SUMMER RED
June in upstate New York means fresh locally grown strawberries. We lived in a city, a small one that is still the county seat, but it was really more of a small town—surrounded by farm land. My mother never let me forget that when I returned home one time, perhaps from college, I commented on how rural the area was. In years to come, she’d kid me about “rural” Auburn.
Auburn is also only a few miles from Owasco Lake. Owasco is one of the smaller Finger Lakes, but yet, it is 11 miles long, cold and deep (177 feet deep at its maximum). You hoped by the 4th of July that not only would the sweet corn by ripe for picking, but that the lake would be warm enough to swim. Warm enough here meant something a tad above frigid.
The region was dotted with farm stands and everyone had his personal favorite. Come June, my father would frequently stop at one on his way home from work . He’d arrive, through the front door, smiling and proudly bearing the first quarts of local berries. Dessert would be strawberry shortcake, and that was my mother’s sign to quickly whip up a batch of biscuits. In our house, shortcake meant biscuits, none of those wimpy, sweet patty shells for this family, but freshly baked, sometimes still warm, flaky biscuits.
One of us girls, or “you girls,” as my mother would say, would be assigned the task of hulling the berries. At dessert time the biscuits were split down the middle, perhaps a pat of butter added, and then the berries, sliced and slightly crushed, would be ladled on top. The combo of the sweet berries juicy on the pastry was the essence of early summer. On rare occasions a dollop of vanilla ice cream added a bit of indulgence.
Now we can buy strawberries all year round and live not far from Florida’s commercial strawberry fields. Strawberries are no longer special, but my memory of the first strawberry shortcake of the season is.
NOVEL OF THE WEEK
Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi. How do you tell the story of the subjugation of blacks in 18th and 19th century Ghana midst centuries of tribal warfare? How do you trace the history of slavery in America from Africa to the American South to the present day? Born in Ghana and raised in Huntsville, Alabama, Ms. Gyasi has created a rich and memorable novel that only broadly sketches the big picture and instead focuses on the six succeeding generations of two half-sisters both born in Ghana.
One branch of the family stays in Ghana for many years before coming to the U.S.; the other is enslaved on Southern plantations through the Civil War and then becomes part of the Great Migration to Harlem. Each chapter in this novel is about a different individual at a certain point in time; each is an imperfect human, seeking to craft a life. Gyasi is sympathetic, never judgmental, and the result is that frailty, love, hate, conviction, and strength are interwoven throughout. This is a remarkable first novel! For more about how she approached writing it, here’s her conversation with Slate.
RAINBOW COLORS
This weekend is the annual date for several large Gay Pride parades—New York and San Francisco to name two. In 1978, I attended the American Library Association conference in San Francisco. This was not the first ALA I had attended, but it was the first time I visited that city. ALA’s summer conference was typically over the last weekend in June and so it overlapped with SF’s Gay Pride parade on Sunday. Going to and from meetings at various conference hotels, it was almost impossible to avoid crossing Market Street and encountering the parade. Sheltered and probably somewhat naïve, I was stunned, transfixed, and a bit shocked by this boisterous and colorful display of costumes and flesh. It was my first experience of that aspect of gay culture.
Fast forward twenty or more years. The Chief Penguin and I were part of the diverse sidewalk throng enjoying New York’s Gay Pride parade and soaking up the vibe. Advance another few years and we ended up living in San Francisco. SF’s inclusiveness was apparent on many fronts and we were proud of our own very diverse workplace, the California Academy of Sciences. We have seen great progress with more legal protection from gender discrimination, greater acceptance of gays, and the right to marry whomever you choose. And yet, we had the tragedy in Orlando.
The American Library Association, an organization that has advocated for library services here and around the world since 1876 with a core value of social responsibility and the public good, is this year holding its summer conference in Orlando. That seems very right.
Header photo: 2013-11-Fresh-Strawberry-Fruit-Wallpaper.jpg
