Judy Sunde Hanawalt

Things I'm Thinking About

Year: 2018 (Page 1 of 4)

Taking Another Look

December 21, 2018 / / 1 Comment


We had a little decoration shifting last night. My son and I bought a puzzle depicting a quaint, snowy village with a steepled church in the background, children playing in the snow around the Christmas tree in the foreground, and cheery pine swags and lights on all the buildings. Where to set it up so we could work on it, maybe even finish it during the holidays?

It’s a tradition to set up a puzzle table. Generations meet to build the picture together. Introverts find a place to stay out of the action while still being with the family. There is time in the lull between Christmas and New Year’s Day to spend time together in pleasant puzzling.

There was no place for the old rickety blue card table in the living room, though. The first spot we tried, in front of the fireplace, blocked the view of our cozy, crackling electric fire log set. The next made the path between couch and chair too tight. It would fit in the corner, but first we needed to find a place for the chair that had been displaced by the Christmas Tree. The best place I could think of was in the dining room, in front of the window where there is a little narrow table perfect for a puzzle.

The only problem was the Nativity Set. It was there on the table, in the wooden stable, draped with greenery and topped with little lights for stars. It is the porcelain set I inherited from my grandparents, painted in muted tones, with a shepherd, wise men, and sweet, docile barn creatures, including the small camel with the glued neck, looking adoringly at the Holy Family. My grandfather made the wooden display out of rough barn wood. I put the set out every year, but this was the first year in a long time that I had given it such a prominent position in the decorations.

To make room for the puzzle, I moved the whole setup to the dining room table until I could find a new place to display it. Walking by it this morning, I stopped to think about it. Maybe I’ll take it out of the stable and put in on the hutch where I usually display it. Maybe it would fit on the sofa table, but would it get knocked over when someone set a drink there?

Suddenly, I remembered a passing comment from a friend who had joined us for dinner a few nights ago.

This friend, a senior at Cal who lived with us during his sophomore year, is a person of color. Over the years, he has shared with us how he experiences life as a child of immigrants. He has gently corrected me when I have been insensitive to the way I take my privilege for granted. I am sometimes surprised and embarrassed at how deeply ingrained my thinking is around people and cultures that are different than my Northern European roots, but I appreciate him caring enough to tell me when something bothers him instead of just pulling away.

As he was passing the nativity set the other night, he said, “Did you just get that?” I told him it was not new; he had probably never noticed it when it was tucked under the cupboard on the hutch.

Looking at it now, I thought about my friend and saw it differently, maybe from his perspective. All the figures have creamy white skin, except one wise man who has a slight tan. The bare-chested shepherd, sweet Mary and tiny baby Jesus have blond hair and blue eyes. Joseph’s wavy locks and beard are light brown. They look nothing like the actual people of the nativity so long ago. The real people would more likely have had dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin.

I may just put it away for now. I still value the set; it is meaningful because it belonged to grandparents. At this time of year, I like to have a physical reminder of the beautiful way God came to live with us in this world, experiencing our joy and pain. It’s hard not to get caught up in my cultural celebrations of Santa, lights, gifts and special cookies, and forget about Christ’s birth.

I can’t help but see this nativity set differently now, though. It’s probably true that everyone tends to imagine Jesus looking like them, making their experience of him more personal. When Jesus looks like me and my family, though, it’s easier to think that he shares my cultural biases. It’s too easy to think he is one of us, and those who don’t look like us are different, outsiders. It’s dangerously easy to think more highly of myself and people who look like me and less of everyone else.

I don’t want Jesus to look like me. I want to look more like Jesus–in his love, compassion and humility, for a start.

Neighbors

October 30, 2018 / / 1 Comment

When I move somewhere new and am learning my way around, I venture away from home to the grocery store or the post office, and then navigate back. Every new destination is a separate place, with home as the center point. As I become more familiar with the city, I can start to link destinations together without having to start from home. My mental map fills in and I see how the places relate to each other, not just to my house. The flat map comes to life as I learn where the separate locations fit into the puzzle.

That happened to me today, even though I’m not somewhere new.

