Resilience

Controversial Gnocchi

Busy two weeks: Discovered we had termites, Toya had an emergency appendectomy (she is doing fine), and my car was stolen. We’re still doing better than Drake.  

Let’s all agree it is a strange time to be alive. Especially for us late-stage Gen X’ers who came of age after the conflict and controversy of the Vietnam War. My formative years were defined by The Day After, the Cold War, the Challenger accident (great WaPo essay here) and, well, MTV. All to say, in the 1980s, culture was a thing, but it wasn’t the thing.

That changed when I got to college and the politics of California’s Propositions 187 and 209 brought the culture wars into stark relief. Things have steadily escalated since then.

So, imagine you are a college student now. While the Obama years offered a glimpse of a hopeful future, between Covid, a roller coaster economy and our divided society, one is hard pressed to find an adult who isn’t angry at another adult. Which makes it easy for youth to be angry at adults who are making decisions about their future – or the future of young people around the world.

Back in November, I referenced a New York Times Guest Essay by Damon Linker that introduced us to, “A coalition of intellectual catastrophists on the American right.” The catastrophists aren’t only on the right. All of us, young or old, are surrounded by apocalyptic narratives. Wherever you look, you find there is no lack of ways for the world – or at least one’s ability to thrive in the world – to come to a shuddering halt. Even if, economically, we are doing okay; or even better than okay.

In fact, “Polling shows that nearly 80 percent of Americans are generally satisfied with their personal lives,” writes the Washington Post’s Reis Thebault and Hannah Natanson. “Yet roughly the same share is dissatisfied with the direction the country is headed.”

A vibe that isn’t confined to the US.

In France, the New York Times’ Roger Cohen offers that the European Union elections will lead to, “A party that is nationalist, xenophobic and Islamophobic may well emerge reinforced — accepted, legitimized and eminently electable to high office in a way that would have been unthinkable even a decade ago.”

And, some 30 years after Nelson Mandela emerged from prison to lead South Africa, The Economist reports that, “Most South Africans say they are dissatisfied with democracy and would ditch elected governments if an autocrat could do a better job.” 

In other words, it just doesn’t feel like a great time to have your entire life ahead of you. The stories that surround us make it seem like the decisions the world makes in the coming years will have massive repercussions for future generations. How does a world this angry make smart decisions?

If I was writing this in the BBG times, I could be Cranky Ali – generally dismissive, but with a bit of a wit. Now, with Baby Girl walking, talking, and generally carrying on, Cranky Dad runs the risk of becoming Angry Dad. Which I guess is our problem.

As us adults navigate the fog of cultural conflict, our crankiness becomes an anger that has an effect on our families, our relationships, the way our kids see the world.

Look, I know it is going to be a fine line between being cranky and being angry. Especially, as Anisa gets older, and I begin to experience how the world takes things away from her and her generation. Toya and I will try to give Anisa everything she deserves. But it won’t always work out that way.

In the end, I am not worried about Anisa’s resilience.

I am more worried about mine.

“I Wove You.”

As noted above, Anisa is now walking, talking and generally carrying on. While she has more emotions than words (just like her father), every day just gets more amazing.

In the mornings, Baby Girl wakes with a smile on her face and proceeds to run back and forth from her room to ours, giggling and jabbering away. Every time I ask her, “Did you sleep well?” she pauses and always replies, “No.”

(I didn’t ask if I slept well, Anisa.)

During the day, we go to parks, grocery stores and, as of late, walks up and down the street as if she was the mayor. One day we went to the Oakland Museum and she walked from exhibit to exhibit proclaiming, “WOWWW!” And, on Saturday’s we go to tumbling class.

Off to tumbling class

Depending on the afternoon’s nap cadence (hers, not mine), dinner can be a battle of wills.

See, as some of you may know, I have a slight stubborn streak. Very slight. Which means I will make Anisa a nice dinner of salmon, rice, some carrots – and expect her to enjoy every bite. Of course, she duly ignores the food I put in front of her.

As I implore Baby Girl to eat the meal I have prepared, she says, with a wave of the hand, “No.” I pretend to take a bite of food from her plate, hoping to trick her into wanting what I am eating. The wave of the hand is joined by a shake of the chin, “No.”

All the while, Toya watches, waits and smiles through the battle of the wills.

I give up on the prepared meal and start pulling anything edible out of the refrigerator. Out of pity for her father, Anisa sprinkles an occasional “Yes” among many an adorable “No.”

Spirit broken, I eventually give up and start washing dishes. At which point Anisa starts to happily eat from her mother’s plate the exact meal I originally prepared.  Defeated, I take Baby Girl’s little fork and rubber suction plate and glumly eat the cold leftovers that are now seasoned with a touch of baby saliva. 

Then, “Vaminos,” and Anisa is crawling up the stairs with me and a bottle following close behind. Bath, pajamas and, sometimes, a quick story. Then the best part.

I gently put Baby Girl into the crib, she grabs her earless giraffe and says, “Night, night.”

“Night, night, Baby,” I tell her, “I love you.”

And she replies with, “I wove you.”

Which, let’s be honest, is crushingly cute.

As I sit here with the runny nose and scratchy cough I’ve had for months, I realize Anisa is communicating more than what she is saying. She is actually telling me, “Daddy, I wove you so much that I will make sure you have a low grade cold for most months of the year because you are kind enough to eat my leftovers.”

Love you too, Baby Girl.

Things to Read

Let me begin with a quick disclaimer: I am terribly behind on my reading. Which means my recommendations are based on the growing pile of books on my desk and papers in my inbox. I’m blaming NBA Playoff season.

• Ray Suarez is out with an oral history, We are Home: Becoming American in the 21^st Century. As luck would have it, I am interviewing Ray for an online event at the SF Commonwealth Club on May 13^th at noon PT. Information here.  

• A colleague and friend, Amy Low, was diagnosed with Stage IV metastatic colon cancer – not news that lends itself to many years. Miraculously, Amy has lived four years with since that diagnosis. And, along the way, Amy put pen to paper and her book, The Brave In-Between: Notes from the Last Room, is out soon. Pre-order straight away.

• My brilliant friend, Elizabeth Neumann, wrote a banger of a book, Kingdom of Rage: The Rise of Christian Extremism and the Path Back to Peace. Elizabeth is wicked ‘smaht. Read the book. Full stop.  

• Over at the Roosevelt Institute, Shahrzad Shams, Deepak Bhargava, Harry W. Hanbury authored a new report, The Cultural Contradictions of Neoliberalism: The Longing for an Alternative Order and the Future of Multiracial Democracy in an Age of Authoritarianism. Not many are pushing at the assumptions of economic thought.

Controversial Gnocchi

People (so many people) have been asking if I am still cooking. Well, yes, yes I am. So, I tried my hand at making gnocchi with an asparagus sauce.

There are definitely things I would do differently. But, for a first attempt, I was pleased with the results. The gnocchi were plump, the sauce solid, the presentation presentable.

Once I posted a video of my shenanigans, a friend reached out and said, “I’d like to request some version of that next time I come.” Which was unlike him because it was a borderline nice comment. Reverting to form, he followed with, “Let me return to regular programming and ask if you made the gnocchi too big.”

Since he is Cuban and I wasn’t making a ham sandwich, I ignored him like Anisa ignores my cooking.

Then, “the daughter of a 100% Sicilian” reached out with a very helpful (and legit) suggestion: “I would like to suggest cutting the gnocci a little smaller next time and sear them in a teaspoon of olive oil before blanching. Much better with a slight buttery crunch.”

Recommendations and requests welcome.