A LEAGUE OF HER OWN

Do you remember yourself at ten-years old? I think that's the age you really come into your own. When you learn to stand up for yourself and start making your own preferences known. It's also when our personalties are the brightest. The girl in the photo is not so different from the woman I am today. At ten I tackled everything with confidence and enthusiasm. Like any kid I wanted to shine. Not because I was a show-off but because I never doubted what I could do if I gave it my all. That's the thing about being a kid, until someone tells you otherwise you believe anything is possible - whether it's to be a ballerina, a pirate, or even a baseball player. I don't think I've ever let my gender stop me from doing what I wanted but in those days the rules about what girls could or should do were clearly defined. When my brother joined the baseball league, I wanted to join too. Only I was told girls played softball, not baseball. Luckily, I had a most fervent champion in my father and in the end I was allowed to play. I'm sure he got a lot of flack for it, maybe more than I did. At the time my dad was in the Army, and teaching at West Point Military Academy. Talk about a boy's club. But not even threats from his commanding officers could deter my father from giving me the opportunity to at least prove I could play with the boys. It wasn't all fun and games - far from it. You can't imagine how cruel people can be and I'm not talking about the other kids but their parents and coaches. My coach wasn't exactly thrilled to get stuck with me but with everyone else refusing to take me on he was left with little choice. I guess he drew the short straw. But with hard work and determination I proved I belonged on that team. Maybe I wasn't the best player but I certainly wasn't the worst. And my enthusiasm and love for the game made me an asset. I was also a good batter when given the chance to take a swing but that rarely happened. The coaches from the opposing teams always told their pitchers to walk me. What did that mean? A whole lot of bruises. They did everything they could to make me quit even if it meant playing dirty. But that only made me more determined to prove I deserved to be there. And hitting me with the ball, blocking the baseline, and calling me names only made me stronger. Sure, there were times I wanted to cry - and anyone who's ever been pummeled by a speeding baseball knows what I'm talking about - but I never thought about quitting. Because that would have meant they'd won and proven their point that girls weren't tough enough to do certain things - which we all know is a bunch of baloney. At the end of each game it's customary to shake the opposing teams' hands. Mine was the only hand everyone refused to shake. Again, directed by their coaches. What were they so afraid of? At that age I certainly didn't understand it but with the encouragement of my father, coach, and teammates I played on. At the end of the season our team won the championship - undefeated. Which just goes to show that in adversity a team bands together to protect their own.

My dad also wrote about this experience-

In the Spring of 1979, I was an instructor at the United States Military Academy in West Point, NY. Sports were greatly emphasized at the academy. All personnel and their dependents were encouraged to participate. When it was time to sign up for the summer programs both Sonia and Alex decided to play baseball. I did advise Sonia that girls usually played softball and she might encounter some resistance. Her reply was that she wanted to play baseball because softball was too slow.

Resistance began when I registered my children for baseball at Youth Activities. The registrar took pains to tell me that softball was available for the girls and baseball was just too rough for girls. When asked if girls were prohibited from playing baseball, he reluctantly registered Sonia to play baseball. That same day I began receiving telephone calls and it seemed every officer was concerned for my daughter's safety, suggesting I should not let her play with the boys. No other girl had signed up for baseball. They all said Sonia would be much happier playing softball with the other girls.

On selection day everyone who had signed up for baseball gathered at the practice field along with the various coaches. The players had previously been loosely rated on various skills at trials. Each coach chose a player in turn. Neither Sonia or Alex were selected in the early and middle rounds. Finally, when there were only a few unselected players, one coach, an older chief warrant officer, selected Alex and then took Sonia in the next round. The coach told me that the coaches had discussed Sonia. They were not happy about having a girl play baseball but could not officially exclude her. He explained that the season would be difficult for her. I told him that she knew this. She wanted to play and would do her best to do well. While she did not seek controversy, she would not back down. I volunteered to assist him since no other father had, perhaps because there was a girl on the team.

Her coach was good. He was very knowledgeable. My knowledge of baseball was limited as I had never played organized ball as a child. The coach worked on the fundamentals with each player. He took the time to set up various baseball situations which would likely be encountered in a game. He explained the location of the play and what should be done with the ball in that particular situation from various positions in both the infield and outfield. I worked with children needing practice throwing and catching the ball.

