A vegetable by any other name

I have always liked Farmer's Markets. Although I am not a vegetarian by any stretch of the imagination, I don't think I have met a vegatable I did not like. Going out to the Joliet Farmer's Market with JJCs Chef Michael McGreal opened up vegetables that I have never even seen before. Like Petit pan squash...I have yet to try them, but they are on my list. I took the opportunity of my trips to Joliet and to the New Lenox Farmer's Market to buy veggies you don't find in a store, like suntan peppers. The idea is that suntan peppers are left on the vine to ripen. So, a green pepper might not be green all the way around. Places where the sun hit the pepper directly, for example, turn orange or red. I bought one or two of these. They taste the same, but psychologically, I cannot bring myself to buy loose, non vine ripened vegetables, especially tomatoes, now that I know what I know.
During my trip to the Joliet market, Chef McGreal told me about the modern ripening of tomatoes. Basically tomatoes are picked when they are green (which is very tasty to fry up, but I digress) and then brought to a warehouse, where they are chemically ripened with a gas. The gas changed the color of the tomatoe, but not the taste...which is why the tomatoes you buy at a store do not taste the same as the ones in your garden.
I am intrigued by heirloom tomatoes and am going to begin looking for them. I will let you know what I think when I find them.

Why I became a journalist

This original post ran July 11, 2008, nearly a year ago today. I am rerunning it because I am told these same people are out in Will County today.

The other day, I was reminded about why I became a journalist. When I was in high school, the administration decided to formally celebrate pro-life week. A symbolic display of paper booties was hung in the main hallway, statistics were posted on the cafeteria wall and a poem was read on the loudspeaker every day.
That poem, which I tried to find on the Internet, but could not, talked about the beautiful development of a fetus, but ends with "my mommy killed me today."
When we got to the last day of the poem, three girls in my homeroom ran out crying.
I was moved to action. Why was it necessary to make these girls relive what was probably the hardest and most gut wrenching decision of their lives? Did they have sex before marriage? Clearly they did. Did they make a decision to have an abortion? Yes, they did. But why, in trying to celebrate life, did we have to cause more pain.
I spoke up then, when I was a teen, because I thought the point could be made without causing more pain. And in speaking up, through my school newspaper, I got people talking, and administrators listening. And the girls who needed it, could get help to talk about their feelings. Back then, there was a better way. I believe there still is.
It was many, many signs of aborted fetus that greeted me, on the way to lunch, no less, on Friday afternoon. Did members of The Truth Tour warn me it was coming up with a sign telling me graphic images were ahead? Yes, they did.
But their display made me just as mad, if not more, than I was when I was in high school.
Their Web site addresses some of the objections they have heard and I would like to press them a little more.
1. Children will see the photos. The Truth tour wants people to know that is why they stand in advance of the protest with a sign of warning.
But I have news for you. Children sit in the backseat. I can not cover their eyes. So, you are forcing me to have a conversation with my child about abortion possibly before I want to. My children are 6 and 4. I should be able to chose when to tell my children about abortion.
2. It hurts women who have had abortions. The Web site says, "We try to help these women take the first steps along the journey of healing. Our display includes pictures of Our Lord which prominently bear the message, "Jesus Forgives and Heals."
Really, so you only offer comfort to women who are Christian? And, what about women who did not ABORT their babies but MISCARRIED? Exactly what will this do to them? The path to healing does not begin with guilt and more pain.
3. The Truth Tour saves babies. According to the Web site, protestors have been told by women who saw the display that they changed their minds.
What I am saying, though, is that there is a better way.
Why don't the same people who would spend a day protesting along the side of the road spend that time creating an organization that will support women who are pregnant and don't want to be? Why not counsel these women, connect them with places for adoption or support them to be ready when the baby comes?
Instead of causing more grief and pain, why not spur healing with a picnic of beautiful babies who lived because the mothers chose life? Why not support counseling programs for women who chose abortion, to help them to heal?
It is not enough to simply put links to these places on your Web site.
Protestors are doing it because they believe it needs to be graphic to work. The Truth Tour is a Christian organization, so let me ask you the most important question...do you believe, if Jesus was alive today, that he would stand on the side of the road with a photo of an aborted fetus? Or, do you believe he would seek out the women who needed help, forgive those who had chosen abortion, and counsel those who were pregnant with no means to care for the baby.
Jesus would have loved them. And you don't love someone by standing on the side of the road with a sign of death.

The strength of the past

This ran in the Herald News on July 8, as a sidebar to a larger story about hypnotherapy.

In a past life, I was a woman living on the east coast of America. I was married to a man who once was a fisherman until he was called to war. He died in that war. We had one child together, a son.

I know this because I remembered it, but I am not sure that I believe it.

