The Odyssey

I really hope I can convince Sergio that we should name our van "Homer." 

About a week ago we became a two-car family. This is something we've been scheming for a long time. We held out as long as we could, enjoying our one car status for 11 years; especially enjoying our no car payments for 12 years. Having just one car was simple and clean. Well, maybe the car wasn't always clean. But the having of just one car was clean. You know what I mean. Anyway - it was very simple before we had kids. 

It has become increasing more complex with the addition of two children as well as (let's not blame the kids for everything) the addition of a number of extracurricular activities on the part of me and Sergio. In the last two years we would occasionally think, wouldn't it be nice to have two cars. But those moments were few and far between and not worth a car payment to solve when - with a moderate amount of planning ahead and some dependence on friends and public transit - we could get by just fine. 

This year we reached our transportation planning capacity. Not only did we run out of ways to solve our limited transportation hiccups on a regular basis, we also decided we would prefer to be able to travel in large groups on occasion. Whether it's grandparents visiting or cousins (out-of-town ones and in-town ones) - it seems there's often a good reason to seat 8 people in our car. 

Enter: The Honda Odyssey. Ours is a gently used 2013 LX model that still, if I'm honest, feels like a rental. A really nice rental. I still can't quite absorb that it's actually ours. Even though we've already smudged up the clean floor mats and learned how to work all the fancy doors, I'm still adjusting to A) having such a nice car (our other car is a fantastic, but quite minimally appointed Honda Fit) and B) having two cars. 

This morning I took Clara in the van with me one direction and Sergio took Julia with him in the Fit in another direction. These were short trips and we weren't apart that long, but this was perhaps the first time that we've split up like that. Maybe ever. The four of us are together a lot and, what's more, the girls are together a lot. So when Clara climbed into the van she asked where Julia's carseat was and said to me, sort of sad-like, "I can't talk to my sister?" Having two cars will be an adjustment for all of us. 

But a good adjustment. Last week, when I told Julia we were buying a minivan, the very first thing she said was, "you mean my cousins can ride in our car with me?!" She was delighted. 

And that's just what they've been doing as we've been tooling around town together as a family - especially this week - cousins, aunt, and Grandma Joyce visiting from Mexico, Sergio and the girls and me. It's nice to be able to all be together. 

Old Friends and Fathers - a weekend in OKC

The hilly part of Kansas. Not that you can tell. 

Many months ago my friends from high school and I decided to gather from all four corners of the earth (and by that I just mean Boston, New York, Kansas City, and Oklahoma) for a mini reunion. (We have been friends for 20 years now. How is that possible?) We didn't intentionally choose Father's Day weekend as our timeframe for this event. But I'm glad it worked out this way.

The road to OKC was long - as always - but the drive was well worth it. At the end of that road was a very happy Honey & Papa, a couple of delighted cousins, some very dear old friends (and some new babies to meet!) ... and quality time with my dad on Father's Day - a treat not to be overlooked. 

On the way there, Sergio was able to get in a little early Father's Day affection when we stopped on the turnpike to get our wiggles out and the girls tackled him with a hug. Also en route, Julia whispered to me, "Mommy - you picked a good guy to marry." 

And of course she's right. 

Getting our wiggles out and our hugs in. 

mini harvest at my parents' house

Old friends. We are very old friends. 

my dad and me circa 1996

Time Travel

I have been reading about Time Travel in this week's New Yorker. (Look at that - I've capitalized time travel. That's funny, isn't it?) Creative perspectives on the notion of time travel, I should say. In many of the pieces I'm reading, the authors contemplate going back in time to retrieve or capture something that has since been lost. Isn't that always the essence of going back in time? Something was lost and you can get it back fully - maybe even enjoy it more this time. (And maybe that's what's empowering about the possibility of going forward in time - that you would experience the future but would return to your now and relive it with new eyes, retrieve it.)

So I began imagining what I'd like to go back in time to retrieve or relive or repair. Did I imagine reliving those ecstatic milliseconds when I first laid eyes on each of my babies? Or did I want to retrieve a few extra moments of summer when I was a kid when there was nothing to worry about except mosquitos and sun burns? Did I want to go back and correct my major gaffes from college? Or prevent some painful mistake that can't be unmade, some words that can't be unsaid or some bell that can't be un-rung?