When we started playing other teams - we learned how it would be. When batting - Sonia was not pitched hittable balls. The ball was pitched too low, high, outside, or inside to be hit. Sonia had to duck pitches thrown directly at her but could not avoid being hit often. The pitchers were not very subtle about deliberately hitting her. In the course of the season Sonia was hit by pitches more often than the combined total of all other players in the league. She usually got on base because she was either walked or hit by a pitch. The umpires never took any action to discipline the pitcher or the coach. Occasionally, Sonia was called out on strikes but it was truly a gift from the umpire because none of the pitches were anywhere near the official strike zone. The umpires were also not very happy about having a girl play baseball. Somehow, Sonia endured. Although the pain of being hit by the ball may have brought some tears of pain, she never cried nor complained. As the season progressed, Sonia won the respect of her teammates. She became a great base runner. Sonia learned to be a fairly good hitter in batting practice. She never had an official hit during the season although she managed to reach a few pitches not in the strike zone. They either went foul or were caught, although some were rather far.

Finally the season was down to the final game. Sonia's team and another team were undefeated. The coach of the other team was the opposite of Sonia's coach. He constantly put pressure on his players yelling at them during the game. He encouraged, in fact, demanded that his players had the attitude "winning is the only acceptable outcome." They bragged that they were the best. They would destroy the sissy team with a girl.

Sonia came to bat, the very first pitch struck her square in the chest. There had been no opportunity to dodge. She was knocked down and lost her breath but refused to leave the game and took her base. She advanced to second on a sacrifice and then stole third. When an opportunity arose, she attempted to steal home. The catcher, tall and muscular for his age, advanced toward third base, blocked the baseline and took up a football type blocking stance although he did not have the ball. Sonia stepped around him and was called out by the umpire for leaving the baseline. Our protest about illegally blocking the baseline was denied.

Finally it was the final inning and neither team had scored. Sonia's team was at bat, there was one out, and Sonia was at bat. Again she was hit by the first pitch. She stole second and advanced to third on a sacrifice which made the second out. With the ball in play Sonia took off for home. Again, the catcher, without the ball, moved up and blocked the baseline with a football blocking stance. I yelled, "Run the bastard over!" Sonia hit him at full speed, knocked him flying and touched home plate. It was the only run of the game. Sonia's team was the undefeated champion.

The opposing team members were not good sports. They shook the other players' hands as was the tradition but refused to shake Sonia's. I quietly told the opposing coach, a colonel, that he showed poor leadership and set a bad example for his players.

When trophies were awarded, Sonia was disappointed that she did not receive the same trophy as her teammates. Her figurine had a skirt - it was a girl's softball trophy. She had worn the regular baseball uniform, not a skirt. Few would believe that she was the first girl to play little league baseball at West Point seeing that trophy.

The following year Sonia again played baseball. That year there was another girl on a different team. Although she had a different coach, Sonia's team was again undefeated. And again, Sonia received a trophy with a skirt on the figurine.

Recently, some twenty years later, I asked Sonia for the first time if she had heard me yell. She replied, "Daddy, of course I heard you, everyone heard you! Why do you think I ran into him?"

Of note: The academy did not offer baseball to female cadets. They had to play softball or choose another sport.

A PIECE OF THE PIE

I was thinking about pies. Or more specifically the metaphoric pie, the savory delights and sweet confections life has to offer us. Proof of the American Dream and all that it promises - the possibility of prosperity and success and the potential for a better and richer life based on ability and achievement. Our hopes and dreams baked into layers of possibility and transformed into delicious reality. An assortment of pies aplenty. Warm and nourishing pies to fill our bellies and stave off hunger. Rich and decadent pies, life's sweet reward for our hard work and resilience. No matter the crust, filling, or flavor we all want a piece of the pie. But what if your plate comes up empty? Or you continually end up with the crumbs? Are you doing all you can to get your share of the pie?

There are pie eaters who never hesitate to take their slice, the bigger the better. They are the first in line, the first to get served, and the first to take a bite. It never occurs to them to question if they deserve the slice of the pie because the answer is always a resounding yes! These same people tackle life with confidence and enthusiasm, and see themselves as winners. They take as their due the blue ribbons, gilded trophies, and yes, pies, life has to offer them. Then there are others equally talented and deserving but for whatever reason seem reluctant to take their share, always taking the smallest sliver of pie. Others wait to see if there's any left after everyone else has served themselves, and are often left with the crumbs. And still others give their slice away so another doesn't go without. As if they didn't deserve a slice of their own. Then there are those that grab out of turn, helping themselves to pie with a heaping scoop of self-entitlement. What kind of pie eater are you?

