Get on the Happy Train. :-)

Eleanor Roosevelt said: "Since you get more joy out of giving joy to others, you should put a good deal of thought into the happiness that you are able to give."

True story, my friends.

Happiness is a disease worth catching and I am one of those lucky people that are surrounded with others that have it. I love it when they spit in my general direction. :-)

When it comes to customers, my are, bar none, some of the most wonderful people a person could ask to work with. They are great. They send me funny emails and sweet letters. They leave notes for my driver and make sure to tell me when my employees do great things. They share with me their struggles and disdain/love for certain foods. Although I haven't personally met hardly any of them, I feel connected to them because of our interactions via email/ phone/ or even just by what they put on their "never sends" list. On the other side, my employees get all kinds of giddy when our customers do something sweet for them, or leave donations for the Daily Bread. When my friends, a few of which work for me, get together we sit around and chat about the great/ funny/ sweet things most customers do. I, personally, smile a lot over this. I feel pretty lucky.

With that said. October is a rather sad month for me. To get through it, I generally try to put as much fuel in the happy train of others as I can. Hoping that by doing so, I won't even have the time to wallow in my own drama or sadness. This year.... I brought my foodie family in on the fun. (The letter I put in their boxes is listed below). One thing, I didn't expect was the heartfelt, tear jerking emails they sent me personally. I am going to put up another post with a few emails I got. Just so you can see how great people really are. It just so happened that I got those emails right when I needed them. I am so blessed. So very very blessed and the happy train has lots of coal in the fire now.

Dear Fresh Box Foodie:

October is a special month for me.

This Friday will mark 15 years to the day that my father took his own life, leaving my mother with 6 children to feed and a farm she couldn’t pay for. That was a very sad time for my family, and happiness was hard to come by.

I don’t know a lot about depression, but what I do know is that for those that are depressed, happiness is not an emotion that frequents them.

I can’t bring my father back or erase the sadness that surrounded that time of my life, but what I can do is to try to share and show and spread as much happiness as possible. So, I thought I would bring y’all in on the fun. Spread some happiness with me, as so many of you already do, week after week with your sweet notes, emails, generosity with the Daily Bread, and your patronage

With that said, in the month of October I will be putting things in your boxes to help with the cause.

When my gran was in the hospital battling breast cancer she always loved it when my grandfather would bring her mail. She loved the cards and letters. She also loves to sends cards, and as someone that gets them frequently from her, I can tell you that they make my day!!!

So in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness month and my gran (her being a survivor and all), this week I have put postcards in your boxes. Send them to someone. Send them to your children, or your parents, or your gran, or your friends, or write your significant other a note and put it on the refrigerator.

Sunshine and Happiness,

Lucinda

(A very extra special thank you to Suzanne Clements and Beth Ann Hall for taking the pictures on these lovely little cards).

Let it Go. Let it Be.

This is a picture of Fiona on her second birthday. Isn't she cute? (sorry, couldn't resist doing the "oh look how cute my kid is" mother thing all us mamas do.)

I am in the blue shirt. For the purposes of this post, I want you to look behind me at the painting on the wall. That painting has special meaning to me. It was a gift from the grandparents of my best friend that past away when we were 16.

It hung, as the only item of decoration, on the living room wall of my marital home. It was the first thing you saw when you walked in the door. It now hangs on the wall of my home in Florida, again as the first thing you see when you walk in the door.

Last night, as Fiona's father came to pick her up, he commented on it. "That is a really nice painting, where did it come from?" he asked.

Hmmm. "It is from our home. The Bearden's gave it to me. It hung on our wall for years." I responded.

In my mindset, the mellow dramatic one that us women can sometimes be prone to specifically towards the males of our present and past, I couldn't understand how he could ask such a silly question. I mean, after all, he did live in the same house with the same painting on the wall for years. What the frizzle?

I closed my eyes tight so that nobody could see me roll them. Let it go, Lucinda, let it go.

Later in the evening as I was reading Harry Potter (yes, I read Harry Potter and love it...want to make something of it?), I realized I have read this series 5 times now (yes, I have read it five times. Again, want to make something of it ;- ) ? ) and just noticed that my maiden name is used in the book. Aha moment.

If I am allowed to read the same book 5 times without judgement and not notice that my maiden name, which is not actually a common name, is used who am I to pass judgement on someone that doesn't notice a painting for 5 years?

Humans are silly, aren't we? We waste a lot of our life getting all worked up about some of the most pointless things... like paintings.

I let it go.

In my quest for a more simplistic heart and life, I keep finding that when we embrace those around us as they are, we not only remove 90% of the drama from our lives, we allow ourselves to be who we are without judgement. Oh the freedom.

So let it go, and let it be. :-)

Sunshine and Happiness,

Lucinda

What happened to humanity? The Daily Bread.

I was slated to meet Dylan and David at 8:15 and so my day began with an extra sense of urgency to get Fiona fed, dressed, and out the door for school without an extra moment to spare. We had oatmeal with fried apples for breakfast. I was in a rush so I didn't finish mine.

Dylan, one of my dear friends and pseudo assistant, had arranged for me to take a tour of the Daily Bread facilities with his father David, who sits on their board.

Unbeknownst to me before the tour, the Daily Bread is in a highly heated battle with the City Council about expanding/moving their facilities. In fact, it was the day after an extremely intense council meeting that we were touring the facilities. The issue seems to be that the council, area business owners, and community surrounding the Daily Bread soup kitchen facility doesn't want the Daily Bread to expand operations in their neighborhood. The same is the case for the new location that they are looking at moving to. The council’s position is that there are drug dealers, prostitutes, and low-lifes attracted to such a facility and it decreases the safety and economic value of the area that it inhabits. A raid had been performed at the Daily Bread soup kitchen a few weeks prior in which swat teams rushed through the facility and arrested 9 drug dealers on the premises. Press cameras were in attendance and captured the entire ordeal for the 11:00 news.

At the council meeting videos of lewd sexual acts being performed by prostitutes and drug deals were shown, as well as the findings of the raid discussed in detail. The assumption made from the material provided was that "those people" were in the neighborhood because of the Daily Bread and therefore if the Daily Bread were allowed to expand it would increase such activity. Furthermore, the area on Sarno Road that the Daily Bread wants to move to would be in jeopardy of "invasion" by such people.