I met a friend for coffee this morning in an Oakland neighborhood I have visited many times. Before I left home, I was dreading one part of the drive. After merging on the freeway, I have to move over several lanes right away. Two lanes go off to the right, heading to a different part of Oakland, two lanes cross the Bay Bridge into San Francisco, and two lanes curve off to the left to my destination. I have to make it from the right side all the way to the left side. Crossing the lanes of commuter traffic rushing to the City is daunting. The best way to do it, maybe, is to put on my signal and dash into traffic without looking, because when I crane my neck around to try to find a gap, the commuters see the wide, darting eyes of an amateur and cut me off, one after the other. It’s like crossing a buffalo stampede.

Once I make it through, I follow the freeway downtown, passing the court and county jail, Lake Merritt and the Grand Lake Theater, Crocker Highlands and Fruitvale, and finally exit at Park Boulevard. Though it’s only about 10 miles, It feels like a big journey from home, away from my normal routes and comfort zone.

After saying goodbye to my friend this morning, I took a different way home. Google Maps took me the other direction instead of backtracking to the freeway that I came on. I wound my way past houses on one side and a large park on the other for about a mile, and suddenly, I knew where I was. I felt a puzzle piece drop into place.

I had come to another freeway that goes straight into Berkeley, and takes me home on a familiar route through town, past our first apartment, the Cal stadium and the dorm I lived in Sophomore year. I have always taken the buffalo-stampede route, never realizing that this back way was so close to what feels like home. That neighborhood is basically right next to my neighborhood.

Connections are powerful. In an instant, my perception of distance and separation was replaced with a new understanding. The piece fell into place because I saw a landmark I recognized, bringing that place within the boundaries of where I feel comfortable and at home. When I thought the only way to get there was the uncomfortable freeway trip, that place felt foreign, but coming around the other way made me see it from a different perspective.

Finding a community of people to feel at home with comes together piece by piece this way too. Connections happen when I see something in another that I know and understand from my experience. The landmarks that I recognize in others and they recognize in me are usually not the polished and put-together pictures posted on social media; they are the messier parts–the trying, failing, learning and growing that we all do.

I can’t predict when a puzzle piece will come together, but I know it when I see it.

Small Steps

October 27, 2018 / / 0 Comments

I am just starting to try to cut back on plastic use. Here are a few ways that fit easily into my life, in case you’re feeling puzzled about where to start. I am certainly not an expert, like the family I saw featured in Sunset who have a “zero-waste” home. That lifestyle is so dramatic and extreme that is seems out of reach. I started with a few small steps.

When I was planning to have a large gathering in my home a few years ago, I did not want to use plastic utensils. To be honest, it wasn’t the waste that bothered me at that time. I hate using those flimsy plastic forks and knives; they make any meal feel like fast food. I went to the Goodwill Store and picked out a random assortment of spoons, forks and knives. They weren’t exactly cheap–I think they were 50 cents per piece, and I bought about 50 sets of spoons and forks and 25 knives–so I spent over $60. I have used them so many times since, though, that I’m sure it’s been far less expensive than purchasing and tossing plastic utensils.

When I got the anti-plastic bug, I was in the plastic bag aisle at Target and I picked up my usual boxes of gallon and quart ziplock bags, but I put them back. I was weary of throwing bags away. I’ve tried washing them and hanging them out to dry around the kitchen, but it never worked well for me. People in my household try to recycle them–but the city recycling center does not take them. Putting plastic in the recycle bin–even though it can’t be recycled–because you hate putting it in the trash is “wish-cycling.”

I didn’t buy them that day, and I haven’t since. I have used some other things that I think are worth trying out:

Compostable Ziplock Bags

A little pricier than generic ziplocks, so I’m more choosey about what I put in them. Also, not completely see-through, so I sometimes lose track of what’s in them.

Stasher Silicon Zipper Bags 

I love these! They are easy to wash, seal tight, and are nice and thick. You can freeze them and even boil them, they come in fun, clear colors, and they are a local, woman-owned company. They even sell them on Amazon. Again, a little expensive, but worth it. I have I gallon size and 3 quart size and it’s working for me.

