Thursday, December 29, 2016
Today's generation gap isn't centered around music (much to their chagrin, I quite like most of the bands my sons listen to); it's centered around food. In a recent survey done by The Institute of Grocery Distribution, statistics show that shoppers under 35 are twice as likely to want organic food as those over 35, and a third of them don't mind paying more for it. Those under 35 are also more likely to waste less food, cook from scratch, and base their food purchases on a company's reputation for social responsibility.
Having read Michael Pollan's riveting and enlightening book, The Omnivore's Dilemma, my eyebrow inevitably quirks any time I read a product's proud proclamation as "Organic!!!" (though I've recently conceded that if I'm planning to eat the peel on a fruit or vegetable, perhaps it really is worth paying for the chance it might actually be pesticide-free). Meanwhile, my 23-year-old's silent stares of recrimination when he's with me in the produce aisle are such that—at least when he's around—I find myself picking up organic more and more. In fact, the changed eating habits of my three sons—all under 35— have changed my own grocery buying habits dramatically. Gone are the white bread, soda, chips, cold cuts, and sugary cereals they loved in their youth. Now they ask for brown rice, dried beans, sweet potatoes, oatmeal, whole grain pasta, and Brussels sprouts. Yes, Brussels sprouts.
How is it that a generation raised on Pop-Tarts, Red Bull, and sundry processed foods has suddenly discovered their inner Euell Gibbons? These are children who grew up with 2XLs and Furbies, not Easy-Bake Ovens—children who ate more meals in back seats than at dinner tables because their parents were always working or on the go. That 23-year-old who now sneers when I reach for sugar instead of raw honey was the "Taco Bell Kid" until his passion evolved from burritos to bicycles a few years back.
But all this purity is a good thing, surely—and not just for those farmers wily enough to grab on to a USDA label. (Go for it, guys; you farmers deserve any break you can get.) Certainly there's enough evidence now to convince us that homemade whole wheat bread is healthier than a loaf of Sunbeam, that snacking on a fresh apple from a local orchard is a better choice than French fries from a local McDonald's. And how can you fault a mom who works all day then comes home and willingly makes kale and goat cheese calzones—with tomatoes and basil from a backyard garden, no less—instead of whippin' it through the Pizza Hut drive-thru?
No, I'm quite willing to let the Millennials lord their superior nutritional standards over us Boomers, because while I will never feel the need to apologize over serving up a cake that started with a box from Duncan Hines, I readily admit that Happy Cow un-homogenized whole milk, with no additives, from [happy!] grass-fed cows, is significantly better than ye olde mass produced 2% and worth the price difference. Meanwhile, it's pressure (read: guilt) from my own 3 Millennials that has reduced my soft drink consumption to almost nil, my fast food meals to a minimum, and my love affair with white food to the occasional crush. For that, I credit them (and say a heartfelt thank you) for a healthier body and a hefty weight loss.
I'm not quite ready to jump on the tofu wagon or give up Coke completely, but if this generation wants to raise their own chickens, bake their own bread, grow their own fruits and vegetables or insist on buying what goes into their bodies from someone they know instead of from Monsanto, who are we to stand in their way?
Respecting those choices is the least we can do after raising them on Pop-Tarts and Tang.
Monday, April 18, 2016
Okay, so I'm late to the party: National Library Week was last week, but I was too busy reading then to stop and write a blog post. Now that I've finished my book, though, I want to spend a few paragraphs raving about that most precious of public resources.
I won't bore you with the history of how libraries came to be in most every city; let's just jump right to the fact that they're there and if you're not taking advantage of the one closest to you, you’re seriously missing out. First of all, your tax dollars are helping sustain that library, so you ought to be reaping its benefits. Second of all, you need to be setting a good example for your fellow citizens by showing them how easy and rewarding it is to be a library patron. And, finally, if you're not visiting your library on a regular basis, you are missing out on so many marvelous things (books are only one of a library's many assets) that those of us who do visit on a regular basis should be lined up murmuring laments on your behalf—but, sorry, we don't have time because we're so immersed ourselves in said marvelous things. Also, it's pretty hard to feel sorry for someone who doesn't take advantage of marvelous things that are there, free, for the taking.*
In the last month, my life has been forever changed by the three most recent books I've read: I Am Malala: The Girl Who Stood Up for Education and Was Shot by the Taliban, by
Malala Yousafzai and
Christina Lamb; Extra Virginity: The Sublime and Scandalous World of Olive
Oil, by Tom Mueller; and The Invention of Wings, by Sue
Monk Kidd. I consider myself a pretty informed person, but each of these books
introduced me to information I was unaware of, broadened my understanding of
their respective topics, and dispelled longstanding assumptions I've maintained
which have now proven to be untrue. On top of all that, each book kept me
riveted for hours, bringing immense pleasure and satisfaction. Pretty
spectacular payback for something that cost me nothing.*
This weekend, as I hungrily and regretfully finished the final chapter of The Invention of Wings, I found myself thanking God for words, and language, and the edification and connection that comes from written communication. We take it so for granted, but without the ability to read and write, without words to read and write, our world would not only be scary and confusing, it would be small and dull. I love nature and its many manifestations, but is our experience with a bird's bright feathers and merry song not enhanced by reading about that creature's lifestyle and unique characteristics? Is our encounter with ocean and mountain not deeply enriched by reading of others' encounters, as well?
I do not ever take books for granted; reading has been among my greatest pleasures for my entire life and I mourn the thought that, a hundred years from now, books and bookstores—even libraries!—as we know them may not exist. All the more reason to arise at this very moment and travel to a library near you to select a title (or two . . .or three!) that will transport you to a place you've never been, a place you dearly love, or a place you can only imagine.
See you in the stacks!
*Alas, unless you come on foot, you cannot experience the library for free at Greenville’s Hughes Main Library. In what is an abomination akin to requiring payment to attend church, one must pay to park at the downtown library. Therefore, I urge you to know what titles you want so you can get in and out in under 15 minutes (no charge!), go after 5 PM (no charge!), or patronize one of the branch libraries instead.