I was filled in on this information briefly by David prior to our tour for the sake of explaining that I might be walking into a situation of intense emotions by Daily Bread volunteers and employees (The organization is run by 500 volunteers and only 5 paid employees).

We started with the warehouse facilities which is where food is initially brought before being distributed to various charities and food pantries throughout Brevard County (there are about 30 that rely on the Daily Bread to stock their shelves). The operation was impressive to me: highly organized, smoothly run, and exceptionally clean. The volunteers were all too happy to explain to me how the process works. Different organizations pick up food from the facility and if there is an abundance or shortage the volunteers get on the phone to help get the food to the right place or solicit new donations. Here at the warehouse is where they coordinate with the chefs at the soup kitchen to decide what will be on the menu in the upcoming weeks based on what food is available and donations anticipated.

Our next stop was the soup kitchen facility and I can assure you that I was in no way prepared for what my eyes would see and heart would feel. When we pulled into the parking lot there were about a dozen or so people in the "yard" waiting for the one hot meal the kitchen provides on a daily basis, even though it wasn't to be served for a few more hours. My first thought was of my brothers and uncles and how they congregate in the kitchen around the table waiting for the women of my family to put the finishing touches on a meal at the holidays. As soon as I got out of my car I realized that this was no holiday because the overwhelming joy I associate with such was nowhere to be found.

As we made our way inside, Ed Welch, the assistant director, kindly took on the task of showing us through the different parts of the operation. The impact the prior night's council meeting had had on him was obvious. He seemed flustered, protective, and maybe even a little defensive - justifiably so considering those less fortunate that he felt so passionately about had come under such scrutiny without, what he felt, was ample enough opportunity to defend themselves.

He and David discussed the subject and Ed made some very valid points. He explained that he has no authority to arrest anyone and that signs are posted everywhere about unacceptable behaviors and consequences thereof (being banned). Furthermore, he has no authority over the sidewalk directly outside the premises and has often felt like his requests for help from the police have not been followed up with the sense of urgency they require. After all, as he pointed out, the ones that are a threat to the neighborhood are also a threat to the majority of the people that come to the soup kitchen with honest intentions. He feels that those he considers to be in his stead are at their most vulnerable and that they unfortunately make easy targets to those who would prey upon them. He also explained that some of the tapes that were shown at the city council meeting were not taped on the Daily Bread's premises and was at a loss at how to respond to accusations that the Daily Bread be held responsible for such crimes.

Through cramped quarters we made our way into the "hub" of the facility where volunteers could be found coordinating logistics and doing day to day tasks such as background checks on potential volunteers. We then saw the laundry and bathroom facilities, which combined were still smaller than my very modest guest bathroom. Ed explained that the showers are on a first-come, first-served basis and a set of clothing (shirt, shorts/pants, underwear, and socks) is provided if someone chooses to shower. When finished, their dirty laundry is washed then recycled back through for the next person in need. All of the clothing, travel size toiletry, female hygiene products, as well as blankets for when it gets cold are stored in an extremely small storage room next to the mail room.

The mail room in and of itself was something that made me stop and ponder the plight of the homeless. The facility offers a place where the homeless can have a mailing address, which is an obvious necessity once you think about trying to get a state I.D., receive Social Security benefits checks, VA benefits, or Disability with the address of "park bench #2."

As we moved through the small dining area I learned that each person must check in to eat and a small camera takes their picture so the next time they check in, their identity can be confirmed. This helps for the staff to keep banned people off the premises. Of course, I wonder how effective they are at getting people to leave with words as their only weapon and without the police there to back them up.

The previous day’s count of people served was listed behind the check-in desk and was nearly 300. It was explained to me that not all of the people that come here for a hot meal are homeless. Some are just barely on the fringe of being homeless and the one meal a day helps them keep from becoming such. The clients are also varied with the elderly, middle-aged, families, and even children coming through the line. As I absorbed all of this I thought about my unfinished breakfast and felt shame like I had never felt before.

Walking back toward my car at the end of the tour I made eye contact with a gentleman sitting alone at one of the tables. The gaze we held for a moment told of humiliation, heartbreak, remorse, regret, and sorrow. His eyes and the emotion they enveloped cut through me to make a resonating sound against my soul, because I had seen them before in my own reflection. I felt shame for the second time that day. Although I have never suffered from a drug problem, been homeless, and prostitution is definitely not becoming of me, I have visited the deep darkness of my own personal hell a time or two.

In spite of my past regrets, I stand where I am today not on my own accord, but because in my time of darkness a friend, a stranger, a family member put their hand in mine and helped me find my way. I felt shame that this man was not afforded that same right -the right to be treated with dignity and respect despite past transgressions.

The Daily Bread is not asking for us to condone criminal activity they are merely asking for us to see that we are all bound by the common strand of humanity. It is not your world or their world it is our world.

If you are one of the few people that have not felt the weight of sorrow, or the humiliation of defeat, if regret is an emotion you are not familiar with then I ask you to realize your blessings and not allow vanity to be the downfall of humankind. With your blessings you have a responsibility to reach your hand to those less fortunate.

Furthermore, if like me, you know what it feels like to have your confidence shaken and your faith falter, can you not see that you are best equipped to help another who has lost their way because you have been down those dimly lit roads of life?

Progress cannot begin until the fighting ends. Pride must be set aside and common ground be stepped on so that the real issues of homelessness, hunger, and crime can be dealt with. We must join together and create an environment in which the police respond quickly to criminal activity, the citizens do not turn a blind eye to the plight of others, and the Daily Bread has the freedom to provide for those in need. In the words of Abraham Lincoln, “A house divided cannot stand.” However, banded together with our fellow humans we can overcome any struggles we may face either as individuals, communities, nations and eventually our world.

Lucinda

Eat...Read...Sleep

Ashley and Hannah (friends here in Florida) and myself are on a personal improvement mission for 2011. Bucket lists have been established for the year (being all zen and everything we will take care of next year, when next year comes). We are also all "Eat Pray Love", "The Love Dare", "Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway", "The Happiness Project", and just for kicks "Think and Grow Rich." What can I say...we are multi-taskers. We are mothers, so that is how we roll. Ashley, being a shrink turned Batista, likes to make us see the picture in three dimensions while keeping us jacked up on caffeine. I like to keep everyone's belly full, and Hannah is there to show us how to keep it real (she is excellent at calling BS when she sees it).