As part of my hypnotherapy story, I sat in Linda Herrick's office and participated in a past-life regression session.

Past-life regression sessions take longer than traditional hypnotherapy sessions because you have to be in a deeper state of hypnosis.

As promised by Herrick, I did remember all the things I saw in my mind when I came back to full consciousness.

"How do I know I wasn't just making it all up," I asked as soon as I came out of hypnosis.

"Don't you think you would have made it more interesting?" Herrick asked, laughing.

OK, so I admit the two lives I remembered were rather boring. In one I was a widow and in the other I was a man who traveled to different villages to repair things. In the first, we are estimating it was the 1940s, and in the second, sometime in the 1800s.

Whether these really were or were not my past lives I could not tell you for sure. I did, however, find the whole experience fascinating.

Herrick asks logical questions as the hypnosis begins: What are you doing? What do you see? What is your name?

What I found most interesting were the details I could remember versus the ones I could not. For example, the woman who lived on the East Coast was very vivid in my mind — the way she looked, what she wore, the things she was seeing. However, I can't for the life of me tell you what her name was.

In order to go to past lives, Herrick first brings you to memories of your childhood. My memories of the house I grew up in are pretty vivid, so I was not surprised to remember those. But one of my memories was of me in the front room of a home I do not remember. When I asked my mom to describe the place she and my dad lived in when I was very young, what she described sounded like what I saw in my mind.

I also found it interesting that my active mind kept questioning what I was seeing. In the first life I remembered, I saw a castle. And my active mind said something like, come on, a castle?

But in that life I did not live there; I simply could see it in the village.

What I walked away with was a cool lesson, no matter whether the memories were past lives or my imagination. In the life as a male, I was independent. I had no family and wandered from village to village. But, at the end of my life, I wished I had settled down.

In the second life I remembered, I was again a fiercely independent woman. I did not follow the norms of the day, preferring to be alone in my home rather than with the other war widows. Others saw me as a bit cold, reserved, but I was happy. And while I imagined or remembered that I was not affectionate to my son in the way I am to my children today, when I died in that lifetime my son was heartbroken. Clearly there was love.

So, in my awakened state, I remembered those emotions, the qualities of the people in my mind. And I would like to keep more of that independence from the past lives, but more of the affection from the current one.

Whether or not these were my past lives I was remembering, I would do it again just to see what would come up.

A trip back in time

My family and I came back from a much needed vacation to Indiana Beach last week.

I think I did not realize just how needed it was until the tram driver said the park was celebrating its 84th birthday this year. The last time we were there was for the 80th birthday. It seems like it was only a year or two ago.
So, we really needed a vacation. And, we had a great time.
We decided to return to the campground we stayed at four years ago - Indiana Beach Camp Resort. At this point in our lives, we are still tent campers. So, after pitching the tent in the rain, sleeping the first night through a thunderstorm, mopping up the tent when we realized we had apparently either a) put the tent fly on wrong or b) put the tarp down wrong, we were more grateful than most for the sunny, albeit hot days that followed. Thank goodness my (sometimes) brilliant hubby made us buy an industrial strength fan at the Wal-Mart.
Camping was only a small part of the fun of this vacation. The real fun was found across the street, at the Indiana Beach Resort.
IB is a total retro experience. Many of the rides are the same from when I was child, but more than that, this park feels like it is only a stone throws away from when it began in 1926.
Maybe it was my visit to the Skyroom Restaurant, or the fact that I was visiting during the week when the park was quieter that made me feel that way. But, when I caved and bought a white, wide-brimmed hat on the second day to keep my face from getting burned, I felt like I fit right in. The kids must have thought so too, they kept stealing it.

Don't get me wrong, the park has plenty of modern excitement, not the least of which is the new coaster Steel Hawg. But, the laid-back attitude, the beach, (which short of the waterslides has not changed much) and the shops with the accomodating older ladies stocking the shelves might make you check your calender, not your watch.
This feeling, though, just adds to the fun at Indiana Beach. It's hard to really get away in this modern world, where we are constantly technologically connected. I found myself looking at my cellular phone only for one thing while on vacation - to see what time it was so I could get on as many rides as possible before the park closed.
We camped for four nights and bought a three-day pass to the park. This seemed like the perfect amount of time. We got on all the rides we wanted, rode our favorites more than once and wrapped up our visit with a ride on the Shafer Queen.
Indiana Beach is the perfect vacation for a family with small(er) children. My 7-year-old (although admittedly tall for his age) was able to get on all but one ride. My nearly-5-year-old was able to get on more rides than I would have expected. And they both had a blast.
On the way home, tent and enough stuffed animals to start a small zoo packed in the truck, they shouted out the window, "Bye Indiana Beach, see you next year."