I used to think it was polite to wait until everyone else was served first but it's a ridiculous notion. Am I not entitled as everyone else for my slice of the pie? Sure I am and so are you. That doesn't mean we have to be greedy, or take out of turn. But it also doesn't mean we should wait around for hand outs or for someone else to serve us. That's a sure-fire way to come up empty. If you want a piece of the pie, go for it! But make sure you have a recipe on hand because you just might have to bake it yourself. That's okay, homemade is always tastier.

MONKEY SEE, MONKEY DO

via flickr

"We're not high-maintenance or difficult, we're just not scripted like other people." - anonymous but wise sage

Most of us are pretty good at adapting to changing situations. We've learned how to shift our moods, adjust our attitudes, and even rethink previous notions in order to accommodate the social climate of our current environment. In fact, these days adaptability and flexibility aren't just desirable traits but mandatory prerequisites if you're going to play with others. This applies both in the workplace and in our personal lives. In our constantly evolving but expendable world being able to adapt and change is a survival skill. But at what point are we being asked to change who we are, including the core beliefs that make up our moral fiber? Integrity, accountability, and fairness are qualities I believe are non-negotiable in every day living. Yet we're led to believe that sometimes sacrifice is for the greater good of the team. Or that bending the rules is what it takes to get the job done. Or being creative with the truth is not necessarily a lie. But any way you want to bend it, flip it, or turn it inside out we all recognize the truth from the lie, the right from the wrong, the good from the bad. Granted not all situations are decidedly black and white, but I think people fall back on the gray scale too often to excuse or justify their own behaviors. Most of us have an internal barometer of what's right and wrong; it's that twinge of guilt, an internal cringe, that flicker of conscience. What would happen if we all followed the Golden Rule to treat others as we ourselves would like to be treated? After all, it is our ability to put ourselves in another's shoes that makes us human. Then how is it so easily discarded when it interferes with the bottom line or personal agenda?

In life we're given roles as child, parent, friend, lover, colleague, employee, etc - constantly evolving roles where we may not always know the characters we're expected to play, never mind the scenes we're acting in. Improvisation doesn't always go over well when it deviates from the script and other people's carefully rehearsed lines. But life is a crap shoot no matter how much you try to prepare for it, because the unpredictable factor is always us. Our reactions to the external world based on our own experiences or perceptions. Perception is a funny thing because it means something different to the eye of the beholder. It sets us up to be misinterpreted, misconstrued, and misunderstood. And no matter how much you've rehearsed it could all go a different way, or even completely fall apart. One of the things I've always had difficulty with is that there seems to be a set of guidelines as to how we should behave. I'm not necessarily speaking of code of conduct, proper etiquette, or even social graces. I'm referring to the rules of engagement as if there's only one way to interact or react to any given situation. When you don't behave in the way that's expected vis-a-vis some unspoken agreement in which we dance around each other and therefore the real issue is never addressed, then you're criticized. But we're not machines, we can't always control how we feel though we can try to temper how we channel those feelings. Unfortunately, it doesn't always work out that way. We all over react from time to time.

People generally feel uncomfortable with unexpected bursts of emotion, or even the display of too much emotion. Little outbursts are frowned upon, as if we're expected to show restraint at all times. But what is restraint but a means of restricting our emotions or thoughts? As children we're constantly reprimanded for our abandoned and uninhibited behavior, told time and again that children should be seen and not heard. We learn to hold back, bite our tongue, and consequently walk on eggshells to avoid punishment, rejection, or abandonment. But as we all know, biting your tongue is extremely painful. It's as awkward as tying your own hands, or forcing yourself to walk backwards, going counterclockwise, moving against the grain, or even pulling a rubber band too taut. At some point, it snaps back. I think it's infinitely better to just be yourself, to follow your own nature, and consequences be damned. So what if your excitement and passion are misconstrued as volatile or irrational, or your serious attention to work as rigid and strict, or your refusal to compromise your sense of fairness as difficult or high-maintenance. You would think that honesty, loyalty, and sincerity would be considered admiral traits to possess, qualities we'd look for in a friend or colleague. But I think sometimes people find this more threatening than their willing to admit to. Maybe because it becomes a yardstick by which they're forced to measure their own moral fiber, a mirror in which their own true characters are revealed. These are the same people who make you feel like you're not playing by the rules when in fact you're adhering to them to the letter. It's impossible to please everyone all the time, and some times anyone at all. And if we look to others for approval for what we intrinsically know to be good about us, then we'll sadly be disappointed. But do we really need a reward for behaving well? Maybe. After all, how many times have we witnessed someone being rewarded for behaving badly?

