Not All Christmas Nuts Are Chestnuts

Before I surge ahead into 2009, I pause to invoke some nostalgic Christmas images to keep me going through the back-to-reality that is January. So here's a wave and a last shout-out to chestnuts roasting on an open fire, a one-horse open sleigh, silver bells, Christmas lights twinkling, Jack Frost nipping, carols in the air, and a partridge in a pear tree. Do you feel warm and fuzzy yet?

It was good to get away to California for a week to see my brother and sister-in-law and mother and others. Some may look forward to holiday chestnuts and peanuts, but my brother Vince and his wife Leenie are my favorite Christmas nuts. They are nuts about each other and the world thinks they're nuts too. Vince is about forty and a senior engineer at Intel. He wears glasses, sports a mustache and goatee, and has brown hair sprinkled with gray and a hairline that is starting to recede. Leenie is a petite strawberry-blond Irish Catholic gal who laughs at least ten times a day and generates fun wherever she goes. She is the champion caterer and foodie of all time. (Speaking of nuts, her seasoned Christmas cashews are to die for.) She once catered a bash at the Skywalker Ranch for George Lucas.

Yet she's down to earth about her eats too. Recently when she got hungry she went with Vince through a McDonald's drive thru and got a basic cheeseburger. It was her first food of the day even though it was almost lunchtime. As the sandwich was handed to her through the window, she took a bite and assumed a facial expression of total bliss. "Joy on a bun," she sighed rapturously. Vince's green eyes twinkled behind his glasses, and he grinned and put his arm around her. "You, Leenie, are joy on two buns."

Whole World Gonna Be Gettin Mixed Up

Everyone is becoming a generalist. My favorite Chinese restaurant in Sea City now offers Filipino cuisine. In the past, if you wanted to dine in the Philippines way, you had to go to a Filipino restaurant. No more. The Asian buffets now have a Korean section so I can get Kimchee with my won ton soup. On the way back to my table I can stop at the Mongolian BBQ section. I thought I was in a restaurant, but instead I was taking a world tour.

I'm used to this. I live in Smalltown. All little towns are places for generalists. You can't really specialize here. There aren't enough people. The smaller the town, the more hats everyone wears. I remember my first church north of here, in Microtown. One of the first businesses I saw was John Walters' Gas Station and Dry Cleaning Service. Next door to it was the Hatfield Real Estate Office and Copy Shop. Now big cities are getting into the act too. Customers have many choices, just like I did at the Asian restaurant. Life is turning into one giant buffet. Maybe God likes it that way. We have been so separated from each other for so long, perhaps it's a good thing we're meeting, greeting, and eating each other's food. Last night I stopped by the Middle East Market to pick up some hummus and pita bread. In the corner next to the baba ghanoush, baklava, and tabouleh salad was the alcohol. It is now possible, with one stop at this market, to wash down your couscous and goat cheese with Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill, Fuzzy Navel, or Blue Hawaiian.

For Here or To Go?

The number of choices I have to make in a day has risen exponentially. Even going into a restaurant taxes the brain cells.

"You can order off our regular menu or our Diner's Specials. And on the back is our Weight Watchers menu too. Your choice. OK, you want the steak. Great! Do you want that cooked rare, medium rare, medium, medium well, or well done? You can have steak fries, cottage fries, French fries, or plain old fried potatoes with that. Unless you want the vegetable of the day, which is a choice between a squash/carrot medley, green beans almondine, or broccoli rice casserole. You get either soup or salad with that. Salad? OK. What kind of dressing? We have ranch, thousand island, Italian, honey mustard, raspberry vinaigrette, Russian, or Venezuelan Beaver Cheese bleu cheese dressing. While you're waiting on your order, we have two TVs for you to watch. You have a choice between watching twenty-two guys beat each other to a pulp playing football, or a woman cheating on her husband in "As the Stomach Turns." You can have your beverage of choice in a cylindrical glass or one with four corners. You can use a straw, or not. We want you to have a hand-picked, tailor-made, customized restaurant experience with us. Unless you'd rather not. Your choice."

I wonder if we get so many choices about nonessentials to obscure the lack of choice about many essentials. We do not get to decide that we want our infrastructure refurbished and our schools (all of them, not just wealthy suburban ones) adequately funded before we start wars. People with little money in the inner cities are not free to choose better schools for their children. Many of us do not get to choose hospitalization without the danger of bankruptcy. Getting prescription drugs from Canada where they are cheaper? Forget it.

But we can have our burgers with or without fries, or get fruit salad instead. It is completely up to us.