Today was an Eat, Read, Sleep and repeat sort of day, with a little happiness project thrown in. Scott had Fiona, so I have an empty and quiet house.

EAT (while trying to keep pace with Bruno Mars' mood swings - First he loves her just the way she is, then he wants her to tell the devil he says hey when she gets back from where she is from, and finally as he wants to be a billionaire so freaking bad (his girl is rich) and has completely forgotten to take his meds "Girl, I wanna marry you."

Makes me feel rather sane.

I digress.

Mushroom/ Potato Soup:

1 onion diced

2 carrots peeled and diced

1 clove of garlic

sea salt

stick of butter

4 cups of chicken stock

few lbs of potatoes

2 large portabellas chopped

rosemary- lots of it.

3/4 cup white wine (more if you want to get sloshed while making this).

1/2 cup heavy cream

shredded cheese... and sour cream for topping.

Cut the potatoes up and boil or steam until al dente.

Soften the carrots, onions, garlic in a skillet with some butter and rosemary.

Add some salt.

Add more butter to the skillet

Add the portabellas.

As shrooms start to soften add the wine... and let simmer until reduced some.

Put mushroom/ carrot/ onion mixture in large pot with chicken stock.

Add some salt.

Let this cook for a while took so it infuses the stock with flavor.

Add cream.

Let simmer for a bit.

Eat it.. with cheese and sour cream.

If you want the base to be thicker add flour to the mushroom/ carrot/ onion mixture before putting in the wine. Or, blend some of the cooked potatoes with stock and add it in.

READ - Harry Potter for the 6th time, and Jeffrey Archer's "Kane and Abel".

SLEEP -Initially I had intended to work on number 9 on my bucket list which is to be completely still and silent for two hours without going to sleep but that didn't work. However, sleeping falls into my home work category for The Happiness Project, so it's all good.

REPEAT - I had a great dream about apple cake. I got up and made one. I had to because I'm a "make your dreams come true" kind of girl. I will post the recipe later.

Cheers and Happy Eats!

Lucinda

Anti- Stress Christmas

I am allergic to three things, well four - Penicillin, moldy cheese, stress, and bullshit. Really, they cause me to have fits of rage, inability to breathe, and worst of all- psycho redhead disorder. Thus, when it comes to the Holidays I try to stay away from all four, and especially stress.

I am not much of a shopper for any reason, or any occasion, so I definitely don't "go" Christmas shopping. In fact, you should have seen me when I had to go buy myself a skillet a few weeks ago- I had to come home and decompress after one store!

How do I get around all this Christmas nonsense? Well, it seems, that the higher powers at be seem to understand my predicament and the perfect gift for those around me just crosses my path. I'm racking my brain, but I can't seem to remember ever buying a commercial produced gift for someone. I have even lucked out to have some really fantastic foodies that make/create great things they are willing to trade for food. It's amazing what you can get for a half a hog! Also, I am not above going on gift giving strike. It's just my personality not to push things, after all, when in doubt - feed someone. Everyone is joyous when their belly is full. Of course, they could be lying, but once again I am allergic to bullshit and I haven't ever gotten hives so I am sure my theory holds true. Furthermore, Scott and my sister usually do the shopping for Fiona and I just cheer them on from behind the scenes.

For a myriad of reasons, this will be the first year in 5 that I haven't woken up on Christmas morning at my grandmother's house! I spoke to her last night, and tried to keep myself together as she talked about how she can't find her angel for the tree, and doesn't even remember putting it away (Of course she wouldn't, my sister and I put the ornaments away while she was in the hospital fighting for her life), or how grandpa is having to put the tinsel up without Fiona to help. Normally, I would be at her house helping to make pies, listening to Frank Sinatra or Johnny Cash Christmas music and forcing her to remain calm- she has a tendency to worry A LOT!

However, just when I thought that I was going to have to get a last minute ticket back to Missouri, or brave a full blown sadness attack, I got a wonderful Christmas present. Laughter! It has been a lovely day, and very joyous. The twins have been out in the chaos doing last minute Christmas shopping, and true to their twin nature, although shopping separately, texted me the exact question within moments - "What is your shoe size?" ha ha, I guess I know what I am getting for Christmas. Furthermore, Fiona has been hilarious. She and the babysitter put up the tree a few days ago and some of the lights don't work, but she doesn't care. She has been running around putting random gifts under the tree, like rocks and old toys, and so on and so forth. Her reasoning? Santa may need extra presents for other boys and girls, and I said that I was going to get Scott a box of rocks! hahaha. I am so blessed to have a such a sweet soul as a child.

She said it can't be Christmas without snow, so I am going to give her snow. I found some Styrofoam in the garage and will crumble it all up on the patio for her to wake up to on Christmas day- Oh, I'm so excited.

My hope is that you all have a very merry Christmas filled with lots of laughter, delicious food, and if you happen to get a box of rocks, think of Fiona, who seems to think there is absolutely nothing wrong with giving rocks as presents!

Cheers and Happy Holiday Eats!

Lucinda

Old Roots and Fresh Beginnings

Over five years ago, when I moved back to Missouri from DC, Sidney, my mother's best friend of 45 years, asked me the very reasonable question of why...

As I was trying to come up with the words to explain that I wasn't insane to walk away from a burgeoning career with a six figure salary and an office building on Pennsylvania avenue, an active social calender that had me rubbing elbows with all the right power players in Washington, a posh apartment with a doorman, and an assistant that took care of everything from my clothes shopping to dinner reservations she looked at me with a knowing expression and said "Old roots are hard to pull, aren't they?"

Yes, yes they are.

I didn't have a plan then, nor did I know what my future would hold. All I knew was that deep down I was meant to do something more meaningful. The games, the power, the pace, and the excitement of DC had its benefits but they came with a price. The mentality in DC was "What have you done for me today? and when you do something for someone else, make sure there is someone there to document it." Sex, knowledge, and power was the name of the game in DC, and for a time I played it and played it well.

However, after a while it became silly and exhausting. Don't get me wrong, I met a few wonderful people in DC, who chose to be true to themselves, and we are still friends to this day. However, I found myself yearning for more authenticity, a place where real people are the norm and not the exception, a place where you get an honest pay for an honest day's work, a place where conversation holds meaning without 45 cent words, a place like home - Missouri.

