Finding Joy In Work The Jimmy Way

With a sound track, life is more fun. Thanks to Avi Nahum for this photo.

I want to love my job as much as Jimmy Fallon loves his. From the very first chord of music by The Roots to the spring in his bounding step across the stage, Jimmy projects joy and excitement for what he gets to do next.  It doesn’t matter whether the excitement comes from the name or prestige of his guests or the show’s latest goofy game, Fallon brings the energy of a teenager topped off with wise good humor. What’s not to love?

At the beginning of the year, I wasn’t too sure about the shift from Jay to Jimmy. After all, Jay had been the guy who entertained and accompanied me through the late nights of most of my parenting life to that point. He provided a much-needed humorous perspective when the current affairs of the era weren’t so funny. Profound political stalemates that ensured nothing is accomplished for this country’s future? “Mission accomplished” for a couple of wars whose missions remain unclear? Largest depressing recession in our lifetime? Jay got me through all of those with his somewhat sardonic perspective on human behavior.

I was used to him. He was comfortable. He was predictable and I really loved his Jay Walking segment as it answered the “why” behind so many of the unfunny issues of our times.  So as his tenure ticked away, and we moved towards the end of the show itself in LA, I was sad.

Would Jimmy prove to be another Conan, a comedian whose humor leaves me cold? In other words, would I get Jimmy’s humor? More importantly, would he provide much-needed relief from the serious issues of our times in a way that was meaningful to my demographic?  

After all, my demographic is tough.

For nearly fifty years, the entire U.S. economy has been geared to our every desire, anticipating our interests, and ensuring we know that the products and services of our consumer society have been developed, designed, indeed created to fulfill our every need whether we knew that was our desire or not.  My demographic is at the top of the bell curve of the Baby Boom – that big bolus of Americans that has defined much of our culture for a long time. This major shift in nighttime television, made it appear we no longer ruled.

And now I know that there is no need to worry any more. Jimmy is perfect with The Tonight Show franchise. It’s not that his humor is better or that his writers are stronger or that his guests are more attractive. No. What’s perfect about Jimmy is that he loves what he’s doing so much that it oozes out of the screen. His sheer joy at talking with people, asking questions, hearing their answers is something I can feel and see. And there’s nothing my demographic needs more than someone who loves his work as much as Jimmy does.

We are, after all, the generation who will never retire. We don’t want to. We would be bored and many of us have been lucky enough to do meaningful work that doesn’t require hard physical labor, so why retire?  But not all of us have the level of sheer joy demonstrated by Jimmy in his daily job. We want that, though.

So I will watch Jimmy Fallon and try to learn from his projected happiness. So far, I’ve learned that I need a theme song to welcome me to my computer each morning. Suggestions? 

Memories & Smells

Braided challah for Rosh Hashanah, photo from Cindy Witkin.

The smell of fresh baked bread is the last to pile on to the lingering smells of cooking coming from the kitchen this week. We’re preparing for a holiday, and that always takes more preparation than your normal meal – recipes with added steps, and added recipes as well.

There are overtones of cinnamon and ginger along with saffron and oil. There is the smell of apples with brown sugar and crunchy oats, and there’s smoky tomato bisque beneath it all. And then, there’s the bread – yeasty and crusty all at the same time.

With each of the smells come personal memories: fresh baked bread takes me back to my semester abroad in Venice with its bakery on the corner sending irresistibly magnetic scents into the neighborhood; cinnamon and ginger simmering with the chicken takes me to Uncle Harry’s apartment in Tangier where Fatima measured all in the palm of her hand; and baking apple crisp takes me to my mother’s kitchen in Ohio in the early fall.

As I consider my memories in the approach to this holiday of reflection and remembering, it occurs to me that the scents from this kitchen will create memories for my children. In thirty years, what will trigger their memories of tonight? Will it be the special bubbly wine that will spark recall of toasts and laughter? Will the future smell of tomato soup bring them back to this evening? Or will it be the Moroccan spices of b’stilla that trigger memories of gathering with their family?

I can’t know, as those memories will belong to my children. My job now is merely to create the smells and prepare for the gathering so that whatever is remembered is meaningful and good.

L’Shana Tovah to all!

The Ritual of Dining at the Table

My handsome Uncle Wayne and family at a Thanksgiving table in the late 1940s.

It begins with the choice of cloth or no cloth. Placemats or polished bare surface? And we build from there.

The plates centered with the chairs and turned just so, ensuring the pattern is pleasing and consistent. Then it’s the silverware or stainless – knife edges pointing into the plates with soup spoons on the outside, if indeed soup is on the menu.

Positioning of the forks has changed over the years with dessert forks positioned at the top of the plates and a recognition that now salads are usually part of the main plate, meaning only one fork to the left of the plate along with a crisply folded napkin.

