Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Week 20: Spring breaking in a teepee

March 17, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“The fire is the main comfort of the camp, whether in summer or winter, and is about as ample at one season as at another. It is as well for cheerfulness as for warmth and dryness.”  ~ Henry David Thoreau

A beautiful sunset during a past year's teepee campout.

I’m taking this week off — not from living out the blog and all that entails — but from writing about it. The boys and I are headed to our annual spring break teepee camping adventure at Petit Jean State Park in Arkansas. Lots of family meals, smores, scary stories, and laughs around the campfire.

Today, it’s all about the to-do list. Camping is a lot like the family dinner, I think. It entails lists, planning, no doubt a big mess before, during, and after.

But it’s always, always, totally worth it.

See you post-campfire.

Posted in dinner, family dinner, parenting | Tagged , , | Leave a Comment »

Sometimes one-on-one is best

March 12, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“I slip in bed when you’re asleep, to hold you close and feel your breath on me. Tomorrow there’ll be so much to do, so tonight I’ll drift in a dream with you.” ~ Dixie Chicks in Lullaby

Pork chops, mac & cheese, green beans, garlic bread, grape juice, a chocolate-moussey thing from Whole Foods, and Madagascar 2 — these are a few of Sawyer's favorite things.

Sawyer is not the squeaky wheel in our family. So I was taken by surprise when he had a small fit at Target Tuesday night. He wasn’t sick, wasn’t tired, nothing remarkable at all had happened. My guess? Noah had been getting a lot of attention lately. Nothing good, but lots of attention. And Sawyer was sick of it. Sick of listening to it, sick of our spending all our times as parents dealing with it.

This realization came at a good time. Clyde’s out of town this week, and Noah was headed to a three-day camp-out with his class. I often tout the virtues of the family meal, but in this case, a few days of one-on-one seemed just what the younger brother needed.

My prescription for this was very simple: time. We had Wednesday and Thursday afternoon and evenings, so I let him plan the agenda. TCBY after school with friends, dinner at a favorite Chinese buffet, sleepovers and reading time in Mom & Dad’s coveted comfy bed, his favorite meal in front of a movie he picked without any input from anyone else (especially his PG-13 obsessed older brother).

Sawyer seems back to himself, just in time for the family to reconnect this evening. I think I enjoyed the time together as much as he needed it, especially snuggling up to go to sleep. Tomorrow there will be so much to do — and two more people to divide my attention among. It’ll be good to have everyone back together. But this week was a good reminder that sometimes family members — moms, dads, kids — all need their own time and their own agenda to feel whole.

Posted in family dinner, parenting | 1 Comment »

Happy birthday, Poppy

March 9, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“And thank you for Poppy’s birthday.” — Sawyer, during last night’s prayers.

Clyde's dad, Kenneth, a few months before he died

Noah and Sawyer never met Clyde’s dad, who died of cancer when I was four months pregnant with Noah. The night he died was the first time I felt Noah move.

It is one of our family’s greatest tragedies that our boys never knew him. Sure, they know of him. They know the stories. But they never sat on his lap, never had him show them how to carve wood or plow a field. Never shared a family meal — one of his favorite times.

Monday was his birthday. Although we miss him at random during the year, there are always days — holidays, his birthday, the anniversary of the day he died, his wedding anniversary — where it feels more acute.

Here’s a piece I wrote for The Dallas Morning News back in 2005, inspired by Kenneth and one too many school shootings. As I read it, I realize this was the first tiny glimmer of an idea that turned into this blog and my obsession with the family dinner so many years later. So for that, and so many other things, I thank you Kenneth.

Eat Together, Talk Together, and End the Violence
The Dallas Morning News, April 5th, 2005

Want to know why kids are killing each other at school? It’s not because there are too many guns (although I’d certainly like to see them off the streets). It’s not because kids are watching movies about school shootings. It’s not because they’re playing Grand Theft Auto.

It’s because there aren’t enough family barbecues.

Why aren’t we as outraged about the recent shootings in Minnesota as we were with Columbine? Why are we becoming more like Israel in our acceptance of violence and less like, say, Sweden?

Same reason. It’s all about the barbecue.

