Last year, all the Brooklyn family that could make it came over for dinner. It was our first family event. I was married, had a house, two cats and a dog and suddenly I was hosting a holiday dinner. How the hell did this happen? Despite my misgivings, I managed a ham, pork roast and garlic roasted potatoes along with some appetizers. Dinner was a success and everyone had a good noisy time. People just stayed at our huge dining room table and ate and joked and laughed.
So one year ago I was in my kitchen with my sister by my side to guide and supervise me. We laughed, talked about food and just were together. It was great. It was moments like that that made me want to go to the FCI and somehow, eventually, work together. What a difference a year makes. This Palm Sunday she's gone and I'm sick with some sort of cold / sinus infection and cooking is something I tend to avoid these days. I guess its part self punishment and part pain avoidance. If I just make eggs I want to go to cooking school and all it takes is that bit of cooking to make me think of Jenn and her missed opportunities. She knew I wanted to go, but I know she also felt that the reality of the industry might be too much what with the low starting salary and tough hours. It takes a lot of sacrifice to be a chef. If you want to learn more about it, read Making of a Chef: Mastering Heat at the Culinary Institute of America. There is one incident in the book I am indirectly involved in - back in 1996 there was one hella blizzard and the author describes trying to get to class from Poughkeepsie to Hyde Park. At the same time back then I was trying to make it from Hartsdale to Peekskill. A 20 min trip to 4hours that night. The author actually gets taken to task for not showing up to class in a blizzard that had already dumped around 4 feet of snow. That's the type of industry it is and that's the expectation. Jenn excelled there. She'd found her calling. That's more than I can say.
Anyway, this week is a week of healing and redemption and mercy and though my faith is hardly what it once was I find myself humbled and praying for her.
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2 comments:
I've been reading your blog for a while now. What's remained a bit of a mystery to me -- and I know of no other way but to just come right out and ask, even if it might be rather insensitive of me -- is to ask what exactly happened to your sister?
In previous posts a while back you eluded to a few vague things, but if the reader didnt know you personally, it kind of left us guessing and wondering. I know this may have been intentional on your part, so if this subject matter is just too personal to share with us, then I completely understand. And I apologize beforehand if this was rude of me to pry.
I just thought that perhaps if you were more direct about what happened, or at least what you think happened if things aren't conclusive, it would help the healing process in some way, and help your readers more fully understand what you're going through.
Thanks for your thoughts. Your question isn't insensitive at all and I don't take it as prying.
I'd like to reveal more, but I'm conflicted about it not just because its personal to me but because its personal to her and the rest of the family. On one hand this is my blog and what I say goes here, but at the same point the information I'd like to provide and that you and others want is not about me. So, where's the line? I'm not sure at this point.
Ultimately, I think I'll be more direct. I just need some time to get my head around it more and decide on an approach to it.
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