Scotty, my husband who had never been further west than West Virginia, and I loaded the car and headed west. My sister lived outside Kansas City so we decided to set up house near her. Scott got a job straight away, but I decided to take some time off from corporate world. In 2006 I got pregnant, and my pregnancy was a joyous time. Due to the tragic events of my childhood, an early graduation from highschool, and an immediate thrust into the harsh realities of being on your own in the big city before I even had a driver's license, it had been a long time since I hadn't been in "survival" mode. Therefore, I spent those 10 months (yes it really is 10 months of pregnancy... not sure where all this 9 months bs comes from) reading for pleasure, lounging at the pool, and enjoying silence after I intentionally chucked my cell phone.

It didn't take me long in Missouri to realize that there was water water everywhere and nothing to drink. Meaning, that I was surrounded by corn fields, and open pasture but to get real food, grown by real people I had to hunt. Sure, I could make the 45 minute trek to Whole Foods, but my mother raised hogs that ended up being brokered to Whole Foods and I was disgusted with the discrepancy between what she was paid as a farmer and what I was to be charged as a consumer. Thus, I started buying from the farmer's market. Eventually, I started picking things up for my neighbors, and before you knew it I had a storefront. Due to the fact that there weren't middle men or freight costs, I was able to give the farmers more for their goods, and charge the consumer less than grocery store prices. Everybody wins and I had found my calling! When I was looking for a new building as the lease had ended, I told my customers I would deliver to them. Well, that worked out even better for everyone. I picked up the produce fresh from the farm and delivered it all in one day, so I was free the rest of the week to be a mother and wife, and the consumer got farm fresh deliciousness without ever leaving the house! Once again, a win win.

Then came 2009... the worst year of my life.

My business, that started as a way for me to have access to real food from real people, help out my neighbors and the farmers in my community, caught the attention of the local news. The next thing you know, I had Dion Lim riding with me in my little red car to deliver food and crunch the numbers on how good of a deal it was. Seems like a dream come true right? Um, no. First of all, my marriage was in ruins, and for the sake of the privacy of others I won't go into details, but let it suffice to say that my ego and self confidence was badly bruised. Furthermore, with the business I did everything myself, from answering emails to doing deliveries. I knew I couldn't handle an overwhelming influx of business sure to come from being featured on the 10:00 news (there is a link at the bottom of this post if you want to watch the special) of the most viewed news channel in Kansas City, especially when I was in the middle of becoming a single mother. Thus, I ended up merging with a larger company in the same business as me with the understanding, or at least I thought, that nothing would change except the name of the business and profit sharing. I didn't care about giving up 51% of the profits... if it meant more business for the farmers, an ability to serve more customers, when I would still be able to make a living.

Well, it didn't quite turn out like that. Within a few weeks, it was quite clear that I had got in bed with everything I was against. I was told that we were no longer going to be purchasing from small family farms unless they were certified organic, and agreed to the pricing that we set. I couldn't believe that I was being asked to go to all my farmers who had become my friends and tell them that, although they had walked with me since the beginning, rejoiced in my triumphs and already put plants in the ground in anticipation of my expansion... that I was going to leave them high and dry. Furthermore, now that my name and face had recognition I was expected to be the face of the company and do public appearances and be the front runner of the marketing campaign. My response was "Wait a minute, you want me to go against everything I believe in, and then promote it??" I was told I didn't have a choice, after all, I was only 49% owner.

I wept to the point of dry heaves.

It was a long and drawn out fight, and only after the help of a good lawyer, and conversations I tape recorded, unbeknown to him with the 51% owner did I eventually get pennies on the dollar for my 49% share. Of course I also got a non- compete, a gag order, and a non- solicit with my only allowed statement to be this. Of course, this meant that I got some hate mail from consumers thinking I had done the bait and switch on them by promising local and then giving them products from Mexico, but what could I do when I wasn't allowed to talk about it? Furthermore, I can assure you that if I don't delete this post, that I will be getting a call from my lawyer first thing on Monday and a cease and desist by Tuesday. I would give every penny I have not to have crossed paths with corporate evil in the first place.

However, as my mother said, " You chose to be free by trying to do what is right, but he will have to wake up to himself everyday." Right you are mama, right you are.

I took the money and decided to "put my money where my mouth is" by purchasing a farm with my baby brother Cole, eventually separated from my husband, and bought a little house in the town of 600 where my family lives. However, I felt like I had lost my sense of self. I mean what happened to my business, husband, picket fence, and the 2.5 kids? It didn't stop there. My 2009 rounded out with heart break, my grandmother fighting a very rough fight with cancer, dealing with my own mortality, and brief stay in the hospital, and a slight loss of sanity.. ok huge loss of sanity.

However, behind every tragic tale there is a silver lining. Through owning the farm, I have learned more in the last year about the hardships and joys of farming than all my years of being a "farmer's daughter", or liaison to farmers has ever taught me. I have so much more respect. Furthermore, somewhere in the middle of crazy sadness and drama I was able to help my mother with the marketing of her pork directly to the consumer (my non- compete does not restrict me from family farm operations or wholesale, just retail). In fact, I ended up getting into the Organic/ Local wholesale business and helped establish Kansas City's first, and only organic wholesaler. Woot woot! In fact, those farmers that I had once left high and dry... well the same could not be said for them, for they stood with me again even if the platform had changed, and I was able to broker their goods to local retailers including my former company's main competition. In the end the consumer and farmer ended up back on the same road as before,it just meant I played behind the scenes, and I couldn't be happier.

Now I bring you to the next chapter of my life. My feet are back on solid ground, my personal life back on track, and a skip in my step. I have moved to Florida, one of the only states that I am not held to a non- compete, but a place of the unknown. I intend to "get back on the horse", as we would say in Missoura with my new company. However, I have already come to realize that is going to take a lot of hard work, blood, sweat, but hopefully only tears of joy. This is because Florida is mostly a commercial agriculture state. Meaning, it is a "Go Big, or Go Home" state. There are quite a few organic farmers, but sifting through the ones that meet my "real people" standards, and those that are corporate conglomerates won't be easy, but I'm getting my mojo back, and I am ready to start sifting, and searching for the lesser known family farms.

