Butter and Onions

At the grocery store this past week, the cashier asked if she should pack the pork loin in a separate bag. "You know...contamination," she continued, "I'm a child of the eighties, after all."

"Well," I said, "I'm a child of the fifties. If the meat looked slimy, we rinsed it off. If it still looked slimy, we fried it in butter, and if it smelled funny, we added onions."

We both laughed.

But what I said wasn't a joke. It was the way it was. The memories of fried onion and bologna sandwiches remind me that food was never just about nutrition. It was about making do and making sure no one went hungry.

My parents grew up during the Great Depression, when wasting food simply wasn’t an option. In our house, leftovers—questionable or not—were eaten without hesitation, and none of us kids ever got sick from it. Back in the 1950s, we didn’t talk much about germs, handwashing, or cross-contamination. Those concepts hadn’t yet made their way into everyday kitchens.

When I was growing up, most food was homemade. In the decades that followed, processed and packaged foods became available. I remember when my parents purchased TV dinners for the first time. "Not as good as your mother's cooking and kind of skimpy," was Dad's response.

But convenience came in many forms.

A Scranton drive-thru, which we enjoyed on a rare trip to the city, featured hamburgers for a quarter. To my youthful surprise, Dad could eat four of them! The fast food culture brought concerns about reduced nutritional quality, but unlike frozen dinners, fast food was acceptable to my parents.

Times have changed, and so have our habits. Nowadays, conversations center around plant-based diets, organic foods, sustainability, food allergies, gut health, and cultural cuisines. We may live in a world of hand sanitizer and expiration dates, but somewhere deep down, I still believe a little butter and a few onions can fix almost anything.

The Case for Cursive

I thank my grade school teachers for the compliments I've received over the years on my handwriting. I remember forming the letters of the alphabet into curves and magically joining the letters. I recall being mystified by the capital Q. As a teenager, I developed a signature that strayed a bit from the style we were taught in grade school. I printed the capital "J" and then wrote the "udy" in cursive. I've kept the style for over 50 years.

Imagine my surprise when I learned cursive is no longer taught in the classroom! I'm told that it's been a couple of decades since cursive was part of the curriculum. So I did some research to discover that there wasn’t a single moment when cursive vanished from classrooms—it was more of a gradual retreat. Here's what I learned:

Early 2000s: Cursive began to decline as schools shifted focus toward standardized testing and digital literacy.

2010: The introduction of the Common Core State Standards marked a major turning point. These standards, adopted by 41 states, did not include cursive handwriting as a required skill, leading many schools to drop it from their curriculum.

Post-2010: Keyboarding and digital communication took center stage. With limited classroom time, many educators prioritized typing over penmanship.

The fun thing about cursive is that, although we learn the basics—how to make a capital "M" or a lowercase "g"—we eventually adapt the art into a unique style that becomes our signature. Mom's penmanship was all loops and swirls while Dad had a tighter control of the pen with pointed corners and straight lines. I am happy I thought to save some samples of their penmanship. But cursive writing isn’t just about styles—it actually activates the brain in ways that typing doesn’t. Here's what the research shows:

What Happens in the Brain When You Write in Cursive

Enhanced Brain Connectivity: Writing by hand—especially in cursive—stimulates more complex neural activity than typing. EEG studies show that cursive activates widespread brain regions, especially those tied to memory and learning.

Improved Memory Encoding: Cursive writing synchronizes brain waves in the theta range (4–7 Hz), which are crucial for encoding new information. This primes the brain for deeper learning.

Boosted Fine Motor Skills: The fluid motion of cursive demands precise hand movements, which strengthen motor coordination and spatial awareness.

Better Retention and Comprehension: Students who take notes in cursive tend to retain information better than those who type. The act of forming letters by hand engages visual, motor, and cognitive processes simultaneously.

Since 2016, a resurgence began, and as of 2024, 25 states have reintroduced cursive instruction into public schools, citing benefits like improved brain development and historical literacy. Washington does not require cursive writing instruction statewide, but individual school districts may choose to teach cursive, and some do—especially in early grades or as part of handwriting development.

I’ll continue to believe that cursive is worth learning—even in a world full of other ways to write.

September isn't just a month--it's a mindset

Monarch Pass, Colorado September

Let me begin with a quote that captures the quiet magic of this month: “September tries its best to have us forget summer.” – Bernard Williams.

There’s something bittersweet about September. It’s not loud with excitement and energy like July or with sparkle and shine like December. It whispers. It reminds us that change is approaching—and change can inspire personal reflection.

In the Northern Hemisphere, September marks the end of summer and the beginning of autumn. The days grow shorter, the air turns crisp, and trees begin their slow, spectacular transformation. Leaves shift from green to gold, amber, and crimson—nature’s final fireworks before winter’s hush.

September teaches us that slowing down doesn’t mean stopping—it means preparing. Families switch into school mode. Farmers begin their harvest. Animals start their migration or gather food for the colder months.

September is a quieter month. The rush of summer fades, and the frenzy of the holidays hasn’t yet begun. There’s time to think. To breathe.

I’ve always found September to be a time of clarity--my 'chill' month. It’s when I take stock of my goals, reconnect with my values, and prepare for the final stretch of the year. For me, it’s about recalibration.

So what is September, really? It’s a month of balance, of beauty, of quiet transformation. Observe the changes that surround you each day. Be reminded that change doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful.

As we move through this month, I invite you to let go of what no longer serves you. And prepare, with purpose, for what’s to come.