Ah, the napkin. We usually default to the nice silky paper large dinner napkins now. Who has time on a regular basis to wash, iron and fold linen any more? But every now and then, for a special occasion or really special guests, the linen comes out adding an extra bit of grace to the table.

Then we move to glassware. Water glasses aligned with the point of the knives with wine glasses to the right. That is the step that involves use of a damp cloth to eliminate the evidence of spots of water from prior use.

No longer do we automatically include coffee cups beside every plate as customs do change, although the little-used cups remain available just in case.

Finally the serving pieces are selected that will both contain the dish to be served as well as enhance the appearance of the table itself; bowls for rice, potatoes, vegetables and platters for meats or fish. And we can’t forget the small savories – the olives, pickles, or spiced additions that spark up the meal.

This is the calming ritual that sets the stage – or sets the altar – for the most important business of life – gathering of family and friends at the table for a shared meal. 

Is this merely a memory from the 1940s when the photo above was taken? On most nights in our home, meals take place over the kitchen sink or around the kitchen island at best. More likely evening food is consumed in front of a television after a day of errands or workouts or conference calls. 

But every now and again – usually on Friday nights or for holidays or guests – the ritual is performed once more, linking me to my mother, my aunts and my grandmother, and I realize the power of this eminently feminine ceremony. By setting the altar-table of our home, inviting a gathering of people to share in a meal, we are building and deepening the very relationships that provide the true meaning in life. As my father always said, life’s meaning is found in the interaction of people – talking, laughing, and sharing an activity. And what is more intimate than people sharing conversation over a meal served at a table arranged with caring attention? 

School Start Flashbacks

I've never met a September that didn't bring with it a somewhat overwhelming desire to buy school supplies and one brand spanking new outfit. Although I'm long past the days of jumping in the car pool to school or walking across the quad on campus, there's something about my midwest origins that values the rituals my mother instilled from an early age.

When I was young, a new school year meant a trip to the big city of Columbus for a shopping trip at Lazarus department store. There was one new pair of shoes, and a whole new outfit - a skirt, blouse, and some form of jacket or sweater. It was a really big deal to have just the right new outfit for that first day of school because it set the tone for the whole year. For my mom, it was all about first impressions making the difference between a good and bad year.

And I carried that practice forward to my children. Towards the end of summer, we would schedule a trip to go downtown to Dayton's, when Minneapolis still had a Dayton's. There we would pick out new school clothes and have lunch upstairs with other mothers and their kids, but mostly with The Ladies Who Lunch. There was always a large number of Ladies Who Lunch at Dayton's.

A few times the kids were in no mood to go school shopping in August. In Minnesota, it was State Fair time and that event takes precedence over anything else in the state. But I have always had a limit to how much time I can spend at the Fair without suffering Fair Overload - so having the diversion of Back to School Shopping was great for me. And after inflicting this ritual on my children year in and year out, they now show signs of harboring the same September sensibilities as I do.

It's at this time of year when my daughter will say she needs new pens, pencils, or markers. Why? Has she suddenly lost all writing utensils in her apartment? Not at all. It's simply the idea that a new pen marks a new beginning - the opportunity to puts words on paper with a steady stream of ink. New markers bring fresh color to the palette of the page. And there's nothing better than a newly sharpened pencil with an eraser that's never seen lead.

Is this just a phenomenon for me and my family, or do others find that September brings with it a sense of the possible in the future, filled with memories of fresh starts?

And so it begins...

It is fun to be part of America's baby boom generation, that great aging mass of people that has dictated trends and entire industries due to our perceived needs and consumer desires.  We remain the largest generation born in this country, and still make up 25 percent of the population. Yes, our preferences will determine elections for the next few cycles and we can sway entire business sectors. Multi-billion dollar health and fitness industries?  Take out pre-prepared meals, anyone?

With the youngest boomers now turning 50 and the leading edge heading towards 70, we remain committed to ensuring 50 is the new 30 and 70 is the new 40 - collapsing that twenty year span into a decade. (Math never being a strong suit for us.)

It's the pursuit of purpose, meaning - and some income - now that will drive the next chapter for most of us.  Retirement, as defined by our parents and grandparents, involving shuffleboard, cards, and interminable golf games is not what most of us are seeking.

What I see are people seeking to give back by getting teaching credentials to go back into public schools or who are volunteering to share business advice with budding entrepreneurs. And there are those pursuing more creative pursuits - new artists, new craftsmen, and yes, more writers that will emerge with expression and voices honed by experience.  

It's about aging with a goal to matter while we're here, and Stunning In Silver is about sharing the stories as well as the reflections of our generation.