No. None of the above. Strangely, I imagined going back to the early part of 2012 (yes just 3 years ago) in order to retrieve the pictures of my Baja California sailing trip before they were mysteriously deleted from my iPhoto. I had 176 pictures from the spring of 2010 when I was pregnant with Julia and we made this once-in-a-lifetime journey; I came home from that trip more pregnant than when I'd left and \ I spent the rest of the year gestating, giving birth, and caring for an infant, therefore I never did much with my pictures except put them on Flickr. Last summer, I went to look for them again and discovered they were gone (they were deleted from Flickr, too). They were digitally wiped completely off the face of the earth never to be seen again. Even - ironically - Apple's Time Machine could not retrieve what was lost.

Using my time travel to get some pictures is - obviously - a failure of imagination (which has become a chronic problem for me, I'm learning). Perhaps someone less fixated on loss than me might have had their priorities in line enough to imagine going back to the actual sailing trip itself. Now there's an idea.

Time travel would allow me to relive the smallest details of that once-in-a-lifetime trip ... like that moment when I stood on the front of the boat and did yoga in the dim light of the clear night. Or to that moment when Sergio finished slicing a mango in its peel and splayed it out so the square straight edges of each piece jutted out into the bright sun. Or the day we went for a swim off the side of the boat or the day we all hunkered down in our berths because the waves made us nauseous. Or that day we took the tiny boat to land to eat at a restaurant and got soaked in the process. Or that moment when we found the barbed or serrated, double-edged tooth of some sea creature and Sergio held it up so I could take a picture while he invited us all to imagine how painful it would be to get this tooth stuck in our arm (thanks, Sergio). Or to that moment when we came back to land and I took the longest, most luxurious shower of my life after having taken nothing but a few 60-second showers here and there over the course of 5 days.

But lest we think I'm totally short sighted in asking the time traveling genie to get me back my pictures (mixing metaphors - sorry), let's consider this. Consider that by using my time travel to retrieve pictures of my trip, I was - in essence - asking the genie for more wishes. Because what do I do when I look at pictures? I go back. Whether it's the picture of my kids from last night when they were being memorably cute or a picture of me as a child doing something I don't even remember doing, it's always going back. It's always a retrieval process of some sort.

...

After wishing to have my Baja California pictures back, I began to treat that sailing trip as a forever lost thing. But I decided to change my stripes when I realized that some of my most favorite moments from that trip were never even photographed - doing yoga in the moonlight for example - and I remembered, as my wise mother would say, that it's not a forever lost thing; it's a forever gained thing.

Indeed so many of the things I most want to remember in life are not only not photographed, they are unphotographable. Like the smell of my grandmother's roses. Or like sneaking up to the crib late at night in the dark and quietly reaching in to put my outstretched finger into my baby's loosely furled fist and feeling the soft warm palm of her hand while she squeezes her fingers around my finger and stays deeply asleep.

There are no pictures of that. But it is mine. And I time travel to it all the time.

Red Day

Yesterday after school I asked Julia if she had a good day. She said she had a "red day." I asked what that meant and if that's good or bad? (I was thinking she was channeling Holly Golightly and the "mean reds.") She explained that a red day is a bad day.

So I asked what color she would use to describe a good day (green) and if this is something they do in school (no). I thought it was a Montessori thing; I'm still not sure on that. She wasn't very clear. But I went on to ask her about what other colors mean and here is the full roster according to Julia ...

thinking about the rainbow

red - bad day
yellow - slow day
green - great day
blue - dancing day
orange - fast day
purple - not listening day
pink - listening day







This week was difficult. For me and many others at Hallmark under the dark cloud of layoffs. As we each waited to hear our fate, we all had some yellow days. Once we got our news, it felt like our days were orange. Some people had red days and some had green. And for 165 people who are embarking on something new, the next few days and months will probably cycle through any and all of those colors - the full rainbow. It's hard to say goodbye to coworkers and it feels strange to feel the company shift so much again for those of us that remain employed. One thing is for sure: Hallmarkers are empathetic people. It's what makes us good at our jobs. The outpouring of support that I have witnessed this week is nice to see. I think there have been some good pink days.

Last night we had so much rain and a very loud thunderstorm, too. As if we need more rain. (I'm quite sure that the clouds are having some purple days and are ignoring our requests to lay off with the water works already.) The rain is making for some really, really red days for our farmers. Many will suffer great loss.

I would like to think about hope instead. The rainbow after the rain. There are no promises. But at least the sun is shining today. Maybe soon we'll have a blue day.

Mema's Birthday (observed)

Today would have been my grandmother's 94th birthday. She passed away in February. She is always in my heart and on my mind. She was 100% amazing.

