family (they had to hide her in the china cabinet when the Cossacks came to the door, so the family lore went), landing on Ellis Island when she was about nine; became fluent in English; marched for woman suffrage; and sent three daughters to college with her sewing machine and candy store at the corner of Clinton and Myrtle Avenues in Brooklyn, NY. (Her hubby, my grandpa, Elias Schochet -- renamed Sam Goldstein at Ellis Island -- who died the year after I was born and whom I never met, a rock-rib Republican, spent most of his time in the back of the store listening to opera, according to even more family lore.)

Fondue, fondue

The stat counter for this blog (huh, say the nonbloggers - it's the device that lets you know how many readers you have and where they're coming from) indicates that I receive a large number of hits on my food-related posts. Big surprise. Not.

Thus I feel compelled to relate the traditional Christmas Eve menu at our house, which has evolved, might I add, from the earliest days of our children's youth when the big desire was for a meal we never ate (oh, what a good mom I was): hot dogs and beans.

Well, somewhere along the way, we evolved, turning toward a meal designed to skyrocket cholesterol and lead to dining accompanied by one repeated phrase: "This is so good."

Christmas Eve Dinner Chez Lipnack-Stamps

Artichokes (steamed in broth of carrots, celery, onions, and garlic)
Fondue Bourguignonne
Cheese Fondue
Caesar Salad
Chocolate Mousse
**Vegans, see below

Rather than include recipes, which are available everywhere from The Joy of Cooking to, need I add, The Internetz, let me just add these notes:

For the Fondue Bourguignonne, I use a mix of peanut oil, canola oil, and butter, but mainly the fats that are terrible for you. I always feel guilty so that's why I throw in the canola oil. The main tip here is to heat the oil sufficiently on the stove before transferring to the sterno-heated fondue pot on the table. Test a piece of meat while the oil is still on the stove. If it sizzles, you're good to go. I use strip steak for this and assign the task of cutting it to a family member with less vegetarian tendencies than myself. Don't have the butcher cut it; it usually turns out to be too dry by the time you cook it. NB: We almost always forget to get sterno and there's usually a mad dash to the store.

We serve it with several sauces. I've been using the Bearnaise Sauce recipe in the original Cuisinart cookbook, the one that came with the first machines many years ago, combining the directions with the Hollandaise recipe right before it. One recipe calls for the butter to be cold, the other for it to be bubbling hot. I like it hot. Remember to use enough tarragon. Honestly, in my experience, the dry tarragon provides better flavor than the fresh. I also make a mushroom and scallion sour-cream sauce and a very pedestrian ketchup-and-mayo sauce, which I attempt to make fancy by adding chives, basil and oregano. My lovely daughter Miranda has added a curry sauce of late and Jeff always likes a mustard-mayo sauce.

For the Cheese Fondue, I use a white Bordeaux wine and, important point, about a quarter-cup less than the recipes call for. If you've made Cheese Fondue, you know how easy it is for the mixture not to be thick enough. Yes, I flour the cheese, except if we've got a gluten-free guest (which was me for a number of unhappy years). For the cheese selection, I've settled on this mix: gruyere, emmenthaler, appenzell, and, most important, Italian fontina, which gives a smooth texture. I add a splash of Kirsch (cherry brandy, have had the same bottle for years) and a pinch, very small, of nutmeg, at the end, along with some ground pepper. Oh, I also rub the pot with garlic before I begin.

**Vegan alert: you too can enjoy this meal  in the Japanese tradition of Shabu-shabu, only without the beef. A rich veggie broth (remember the kombu and garlic for that incomparable flavor) bubbles in the pot; a beautiful array of veggies and tofu, artfully sliced, are then cooked to perfection. You can even enjoy it with a vegan tempura batter (again recipes all over the net).

Caesar salad - once more, The Joy of Cooking has a great recipe. Very easy, very showy salad. We skip the anchovies, much to my disappointment, as certain family members don't like them.