Waxed Cotton Food Wrap

I’ve used Bee’s Wrap, which comes in different sizes and patterns. It works well, molding to the item you are wrapping with the heat of your hands, but don’t make the mistake I did of washing it in hot water–the wax melts out and it doesn’t  work anymore! They carry a cheaper version at Trader Joe’s, but it’s thicker fabric; I may prefer the thinner Bee’s Wax fabric. You can also make your own. This looks like an easy one, but there are several tutorials out there.

Biodegradable Wax Paper Sandwich Bags

Not all wax paper is biodegradable because it is coated with paraffin wax, a petroleum product. This brand uses soybean wax. These meet the need for stashing little leftovers or taking food with you. These also hide the contents, so it’s easy to lose food unless you write on the bag. They keep things fresh for a day or two, but let’s face it, they don’t seal as well as good ol’ plastic.  It is comforting to have a disposable bag around, and they fill a need, but I don’t find I use them much.

Glass Containers with Lids for Leftovers

For some reason, glass containers are easier to maintain and match with their lid, so I actually use them. There are many brands, but I like these.  My collection of plastic containers and ancient Tupperware was such a mess that I would grab a ziplock bag to store food rather that brave the chaotic cupboard where they were stored. Maybe the heaviness of glass makes a difference–they don’t get mixed around so much.

Once you start, you will find the products you like. The first step–for me, not buying those resealable plastic single-use bags–may be the hardest one, but there is life after ziplocks.

A Plastic Lid

October 26, 2018 / / 2 Comments

Walking along the beach the other day, I saw a plastic lid from a coffee cup washing into the ocean with a wave. I grabbed it and carried it with me until I found a trash can. Such a small thing, keeping one lid out of the ocean, but I couldn’t just walk past it. It was right in front of me.

I’m trying to stop using plastic. It’s so convenient, and so hard not to use. Everything comes packaged and wrapped and bagged. It takes work to put down the bottle, the jug, the bag or the clamshell and find another way to purchase and carry items I need. The challenge to find ways to store food and other items at home is real after living for so long with ziplock bags and plastic wrap. I’m terrible about remembering to bring my own water bottle or grocery bags.

So much plastic has been discarded, though–especially in the ocean–that huge plastic trash islands cover swaths of the ocean surface, some as big as the state of Texas. Most plastic production is for packaging and single-use items. Eventually, plastic breaks down into smaller and smaller bits and fibers, and is eaten by marine life, getting into fish and plants and animals and water and people.

I can’t keep doing it.

It’s starting to be important to me to use less plastic–not simply as an intellectual agreement, but as a motivation to change my habits.  I can’t single-handedly reverse what’s happening, but I’m aligning myself with the earth against over-consumption and our collective madness for all things disposable. I want to stop for my peace of mind, even if it doesn’t make a difference and if no one else does it. I feel more whole and grounded when I’m acting with an awareness of the big picture. It’s slower, it can be tedious, but it’s satisfying to be more intentional and thoughtful about what I buy and how it impacts the earth.

Of course, there are less altruistic, green-hearted moments when I’m alone in the grocery aisle. I wonder if my stand against plastic means much. The plastic is already there, lined up on the shelves. One more jug won’t matter, and the popcorn seems fresher when it’s sealed up in it’s own thick container. Sometimes I’m in a hurry. Or tired. Or thirsty, and the bottled water is cold in the cooler at the checkout line. I probably won’t make the critical difference.

I know, the logic goes that if customers stop using one thing and ask for another, eventually companies will respond to keep sales up.  As I’m writing this, I remember that I have seen that happen with other things. It’s real.

Organic foods are a good example. In the past 10 years, my local grocery store  has added a whole section of organic produce, dairy products, and canned goods–everything from flour, sugar and spices to dog food. There is not only an organic version, there is a generic organic option. Humanely farmed, grass-fed and uncured meats are a prominent part of the meat department. Even giants like Costco and Walmart offer a wide selection of organically grown foods and health, beauty and cleaning products free of harmful chemicals. Green products, like toilet paper made with recycled paper and compostable plates and utensils, are readily available. Critics say the labels don’t mean as much as we think, but at the least, producers are responding to customers’ growing preference for sustainably produced food and household products.

