The Death of bin-Laden, and Reflections on the Lessons of 9/11

I'm embarrassed to admit it's been some time since I've written here.  Not only has my life become significantly busier, but I've been stalled out on the piece below.  I'd started it in the wake of Osama bin-Laden's death, as a  comprehensive memoir of my experiences of that day, and the lessons I'd learned from being in New York when the towers fell.  It's a piece that proved a little too hard to write comfortably, and I have a lot of ambivalence still about sharing everything I felt on that day.  I did learn several important lessons, though, three of which I've decided to share.

* Never Lose Faith in Humanity: As the towers fell, and before anyone knew just what was needed in terms of medical resources, lines had already begun to form at all of Manhattan's hospitals.  The people in these lines were there to give blood, and there were so many at St. Vincent's on 12th Street that the line wrapped all the way around the block and on to the next.  There was a sort of peace to the line, as we knew that we were doing the best thing possible in the wake of a tragedy whose scope wasn't yet known.
     What struck me, though, wasn't just the line of blood donors.  There were also people moving up and down the line, handing out water, juice, and bagels.  These amazing people weren't from the hospital; they were there on their own, helping people keep their energy up, with refreshments both donated by local businesses, or paid for out-of-pocket.
     This outpouring of spontaneous support, and the solidarity of people wanting to help their neighbors, as well as strangers, really spoke to me.  In those early hours of the day, no one had put out a call for blood or nutritional support; people came together individually, and with the kindest and most generous of motives.  I realized then, that even as it only took a handful of evil men to cause such destruction, that at its core, humanity is ultimately kind and supportive, that we are capable of tremendous acts of kindness towards each other, and that this truth is one that is all too often forgotten.  Please, don't forget.

* Live!:  Sadly, St. Vincent's didn't have the manpower or supplies to handle the crowds that wanted to donate blood, so we were given the names and addresses of other hospitals in the city that might be able to take our blood.  As I headed uptown to St. Clare's, the streets were virtually empty; Manhattan had become almost a ghost town.  By this point, the military had sent fighters to patrol the skies above Manhattan, and every time one flew far overhead, anyone who was out in the street stopped moving and listened carefully, everyone with the same look on their faces.  It was a look of combined fear and sickness, a look of "oh, God, no, what now?"
     Even now, some ten years later, I remember that feeling, and it brings back a deep, visceral response.  At the time, I was terrified; there was no accurate news at that point, no one knew exactly what was happening.  There had been rumors of as many as eight hijacked planes wreaking havoc across the country, and cell phone service was almost nonexistent, as the most powerful signal towers in the city had been destroyed.  Walking uptown, I kept expecting the other shoe to drop, for some additional awful event that would make things so much worse, and then 'it' came to me, an epiphany that took away all that fear.
     I suddenly understood that there's only so much within my control, and that if there are terrorists or anyone else who wants me dead, there's very little I can do to stop them.  With that reminder of my mortality and the fragility of my existence, I realized that there was no sense in living in fear, that I should focus on what I could control, and not worry about the rest.  It's been a hard lesson to learn, and it's one that I haven't always been good at keeping close to my heart, but it's there, and it's something I try to practice as often as possible.

* Smile!:  Having made it to St. Clare's, the small knot of us that had made it uptown were disappointed once again as that hospital's representative told us that they couldn't take our blood, either.  Feeling thoroughly unhelpful and walking back downtown on Madison Ave., I saw a young woman walking towards me.  She looked vaguely familiar, and as I looked at her, she flashed me the most beautiful smile.  It was bright, friendly, and warm, and I was floored.  I asked her, "Do I know you?"  She smiled again, and before continuing on her way simply said, "No, but you looked like you needed a smile."
     Wow.  I can't begin to describe how that affected me, but I had to take a moment to sit down  and think about what had just happened.  In the wake of feeling scared and useless, a simple smile from a stranger brought a lightness into my day that was more powerful and surprising than anything I could have imagined.
     The lesson I took from this is the easiest of the three that I've described, and perhaps the most important.  In my mind, it's the one that ties the other two lessons neatly together, and, simply put, the lesson is to smile.  Smile at yourself in the mirror, smile at your friends, smile at strangers.  Smile because it's a beautiful day, or because it's raining.  Smile because of its power to bring happiness to someone else.  Smile because you're here.

A favorite recipe, and some seasonal musings

The advent of spring always excites me. It represents a renewal after the dead of winter, and anyone who's made it through at least one New England winter knows just how welcome spring is.  In the last week or so, the yards and tree-wells on my street have begun to explode with color, daffodils heralding the grape hyacinths, which in turn have announced the return of the tulips.  Petunias are beginning to poke through the mulch, and other, less identifiable flowers have returned as well.  The whites and greys of winter can only last so long, and they invariably give way to this incredible, bright natural palette.  The trees, which have lain dormant for so long, are now budding again.  There are so many metaphors for all this, the renewal of spirit, the rebirth of life, and so on, that I could write entire volumes about the turning of the seasons.  Instead, gentle readers, I'll leave it to you to draw your own, personal connections about the return of spring, while I talk about food for a little while.

The recipe below isn't necessarily spring-y, but if you like, I can certainly make something up about the vibrant colors, and the symbolism of the ingredients.  Again, I leave that to you.  I just wanted to share a personal favorite and invite you all to leave comments on your experiences with it.  Now, on to the cooking!