My hubby adores Chocolate Mousse, which means I've tried many, many recipes over the years. The best, in his opinion (incredibly, I am not much of a sweet lover except for Apple Pie and creme brulee and Cherry Garcia Frozen Yogurt and chocolate turtles and... - what a prevaricator I am!), is also from that stained Cuisinart spiral-bound cookbook with the back cover finally having ripped itself away. Write to me if you want that recipe. It's ridiculously easy and takes about ten minutes.

Now I've made myself terribly hungry.

What Mom says

A very close friend with three kids sent this to me and a few other mamas. It needs to go to every mom on earth, regardless of nationality, ethnic origin, religion, age, or even gender (dads can be moms too). "The Mom" song, set to the William Tell Overture, by Anita Renfroe. "What a mom says in 24 hours, condensed into 2 minutes and 55 seconds!"

Watch it with the words on the jump page.

And the winner is...

Harvest Soup. Exit poll showed the overwhelming favorite at this year's Thanksgiving meal.

It's always Thanksgiving somewhere

Well, while everyone else was enjoying Thanksgiving dinner here in the US (and abroad for those die-hard Americans), we were still planning. Illness struck a family member late Wed night and so, being nothing if not flexible, we quickly remade the arrangements. So while the rest of you are enjoying your turkey sandwiches and sneaking forksful of pie from the fridge, we will be sitting down to our meal. Hopefully the patient will be able to join us. Just one other thing: IT IS REALLY HARD TO GET A DOCTOR ON THE PHONE ON THANKSGIVING! Took two hours for a callback, a bit freaky when a temperature is in the "call the doctor immediately" range.

Thanksgiving menu Chez Lipnack-Stamps 2007 (redux)

Due to a rash of family-wide busy-ness and travel, we are repeating our 2005 Thanksgiving menu (small modifications) this coming Thursday. Principal substitution is in the soup department, where we will enjoy "Harvest Soup" (with butternut squash, rutabagas, and carrots, among other fall veggies) in place of the Curried Pumpkin Soup  here. We're also adding a requested second salad: Boston lettuce with peas and mint (really easy and delish).

If you'd like the recipes and/or the shopping list (which makes for an easy time at the grocery store), post a comment or send me an email: jessicadotlipnackatnetagedotcom.

Menu credit: Miranda Stamps

Thanksgiving Menu
November 24, 2005

Hors d’oeuvres
Brie in Puff Pastry with French baguette
Stuffed mushrooms
Warm Spiced pecans with rum glaze

First Course
Curried Pumpkin Soup

Salad
Autumn Beet Salad With Spiced Pecans, Pears And Fourme D’ambert

Main Meal
Roasted Turkey
Three Mushroom Stuffing with Chestnuts
Cranberry Sauce (two kinds, fresh and Ocean Spray canned for the traditionalists)
Gravy (turkey and vegetarian)
Mashed Potatoes and Turnips with Pear Puree
Yams with Spiced Sorghum Butter
Green Beans with Shallots and Vermouth

Dinner Rolls

Dessert
Warm Apple Pie with French vanilla ice cream
Pumpkin Pie with fresh whipped cream

Spiced Pecans

It's that time of year here in the ole US of A where it's impossible to find a parking space at the grocery store and what you don't want is fully stocked and what you do want...

Thus begins a series of posts (I'm so optimistic about my intentions) containing family-favorite recipes.

Today, Spiced Pecans, first introduced to our family by virtue of Jay's (son-in-law) noble roots in Birmingham, Alabama, and posted, along with a number of her other excellent recipes, at daughter Miranda's (and Jay's) website. Served these at a book party for Wangchuk Meston's remarkable memoir, Comes the Peace and got so many requests for the recipe that I sent it out to everyone who came.

You probably weren't there (ok, I know a few of you were) so here it is again on the jump page.

And, oh, they're quick and easy. Shopping the ingredients is only time-consuming part.

Chicken Soup for the Cold (but better warm)

A member of the Peanut Gallery (and loyal reader) popped up last night with the observation that this blog has been very work-y of late. Let’s fix that right now.