The fact that a teenage kid can get to the point where he brings a gun to school, shoots another person and another and another, then shoots himself, means that kid wasn’t going to any family barbecues. That boy’s family – be it over a smoker in small-town Texas or a reservation in Minnesota – should know what’s going on inside his head. A child bringing a gun to school is not the first symptom that something is going wrong in that child’s life. It certainly often is the last, however.

My father-in-law was part of the family barbecue tradition here in Texas. Several times a year, he’d fire up the barrel smoker, invite his family and friends over whenever they wanted to arrive and spend the evening eating a bunch of meat, drinking a fair amount of beer, laughing and talking with those closest to him. At the end of the evening, everyone smelled a little smokey and had told just about all they had to tell about their life and what was going on in the world.

My father-in-law died eight years ago. But my husband’s brother, who still lives in our hometown of Waxahachie, carries on the barbecue tradition every now and then.

About a month ago – with sick kids, deadlines I didn’t think I could meet and our school’s largest annual fund-raiser to plan – I had a craving for one of those barbecues. And not a carnivorous craving. A social craving. Lucky for me, some cousins came into town, and we spent a recent Friday night inhaling that smoke and catching up.

Maybe this is a simplistic view of how to turn around our increasingly violent and apathetic society. But I don’t see bad parents at these barbecues. I see parents I don’t always agree with. Parents who raise their children differently than I do. Parents with whom I differ on politics, religion, even whether we should be eating that meat on the smoker.

But I see parents. With their children. I see grandparents. With their children. I see aunts and uncles. With their children. I see friends. With their children. I see a yard full of people who would know a child well enough to see – and do something about – that first sign of trouble. Because that’s when we, as a society, can do something about it. It’s too late when it hits the news. Kids are dead.

We are headed down a road of more school shootings that we will be less shocked by. The road we should be headed down is one that includes more family barbecues.

You name any one of our infamous list of school shooters. If you had dropped them into my father-in-law’s family – or another family where parents knew their children and extended family knew those children, and where family was the most important part of the day – these kids would not be dead.

It’s all about the barbecue.

Posted in family dinner, parenting | Tagged , | Leave a Comment »

From Congo to Dallas, women helping women

March 8, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“We [Congolese] try hard to break the silence about all the rape, the sexual slavery, but the entire world remains in silence. Congolese blood is in the street, and no one says anything. It is so painful. You have no idea.” — my friend Gorethy Nabushosi, a Congolese attorney who fought for women’s rights in her home country and now lives in McKinney.

• This blog entry is blatantly stolen from an op-ed piece I have in today’s Dallas Morning News. Well, I guess it isn’t really stealing since I wrote it, but just so you know.

Gathering to honor women on Mockingbird Bridge at White Rock Lake

I grew up a middle-class family in small-town Texas. My dad called me Princess and Blue Eyes. I wanted to be the first female quarterback of the Dallas Cowboys so my dad tossed the football with me for hours in the yard to practice.

I was never stoned or had acid thrown in my face because my dad heard rumors that I kissed a boy. I was never sold into sexual slavery because my parents needed money and were too uneducated to ask questions. I have never had my genitals cut out because my parents felt I couldn’t be married otherwise.

I graduated from college and traveled around Europe in my mid-20s, never afraid to try anything because my mother taught me to speak up for myself. I married the man I love, gave birth to two healthy boys with excellent medical care, and make a living working out of my home that has running water and electricity.

I have never been raped while gathering water for my family. If I were raped, my husband would not abandon me. I’ve never suffered a fistula — from rape or a dangerous childbirth — leaving my body uncontrollably leaking urine and feces. I’ve never been put on the outskirts of my town by my family for the wild animals to kill because of a fistula.

As Clyde told our boys, you don't have to be a woman to support women.

I am lucky. Because all those things that have never happened to me — or to you or to any woman or girl you love — happen every day in other parts of the world, most often in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East, as reported by Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn in their book Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide.

Kristof and WuDunn’s book and organizations like Women for Women International are bringing attention to International Women’s Day on its 100th anniversary today. Women for Women, which connects women in the Western world with women in war-torn countries, is bringing together women from Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo on a bridge that connects their two countries. This peaceful joining of hands is a symbol of bridging the countries’ differences and ending the war that has plagued the region since the Rwandan genocide in 1994 that killed almost one million people spilled over into Congo, killing another 5.5 million.