In closing, to my friends in Missouri (and Kansas), I want you to know that I wouldn't be where I am without you. You have stood by me when I made mistakes. You believed in me when I didn't. Furthermore, this year by buying locally you have helped save one family farm, that I know of, from financial ruin. You have sent one farmer's child to college. You have put more dollars back into your local economy, and you have stood for what is right. Without you, I would be one standing alone, but instead I am one among many, and for that you have my enduring gratitude. Keep up the good work!

For my friends to be in Florida, I invite you to come along on this new journey with me. Together we can lesson the gap between farm and fork. Together, we can eat well, be well, and do a lot of good in between.

Cheers and Happy Eats!

Lucinda

link to the special http://www.kmbc.com/money/19022061/detail.html

Life, Death, and the filler in the middle

Insomnia in Farmtown when I don't own a television means I should have plenty of time to update this blog about the lovely food I have been eating, fun on the farm, and my intention to chain myself to a building in an attempt to keep it from being demolished. Or... maybe I will go cook myself a 7 course meal while jamming to Harry Chapin, just for fun. However, for now, I am going to share a conversation that I had with my friend Janel that is too powerful to keep to myself.

Of all things, we were speaking about death, but more importantly the life that happens before death. This is how she explained her viewpoint on the subject to her son, and to me.

We are invisible beings. On earth we have put on our coats so others can see us, our skin is our coat. When we die we take off our coats, leave our skins behind and return to where we came from. A full circle. While we are on earth we are here to choose God or not choose God, everything else is just filler. That simple.

Wow! I am quite certain her idea of choosing "God" was Jesus Christ. However, no matter who God is to you- love, beauty, peace, hope, compassion, a force that inspires you to do no harm to others - life really can be that simple. Do you choose it or not? For me, at the core, God is love. Do I choose to love and be loved or do I not? I can tell you what I want my choice to be, but getting off the fence is, at times, a scary proposition.

Too often, it is easy to get caught up in the filler of life. We allow ourselves to worry about all the "stuff" and we lose sight of the basics. Whatever it is that moves us, we should allow it to move us without all the noise that can become so distracting.

Cheers, Happy Eats, and Happy Simplicity!

Lucinda

Comic Avoidance

At one point in my life I used the word “honestly” often in conversation. I never noticed the amount of times I used it until someone pointed it out. I then became hyper sensitive to my usage of the word, and began analyzing why and how it had infiltrated my vocabulary. Breaking the habit of over using the word “honestly” was rather difficult at first. I would find myself stumbling for words, and going into long tirades for the sake of avoiding the word. I feel for the those who were on the receiving end of my comical dance around honestly. Many months later, my communication has return to a natural flow, and if I use honestly it is effective and to the point, and not over saturated at the cost of losing its meaning.

I am 8 days into my vegetarian lifestyle, and meat is to my diet as honestly was to my speech - always there, hardly noticed, and not made a “thing” until I took a deeper look at it. In fact, I started this month with an air of cockiness. For me, I didn’t think giving up meat would be a problem because it is not an obsessive part of my life. Instead, I thought this month would be a walk in the part and a bit of a check mark before the full force dedication of veganism next month. My cockiness was so inflated that I attached additional rules to my vegetarian diet. I felt like I needed to make it a real challenge. I made the decision that I would have to get my groceries from the actual grocery store. Thus, nobody would ever be able to say.. “I can’t be a vegetarian because I don’t have the same access to good food as you do.” Instead, I am putting myself in the shoes of the average American shopping at a conventional grocery store. I believe I deserve a face palm over this decision, because it has yielded my desired result – a challenge!

The first few days of the month, I didn’t have time to venture to the grocery store (keep in mind that I am 45 minutes away from one), so I ate out for every meal. In my attempt to avoid meat, I ate more funk food than I have in a year’s time prior. I had French fries, vegetarian pizza, onion rings, and all sorts of fried deliciousness. I had to avoid the salad because I am in the Midwest where a salad is not a salad unless it has a lb of meat on it! After 3 days of this assault, my body was starting to scream for something a bit more beneficial, and I had to make the time for grocery shopping.

I have chosen Hy-Vee as my grocery store of choice during this adventure because a. they have an organic health market section b. they are employee owned c. they are fairly accessible in the Midwest. So what happened when I got to the store? I succumbed to impulse buys and the lure of “value added” products. I spent $85 and got home with hardly anything to make a meal from and lots of snack items. I did buy a lb of baby romaine, and this was my only saving grace to get me through a few days without having to go back. Fiona and I ate lots of peanut butter on toast, yogurt, and salads over those few days. (Disclaimer: Fiona is not following a complete vegetarian diet at this time.. her father is an unwavering carnivore so when she is at his house she gets plenty of meat). As the norm, I am not one to keep value added products in my house. Traditionally, I have lots of produce, a freezer full of meat, and all the required items if I want to make something. I make my own bread, pizza, juices, pastries, and so on and so forth. However, something about now being a vegetarian and shopping at the store has played with my head a bit. I am putting so much time into “avoiding” meat and shopping for food that doesn’t have it in it, that my natural flow of preparing/ cooking/ eating has been thrown for a loop. My second trip to the grocery store yielded more of the same. I spent $56.00 and got mostly processed foods (see the above picture). I have now realized that if I don’t make a conscience effort to retain my core food values that I will become a vegetarian at the cost I am not willing to pay- my love of food. Also, it seems to be financially pricey and much less fulfilling to remove the creativeness from my dinner table.

Now that I have regrouped, we shall see what next week brings. Hopefully, I will be able to resort back to my before vegetarian core values of food without frills in which the star of the show is the texture, flavor, and spice, and not the speed at which it is ready to consume! Food prepared Honestly! ;-)

Cheers and Happy Eats!

Lucinda

My Birthday

Today is my birthday. Quite a few "bloggable" things happened. However, my inspiration for tomorrow comes from this little snippet my mother wrote in a letter of reccommendation for one of her students that is applying to Harvard.

"Our hometown is located in a very rural area in Northeast Missouri. There are very few cultural and academic opportunities in this county. We have seen the great Mississippi river breach its levies and flood a significant portion of this school district. The local rivers and tributaries have flooded the cropland and farmers have suffered. Matthew's father has a construction business and has felt the financial ramifications of this natural disaster. Always looking beyond the difficulties of life, Matthew has thrown himself into charitable activities and volunteer programs that help meet the needs of the community."

