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experiencelifemag.com
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Mother Knows Best
Not long ago, I came across a quote from an unknown source that read: “Sound
really does travel slower than light. The advice parents give to their
18-year-olds doesn’t reach them until they’re about 40.”
By Pilar Gerasimo |
September 2004 |
In my case, that advice started coming when I was a mere toddler, and the
truth of most of it didn’t hit me ’til about age 25; but in essence, I think
that saying is about right. I’m 37 now, and not a week goes by that I don’t
thank my mom for lecturing me on everything from the importance of good posture
to the nutritional value of fresh, seasonal vegetables.
It was Mom who told me not to give a hoot what the popular girls at school
thought of me. It was Mom who shook her head and said, “Those things will fill
your brain with nonsense” when I turned into a Glamour, Cosmopolitan and
Seventeen magazine junkie at age 10. It was Mom who taught me that money didn’t
count for much when it came to creating a happy life, who said no to having a TV
in the house, and who insisted I’d feel awful if I spent another perfectly
beautiful afternoon cooped up indoors.
An accomplished farmer and gardener, my mom raised us on some amazingly good
food — organic food grown right in our own backyard — and even if my sisters and
I didn’t appreciate it at the time (we were too busy bemoaning the fact that we
couldn’t eat TV dinners, Twinkies and sodas like everybody else), when I look
back now, I realize how grateful I am for her insistence.
Mom wasn’t a hardcore food cop. She was all for homemade cookies, and a big
fan of ice cream for dessert. But by feeding us every imaginable kind of
vegetable prepared in every imaginable kind of way, I think she gave us a taste
for them. And by showing us how beautiful honest food could be (Mom was famous
for sprinkling edible flowers over nearly everything she served), she also
helped us appreciate the pleasures of the table.
A few years ago, I was invited for a business lunch at Chez Panisse, Alice
Waters’s legendary restaurant in Berkeley, Calif. I’d heard people express awe
at the flavors and colors, the delectable preparations and the subtle synergies
this restaurant created with locally grown, mostly organic produce and other
high-quality ingredients. When my tomato salad arrived, sprinkled with fresh
herbs and garnished with edible flowers, I had a moment of déjà vu. The smell,
the look, the taste — it was the spitting image of what my mom had been plunking
on the table most of my childhood. And which I, ungrateful wretch that I was,
never fully appreciated.
Sorry, Mom! I can only hope there is still some pleasure in hearing “You were
right” this late in the game.
In a way, I guess I’ve come full circle. Looking back on my rebellious high
school junk-food phase, and my complacent college-food phase, and my dorky
dieting phase, and seeing the much healthier and more enjoyable place I’ve come
to now, I have to give my mom her props. If it weren’t for the fact that she
introduced me to the foods she did when I was little, I don’t know if the
transition back to them would have been so easy and rewarding for me. In fact, I
sometimes shudder to think how I might have turned out.
So to all you parents out there, making airplane noises with forkfuls of
butternut squash, or watching your little ones turn up their noses at the
gorgeous produce you lovingly selected from the farmers’ market, I say take
heart. Perhaps someday you will get a letter like this one from some grateful,
healthy adult who now sees the error of her ways. In the meantime, I hope that
in this issue of Experience Life you’ll find some inspiration and support toward
making your family’s health — and your own health — a priority.
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Mother Knows Best
Not long ago, I came across a quote from an unknown source that read: “Sound
really does travel slower than light. The advice parents give to their
18-year-olds doesn’t reach them until they’re about 40.”
By Pilar Gerasimo | Thoughts From the Editor, September 2004 |
In my case, that advice started coming when I was a mere toddler, and the
truth of most of it didn’t hit me ’til about age 25; but in essence, I think
that saying is about right. I’m 37 now, and not a week goes by that I don’t
thank my mom for lecturing me on everything from the importance of good posture
to the nutritional value of fresh, seasonal vegetables.
It was Mom who told me not to give a hoot what the popular girls at school
thought of me. It was Mom who shook her head and said, “Those things will fill
your brain with nonsense” when I turned into a Glamour, Cosmopolitan and
Seventeen magazine junkie at age 10. It was Mom who taught me that money didn’t
count for much when it came to creating a happy life, who said no to having a TV
in the house, and who insisted I’d feel awful if I spent another perfectly
beautiful afternoon cooped up indoors.
An accomplished farmer and gardener, my mom raised us on some amazingly good
food — organic food grown right in our own backyard — and even if my sisters and
I didn’t appreciate it at the time (we were too busy bemoaning the fact that we
couldn’t eat TV dinners, Twinkies and sodas like everybody else), when I look
back now, I realize how grateful I am for her insistence.
Mom wasn’t a hardcore food cop. She was all for homemade cookies, and a big
fan of ice cream for dessert. But by feeding us every imaginable kind of
vegetable prepared in every imaginable kind of way, I think she gave us a taste
for them. And by showing us how beautiful honest food could be (Mom was famous
for sprinkling edible flowers over nearly everything she served), she also
helped us appreciate the pleasures of the table.
A few years ago, I was invited for a business lunch at Chez Panisse, Alice
Waters’s legendary restaurant in Berkeley, Calif. I’d heard people express awe
at the flavors and colors, the delectable preparations and the subtle synergies
this restaurant created with locally grown, mostly organic produce and other
high-quality ingredients. When my tomato salad arrived, sprinkled with fresh
herbs and garnished with edible flowers, I had a moment of déjà vu. The smell,
the look, the taste — it was the spitting image of what my mom had been plunking
on the table most of my childhood. And which I, ungrateful wretch that I was,
never fully appreciated.
Sorry, Mom! I can only hope there is still some pleasure in hearing “You were
right” this late in the game.
In a way, I guess I’ve come full circle. Looking back on my rebellious high
school junk-food phase, and my complacent college-food phase, and my dorky
dieting phase, and seeing the much healthier and more enjoyable place I’ve come
to now, I have to give my mom her props. If it weren’t for the fact that she
introduced me to the foods she did when I was little, I don’t know if the
transition back to them would have been so easy and rewarding for me. In fact, I
sometimes shudder to think how I might have turned out.
So to all you parents out there, making airplane noises with forkfuls of
butternut squash, or watching your little ones turn up their noses at the
gorgeous produce you lovingly selected from the farmers’ market, I say take
heart. Perhaps someday you will get a letter like this one from some grateful,
healthy adult who now sees the error of her ways. In the meantime, I hope that
in this issue of Experience Life you’ll find some inspiration and support toward
making your family’s health — and your own health — a priority.
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