Women (and men) will gather on bridges elsewhere in the world, too. You’ll find me on Mockingbird Bridge over White Rock Lake in my very first celebration of International Women’s Day.

International Women’s Day was first celebrated in Europe in 1910 and is now an official holiday in 15 countries. Yet in the United States, where we buy greeting cards for pet birthdays and kindergarten graduations, it goes by without notice.

My friend Gorethy shared her experiences in Congo, then held hands with us as we honored women worldwide.

Gorethy Nabushosi, a Congolese attorney who fought for women’s rights in her home country and now lives in McKinney, has a theory about why American women haven’t historically celebrated this day — because they have a voice and freedom.

Gorethy is the founder of Congo Restoration, which pairs orphans with brutalized women, giving the children a stable home, the women an income and — most importantly — a respectable place within a society that considers them among its lowest members.

“We [Congolese] try hard to break the silence about all the rape, the sexual slavery, but the entire world remains in silence. Congolese blood is in the street, and no one says anything. It is so painful. You have no idea.”

Gorethy will be on the bridge with me.

I am humbled by women like Gorethy, by the women in Congo, by the women who came before me to make my life what it is. And on International Women’s Day, I will stand in unity with the millions of others around the world who are waiting for me do the same for them. I am lucky. I do have a voice. And I intend to use it.

Women in Nigeria celebrate Int'l Women's Day

And in Canada

And in Scotland

And in NYC

Posted in Africa | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Week 19: From snarky to smores to something special

March 7, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“This is going to be the worst, most boring weekend ever.” — Noah, Friday afternoon on our way out of town.

Bringing dinner to East Texas

We had plans to go to a cabin in East Texas with friends who have boys the same ages as our boys. Their youngest got sick, so we decided to go it alone. Well, three of us decided that. Noah decided such a weekend was a fate worse than watching a two-hour Barbie infomercial while folding laundry and listening to an emergency siren going off in your ear. He didn’t actually say that. But he more than implied it. And was promptly outvoted.

Off we headed, the snarky pre-teen quickly getting more in the mood as the miles between our family and home grew. By the time we were eating barbecue at Baker’s Ribs, our new favorite East Texas establishment (OK, the only East Texas establishment we can actually name), Noah was unabashedly enjoying himself. The brief holiday from city life and our schedule included six family meals, shuffleboard, morning tickle fights, fart jokes, putt-putt golf, Nerf wars, old inside jokes, new inside jokes, and watching Spiderman snuggled together on the couch.

I knew it would be OK, despite Noah’s protests. That’s the beauty of a family. If you give it a little time, the fun and memories will just play out — one laugh, smore, and golf ball at a time.

With that wonderful reconnection, we begin our week:

BBQ, cheesy potatoes, corn, and fried pies at Baker's Ribs.

Sunday: Enjoyed Clyde’s biscuits and gravy for breakfast, then barbecue on the road back to Dallas for lunch. We dropped Clyde off at the airport, ran to celebrate International Women’s Day on a cold, rainy bridge, then pizza with friends. As is the case when one of us is out of town, the others carry on the daily meal tradition.

Monday: Boys have tennis and rock climbing this afternoon, but I have plenty of time to cook before we all sit down for dinner. I am so slack on the cooking when Clyde’s out of town, though. Something about having just the three of us makes me that way. However, I have an entire bin full of fruits and veggies from this weekend’s co-op, so cook I must, starting with a potato leek soup with crispy kale on top (broken up into bite-sized pieces, tossed with olive oil, salt and pepper, broiled ’til crispy). Planning for leftovers so I can slack tomorrow.

Tuesday: Driving Noah’s class on a field trip to see that Bodies exhibit. Then Sawyer has chess. Leftover soup — the best kind.

Wednesday: Noah heads out for a two-night camp-out with his fellow middle schoolers, so it’s just Sawyer and me for dinner. This could bring dinner slacking to a new low. I’m thinking a baguette, olive oil, cheese, tomatoes, and some yummy fruit. Why cook when you can simply slice and dip?

Shuffleboard on the Libo deck...