Warm Beet, Chicken, & Walnut Salad
 Ingredients:
* 1 bunch of beets, preferably with greens.  If you can't get greens, spinach or turnip greens can substitute
* Walnut or pecan halves
* 1 small roll chevre goat cheese
* Boneless, skinless chicken breast
* Brown sugar
* Olive oil
* Rosemary
* Mango chutney
(NB: This is very much a 'to taste' recipe, hence the absence of ingredient amounts/quantities.  By all means, feel free to play around to find what works for you)

Procedure:
1. Wash and peel the beets, removing and reserving the greens.  Cube the beets into bite-sized pieces and roast at 375°F for about 20 minutes.  The goal here is to get the beets to soften without becoming mushy.

2. When the beets are cooked, place them in the bottom of a large, flat-bottomed bowl.  A glass bowl is wonderful for this, as it gives a great visual when the dish is complete.  Layer the washed beet greens over the cubed beets.  Crumble the goat cheese over the greens, making sure the crumbles are evenly distributed.

3. In a saucepan, heat a tablespoon or two of olive oil, and add the nuts and some brown sugar.  Toss the nuts until they just start to caramelize.  I usually take them out of the pan when they've just started to brown/blacken on the edges.  Make sure you don't use too much oil, or you'll wind up with greasy nuts, and, well, ick!  Once the nuts are done, sprinkle them into the bowl, over the cheese.

4. In the same pan you cooked the nuts, saute strips of chicken breast with some rosemary (fresh is always better, but there's nothing wrong with dried for this recipe) and a few healthy spoonfuls of mango chutney.  Once the chicken's cooked through, place it in the serving bowl on top of the nuts.

5. That's it!  You're ready to serve.

Although it'd work equally well as an appetizer or an entree, this is really a one-dish meal.  There's no need to serve anything else, although some nice, crusty bread is a nice accompaniment.  The flavors and textures work on a number of levels, and I've never received anything but rave reviews when I've served this dish.

The variations on this dish are endless...instead of using just beets, a mix of root veggies could add a new dimension of flavor and color.  Imagine the gorgeous confetti effect from a mix of beets, carrots, and parsnips!  The sweetness of the chutney and the tartness of the goat cheese could be highlighted with dried cherries or cranberries, and slivered almonds in place of walnuts or pecans would change the nature of the entire dish, in a wonderful way.  Play around with my recipe, make it your own, and let me know how it turns out!


Bon appetit!

A Eulogy for My Grandfather

My grandfather died seven years ago this week (4/2/04); we miss him terribly.  What follows below is the eulogy I delivered at his funeral.  I nearly lost my handwritten copy in a house fire; I transcribe it here for posterity.
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In the few minutes I have to speak to you all, it would be impossible to adequately honor my grandfather's life.  He was many things to many people; to some, he was all things.  Burton leaves behind a large and loving family who already miss him dearly.  From the three generations of family here today, to his adopted children from all corners of the globe, to friends both old and new, Burton was a rock, an island of stability in a changing world.  He was temperate, loving, patient.  He was always ready for a conversation or a few off-key bars of "Old Man River."  The rock that was Burton Bronsther has been taken from us.  We now must look to each other for support and to honor his life, deeds, and accomplishments.

Burton was an incredible father, husband, grandfather, brother, and uncle.  He loved and fretted over each and every one of us, and looks to ensure that we we all doing well.  To see him smile, hear his deep bass laugh and have his approval was a blessing beyond compare.

Burt's kind nature and his strength of character can be seen not only in the presence today of people who knew him as a young man, but also in his ability to foster new friendships worldwide.  He touched so many lives around the world, and his appearance, his personality, were so magnetic that they drew even more to him.  Children often mistook him for Santa Claus; adults thought he was Raymond Burr.  He was such an amazing man that for decades people would approach him in the most unlikely places, remembering that he operated on their sons and daughters in years far removed.

As a surgeon, he had no equal.  His mentor, Dr. Willis Potts, would send out recommendation letters telling people that while Burt had the largest hands he'd ever seen on a doctor. each finger was a gift from God.  His surgical precision, ease, and speed were such that med students would place bets with each other on how quickly he could complete a given operation.  As a founder of SACOW along with my grandmother and as a professor of medicine, he instructed generations of doctors and saved countless lives.  He cared deeply for his patients, a fact I learned early on as he recounted the day's cases at the dinner table.

Now that he is gone, we must cherish our memories of Dr. Burton Bronsther, MD, PhD, FACS, etc.  His most important designations were father, husband, and friend.

I remember him not only as my grandfather, but as the man who raised me as his own son.  I looked to him and learned from him as a father.  He taught me all the things a boy needed to know: how to ride a bike, how to root for the home team, how to catch and hit and throw a ball.  He also taught me what is was to be a man, how to be patient, strong, loving, and compassionate.  He taught me to be unafraid, to face a problem head-on.  He taught me kindness and charity, and he taught me to believe in the strength and wonderment of humanity.  On a lighter note, those of you who were ever in a car with him can rest easy knowing that he wasn't the one who taught me to drive.

Please, take time today to share your memories of Burton with the rest of us.

Goodbye, Pop-Pop, and godspeed.