I’ve also seen a difference since 2007, when our city banned single use plastic bags, the light-weight, grocery-store kind known as T-shirt bags. The state banned them in 2015, eliminating more than half of the plastic bag litter along the state’s beaches after only one year. I have suffered no shortage of plastic bags since then–almost everything still comes in a bag, and bread bags work just as well to clean up after the dog as grocery bags. Just recently, another large source of litter, plastic straws, has been restricted and banned in some cities and states. One step at a time, plastic is being used less through legislation. Plastics are less readily available because of the law, and at the same time, it is making me more mindful of what I am using, and encouraging me to find more ways to stop using plastic.

It’s becoming more common for businesses to use compostable lids and produce bags instead of plastic ones. I was happy to discover compostable produce bags at Trader Joe’s. They work exactly the same, but they eventually decompose. To avoid bag use altogether, I started putting my produce on the conveyor belt loose. My lettuce, carrots, apples and eggplants don’t seem to mind. If something does need to be bagged, like food from the bulk bins or something fragile or small–tomatoes or mushrooms, for instance–I have reusable mesh bags that work well. They’ve been easy to use, and now that I’m getting in the habit of bringing them to the store, I actually prefer them.

There’s so much plastic to think about: detergent bottles, cheese wrappers, dog food bags, meat trays, shampoo bottles–the list is overwhelming. It is everywhere, every day. I can’t let that cause me to give up. One lid kept from washing into the surf, one step at a time, and by doing what is right in front of me, I’m trying to stop using plastic. I love walking on the beach and swimming in the ocean too much to ignore it.

Feet on the Ground

October 24, 2018 / / 2 Comments

On a recent visit to the beach, I played in the waves and walked barefoot on the sand.  I stood at the edge of the water and let the washing of the surf bury my feet. I felt connected to the earth and to the tides–a primal sense of belonging. I felt grounded. 

Apparently, it wasn’t just an exercise in mindfulness. The earth literally grounds us, balancing the electrons in our bodies.

It sounds like something straight out of a hippie handbook, but I found an article from the National Institute of Health detailing studies on “earthing” or “grounding.” Scientists actually have taken measurements, done double-blind studies and published papers about this.  Getting your feet directly on the earth can ease chronic pain, improve sleep and reduce inflammation, among many other things.

All this, as simple as taking a walk without shoes?

Earthing research, observations, and related theories raise an intriguing possibility about the Earth’s surface electrons as an untapped health resource—the Earth as a “global treatment table.” Emerging evidence shows that contact with the Earth—whether being outside barefoot or indoors connected to grounded conductive systems—may be a simple, natural, and yet profoundly effective environmental strategy against chronic stress, ANS dysfunction, inflammation, pain, poor sleep, disturbed HRV, hypercoagulable blood, and many common health disorders, including cardiovascular disease. The research done to date supports the concept that grounding or earthing the human body may be an essential element in the health equation along with sunshine, clean air and water, nutritious food, and physical activity.

From: Earthing: Health Implications of Reconnecting the Human Body to the Earth’s Surface Electrons, (Journal of Environmental and Public Health, National Institute of Health website)

A website about grounding, Barefoot Healing, suggests other ways to be “earthed”: Swim in the ocean or lakes; garden with bare hands; lay on the grass; hug or lean on a living tree; sleep on the ground while camping; or wear natural leather-soled shoes instead of synthetic rubber or plastic shoes.

They also sell indoor grounding equipment on the website that plugs into a wall socket. I’m a little skeptical about that; it sounds less like science and more like a folk remedy, or like one of those “As Seen On TV!” products at CVS.

I am willing to take off my shoes and head outside, though. I don’t need gardening gloves when I’m pulling weeds–or I can wear the leather kind. A nap on the grass or reading a book while sitting against a tree at the park sounds wonderful. I don’t even have to be on sand or dirt–concrete sidewalks conduct the earth’s goodness too. I believe that literally getting in touch with nature and plugging into the earth must be good for body and soul.

Whatever the science behind it, I know that I was refreshed and energized by floating and swimming in the salty, cool water, with sunshine in my eyes and sand under my feet (and in my ears and in the liner of my swimsuit). It made me feel young and carefree and alive, and I’ll be back as soon I can.

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