Food Insecurity

I have no insecurities about food.  I love food – eating, grocery shopping, organizing my pantry, planning meals, cooking, reading about food, clipping recipes, entertaining with food, eating at restaurants, taking a cooking class, and watching food shows on TV.  Mexican, Thai, Italian, Chinese, (some) seafood, Pan Asian, a little Indian, and good ole’ fashion American food – I love it all!  My husband and I have favorite foods and restaurants in towns and cities all over the country, and since our visit to London this past spring, there too.  We cook at home together and often head out for a nice restaurant meal.   Food glorious food!

My earliest memory of food is not a pleasant one.   I was 4 or 5 years old and my mom served lima beans for dinner.  I would not eat my lima beans, and I guess I played around with the beans and pushed my dad’s patience too far, because he made me sit at the table and eat an entire serving dish of lima beans.  I have not had a lima bean since!  But I have some early good memories of food too.  When I was a child, my dad would make egg salad every Easter Sunday, out of the hard boiled eggs we colored the night before.  The white bread was always fresh, and he put lettuce on the sandwich.  To this day egg salad is one of my favorite sandwiches.  Dad also used to make pancakes for my sister, brother and me, and he would fashion our initials out of the batter.  My dad is something of a perfectionist, and he would make the letter backwards, because the bottom side of the pancake always cooks nicer. 

Another early memory is going to my maternal great grandmother’s apartment and finding molasses cookies in her pantry.  I don’t know if the cookies were homemade or store bought, but I remember how good they tasted.  Curiously, my dad recently told me that his grandmother used to bake molasses cookies, but a written family recipe didn’t survive her.   I’ve been on the lookout for a molasses cookie recipe for some time.

Food is a large part of my life, as it might be yours.  What will we have for dinner?  Where shall we meet for lunch?  Want to order an appetizer with our drinks?  Shall we get popcorn at the movie?  Want to go to Dairy Queen tonight?  Honey, will you please stop by the grocery store on your way home from work?  We’d love to come over, what should I bring?    Nope, no food insecurities for me.

But millions of Americans are food insecure.  Here’s the fact:  food insecure is defined as being uncertain of having or unable to acquire enough food for everyone in the household because of insufficient money or other resources.   Don’t be fooled by this terminology.  More plainly, food insecure means “hunger.”  Dictionary.com defines hunger as  “a compelling need or desire for food.”  In 2006, the U.S. changed the definitions it uses and eliminated references to hunger, keeping various categories of “food insecurity” instead.  You say to-mahto, I say tomato.

In doing a little research for this blog post, I learned that in 2010, 17.2 million American households, or 14.5% of all households, were food insecure, the highest amount ever recorded.   I was overwhelmed by all the facts and statistics I read about “food insecurity”, but here’s the bottom line:  food insecurity – that is, HUNGER - exists everywhere in America.  It does not matter what part of the country you live in, or whether you live in an urban, suburban, or rural setting – hunger has no boundaries.  Hunger is not limited to the unemployed, the disenfranchised, or any one ethnic group.  Many two-income families are food insecure.  In the Twin Cities, where I live, 35% of the families who rely on food shelves are working.  There are parents who skip meals or do not get enough to eat so they can make sure their children do.  And there are children who do not get enough to eat, who are hungry at school and are hungry at home.

According to the United Way Twin Cities, 1 in 10 in my community is “food insecure.”  Because the economic downturn has continued, food shelves have become a regular source of food for hungry families, children and seniors, instead of the emergency support they used to be.  Food needs continue to increase, and hunger relief programs are having difficulty meeting the demand.

I live in a nice home in a neighborhood that statistically would be considered affluent.  I can see the local high school from our front window.  Since the fall of 2010, the school has had a permanent food shelf.  It was set up by staff in response to rising poverty among students, and the sense that too many kids were going hungry during the school day.  Three other high schools in the area also have food banks, as do several elementary schools.   Will this extension into the schools of food shelves continue?  What a shame if it must.

I can’t even scratch the surface of this issue with a blog post.  I’m just uneasy that in America there are so many people who are hungry, uh, I mean “food insecure?”   I will be thinking about what little I can do about that.  Maybe you could too?

Just sayin’.

Laurie

A View From the Streetcar

This past week I rode the New Orleans streetcar on historic St. Charles Avenue for the first time in years. It was lovely! I took my ride on a gorgeous evening; it was a little warm and muggy for September, even by New Orleans' standards, but I didn't mind, as the breeze blowing through the open windows of the streetcar made the ride very comfortable. There was only one other passenger when I hopped on board so I practically had the streetcar to myself. Perfect conditions!

In New Orleans, the vintage electric rail vehicles are called streetcars - never trolleys. No one is quite sure why or when this distinction was made. Perhaps it was because New Orleans was the first city west of the Allegheny Mountains to have passenger rail service. "Streetcars" rolled through the streets of New Orleans for 60 years before the "trolley", a device that transmits electric current to the motor, was used to power them. Today there are three streetcar lines in New Orleans: St Charles Avenue, Canal Street, and the Riverfront line. The St Charles line is the oldest continuously operating streetcar in the world. The 13.2 mile route rumbles along the "neutral ground" (median) through downtown, the Garden District, uptown, the university and Audubon Park areas, Riverbend, and Carrollton.  The car itself is made of solid green steel, the seats are shiny mahogany, and the fixtures are brass.  Every New Orleanian and most visitors to the city ride the streetcar, past the antebellum mansions, schools and churches, world class restaurants and hotels, Loyola and Tulane Universities, and gorgeous Audubon Park.

I began my ride at Audubon Park and Loyola, and rode to Jackson Avenue in the Garden District, which took about 25 minutes. I didn't talk, text or surf, choosing instead to focus on the many scenes around me and those I observed from my open air window view.