The flooding in Missouri may jeapordize this young man's financial ability to go to college.

I grew up in this small town with the odds against me. Through some sort of luck, I have been able to travel the world, have financial success, and enjoy many cultures. As fate would have it, old roots are hard to pull and I have come full circle - back to where it all started. I am trying to support a food culture that puts more money in the farmer's pockets so people like Matthew have the opportunity to reach their potential.

Age is a small price to pay for the maturity that allows me to see and count my blessings. I do, however, feel old when I think of how short life is and how much work there is to do in the development of a more socially just food system.

Does the food you eat support large giants like Monsanto, Kraft, and Cargill.. or is there a deeper story behind it?

I encourage you to make the family farm the story behind your food. In doing so, you support people like Matthew.

Cheers and Happy Eats!
Lucinda

After I go vegan, I'm going to eat the ducks.

When I was 10 years old, I started a list containing the things I wanted to do in my life. I titled it the "to experience" list. I occasionally add items to it ensuring that it is never ending.

Some items were on the list because I knew they were inevitable. If nothing good came of them, I could at least get the satisfaction of crossing them off my list. Such was the case with heartbreak and sorrow. Other items I thought would take some sort of planned effort, but instead happened rather randomly (like being on television or riding in a private plane). There are items that have taken effort, such as reading the entire Encyclopedia Britanica set.

At any rate, one of the items on my list is to be a vegan for a month. I know what you are thinking- I have a farm and its financial success depends partly on people eating meat. That is true, and I most definitely love meat. Pork, Beef, Lamb, Goat, and if my tender hearted brother wasn't so adamantly against it, I would eat the ducks my friend Janel gave us.

However, it is not the lack of meat that has me hesitant about crossing this item off my list, for I am a snobbish meat eater. I am used to/ and prefer good meat from animals given a life worthy of their sacrifice. I assure you there is a taste difference. Thus, when I travel I usually avoid eating meat.

The problem I am having with the idea of being a vegan is my dairy consumption. I am avid coffee drinker, and coffee just isn't right without a heavy dose of cream in it. Therefore, being a vegan would mean giving up coffee, which is not something I can do without dedication.

With all of that said, I am not one to shy away from something just because it takes sacrifice or seems too difficult. When I set my mind to something with a desire to devout my passion to it, I rarely fail.

With a few health issues, I have realized that a vegan diet may kill two birds with one stone. I can cross it off my list and have the possible side effect of better health. So.. here comes my passion.

I recognize that I can't be a vegan overnight, but I do have a plan. For the rest of March I will be taking a closer look at my meat and dairy consumption so I know where I stand. I will also be slowly switching to decaf coffee. In the month of April I will switch to herbal tea and eat no meat. Then, in May I will be completely vegan. During the month of June I might do the raw foods thing just for kicks.

After I have accomplished all of this, as the calender turns to July, for a reward I am going to eat the ducks no matter what my brother has to say about it.

This should be an interesting journey, and I will be sure to keep you all posted.

Peach trees don't grow on the beach.

It's a long dramatic story as to why, but today I took a purposeful trip down memory lane.

To aid in this en devour I imported my email from the past 8 years, and have been viewing picture books of my life over the years. While doing such, I stumbled on pictures of when I used to live on the beach in Florida.. out my door, around the corner and bam- on the beach! I also found emails I sent to my friends describing my apartment in D.C. In my basement was a bookstore, coffee shop, grocery store, and the metro - meaning I was not required to get out in the weather except by my own choosing.

I thought about all of this when I had to hike from the end of the driveway to the house because the snow makes it impossible to get in or out, and when I was putting wood in the fire that needs constant attention to keep from going out.

Of course the randomness of this post is not to wallow in the "used to be" or go on and on about how much this cold weather and snow is annoying me (as tempting as it may be). On the contrary, I just wanted to say thank you. .

Thank you to my brothers and the hired hand that allow me to "play" farmer and take all the credit while they do all the grunt work in this undesirable weather.

Thank you to all the farmers that don't have brothers or hired hands.

Thank you to the person that shoveled my gran's steps so I have a clear path to walk on when I visit her.

Thank you John Goode for having a green house full of beautiful herbs so I can have warm tea next to the fire.

And last but not least... thank you blogspot for allowing me to document this so in the summer when I am sitting under a shade tree eating a fresh peach I can remember to take the good with the bad and that peach trees don't grow on the beach or in the basement of a high rise!

Bits and Pieces

From Naturally Local: Life of a Foodie, Farmer, Free-Spirit and Activist

I had a post circulating in my head for two months about World Food Day (October 16th), but two weeks of visitors and a teething 7-month old baby has left my brain better for snippets. Do you ever have days, or perhaps entire weeks like that? You can read about some of the current (tip of the iceberg) issues on Food First's website.

Regarding Pigs
A call from Lucinda one evening, softly telling me on the phone that my pigs were on their way sparked my imagination. I saw darkness, heard the hushed whispers, the soft snorting and treading of pigs...of course, they weren't all my pigs, but as a meat-eater, I felt responsible for honoring all of them. I choose Barbara Kingsolver's term "harvest" when referring to the collection of animals for food. Someone told me that it was disrespectful to compare the sacrifice of animal creatures to eating salad. I disagree, as I have the same level of reverence for any vegetation I consume. That comes from gardening (sometimes fruitlessly!) and the knowledge that we share 40% of our DNA with lettuce, amongst other vegetables. 40%--how can you take a salad lightly after knowing that?

CFAF virus
The other day, I felt really tired. I wanted to eat strawberries. In November. In Missouri...right. And fresh peaches. And blueberries. I am quite sure that I caught the CFAF virus: craving far-away food virus. That is Far as in Distance and Far as in Spring-won't-be-here-for-several-months Far. "Blast this local food organic thing!" I shook my fist at the sky--or rather, my cracked ceiling--blast blast blast! And then I remember how fattening imported and non-organic food is--really, it has more calories! The energy to develop pesticides and fertilizers, create GMOs, ship produce from far off places like California, Ecuador, Hawaii and even South Africa--those strawberries probably have at least 5,000 calories each, if not more. Can you assign a caloric value to the infringement of human rights? I'm thinking the use of illegal immigrants and all its trappings. Methyl Bromide. Fruit bred to look more beautiful than it tastes (this is a reoccurring theme in food, as well as popular culture, no?) I see the face of a worker made ill because of chemicals use in this particular agriculture. I see the chemicals wash into the watershed, past homes with children playing in yards. Into the streams, rivers, aquifers and oceans. Ah, no thank you. I'll just wait. My impatience is gone. I'm cured!