Thursday: No rock climbing practice. No after-school activity of any sort. No Noah. No Clyde. Seems we may need some pork chops to honor the occasion, served with green beans and mac-and-cheese — all my little man’s favorites. Maybe we’ll rent a movie and drink hot chocolate by the fire.

Friday: Noah is home from the camp-out, Clyde back from Rhode Island. We’ll all come back together, enjoying a rather late family meal at Sawyer’s favorite near-the-airport restaurant, Panda Express.

Saturday: We’ll have a family breakfast as we are entertaining our book club group this evening. Not sure of the exact details but planning some sort of pasta with salad and bread. That goes with any book, right?

Smores: a favorite cabin tradition

...perhaps Sawyer's favorite cabin tradition

Hosing down Sawyer: another cabin tradition

Posted in dinner, family dinner, parenting | Tagged , | Leave a Comment »

Week 18: Four months down

March 1, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“Nothing would be more tiresome than eating and drinking if God had not made them a pleasure as well as a necessity.”  ~ Voltaire

Multi-tasking: Cooking chili for dinner while distilling water for Noah's science project.

Amen!

Today marks the four-month anniversary of this blog project. Four months of eating one meal together every day (except for one slip-up, for which we made amends the next day). Four memorable meals with friends — old and new — from Africa. Four months of researching the countries of Africa, learning about each country’s customs, people, needs, history (OK, I’m way behind on this one, but a string of posts will begin catching me up shortly). I can’t believe we’re one-third done. I say that like I’m ready for it to be over, which I’m not. It really feels like we’ve been doing it so much longer. Perhaps there is a way to slow our fast-paced world?

The whole family is a tad fixated on food this week, after a monthlong hiatus from all things bad for you. Bring on the sugar, wine, and fried food!

Sunday: A marathon day — a crepes brunch with friends at noon (our family meal), 4th-grade science project with Sawyer and two friends at 2 pm, spaghetti and garlic bread dinner for 30 church youth by 5 pm, discussion of faith and economics at church at 6 pm. As a side note, 10 of your closest friends and family squeezed around a table for six to eat crepes doesn’t feel as crowded as you might think. The key is in the love.

It all seemed like such a good idea at the time...

Monday: When we signed up as a family to do the Kelly Challenge, luring in another family along the way, we promised all the kids involved a Celebratory Feast on the first day of March. On tonight’s menu: Chocolate chip cookie dough, a chocolate cream pie, sour-cream-and-onion Pringles, Burger House French fries, Häagen-Dazs ice cream, milk chocolate from Whole Foods, root beer, and perhaps a little beer and wine. Our real meal will be chili (because it was 45 degrees when we got up, isn’t going to get any warmer, and is raining all day), served with Fritos, sour cream, cheese and purple onion, of course. I’ll likely make a veggie version for Noah, using those fake-meat crumbles from Whole Foods. Although I think a child so snarky about his food might have to start cooking for himself shortly. UPDATE: Nausea, all around. As Noah’s friend said at the end of the meal: “The chocolate chip cookie dough did me in.”

Tuesday: Sawyer has chess this afternoon, and Noah has exams to study for. End of the Kelly Challenge party with the rock climbing team this evening, so Noah and I will be up there. Late dinner of leftover chili.

Wednesday: Family breakfast as Clyde is going out with a friend tonight. Maybe oatmeal with coconut milk, dried cranberries, pecans, and agave nectar (our very tasty sugar replacement of the last month). Sawyer is finishing up his science fair project with friends after school, then off to guitar at 5 pm. Quick and easy dinner of dal curry soup when we get home with naan bread and, if I can make it up to Richardson that day, a few Indian treats from the Indo-Pak Market.

Thursday: Family breakfast this morning — fake sausage for Noah, Whole Foods blueberry maple sausage for the rest of us, banana/protein powder smoothies all around — as I’m off to see Half the Sky Live with a friend (and anyone else who wants to join us!) at NorthPark Mall. Life changing book about the plight and hope of women and girls around the world, especially in Africa and the Middle East. Leftover dal curry soup for the family.

Friday & Saturday: Our weekend is a bit up in the air as we’re hoping to go to my family’s time-share cabin in East Texas (we’re on the waiting list). If we go, family meals three times a day. If not, we’ll come up with a last-minute backup plan around town.

