One good thing about my island is the food.
It seems that my confinement has made me more inventive and courageous
in my comestible productions. We have explored soups and stews, stir-fries and casseroles
and all manner of elaborate recipes that we might never take effort for in the
hectic days of freedom.
There are inevitable shortages due to high demand and
hoarding, of course. There is still precious little pasta on the shelves
(rather than a month of Sundays we seem to be living through a month of Prince
Spaghetti Days*). Flour and yeast are mere rumors, not that I would ever try to
bake my own bread. And for some reason all the sardines were gone at my local
grocery – a good source of vitamins for sure, but not something that I would
stock a shelter with.
The plenty is a two-edged sword. My abundance is tempered
with the awareness that there are many out there who are struggling for food
from a combination of lack of money, lack of transportation or lack of access
to reasonable food stores. My son, at the height of his interest in eco-art, once
explained how the zombie apocalypse, were it to really happen, would be based
on food deserts – those areas of the urban landscape where there are no
groceries or reliable sources of fresh and healthy food. We are seeing the
actuality of that divide daily in Dallas and all over the world.
There are organizations that try to combat the inequality of
food resources. Everything from food pantries to local farms. Some communities
are leaning on Victory Gardens, a charming effort started during the World Wars
to supplement the home larder without compromising the supply chains for the
troops. But gardens take time and the need is so immediate.
It’s always hard to decide what community services to
support. In times of relative plenty (remembering that poverty and the food
divide are not produced by the pandemic, merely intensified), we can dabble.
Now there is urgency to choose and support. The key is not to pick the perfect
cause, but to pick any cause and act.
We should not feel guilty for enjoying what we have, but we
should be conscious of the needs of others in this strange shared community
that the pandemic has created.
*If you know that in “Boston’s Italian North End, Wednesday
is Prince Spaghetti Day”, you are wicked awesome. Just ask Anthony Martignetti.
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