A Bitter and Sweet Symphony
Issue 77
Greetings, dear ones.
While yesterday’s school shooting in Nashville is no more important than the countless shootings in the past, it hits harder because I am within a degree of separation from one of the victims. A woman I know lost her niece, Evelyn. Evelyn was my daughter’s age, 9.
Watching this tragedy unfold hits differently. Its proximity (with my knowing Kelly), and the age and stage of her niece Evelyn and my daughter Emma.
I didn’t know Evelyn, but the similarities I see in photos tell me this could easily be my family: siblings with their kids; four cousins in a row; grandparents with their grandchildren.
Because of this, my heart breaks in a new way. Sometimes it takes this proximity to feel the feelings deeper, which we must. If you’re inclined to donate to Everytown and gun safety, please do. If not, your awareness is just as important.
In remembrance of the children and adults killed in Nashville: Evelyn, Hallie, William, Cynthia, Mike, and Katherine. 💔
Transitioning from that topic to the next isn’t easy, so I’ll call it like I see it and make this admission my transition.
Between Issue 76 and 77, Stephen and I covered some 1700 miles driving from the Bay Area to a little copper-mining town outside Sedona, Arizona, called Jerome.
In its heyday, the late 1800s, Jerome’s population was around 15,000 (about the size of the town I live in, Mill Valley). In its low day, Jerome’s population was around 50.
Steep decline—the population and the town. Perched on a mountain at 5,000 feet, Jerome is a rickety ghost town with history and tourism. Cobbled streets, historic plaques, mining remnants, tchotchke shops, views, and a damn good restaurant we ate at often.
About 30 minutes away is the stunning landscape of Sedona.
During our drive, the California hills showed off as well.
Road-trip success achieved!
For the record: My travel trash can performed flawlessly. We’d cheer when we threw away trash the way a store clerk rings a bell when you donate to charity.
Zone Three Is Now Phone-free
I had already implemented two of the three recommended phone-free zones in our home—dining table and car. Yesterday, I added zone three—no phones in the bedroom!
When Owen uses his phone, he has to be in a common area. WHY? He asked multiple times. I wish I had answered in a slick, pro-mom way. Instead, I fumbled with something like, “It’s the recommendation by many parents and professionals.” To which he laughed in my face. “This won’t last long,” he added. To which I laughed, but not in his face. Such is life with a 14-year-old.
I’ll take it.
So, why are there no phones in the bedroom? It’s too easy to sink into the abyss, accentuating separateness, and suggesting there’s more inside his phone than inside our home. That’s my pro-mom answer.
The professionals add it impacts sleep. That, too!
The World Is Your Almond Cake
Would you like a slice of almond cake?
I’ve made this gem-of-a-cake at least 25 times. I play a little each time and haven’t messed it up yet.
If it calls for too much butter, sub for a healthy dose of olive oil. Suppose it calls for too much sugar. Try syrup. If you prefer egg whites to egg yolks, follow your bliss. This recipe is unflappable. And it’s excellent as written, too.
The peaches and cream are extra credit, IMHO. Use them, skip them, sub them—the world is your almond cake.
Thank you for reading, indeed. Much love and sweetness to you, Simone
I had no idea about the three recommended phone-free zones - so thank you! I'll add that to my next post about devices and maybe mention it in my twitter space today on devices.
How about an hour or even ½ hour a day of allowed bedroom phone time? At least for Owen. Teenagers need some privacy from their parents.