Posted in dinner, family dinner | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments »

Paella: Friends & foodie foreplay

February 28, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“Another egregious offense is to serve the paella on a plate rather than from the pan. I urge you to seat yourself and your guests around the paella pan and eat the paella right from the pan, starting from the perimeter and working toward the center. This communal style is the traditional way to eat paella, and I can vouch for at least one family in Granada that still does it, every Sunday afternoon without fail.” Sarah Jay, co-founder of paellapans.com and one of my dearest friends in the entire world.

Sarah and me in the early '90s, when I guess those pants were fashionable?

I met Sarah Jay when we were both young and eager newspaper reporters in the early ’90s in Stuart, Florida. To create a complete list of the what she has meant and given to me throughout our almost two-decade-long friendship — the lust and bravery for travel, the discovery of my intense aversion for cilantro, a deeper understanding of myself that can come only through the eyes of someone who seems to know you even better than you know yourself at times, the best chocolate chip banana bread recipe known to man, the courage to follow my instincts about love — would be impossible.

For all of this, I will be eternally grateful. But the one thing she gave me that comes up every single day of my life is a passion for food — from tuna salad to fresh mozzarella to the spectacular paella.

It was with memories that fill my soul of paellas with Sarah and created on my own with Sarah on the other end of the phone in New York that I anticipated a paella gathering Saturday evening with friends from the boys’ school. I’d had a long six weeks of intense work, a long stretch of difficult parent with our 12-year-old, and a long day at said 12-year-old’s rock climbing competition. Nothing sounded better than sitting around a fire pit, drinking sangria, and eating paella with friends.

Today’s headache proves I took the evening’s fun very seriously.

A perfect Saturday night

For a rare five hours, I did nothing but indulge my senses, as it is the paella foreplay I enjoy as much as the paella itself. The sangria (followed by a bit of red wine and port, as I recall), the vision and intoxicating smells of the paella as it came together, the laughter and stories of friends, the chill of perhaps one of winter’s last evenings and the warmth of the fire that eased it, the taste of the culmination of hours of effort in a meal that is itself an event. For five hours, I didn’t think about Noah’s homework schedule, how we’ll afford their school next year, how much time I had until I needed to be at the next entry on my to-go list, deadlines, a friend dying of cancer, paperwork that needs to be filed, orphans in the Congo that need to be fed, how video games are ruining our children, or whether our country will do the right thing in the health-care debate.

I simply ate, drank, and laughed.

The paella itself, inspired by Peruvian friends of my friends, was delicious. Coincidentally, when the hostess was looking to buy a paella pan, she came across Sarah’s web site, stumbling upon a quote from me about how much I enjoyed my pan. Having the paella cooked in one of Sarah’s pans completed the circle of paella love for me. But the memory that remains (hangover aside) is that of everything that surrounded it as it was cooked and enjoyed. We didn’t eat the paella the way Sarah suggested — communal style around the huge pan. But the communal feel was there. I think it’s almost unavoidable when eating paella.

The paella is served!

I paid for the fun today, suffering through a 4th-grade science project, cooking dinner for 30 youth, and an intellectual discussion of economics and faith at church that my post-sangria brain at times had a difficult time following. Oh but it was worth it. Paella and good friends. Doesn’t get much better than that.

For both, Sarah Jay, I thank you.

Posted in dinner | Tagged | 1 Comment »

Week 17: Seven more days of deprivation

February 22, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“The human body has an enormous capacity for adjusting to trying circumstances. I have found that one can bear the unbearable if one can keep one’s spirits strong even when one’s body is being tested. Strong convictions are the secret of surviving deprivation; your spirit can be full even when your stomach is empty.” — Nelson Mandela

This quote so had me. Yes, that’s my life. No sugar for a month! No wine! And, not that I’ve really missed it, but no fried food, either. Trying circumstances, body being tested, strong convictions, surviving deprivation. I can so relate.

And then I get to the name of the person to whom the quote belongs. Well crap. I guess if Mandela can survive 27 years in a South African prison, I can clearly suck it up for another sugar- and wine-free week. Perspective is such a pisser sometimes.