NO BANANA SKIN

'Banana skin' is a British idiom which refers to something that is an embarrassment or causes problems. Something we don't have to worry about when it comes to this next dessert. The recipe doesn't call for any banana skins. Banana Foster is a dessert made from bananas and vanilla ice cream a sauce made from butter, brown sugar and dark rum. Often the alcohol is added and ignited into a Flambé table-side as a visual presentation. The dish was created in 1951 by Chef Paul Blangé at Brennan's Restaurant in New Orleans. It was named after the owner's good friend and regular customer, Richard Foster, then the New Orleans Crime Commission chairman. I found this amazing recipe for Banana Foster Creme Pie from evilshenanigans.

Banana Foster Creme Pie

recipe via evilshenanigans

For Crust:

1 1/4 c graham cracker crumbs

1/4 c light brown sugar

1/4 c unsalted butter, melted

For Caramel Sauce:

3 tbsp unsalted butter

1/3 c light brown sugar, loosely packed

2 tbsp cream

2 tbsp dark rum

For Filling:

2 to 3 bananas sliced

2 1/2 c milk

1/2 c sugar

1/4 c cornstarch

1/4 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp all-spice

1/8 tsp salt

1 tsp vanilla bean paste

2 eggs

1 egg yolk

2 tbsp unsalted butter

For Topping:

2 c heavy cream

1/2 tsp dry gelatin

1 tbsp water, room temp

1 tsp vanilla

2 tbsp sugar

Cinnamon for dusting

1. Preheat oven to 350°F. In a bowl mix the brown sugar, graham cracker crumbs and melted butter until well mixed. pour into a 9" pie plate and press evenly into the pan. Bake for 10 minutes. Allow crust to cool while you prepare the caramel.
2. In a small skillet melt the butter and brown sugar over medium low heat. Allow it to come to a boil, turn the heat down to low and cook for 30 seconds. Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the cream and rum. Allow to cool slightly.
3. Slice bananas and layer the slices on the bottom of the pie crust. Pour the caramel evenly over the bananas. Allow to cool at room temperature while you prepare the custard.
4. In a heavy saucepan combine the sugar, cornstarch, salt, vanilla bean paste, and spices. Pour over the milk and mix well. In a separate bowl mix the eggs and egg yolk well. Pour into the milk mixture and whisk until well combined. Cook over medium heat until the mixture comes to a simmer. Cook for 30 seconds then remove from heat. Strain the mixture into a large bowl, then whisk in the butter.
5. Pour the custard over the bananas and caramel. Cover with plastic wrap, making sure it is pressed directly against the custard to prevent a skin from forming. Chill for at least 4 hours, but overnight is preferable.
6. To finish the pie mix the dry gelatin with the water in a small microwave safe bowl. Allow to bloom for two minutes. Once bloomed, heat in the microwave for 10 seconds. Stir and allow to come to room temperature. In a large bowl add the cream. Mix on medium speed until it begins to develop large bubbles. Add the vanilla and increase the speed to medium high. Add the sugar and the cooled gelatin. Increase the speed to high and beat until it thickens and holds soft peaks. Spread the cream over the cooled pie and dust with cinnamon. Chill for 30 minutes before slicing and serving.

BACKSPACE

We all suffer from days when nothing seems to be going right, and everything wrong. You're convinced it's a cosmic conspiracy to trip you up just to see you fall. It starts with the alarm clock that didn't go off, and the lost time that trails you for the rest of the day putting you behind schedule no matter how early you show up. The coffee that spills down the front of your new white shirt, confirming what you've believed all along that there really is a hole in your lip. The bumper to bumper traffic on the LA freeway, the idiot that swoops in and steals the last parking space, the internet clog, the fax that never went out, the deal that fell through, the job you never got, the missed connection with the gorgeous guy you're convinced was your soul mate even though you only saw him that once at that place you can't recall. But then, just when you're ready to throw in the towel something happens to remind you that the universe really is rooting for you. They're not necessarily life altering epiphanies or grand gestures like winning the lottery but small seemingly insignificant pokes. Like hearing a song on the radio that perfectly captures the moment, a billboard sign that reads like a cosmic message only for you, the unexpected phone call from an old friend that makes you laugh, or the stranger that smiles at you with no agenda while you're waiting to pay for your five for a dollar ramen noodles. These small moments can shift our attitudes in a huge way. Suddenly the day doesn't seem so bad, your situation not so irretrievable, the disasters not so irreversible. In fact, everything seems just hunky dory as we're given a boost of faith that all is right in the world. The road of life gets bumpy from time to time, we can let it shake us up or choose to enjoy the ride. After all, it's not the destination but the journey that counts.