Chicken Soup. I’ve been all about the elixir with no known rival for some days now due to a certain unwelcome visitor (cough, sneeze, Neti Pot, repeat). Sadly, this morning I had to part with my delicious concoction and take off for climes better known for their barbecue than Mama’s go-to remedy.

Here then, my recipe, evolved from my mother’s, as certain ingredients have become less available since the days when we went to the Farmers Market, a building of its own in rural Pottstown, Pennsylvania, to buy our chickens, eggs, vegetables, and French crullers that have no rival.

Assume, by the way, that all ingredients are organic. Jump page for the recipe.

Red Sox rule in NZ

It’s time for this picture. For the Red Sox fans, moi with Jay, my son-in-law, in Milford Sound, New Zealand, Feb 23, 2007, long before we knew that the Sox could turn their scores into those resembling (American) football games.

New work by Eliza Stamps

Here. Enough said.

Guest blogger: Belle recruits other dog-writers

Today we (meaning I) introduce an irregular Endless Knots feature, Guest Blogger. Pleased to present our first, Steve Teicher, friend, former student, and later client on one of the great all-time projects:

Belle Lipnack-Stamps, a well-known maven who is the inspiration for many books and papers, has decided to branch out by recruiting other dogs like herself.  One of her top collaborators might be Jake Thorndike who has tales of tails from almost 40 states.  Jake is an expert in truck stops and Walmart parking lots.  He will add flavor to Belle's rich experience as a writer and consultant.

Lipnack and Stamps can truly say that business is going to the dogs.

From your roving reporter....Steve

Collaboration, according to Alex

Alex Eaton, 12, had a social studies question: "How can we make group work successful?" He answered with seven points. His father, Dick Eaton of Leapfrog Innovations, found the list consistent with his work in team building (see story by Kellye Whitney in Sept 07, Chief Learning Officer).

• share ideas
• work together
• share work evenly
• listen well
• follow the golden rule
• stay on task
• be accepting

I agree.

Carrot-Parsnip Satin Soup with Matzoh Balls

Here in our family, the holidays (Happy New Year, all) offer the chance to consume one of our favorite foods, the sweet soup whose recipe I offer below. When I was learning to cook, I got one piece of advice from my mother about soup and stew making that I’ve used since: For sweetness, add parsnips. I love them so much I wish I could add them to everything—my friendships, my workships, my coffee.

When one of our daughters became a vegetarian at age seventeen, I looked for alternatives to chicken soup. Obviously, the place to start was parsnips. Everyone loves this soup, which we served yet again last night. Included below too is my mother’s matzoh ball recipe, which is unbelievably simple and produces “canedlach,” as my mother always called them, that are lighter than air.

For the rest of our Rosh Hashanah 5768 menu, click to the blog of the great cook, our daughter, Miranda:

"Love each other despite differences and because of them"

Eighteen years ago today, my mother, Ethel A. Lipnack, died at the age of 78. This morning, I had the chance to stand on the doorstep where she had passed so many times--at the corner of Myrtle and Clinton Avenue, where she was born and raised in Brooklyn, NY. A Connectict Muffin shop occupies the candy store that my grandparents ran at the edge of what was then a very posh neighborhood. I write this tonight from our daughter's apartment, just a few blocks from my mother's original home. In all the years since she died, this is the first time I've been nearby on this anniversary. Sad and happy, all at once.

 

Mölkky, anyone?

Photos by Miranda Stamps

Sharpen up your skills, sports fans. It's time for...
Mölkky!

Never heard of it? You're not alone, as it's been around for only ten or so years, and in the US for a considerably shorter time. And had it not been for a chance walk through Fort Greene Park in Brooklyn on a warm summer day in early August, your faithful blogger would be among you.

My hubby, my son-in-law, and my daughter's beloved boyfriend were out for a stroll when they spotted unusual activity in the park. Wooden pins with numbers on them, two men and a ten-year-old boy, and a not inconsiderable amount of alcohol were at work (on the part of the people with the pins, not my family, of course), engaged in a serious game of undetermined origin.