And so, armed said perspective, new conviction, and a long list of produce from this weekend’s co-op pickup (sweet potatoes, broccoli, sweet peppers, avocados, apples, pears, cauliflower, potatoes, and two leeks), here’s this week’s meal plan:

Sunday: Had a grocery list and was headed to Whole Foods when free and delicious food started falling into my lap. On the way to take Noah to youth group, my friend Andrea called. She teaches an essay prep course for kids taking the SAT/ACT. She does the half-day class at Maggiano’s at NorthPark Mall, getting the room for free if she buys a certain amount of food. Would I like some chicken pesto linguini? Why sure! When I get to church, a friend has brought an extra beer-can chicken he’d just smoked it. Anyone want it? Why sure! We invited a few friends over, sauteed some broccoli, and voila — a delicious and practically free meal in 15 minutes or less. Not sure where all this food karma came from, but I’m just appreciating it.

Our favorite easy Indian. We get it at the Indo-Pak grocery in Richardson.

Monday: Clyde is picking up from rock climbing practice tonight, so a late dinner. The bonus, though, is lots of time to cook on my part. Noah has been craving an Indian feast so we’ll have a few items from our Shan selection from our last trip to the Indo Pak Market in Richardson (cheap, yummy, fairly easy spice mixes — only hitch is the high sodium): chana masala (curry chickpeas), tandoori chicken, and aaloo bhaji (curry potatoes). We’ll also have the cauliflower I got in Saturday’s co-op.

Tuesday: Unexpected meeting with some church folks on immigration reform means I’m out for dinner. So family breakfast it is. That meal whips me — and I’m not even in charge of it. Poor Clyde tries his best, but the kids get tired of breakfast food so quickly. Luckily, they’re on a sausage kick — fake sausage for Noah and Whole Foods’ blueberry, maple sausage for Sawyer. Toss a little fruit on the plate, and they’re good to go. Indian leftovers for my crew for dinner while I eat at Olive Garden (I remember when I used to think those breadsticks were the best ever. Ah, the taste buds of a 20-something).

Wednesday: This weekend, Noah’s rock climbing team has its first local competition of the season, this one at Summit, the coach’s gym in Grapevine. We’re volunteering at the comp, which I don’t mind at all. What I hate is tonight’s 7 pm volunteer meeting at the gym, 30 minutes and a lot of traffic away. The kids have standardized testing this week at school, so I’m thinking one of us will go unless we can get out of it entirely. Should we do another family breakfast or a quick and early dinner before one of us heads off at 6:30? I prefer dinner — fajitas are fast, easy, and will use up lots of that produce I got in Saturday’s co-op.

Thursday: I’ll be up at the gym with Noah for practice. Making a potato leek soup in the afternoon that Clyde can just heat up, add a salad to and be done. If I’m feeling ambitious, I’ll bake some bread in the bread machine.

Cheesy sweet potato crisps

Friday: Our February African feast! We’ll be dining with a lovely woman I recently met, who serves on the board of Congo Restoration with me, and her husband, who is from Ghana. Still working on the menu. I have so many sweet potatoes from the past two co-ops. And I’m determined to use them. Problem is Sawyer hates them (spat them out the first time he tried them at 6 months old), and Noah is lukewarm on them. Instead of our usual mashed sweet potatoes (with a little orange juice and maple syrup), I’m going to try these cheesy sweet potato crisps. If Sawyer doesn’t like this, I’m giving up. I will start here and assume inspiration will come.

Saturday: After a very nice break in sports — although you wouldn’t know it from our rock climbing practice schedule — we’re back at it this weekend. Noah’s first local comp is Saturday (pretty much a day-long affair), and Sawyer is going to give competitive tennis a try. (That boy’s gotta move between football and baseball!) Not sure how this is all going to work timing-wise, but at the end of the day, we have a lovely evening with friends and paella awaiting us. Paella without red wine or sangria, you ask? So do I. We’ll see how my Kelly Challenge resolve holds out. At this point, I’m not making any promises. Paella sans alcohol just seems wrong. And I’m sure it’s illegal in respectable parts of Europe. Mandela would understand, wouldn’t he?