IT'S IN THE BAG

"Life is a lot like Frito Pie. Better when shared with friends, and best with twice the cheese."

- Peggy Hill, King of the Hill

Frito Pie

1 single-serving bag Fritos corn chips

ladle of chili

heap of grated cheddar cheese

chopped onions

jalapeño slices

1. Slice bag of chips open along one side.
2. Ladle chili over chips.
3. Top with cheddar cheese, chopped onions, and jalapeño slices.

WAITING

"Between the wish and the thing life lies waiting."

In those moments I know I'm deliberately procrastinating I inevitably end up of thinking about a novel I read years ago titled Waiting by Ha Jin. I can't remember the details of the book, only that it was about a Chinese doctor who waited nearly two decades for the courts to grant him a divorce so he could swap out the old-fashioned wife his family chose for him for his more modern girlfriend, a nurse at the Army hospital he worked at. Mostly I remember feeling frustrated with the characters, the plot, and the book in general. I thought it was a waste of my time, yet the book stuck with me. Maybe because waiting is something I've been guilty of... a deliberate inaction, a life lived in suspension. In truth we are all waiting. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for things to change. Waiting for life to begin. Waiting for the perfect moment. Only there's never a perfect moment, just life. We believe that if we wait long enough things will be different or rather we'll be different. But that's never the case, is it? The only thing that's changed is the year and all the missing days in between. Days we could have been living. Days of just being.

SHAKING THE LEMON TREE

There are some things worth waiting for, like pie for instance. The time it takes for you to make the dough, the filling, and to bake. Or the time it takes to set, chill, and serve. I say if you're going to take the time to bake something, do it well and be in the moment. Enjoy the process. It'll be worth the wait. The Shakers knew a good thing was worth waiting for, especially lemon pie.

Shaker Lemon Pie

2 large lemons, preferably Meyers

2 cups sugar

1/4 tsp salt

4 eggs, beaten well

4 tbsp butter, melted

3 tbsp all-purpose flour

Dough for 9-inch double crust pie

1 egg white

Coarse sugar, for sprinkling

1. Wash the lemons, then dry with paper towel. Finely grate lemon zest into a bowl. Slice lemons as paper thin as possible; remove and discard seeds. Add slices to zest, then toss with sugar and salt. Cover and set aside at room temperature for 24 hours.
2. Preheat oven to 425° F. Roll out half the dough 1/8-inch thick on plastic or a lightly floured surface. Fit into a 9-inch pie plate, trim for a 1/2-inch overhang.
3. Mix the macerated lemon-sugar mixture with eggs, melted butter and flour until well combined. Pour into prepared pie shell.
4. Roll out remaining dough into a 12-inch round, drape over the filling, trim to leave a 1-inch overhang. Fold the overhang under the bottom crust, fluting the edge to seal it. Beat one egg white until frothy and brush over pie crust, then sprinkle with coarse sugar. Cut steam vents into the top crust, and bake pie in the middle of the oven for 25 minutes. Reduce the temperature to 350° F and bake for an additional 20 to 25 minutes, or until the crust is golden. Let the pie cool on a rack and serve at room temperature.

THE OBSCURE PHOTOGRAPHER

vivian maier, self-portrait

An auction house.

A repossessed storage locker.

A mysterious box.

30,000 black-and-white negatives.

An anonymous photographer.

A developing picture.

The story of Vivian Maier.

Check out more of Vivian Maier's work at Artsy.net

2011: YEAR OF THE PIE

Trend-spotters are calling pie the food of the year. Did it ever go out of style? Any way you slice it, pie is perfect. Sweet or savory, pan or bite-sized, home-made or store baked, this versatile pastry entices us with its unpretentious simplicity. I can't think of any food more wholesome than pie - it's classic Americana. And with the public's renewed appetite for this humble dessert "Pie Happy Hour" and Pie Shops are popping up across the country. And with it modern takes on classic or vintage recipes. So with National Pie Day just around the corner (Jan 23) why not bake off the new year with your favorite version of the pastry round? It's easy as pie.