Next they knew, they were called over by a man who'd been imbibing a bit, who went on to explain that on a trip to visit his girlfriend in Scandinavia, he discovered the Finnish game, Mölkky. Similar to bowling but not really, the game involves setting up the pins, called skittles, in a particular pattern, then heaving the mölkky (a cylindrical piece of wood) at them. Points accrue on the basis of how many pins you knock over in a bizarre system whereby you actually can get fewer points by knocking over more pins (go figure).

We've imported the game to New England. Perhaps we're the first (though there are a few others to be sure in the US). Tournament to come. Join us.

The end of summer

Double rainbow over Five Mile Island, Lake Winnipesaukee, New Hampshire, USA, August 31, 2007, photo by Miranda Stamps

A summer meal in the US

It's the end of summer here in the Northern hemisphere, which means that corn and tomatoes are plentiful on the US East Coast. So tonight, under a full moon throwing its light across the lake, we ate hotdogs and hamburgers, tofu pups, corn on the cob, salad with cherry tomatoes and cucumbers from our garden, and...for those with the room, blueberry pie. The lettuce is fresh, the scallions are thin and tender, and nothing tastes as good as when it's cooked in the granite fireplace over New England softwood. It's a tender moment when the bounty of the earth is fresh and to be a localvore is a wondrous thing. Thank you, Mother Earth, and thank you to my beautiful family.

Parental controls

So all of us have topics that kind of set us off, right? Stuff that comes up about which, if you're so fortunate as to have them, your kids say, "Oh, Mom. Don't bother with that. It just upsets you." And then the next 14 times you mention this thing that bugs you, they patiently say, "Mom, promise me you won't bother with that again, ok?" And then you promise and of course something else incredibly irritating related to the thing that sets you off happens, which, naturally, makes you complain for the 15th time, at which point even your son-in-law starts screaming, saying, "You promised us you wouldn't get involved with that again..." And on it goes. I'm certain there's not a single other parent reading whose kids have ever reprimanded her/im in this way.

Sooooo....in the 16th conversation, my very capable techie-foodie-amazingly sensible daughter says, "That settles it. Time for the parental controls. I'm going to fix your computer so that any time this [unmentionable, unspeakably aggravating] topic comes up, it will be screened out." Which is why I can't even type the word that peeves me so, because if I do type it, like here,   , this is what happens.

Since I first posted this on Sunday, I've had several conversations with people asking WHAT IS IT? How about posting your conjectures below? Careful readers of the previous paragraph, no cheating!

Jimmy Fund Telethon today

Just received this from Ron Currie Jr., whose father, Ron Sr., is being treated at Dana Farber Cancer Institute in Boston. Today's the day they're raising money for The Jimmy Fund, which I learned about when a beautiful young man whom I love dearly was diagnosed with cancer at the age of three. Here's Ron's note:

Today is the annual radio telethon to raise money for the Jimmy Fund at Dana Farber Cancer Institute in Boston. This is a big event here in New England, esp. among Red Sox fans, as the club has been affiliated with the Jimmy Fund since 1948. My father is being treated at Dana Farber, so I've seen firsthand the really incredible work they do there. I know you hear that all the time but it's really true, especially in their work with children and emphasis on family. So consider skipping the mochaccino today and kicking that ten bucks over to the Jimmy Fund instead.

 

www.jimmyfund.org

In the afterbirth

Two young women in our extended family of friends have given birth in the past few weeks. In honor of these new children's arrival, I've sent this short piece from The Persuasion, Chapter 18, to the new mothers (photos by Priscilla Harmel, left of Benjamin Israel, right of Ava Lester):

Perhaps the world of the newborn, in my case, newborns, was familiar terrain to the billions of women who’d come before, but the two six-pound bundles of body, mind, and spirit that I was shuffling from breast to bath to back were portals to a universe unknown, never even considered, with its own rivers and storms, its own unsolvable mysteries.