The streetcar conductor greeted me warmly as I paid my $1.25 fare.   He also greeted the conductors of other streetcars passing in the opposite direction, with a slight lift of his hand in the movement of a salute, and a subtle nod of his head.  What I heard him saying loud and clear to the other conductors was "where y'at", an affectionate greeting among friends in New Orleans.

During my ride I saw many people out and about on St. Charles Avenue.  Joggers and walkers and bike riders; dog walkers; parents pushing strollers or playing with their kids at the playground; couples strolling; downtowners heading home after a day at the office, and college students heading to their apartments after a day on campus; men and women, boys and girls, young and old, black and white, rich and poor.  Quintessential New Orleans.

I love people watching and I am always interested in everyone's "story", because everyone has one.   I wondered about many of those I observed from my sreetcar window.  The fit young white woman jogging slowly, almost in place, with the overweight black man who appeared somewhat older than her.  How did they meet?  What did they have in common?  Was she his coach, helping him with his health and fitness goals?  Or were they co-workers in one of the downtown office buildings, or  professors at one of the universities?  Or maybe they were just friends on the "neutral" ground (this was my favorite scenario).  I liked seeing the group of boys and girls from one of the area schools jogging together along St. Charles Avenue.  From their T-shirts I knew they were on the cross country team.  Seeing parents with their kids at Danneel Park brought back memories of me taking my daughter to this beautiful uptown playground so many years ago.   

St. Charles Avenue has been described as the "Jewel of America's Grand Avenues."  The grandest of residences line the Avenue, homes that in the 18th century belonged to the wealthy and powerful who built New Orleans into the city it is today.   There are also beautiful, historic churches and synagogues that are New Orleans' major centers of worship.    The architectural styles of the homes and historic buildings are Greek, Mediterranean, Italian, Spanish and Victorian.  They are made of wood, brick, stucco, and stone, and the colors are traditional white and beige, but also blue, green, pink, yellow, even purple!   Many of the homes have large wrap-around porches, just as you'd imagine a Southern antebellum home to have, and are surrounded by ornate iron fences.  Front doors are decorated with welcoming wreaths, towering oak trees are in the yards, along with beautiful shrubbery and flowering bushes and trees.  Alongside American flags waving from porch railings, I saw many New Orleans Saints, LSU, Tulane, and Fleur de Lis flags.

One corner home in particular caught my eye, not so much for its architecture, but for the four large dogs sitting on the porch and roaming the yard.   There was a black lab, a German shepherd, and two fierce looking black dogs - I don't know what breed they were.  They were obviously guard dogs.  Which got me thinking that regrettably, for all its grandeur, St. Charles Avenue still has its crime challenges, as does every New Orleans neighborhood.  This blog is not for writing about the reasons for or causes of New Orleans crime rates.  It's just sad to me that after all the city has been through, crime is probably still its biggest challenge, as least to the ordinary resident. 

An election is coming up in New Orleans, and I observed many campaign signs along the Avenue.  I note this because several of the candidate names were familiar to me for one of two reasons:  1) the candidate has run for office over and over for as long as I can remember - a "professional" candidate (is this good for Louisiana?); and 2) a few of the judicial candidates I knew when they were young lawyers - even law students.  A reminder of the length of my career (and, sigh! my age!).

During my ride I saw many signs advertising open houses being hosted by New Orleans private schools  this time of year, to recruit students for the 2012-13 school year.   Numerous  homes had these signs on the fence or in the yard.   From living in the city for so long, I know the real reason these signs are posted is to broadcast one's allegiance to a particular school.  In New Orleans, where one attends grammar and high school is of extreme importance in social and professional circles throughout one's entire life.  One of the first questions a person asks when meeting someone new is "Where did you go to school?"  Not college, not graduate or professional school.  Grammar school and high school.  It truly matters in New Orleans.  This question will be asked of a New Orleanian all of his/her life.

An older couple got on the streetcar about half way through my ride.  They were nicely dressed and told the driver they wanted to exit the car at Washington Avenue.  I knew immediately where they were headed -- to Commander's Palace for dinner.  Commander's is located in the Garden District and is one of New Orleans most upscale, well regarded restaurants.   Commander's is owned by the Brennan family, purveyors of several of the city's finest eating establishments.  Paul Prudhomme and Emeril Lagasse began their renowned careers in Commander's kitchen.  The couple seemed so excited during their ride, and as they exited the streetcar and began their walk down Washington, they were holding hands.  I felt happy for them, knowing a fabulous meal and special experience awaited them at Commander's Palace. 

As the streetcar made its way across Napoleon Avenue, there was a subtle change in the appearance of the oak trees that line St. Charles.   Mardi Gras beads hung high from the branches of many of the trees.  Mardi Gras parades follow a route that travels from Napoleon Avenue onto St. Charles.  I love Mardi Gras and since moving away from New Orleans ten ago, I've been back for Fat Tuesday 4 or 5 times, and reservations are in place for 2012.  As I began seeing those beads high in the oak trees, scenes from past Mardi Gras celebrations flashed through my mind.  Staking out "our spot" on the Avenue in the pre-dawn hours of Mardi Gras day.  Hoisting my young daughter into that seat on the top of the ladder and spending all day uptown-literally all day-watching parades, waiting for Bacchus, the biggest of them all.  Being hoarse from yelling "throw me something Mister!"   How many of the beads in those trees were ones I didn't catch?  Or ones I tried to throw back at the King Kong float in the Bacchus parade? 

So many things to see and so many memories to enjoy.  My ride ended too soon.  As I thanked the conductor and said good-bye he replied with a traditional New Orleans "Aw..right dawlin'....."  The lilt of his voice was like a soft jazz tune.  I will hold that note in my memory until the next ride.

Just sayin'.

Laurie