When I say constitutional, what I really mean is constitutional—relating to one’s physical or mental health. But, of course, in these times it can also mean constitutional—relating to the principles that govern the United States. If you are reading this outside of the U.S., we are trulynot OK. If you aren’t an oligarch or a tech bro, it feels strange, absurd, and upside down to be living through this surreal Trump regime of lies. No matter how hard we fight, I sometimes find it difficult to get through the day; my adrenals feel shot from the stress of reading and listening to the news. Much of the population seems stuck in a state of waiting for him to die, while in the meantime walking on eggshells around this dementia-addled maniac and his merry band of war-crimes-mongering, pedophile-friendly, emoluments-clause-be-damned, unconstitutional acts-loving, racist/misogynist/bigoted/hypocritical Republican-majority MAGA simpleton sycophants on Capitol Hill.
My Depression-era immigrant grandparents would be rolling over in their graves if they could see what has become of this country, and they would be just as ashamed of it as I am. When I’m not spiraling over whether today will be the day the nuclear codes are activated or the Secretary of the Interior is ordered to melt the ice caps, I find myself turning to novels and watching more film and television than usual—to escape, to feel inspired, or to be reminded of when people had a moral compass. Revisiting the award-winning cookbook Debrianna and I wrote, That Time We Ate Our Feelings, always lifts my spirits. With Mother’s Day approaching, I’d like to share my classic pesto recipe and a story about my beloved Nana from it with you (pages 103-105). I long for my grandmother’s gracious humanity, her kindness toward others, and her unwavering love for us, her family. Maybe it will do your constitution some good to read. Enjoy!
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When I was a little girl, it became an accepted notion in our family that Nana would most likely live forever. Perhaps we thought that if you repeat something often enough you can will it into being. Amazingly, she lived to her ninety-ninth year. Imagine how much one can see and experience in a century. She was a night owl, and I definitely inherited this. I used to love to stay up late with her and have a nice, long storytelling session about the days before modern conveniences. For the last thirty-five years or so, her schedule included watching Jeopardy! before or while making dinner, then getting pulled into a movie or dramatic TV series, and she would be knitting an afghan the entire time—she didn’t even have to look at her knitting needles. Multitasking wasn’t ever part of her vocabulary; it was just what one did to maximize the number of things one could accomplish in a day. After the movie or show, she might have a little snack, like her favorite chocolate chip ice cream, and then she would get a second wind at, like, 11:00 p.m. and want to do a project or talk.
The documentarian in me was so curious about the past and would ask quite frequently what it was like when the world went from radio to television, or what it was like the first time she saw a man walk on the moon. She loved inventions and technology, and yet the advent of the internet and the concept of having us all on a video chat was something straight out of Star Trek. The thing she loved the most was the invention of polyester or any kind of wrinkle-free fabric. She had grown up with all-natural fabrics in the early part of the twentieth century, and ironing was, well, serious work and pretty much perpetual hard labor left to the women in the family. And you have to understand ironing was a love-hate for a Virgo such as Nana. She actually felt better when things were folded neatly and the cotton was clean and starched, but it was also a chore and took time away from going places or completing other, more important tasks of the day. I would observe her exhale as the laundry stacks were completed. I would see her relax at the assessment of a well-ironed dress shirt or conversely the small anguish that would erupt for a missed spot under a pleat of a skirt until it was remedied. And so it went. Iron the sheets, iron the shirts, the tablecloths, the napkins, the skirts, the pillowcases. As technologies advanced and nylon, rayon, and polyester came into the mainstream (and not just as a cheap substitution for silk), everything changed. That reassurance put an extra slice of happiness in her step when we would be shopping for a dress at a department store and the deciding factor in the purchase was “And you know, you wouldn’t have to iron this one.”
In her senior citizen years (which for her started when she was about twenty years past sixty-five), she shopped weekly with her friends at the discount stores and would buy countless black or navy synthetic blouses. I think they made her feel free. The other thing she really appreciated was the microwave to warm up leftovers. It gave her the biggest thrill every time she turned it on. She couldn’t believe this box was able to heat up her lasagna in two minutes on the same plate she would eat from no less! It was a miracle of biblical proportions! My God, if she had known about frozen phyllo dough, she would have made strudel every weekend and bought an additional freezer to house boxes of it. It boggles the mind to think of the countless hours she spent rolling dough in her lifetime.
One of her other favorite things was Cool Whip—“Hey, did you know you can open this up and there is zero whipping involved?” When Nana passed away and the excavation of her kitchen cabinets began, we discovered she recycled everything you can imagine, never wasting a single reusable item. We must have found at least 150 cleaned and disinfected Cool Whip containers, stacked evenly and ready to use for leftovers. She also saved twisty ties, rubber bands, wrapping paper, ribbons, bows, and every plastic or paper bag she ever came in contact with, folded military style to maximize the space.
Nana would have been a great department head or director of operations for any branch of government or private sector company that required organizing information or tangible goods. The Depression-era frugality and zero-waste mentality never left her. She would not be the one to tell you we had to go without. There was always a solution, a way to make it work and save the situation. The woman was a marvel.
And I would give anything just to hug her right now, one last time.
Watch or listen to Lisa reading Constitutional Stress-Test:
Aww 😭 I love this! ♥️ spot on she was a wonder in many ways, I think of her everyday as I am saving plastic bags and hanging my cotton laundry out in the sun here in Split! She probably would have not understood why cotton 🤷🏻♀️ and why not polyester 🤣 she must have had to hang a lot of laundry 🧺 in her day 🌹
Aww 😭 I love this! ♥️ spot on she was a wonder in many ways, I think of her everyday as I am saving plastic bags and hanging my cotton laundry out in the sun here in Split! She probably would have not understood why cotton 🤷🏻♀️ and why not polyester 🤣 she must have had to hang a lot of laundry 🧺 in her day 🌹