"Restore Default Settings?"

Most of us, I think, like to believe that we will default to doing what's morally and ethically correct, when the situation requires it. Why don't we all default to it? Moral and ethical failures are painfully baffling.

It's painful, today, to read about what's happening to Penn State, to learn how the moral and ethical failures of a few resulted in the continued abuse and assault of children by a monster.

It's painful, today, to read about Michigan lawmakers who are actually trying to argue that it's okay to bully, if you're doing so out of "deep moral conviction" or "religious belief." Yes, that's right. Morally and ethically wrong behavior is okay if it's based on morals or religion. It's hard even to type that sentence, it's so incongruous.

To make this pain subside (a bit), I'd like to share our children's default behaviors, given a variety of relatively difficult situations.

Embracing Their Ignorance or Inability, Because They Know It's Temporary
Our six-year-old is reading, but sometimes has difficulty with longer words and certain letter combinations. She says, when she stumbles, "I get confused by those. Those are tricky. How do they work?" Our four-year-old is learning to write. He loves "O" because "that's easy." The letter "B" "is hard for me. I can't do that by myself... can you make it dotted?" (so that he can trace it and practice).

Being Very Proud of Their Secrets, So Proud They Share Them
After they're tucked in at night, my husband and I watch a little television or chat. Sometimes we hear their bedroom door open, but we ignore it. One morning, our daughter informed us that "sometimes we go into the bathroom and get a drink from the faucet!" And that she knows that we "talk about things and work and watch shows that have bad guys," because she can "creep very quietly in the dark and you don't even know I'm there!"

Knowing the Best Rules, and Being Happy to Follow Them
When I pick him up from pre-school, our son, without fail, tells me, "I had a great day, Mommy! I listened! I got a sticker, because I did a good job. One boy, he didn't listen. He was sad." We go to get our daughter from first-grade, and quite regularly, she shares a story that goes something like this. "A boy wasn't being nice to my friend, and she was crying, and so I stood up and asked him, 'How would you feel if she did that to you? You wouldn't like it. You should stop.' Our teacher says you should always think about how YOU would feel."

Forgiving a Person Who Hasn't Been Nice, if He Shows He Can Be Nice
There's one child in our daughter's class who has not always been nice to her, or to many in her class. She tells us, "he makes mean faces at me sometimes," or "pushes me to the ground." We tell her to stand up for herself, to ask her teacher for help, and she has. Last week she asked me to give her an extra baggie full of goldfish crackers so that she could give them to her friend. I did, but her friend ended up not being hungry for them. She ended up giving them to the boy who is not always nice to her. I asked her why. She said, "he was smiling at me and said 'please.'"

I don't ever want their defaults to change. I want them always to know what they don't know, and then learn it. I want them always to share what they find out with people they trust. I want them always to stand up for what's right by tapping their empathy. I want them always to forgive people, but hold them accountable.

If anybody has any ideas on how to make these defaults permanent, I'd love to hear them. If we could restore these default settings in some adults... it's hard to imagine how much the world would improve.

An Ode to Simple

I don’t consider myself to be overly attached to tokens of the past. Meaning, if my house were on fire, I’d try to grab only my children and husband and head out the door. Or window.

But I am strangely attached to a very simple meal that I learned to make a while ago. It has been a part of my life for 17 years. It makes me insanely content to eat it. Not overjoyed, not ecstatic, just utterly satisfied and pleased.

It’s hard to find that in a meal. Especially one that costs about $5.00 to make and can feed eight adults.

In 1994, when I was very low-paid research assistant in Washington, DC, fresh out of grad school, loaded with student debt, my then-roommate taught me how she made black beans and rice. It involved sautéing onions, adding a can of black beans, salt, pepper, chopped green peppers and tomatoes… all while a pot of white rice was cooking on another burner. When everything was done, she put some rice in a bowl, topped it with the bean mixture, and then topped that with a very healthy portion of shredded cheddar cheese.

It was divine. It was cheap. It was easy. It was my favorite.

My roommate went off to law school in 1995 (and got married in 1996, and she served black beans and rice at her wedding). I stayed in that apartment, and a new roommate moved in.

I made black beans and rice, only I sautéed the tomatoes with the onions. I added Cajun seasoning, ground cumin, cayenne, sometimes cinnamon. Drained the beans before adding them into the mix.

In 1998 I moved into my own apartment, and I kept making those black beans and rice, at least once a month. A friend, as a housewarming gift, gave me my first-ever piece of serious kitchen equipment: an All-Clad stainless steel 12” frying pan, specifically for my black beans and rice. I still use that pan.

I met my future husband and made him some black beans and rice. He liked it. He went off to Philadelphia to get an MBA, and made his own version, adding mushrooms and corn.

My parents came to visit me in DC in 1999. I made black beans and rice for them, adding in a bit more spice and spinach to the now standard beans, mushrooms, corn, tomatoes, and cheese set-up, and garnished with fresh cilantro on top. My dad said it was so nicely presented it should have been served at a restaurant.

Well, he is my dad. My mom suggested that I add tomato paste… I have to admit, I never know what to do with the leftover paste once you open that little can and use only a little bit. I didn't add it.

I got married in 2002 and moved to Pittsburgh, and made black beans and rice pretty regularly. (Now I use brown rice.)

We had children in 2005 and 2007. When they began to eat solid food, they loved black beans and rice. (Now they tend to be picky and only eat a little bit of it. They’ll come around again.) 

My mom is undergoing treatment for multiple myeloma. I saw her in September. I made black beans and rice. I forgot the tomato paste. She didn’t mind.

I've learned to make a variety of things since 1994. Some far more complicated, far tastier... but nothing beats this meal. It reminds me of friendship, and love, and growth. 

I'm so weird. Or maybe not. Make yourself a pot. You'll see.