Posted in Africa, dinner, family dinner, parenting | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

Crazy white hooker welcomes Kenyan refugee

February 18, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“I am home.” — Stranger from Kenya I met on a plane

After a mind-numbing nine-hour conference on newspaper advertising yesterday in Chicago (I simply don’t have the attention skills to sit for that long in any conference room, regardless the subject), I was squeezing my way down the airplane aisle when I noticed someone who looked out of place.

Just a fun picture from Nairobi I found.

Sitting in the middle seat on the other side of the aisle was a fairly young man. Exhausted, too thin, holding everything in his hands, rain coat zipped from bottom to hoodie — and tied around his neck for good measure. He was clearly someone seeking refuge from his country in ours. Further inspection found Kenya stitched on his bag and a plastic bag filled with paperwork and “migration” written on it.

I remembered how my friend Prosper described the scene of his arrival from Zimbabwe, landing late one night at DFW Int’l Airport. Having been mistreated by his country, fled to South Africa, forced to leave his wife and two young children for hopes of a better life for them all — only to arrive in a strange land with no one to meet him. He had $10 on him, struck up a conversation with another traveler from Zimbabwe who, luckily, offered to give him a place to sleep for the night. And thus, his American adventure began.

I couldn’t let this happen to Nairobi, as I would begin to call the guy on the plane. I would ask if he needed anything. But what if he did? Clyde is most indulgent of my Africa-loving ways, but I didn’t think he’d be too pleased if I showed up at 11 pm with a strange Kenyan. Finally, I decided I would ask and — short of his asking me directly for help that evening, which I didn’t think he would — give him my phone number in case he needed anything.

I couldn’t talk with him until the mad scramble to get our things once we pulled up to the gate. I touched his shoulder and said, “Are you from Kenya?” He said he was. I asked if he just arrived today. “Yes, I left Nairobi yesterday.” He must be tired, I said. “Yes, so, so very tired.” I asked if this was his first time in the United States, whether someone was meeting him. “Yes, my mother lives here.” She’d been here three months, he said. I welcomed him to Dallas and, just in case, handed him my business card, saying I did some volunteer work with refugees. If he needed anything, he could call.

He looked completely confused. At first he tried to hand the card back, asking if I needed it. I explained again that it was my name and phone number, and he could call if he needed anything. He put the card in the Kenya bag and said nothing else.

As soon as the line started moving forward, he seemed to sprint (or the airport aisle version of it) toward the gate. When I got inside the airport, there he stood. I waved, said, “Good luck,” and my friend and I headed toward baggage claim. I worried that he was standing at the gate. Didn’t he know he’d have to go to baggage claim to meet his mom?

I explained the scene to my friend, who’d been seated elsewhere on the plane. My hysterically irreverent friend says: “He probably thinks you’re some crazy white hooker.”

Nice. But he’s probably right, I decide on the way home. Oh well.

Phone rings at 11:07 pm. I didn’t catch it but see from the caller ID it’s from someone with an African-sounding name. So I call back.

“Hello, this is Dawn McMullan…”

‘Yes, I met you at the airport. I am home.”

“Oh good, I was worried about you….”

“OK.”

Click.

It was all quite odd. But I was glad to know he was home. And, honestly, relieved he didn’t need a ride somewhere from the airport at that hour.

Who knows what he thinks. I hope he thinks America is a friendly place — and not in a crazy, white hooker kind of way. I hope he and his mom do OK here. And, if they need something, I do hope they call.

Posted in Africa | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments »

Week 16

February 14, 2010 by Dawn McMullan

“My stomach hurts.” — Sawyer, 7:36 pm, Valentine’s Day

Valentine's Day fondue

No doubt.

Now, Valentine’s Day is often accompanied with too-sugared-up tummies around here. But this year it’s even worse as we’re all doing the Kelly Challenge, a rock climbing team torture of no sugar, no fried foods, no alcohol (for Clyde and me), and no soda for the entire month. We got Valentine’s Day off and took full advantage: biscuits and gravy for breakfast, fried chicken and French fries for lunch, amazing cookies a la our friend Tracy from church (more on that shortly), and our traditional Valentine’s Day fondue for dinner.

Ouch. I’m actually looking forward to two weeks of Kelly torture after that.

