PIRATES!

tyrone power, gene kelly, those of penzance, johnny depp...
who doesn't love pirates? part swashbuckler, part lost boy pirates epitomize the coloring outside the box, gusto life we secretly dream about. yo, ho, ho and ...
juxtaposed against this sword-wielding fantasy pirate are the terrorists-on-boats, the somali pirates of late.
the movies sort of present pirates as guys just making a living under different terms. can't see yourself in a suit and tie? don't like to be tied down to a desk? then maybe an eye patch and wooden leg are just the ticket.
in the stark reality of last week, these modern day somali pirates aren't just looking for booty. they are lawless, life-hating terrorists. with the twisted reasoning of a death-culture mind, they attack an u.s. ship filled with relief supplies, kidnap the captain, hold an AK-57 at his head, threaten the crew and then complain when we choose to save our own. we have now become their worst #1 enemy for caring about the life of our citizens. would they have sent us valentines if we had just cooperated? told us we "were the best" for handing over our ship and all of its goods?
not likely. making a show of their terror is pretty high on their list. like an old worn out chant, the u.s. again becomes the #1 enemy of someone. so interesting is it all, that nearly everywhere i look in my town, there are somalis shopping, working and benefiting from being in the united states. sucking the #1 enemy's teat dry and eschewing assimilation is o.k.-- but it is not o.k. for the u.s. to do the basic job of government-- protect its citizens from attack.
it is all so tiring.
other governments can protect their own, we can't protect ours. other governments can put limits on immigration, ours can't. other governments can reject this or that because it doesn't benefit them, we can't. the u.s. is hog-tied by its skewed desire to be accepted by the worse bullies on the block.
we don't feel safe.
our enemies feel just fine.
i used to love pirates. aaargh, matey! now it has become another avenue of oppression.
where's my parrot?

so...
i get regular emails from peaceful company. my connection with peaceful company began when i was researching a source for discounted organic skin care products. they sold a variety of "lifestyle" products for the organically-minded individual. i guess this last year was the kicker for them-- they decide to liquidate their inventory and switch to being "consultants". they now recommend stuff instead of sell it and they produce a daily or so newsletter. always the latent hippie, i subscribed.
today's lifestyle advice was this-- calorie restriction is the road to a longer life.
i've heard of this before. it kind of gets lumped in with those who eat only raw diets or hang upside down. now, oprah's dr. oz says this may allow people to live to 150 years old!
apparently, when your body isn't busy processing that 12 oz porterhouse, it can devote its energy to maintaining you. the message here is: you chubby pig, you need to learn to eat to live not live to eat!!

oh well. this message will fall on deaf (or unwilling) ears. i really don't have a desire to live to 150. the photos of these calorie-thrifty folks show bone-thin (as in not an ounce of fat!), craggy-faced trimsters with the stern expressions of the pleasure deprived. seriously, this isn't envy. although there has been no time in my history that i could be described as bone-thin, the attraction to these long-livers just isn't there. neither robust, nor ruddy, curvy or built, they look like the ultra-disciplined folk they must be. how do they interact with their less disciplined calorie-indulged peers?
do they attend dinners chez friends? do they tote their own organic, reusable, recycled parcel filled with apple peels and 2 oz of walnuts? while others are eating their foie gras, oysters and butter basted blackfish, do they discreetly pull out their nibbles from their laps? does anyone notice they aren't eating? or do they only socialize with similars to themselves? maybe they don't ever focus any social situation around food. how do they do that?
every important thing in our lives is punctuated with food. holidays, weddings, graduations, love, death--- they all have food associations. we eat together as a sign of our hospitality to strangers, to show peace and acceptance, to congratulate, to love, to nourish, to respect.

this strange withdrawal from food seems to be an off-kilter withdrawal from life. so why live to experience 150 years of it?
maybe this is an old battle of quality over quantity. or maybe i find no magic in just existing for an extended number of years if those years are filled with this anal approach of counting out my 1600 calories of berries and nuts.

unfortunately in these people's eyes, i view food as art. placed on this earth with this huge array of beauty, it seems sacreligious to ignore it. the pleasure a beautiful dish provides raises our spirits, nourishes our souls, draws us together. we may have polar opposite views on politics, religion or how to raise babies, but we all can agree on a great pasta. it is our connective thread, our coca-cola, our kum-by-ya.

i was thinking these people have an approach to food similar to an animal-- survival only. but even my darling brown dogs know the pleasure of a snack. if they were the aesthetics like these folks, that bowl of dry chow would suffice. but, their noses scout out that pizza bit or tasty chicken morsel. they submit themselves to doing tricks even for these delights. that's how wonderful and happy they make them!

i won't live to 150 years old. this is obvious by my dismissal of this all. i really don't want to kick the bucket due to a heart attack or some other food-related death by butter, either. there is a balance here. i would like to find it.

my dad had adult onset diabetes. he was "supposed" to monitor his intake of this and that and always lived with the shadow of this over his head. later on he developed cancer. a swift-moving take it all cancer that gave him only a handful of time to live. at that point, his doctor said he needn't bother with watching his diet. (duh) but at that point, he had lost his sense of taste. it all tasted bitter to him, so it didn't matter if you gave him a milkshake or a handful of berries, they all tasted bad. he stopped eating. this meant he was dying.

so, we take life with the passion our days give us. we eat and enjoy. we moderate and exercise. our pleasures appreciated for what they offer, we don't know if we have tomorrow.

for all we know, mr. restricted calorie man may get hit by a car while he is out jogging. so much for berries.