Holding the pose

About a month ago, a young friend with whom I've practiced yoga many times, told me she'd just done "breakthrough yoga." I wondered what she meant specifically but understood from experience without her answering. A yoga session where you feel "back," where you're limber, aligned, in balance, at peace with your body. How had she gotten there this time, I asked?

"Holding the pose," she said. "Things happen when you hold the pose." She went on to say that she'd been holding headstand and shoulder-stand for five minutes each, forward bend for ten, twenty minutes of Sun Salutation. If you've done any of these postures, you can appreciate what these lengths of time mean. If you've never done yoga, try this: Lean forward, trying to touch your finger tips to your toes. Now stay there for ten minutes. That's what forward bend is (also done seated and with infinite variations).

So the next time I did yoga, I got out a digital clock, moved it to various spots so that I could see it (just try looking at a clock in headstand), and held and held and held. Things do happen when you hold the pose. Awareness of tight muscles that soften, gripping that loosens, leaning more to one side than the other that rights itself. Things happen and suddenly you're considerably more straight, palpably more relaxed, stronger, more centered. This is why I love yoga.

Yoga postures -- asanas in the lexicon -- are challenging. Even "corpse" pose -- where all you do is lie in a relaxed state on the floor -- is a challenge when done properly. Same is true for most challenges. The longer you stay with them, the more you learn, the more resistance gives way.

I offer this to all who are trying things that seem impossible or just plain difficult. Hold the pose and things happen.

Benjamin - Two weeks

With mother, Samara Shapiro, and father, Matt Israel

Photo by Priscilla Harmel

Benjamin Day 12

Benjamin Eitan Israel, 12 days old, with mother, Samara Shapiro

Photo by Priscilla Harmel

"My Favourite Tipples"

FreePint's 235th issue, just out today, features My Favourite Tipples, literally mine. FreePint goes twice a month to roughly 100,000 "information workers."

How does something like this come about, my list of favorite websites published in an online newsletter based in the UK? Hint to speakers: As people are coming into your next session, wander around, introduce yourself, ask people's names. Practicing my preaching, I did this at our Enterprise 2.0 workshop that Sandy Kemsley reported on in her post, Reports from the Frontier. There I met Monique Cuvelier, editor of FreePint, who handed me her business card and suggested I might want to write something for the newsletter. After the conference, I fulfilled my pledge to write to everyone who'd handed me a business card. Monique responded by asking me for this little piece.

Why not send Monique your "tipples?" Read on for mine.

NIMH Outstanding Resident for 2007 - James Murrough!

Huge cheers and high-fives to James Murrough, who's been named a National Institute of Mental Health Outstanding Resident for 2007. The notice to his colleagues at Mount Sinai Hospital, where he is a PG-3 resident, reads: "This is a highly competitive and prestigious resident award, and to be chosen reflects a tremendous effort and dedication to the science of psychiatry on James’ part."

James, a graduate of Emory University and Tufts Medical School, also celebrates his 30th birthday today, a day we here at Endless Knots remember in great detail as he is our one and only nephew. Proud and thrilled for you, as always, James, shown here with his cousins at a significant family event a few years back.

"I walk because I miss my mom"

Amanda Lipnack, who walked the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer 3-Day last weekend, writes about what she learned clocking 42 miles on foot in sweltering heat.

...I also learned to honour my body and be proud of what it can do and not be ashamed of what it can't do. I couldn't walk 60 miles this weekend but I could walk 42 and that, quite frankly, is amazing. There was a time in my life when walking up a flight of stairs was a challenge and this weekend I walked up miles and miles of stairs. Up big hills and down big hills -- over fields and roads and rivers and through the pain, I kept walking. I have fought against my body for so much of life but it felt very good to honour myself and be true.

I wish such an experience on the world around me. I wish that everyone can let the noise around them disappear and focus on what is in front of them. I wish that everyone can live life as it is meant to be lived, fully and strongly. I walked behind people this weekend with signs on their back that said "I walk because I miss my mom". How can we let ourselves forget that in a moment the things in front of us that we cherish can be gone so we need to embrace and honour them in the moment.