In Season

Brussels sprouts were instant love for me. Or so I thought. I am a massive greens eater. If there are massive amounts of greens around, well...you get the picture. Have you ever had a chat with someone and found something somewhat familiar and thought you knew everything thing about it, come to find you were totally off? It's very human, and how we make connections, and why we have the ability (if we choose) to say, "Oh, I was soooo wrong about THAT! Excuse me! I thought I knew." Well, that is what I did to Mr. B. Sprouts.

I thought I knew Brussels Sprouts. What's not to recognize? They look like tiny cabbages--how hard can they be to cook? Not hard at all, provided that you don't treat them like a cabbage. That thing with apples and vinegar--not so good with brussels sprouts. Asian stir-fry? Possible, but not optimal. Now, a simple treatment where they are sliced in half and drizzled with oil and a sprinkling of salt and pepper...roasted for 25-35 minutes or until as tender as you like (I tend towards less rather than more time).

If you enjoy greens, these are better than french fries. Really!

Here's to real Autumn weather and real food!

I remember feeling cheated by fall as a kid. School was in full session, the city pools closed for the season, and paper pumpkins and autumn leaves adorned the open windows and doors of my classroom--doors and windows open because it was 93 degrees outside. It wasn't enough that the discord between the visual cues of decorative hay bales and swimming weather felt deceptive to my 8-year-old little brain, but that clothing stores also seemed to follow that same crazy logic. Gray wool trousers and button-down-shirts deemed as "in season clothing" didn't cut it in ice cream and watermelon weather, no matter what reality manufacturing and sales tried to apply.

In college, I had the same disappointing realization about food. Food, as I knew it at the time, was not what it seemed. To make a very long story short, an affair with A Tomato is what tipped me off. And who here hasn't experienced the disappointment of a supermarket tomato? Even worse, who here has but didn't know at the time to be disappointed? Always available, beautiful in the market with its shiny, taut skin and bright red color--what's not to love? Oh, the flavor. Does bland and grainy count as a flavor? But the store was selling the tomato. The signs said "delicious, vine-ripened tomatoes!" Nothing indicated that the tomato was bred to withstand shipping, rather than bred to taste delicious. Oh, but wait, it was suppose to be delicious. Delicious can be a relative term, but I think you have to draw the line at some point. Point being when the tomato doesn't taste like a tomato. And then there's the tomato's long drive across the country (California tomatoes in Missouri, in August!!). What was I paying for, really, and did any of it make sense?

That reality of not even knowing what we deserve from our food with regards to quality, source and safety is most disturbing to me. Our odds as informed and deserving consumers have improved over the past few years because of the recent surge of interest in the environment, obesity and food safety, but there is still that discrepancy between what authorities say our food is (safe? organic?) and our expectations (how safe is they're definition of safe? what does it mean to be labeled organic?) . This is why Lucinda, and farmers/food suppliers like Lucinda, are so important. They are the people who are there loading hogs at 3am for processing and can explain why happy pigs are so important just before they are harvested. They are the experts on the phone, constantly trying to find us a good deal with organic produce, and who can tell us "Hey, that peach, it's not so organic and here's why." Sometimes, they are the people who give us the answers to questions we never knew to ask. For them, transparency in growing practices is the rule, not the exception.

So, here I am. And who am I, you might ask? No one in particular, really. I was a customer of Clark's Organic Market for over a year before Lucinda "Went Farm." Like you, I'm here because I support Lucinda and her purpose, as well as enjoy the food she once distributed, and now grows. I thought it would be interesting to bring a consumer perspective, and admittedly, have my vicarious yearnings for my own farm (currently not a practical endeavor) addressed through real news and real experiences from the Clark Farm.

Here's to Autumn weather and real food! No fake tomatoes allowed!
Jennifer Basuel

This is a story, a story about a girl.

This girl was walking along the road marching to the beat of her own drum on the way to a place where farmers farmed, and people ate. A few people decided they liked where this girl was going so they followed her. Then one day, another group of people approached the girl and told her they were going to the same place, only they had a boat, and would be able to get there faster. So she decided to get her people together and get on their boat. It wasn’t that long into the journey on the boat that she realized that they weren’t going to the same place at all, so she confronted them. They did not deny that they were going somewhere else, but explained to her that she didn’t have a choice now that she was on the boat… because she couldn’t swim. So she did the only thing she knew to do - fight for her beliefs and control of the helm. However, in the end she was outmanned, out moneyed, and outmaneuvered and lost the battle. As punishment, they bound her, gagged her, and threw her overboard.

As she was fast sinking to the bottom of the water, stricken with grief over her inability to have seen them for what they were in the beginning, and ready to give up all hope.. the most amazing thing happened. A group of friends who had watched what had happened jumped in after her and pulled her ashore. She was bewildered as to why they would save her when she had inadvertently led them to evil, and lost the battle. They explained that they still needed to get to the place she was going, and she would need to find a new way.

So in the end the girl realized it was never a story about a girl, but a story of hope, friendship, and the ability, in times of trouble, to never give up..

One Among Many

Within a few hours all of you should get an email regarding the merge of Clark’s Organic Market and Door to Door Organics, and I wanted to let you know what this means for us as a community, and the part you all have played in it.

Clark’s Organic Market has evolved from a small storefront in Excelsior Springs, MO to a community of 300 strong making a difference in our community and our world. We are a testament that one joined together with many can affect the prosperity of all.

With all the saddening economic news, and political woes in our world, it is easy to push the topics of sustainability to the foreground even if those very topics are way out of the current situation we find ourselves in. However, we as a collective group have been able to forge ahead and stand up for the values we believe in. By purchasing organic products grown, made and produced by real people we have formed a coalition against big corporate farms that think because they have lots of money, cheap labor, and scientist in a lab coming up with concoctions to cut corners, that they can take over our food system. Instead we have stood behind the real people that understand that farming is hard work and they have a responsibility to the land we have borrowed from the next generation. We, as a group, have sent a message to Monsanto that we shall not allow them to remove the seeds our forbearers saved and cultivated for thousands of years from existence.