We had a lovely Valentine’s Day. The boys stayed in their PJs the entire day. Sawyer changed only to go to bed because he had so much chocolate fondue on his t-shirt. I remember having many of those days when they were little. These were always Noah’s favorite days. I can’t recall the last one we had.

We began the festivities with our annual Valentine’s Day scavenger hunt, which we started when the boys were very young. They still love it, enduring the cheesy poems I leave as clues around the house. This year’s hiding places for their treats: Sawyer’s baseball bag, my old saxophone, my sock drawer, a box that holds Mythos beer, and the bathroom cabinet.

Perfect delivery from my temporary wife.

An unexpected treat arrived when our friend Tracy called, saying he was on his way with a special delivery. Now, I’ve had a culinary crush on Tracy for years. Don’t get me wrong — he has so much going for him in addition to his gourmet gifts. But when see his face or hear his voice, my stomach yearns. I can’t help it.

As background, in a post last week, I asked for a wife to help me out with the busiest week of my year. Today’s delivery was his answer to that call. His note: “Happy Valentine’s Day to Dawn (and family). Soup, I can do, but if you want clean kids, you should have had girls — Your wife!” He delivered Sunday Night Fireside Soup (plus a vegetarian version for Noah and a recipe) and an array of Valentine’s cookies that are more divine than they have a right to be. Wow. I knew a wife was just what I needed. Sadly, I suspect this is a limited-time offer, and I’ll be expected to go it alone sans wife in the future. But having one, even for just a short time, is a lovely thing, indeed.

Clyde got me a sweet card and a box of chocolate-covered cherries, one of the few low-rent foods I adore. (The others include six-packs of powdered-sugar donuts and those Swiss Rolls from the ’70s. Disgusting. I own it.) Just before going to bed, Sawyer crawled up in my lap and said, “Thank you for Valentine’s Day.” Somebody needs to find a way to bottle that up.

So, sugared up, well taken care of by my wife, and loved by my husband and boys, here’s our week, crazy as usual:

Sunday: Fondue! Our Valentine’s Day tradition in recent years, spurred by the boys getting me a fondue pot for Christmas several years ago. We’ve tried a few recipes and these seem to be the family favorites: garlic cheese fondue and chocolate fondue (we use chocolate chips sometimes and one tsp of vanilla). We broiled a steak (still out of propane), cut up a French baguette, and served roasted rosemary red potatoes for the cheese fondue; cream puffs, strawberries, bananas, and raspberries for the chocolate.

Monday: Our fifth day of no school (Mom-given snow day Thursday; actual snow day Friday; President’s Day today). We might cook some potatoes for the homeless — a good thing to do and a pro-active attempt to quell the brotherly bickering. And since my wife brought us dinner, I don’t have to cook! Sunday Night Fireside Soup (on Monday night) it is!

Tuesday: I’m out of town tonight for a quick trip to Chicago, so we’ll have breakfast together. I made some tasty raspberry cupcakes (made with agave nectar so Kelly Challenge approved) for dessert Saturday night. Think I’ll try them again (maybe with blueberries and without the frosting) with hot tea. Always a favorite. Clyde has a meeting tonight so not much time to feed everyone. Hoping for leftover soup so he doesn’t have to worry about it.

Is there anything better than chocolate fondue?

Wednesday: I don’t get back ’til late so the family will have to carry on without me. My guess? Tater tots with cheese and garlic powder. I choose just not to think about it.

Thursday: Hit the ground running after being out of town with deadlines and mom duties. I’m driving for rock climbing so Clyde will cook up some burgers. Supposed to be sunny and 60 degrees! Hey, almost spring. Bring out the barbie! Wonder how the asparagus is looking at Whole Foods…

Friday: Breakfast again as one of us has to work parents’ night out at the boys’ school with Noah (we’ll see who gets the short straw on that one). Otherwise, Fend For Yourself night for half of us; other half gets pizza with a roomful of parent-free children.

Saturday: Having dinner with friends who grow weary of trying to fit large groups around their dining room table, so we’ll likely have breakfast or lunch together. The beauty of Saturdays — so many options!

Posted in dinner, family dinner, parenting | Tagged , | Leave a Comment »

Older Posts »