Christmas is just around the corner and we are all busy, busy, busy. I have not posted as often as I would have liked. Partly because of getting ready for Christmas but mostly because of the events of last Friday, December 14.
I think I speak for just about anyone when I say that the loss in Connecticut put the whole nation in shock and most of us, myself included, took some serious time out for soul searching reflection.
Just days before, I had been talking with a dear friend and asked her -
“With everything that there is to be concerned about and that one could write about and express an opinion about, why is it that I am writing about local food?”
“Well,” she replied, “there is nothing wrong with it.”
But I have known this woman for over twenty years and what she really was saying was -
“Why are you writing about local food?”
So I gave that some thought and while I was thinking, Sandy Hook happened.
Families torn asunder. Unfathomable grief in the wake of unfathomable actions.
And I thought, here I am, wiling away my hours blogging about food and gardens and chickens when there is so much pain and hurt in this world. I should be talking about something worthwhile, something that can change society, some actions we can take to begin healing this broken world.
I was still thinking about this tonight as I sliced cabbage to make coleslaw. Coleslaw made me think about potlucks and potlucks made me think about funeral luncheons.
Funeral luncheons made me think once again about the souls of Sandy Hook. Several of the babes were from Catholic families, members of St. Rose of Lima parish in Newton.
My family is Catholic. Over the years, my boys and daughter have been acolytes at many a funeral Mass, always followed by a luncheon.
People aren’t really hungry after a funeral Mass. The food at a funeral luncheon is there for healing purposes. I can’t explain it, but we all know the power of food to bring people together, to bond, to nurture, to heal.
Are we a people who has lost sight of the true importance of food? Have we cast aside the profound nature of what food really does for us – slows us down, reconnects us, give us the opportunity to be givers and not takers.
I can say for almost certain that every single one of those grieving families has a full refrigerator today and will for days if not weeks to come.
The community will bring food.
And I bet it is not fast food. It will be slow food-
seasoned with salty tears-
infused with love.