Together we have proved that when our government fails us, and gives subsidies to large corporate farms without regarding to the negative impacts they have on our world as a whole, that we will stand up for social justice by buying from our neighbors!

We have and will continue to create a culture of people that rewards hard work and stands behind real people, eating real food, produced in a sustainable way.

We will now be joined with Door to Door Organics owned by David Gersenson, the son of a midwife, father of 2 year old Shiloh, and husband of a lovely lady named Theresa. With this joint venture we will be able to give our customers more bang for their buck so good food will be available across more economic classes. We will be able to leverage our buying power of customers based across the country to stand behind the “little guy.”

Without you, I would be one standing alone, but instead I am one among many, and for that you will have my enduring gratitude.

With sincere appreciation.
Lucinda Clark

New Year's resolution

New Years brings a time of reflection and a time of planning for the year to come. I normally don’t set New Year’s resolutions, but this year I am.

My resolution is, excluding necessities like toilet paper, food, and toothpaste, to buy nothing new. As many of you know, I have a book obsession, but unless I can find it used I am not buying it. Of course with EBay and Amazon this should be an easy task… but since I want a real challenge my secondary resolution is not to buy from EBay or Amazon.

Oh, this should be fun!

A Time of Reflecting:
You have heard it said before that great joy is not known without great sadness, and no more apparent is that to me than around the holidays.
When we were younger the happiest times were holidays, not for the presents, but for the joy. My father would get a little carried away with the decorations, putting Christmas ornaments on the curtains, and one year painting the dining room red for the season. When we went to Gran’s on Christmas Day he would say that if the bread (That I think my mother made) was good then he made it, and if it was bad then Clint (my oldest brother) made it. Both of which – wonderful cooks, or at the very least, adventurous.

One year I asked for a real baby for Christmas, and was convinced that Santa was capable of bringing whatever I really really wanted (as long as it didn’t cost too much). This was the year I learned there was no Santa, which I was only too happy to share this new found information with my friends, especially my dear friend Katerina. Oh the scandal!

After my father took his own life, my family went through some rather dark times, with my mother being left to care for 6 children. The holidays just weren’t the same without dad, and I remember her holding back the tears on the first Christmas without him, for which I think some of my mother’s friends pitched in together to buy our Christmas presents.

However, now we are grown and we (my siblings and I), as adults, have decided to make the holidays happy again. Our children laugh and play, and don’t get overloaded with presents, because we know what true happiness consists of - togetherness. Two years ago I finally got that baby I wanted for Christmas, when Fiona was born – Santa really does exist!!! When Scott and I moved backed to Missouri, Scott started going with me to Christmas Eve church service (only fair since I celebrate Hanukkah with him), and then we go to Katerina’s grandmother’s house (Katerina passed away in 2001), and she puts up a tree just for Fiona and I. Last year, we shed a few tears when reminiscing about Katerina, but Fiona started playing with a dancing Santa and we started smiling. Children really do make the holidays wonderful, and happiness is a choice. Joy has returned to Christmas, may you all share in it!

Food Impacts on Society as a Whole

For my first blog I would like to discuss the underlying impacts of food on society as a whole. If we take a closer look we will find that food is not just for physical nourishment, but is fundamental in the emotional, spiritual, religious, and economic aspects of our lives.

I can assure you that Ryan, my cousin and self proclaimed noodle expert, can’t remember what he was given for Christmas 2 years ago, but will be able to, in detail, discuss the quality of grandma’s noodles. Furthermore, when asked what the most tragic Christmas event in our family history is, you will be spared the trouble of hearing about what so and so said about such and such, but rather will be told about the year we had store bought rolls. Oh – the emotional letdown! This is because food can shape our thoughts, and emotions toward a particular event. You have heard this underlying theme many times- “don’t eat for emotional comfort, comfort food, eating for sadness, food as a crutch.” This is how food plays a part in our emotions, or rather - emotions can play a part in what foods we eat.

Spiritual- Think about it- the “original sin” is centered around food; the Last Supper has such a spiritual significance. Most religious holidays are centered around certain foods, or the abstaining thereof.

Economic – the cost of our food, which is rising, plays a important role in our country’s economy. Our society’s success is, or at least should be, marked by our ability to feed our less fortunate. If you take a look at struggling economies you will see at the root of the problem is starvation, and lack of quality food. This is a building block of a good economy. If you don’t eat, you can’t concentrate, and if you can’t concentrate you can’t be productive at your job that contributes to your economy.

Political- If we take a look at history, we will find many wars fought about food. Do we really think that big oil is the driving force of current wars? Maybe- but that oil is used in our cars to take us to work to make money to feed our family. That oil is used to fuel manufacturing plants that “manufacture” food, or in transportation vehicles that are used to move our food from far off lands to our local grocery stores. Every time there is a major change in our food thought, there is major political might used to stop or move forward with that thought. Take a look at what Wal- mart lobbyist have managed to do in lowering the standards of organic so they can import from places like China. Regulation is another form of politics that has shown its face in the food world- regulation of raw milk, mandating that all almonds in the United States be pasteurized, yet still allowing them to be labeled as “raw.”

So how can we make a difference? Well, you already are. When you create real food, from real ingredients, you allow your family to understand where a meal comes from, and can have a sense of accomplishment that can only come from food that wasn’t manufactured in a lab. By eating food grown in an organic way, you are eating food that has not been made by man, but rather man has been a steward of the land and plants, which produce it. By eating local, you help remove the need for political intervention. Meaning – there is no need for farm to table tracking at the grocery store- if you, as a consumer, take the time to get to know where your food comes from. I can tell you, who grew every piece of produce in our boxes. That is us, as consumers, being proactive without the need for big government. Eating local foods also reduces the need for oil; the average piece of produce at the grocery store travels 1500 miles to get to you. Local food in your produce box travels less than 200, with the majority of it coming from a 50 mile radius. Also, by ordering what we need on a weekly basis, we reduce waste. Think about all that food at the local grocery store that goes bad, how many hungry families could that feed? Do we really have a supply problem in the world of food, or do we have a logistical problem, of supply, demand, and waste?

I would love to hear thoughts and ideas on these issues.