I continue to remember #arliememagandy on Instagram

All day long the girls and I have been singing "Put me in your pocket" - which we do pretty often anyway. You can Google it and listen to a few other folks sing it. But if you want a real treat click here to listen to Mema herself singing this to my aunt Joy last year on the cusp of Joy's relocation to Colorado. How I love to hear Mema's voice. I'm so glad Joy captured it.

Tonight when the girls took a walk with Sergio they sang the song again and he texted me the following dialogue...
Julia: Do you want to sing it again?
Clara: No.
Julia: But it'll make Mema so happy in heaven!
Clara: Ok.
And on top of all that sweetness, Julia also suggested that we sing Happy Birthday to Mema and we did. That felt really nice. I never expected my toddlers to help me grieve. I had assumed it'd be the other way around.

...

About 10 days before Mema passed away, we decided to go down to Oklahoma for a last visit, not knowing how much longer she'd have. When Sergio and I were debating when to go, he suggested that we go quickly urging "every moment is precious." He meant every remaining moment and he was right. But the truth is, every moment was already precious. I am beyond fortunate to have had Mema in my life.

I will forever be grateful that Sergio's spontaneous "let's just go to Oklahoma this weekend" suggestion overruled my penchant for scheduling things way in advance. We visited that last weekend in January; I spent an entire day simply being with Mema. I sat with her. I held her hand. I listened to her sing - so many hymns and all of them about Heaven. Every moment was precious.

On that Sunday we had to leave and that was the hard part. When we said good bye we knew it was Goodbye with a capital G. And even though we all knew that it was her time to go (even Mema knew it), it didn't mean my heart wasn't breaking. I stood on the threshold of that room, reluctant to put one foot in front of the other, to step out of that sacred space. What do you say when you know it's your last goodbye? We had had one final tea party that morning - the girls sharing their little cheerios with Mema. And when Mema starting saying "I'll meet you in the morning," which is a reference to Heaven, Julia piped up, "Mema! We won't be here in the morning! We're going home!" And we all let out a tearful chuckle.

That night when we got home we discovered we'd left the heat off in our house and the temperature in the house was 49 degrees. By bedtime it had only risen to 50.  When I put the girls to sleep I told them that as they're falling asleep they should think about how much Mema loves them. Julia said, "I know how much Mema loves me. A lot a lot a lot a lot a lot a lot." Then I snuggled Julia and she felt cold so I asked if she wanted another blanket. She said, "maybe I want my quilt [which Mema made for her] because my quilt has Mema's powers in it. And if I sleep with it it will put Mema's powers into me and then I'll think, 'Oh yeah, that's what it was like at Honey and Papa's! I remember Mema!'" Yet again, my small child shows me the way. 

Mema really was an example to us all and a treasure. And she did have powers you know - Mema the superhero, as Tyler put it. Given how frail Mema was there at the end, that notion is funny. But I think we all know it was truer than true. Her super power was love. No matter how frail she was at the end, she had a powerful pull on all of us.

That room where Mema died - it was the "sunroom" at my parents' house - was bathed in light and love and that was the image I carried with me back home as I waited for another 5 days before I got the news that she'd passed away peacefully early in the morning on February 6.

...

Last night I had some friends over, one of whom was celebrating her birthday, also on May 31. She requested a chocolate cake - so I made her a chocolate cake but I also made a big double batch of Berry Dumplings in honor of Mema's birthday. Now it occurs to me that that'll be a great way to celebrate Mema for years to come. She always did love celebrating and remembering with food.

A few days before Mema died my mom texted us all to say that Mema had woken from a dream and asked my mom if she wanted to eat pie with her. (Mema is generous with her pie even in her dreams.)  We all texted back and forth imagining which pie she must have been enjoying in her dreams. Mama Taylor's chocolate pie, perhaps? Or Mema's pecan pie? Or her famous pumpkin streusel?

Wouldn't it be nice to sit down with Mema for pie just one more time?

Memorial Day (or Too Many Funerals)

#arliememagandy 

In the last two years I have attended more funerals than I can ever remember attending. Which is to say not that many but more than usual. The tally is four. That's four funerals since Memorial Day 2013. (Four funerals and a wedding, actually.) I keep thinking "that's too many funerals" and then wondering what is the "right" number of funerals?

Perhaps these circumstances are unique because three of the funerals I have been to are those of people who were too young to die. (But what is "old enough?" And where did I get all these strange rules and limits? As if matters of life and death ever play "by the rules." We hold up our ideals anyway.)

This year we spent Memorial Day with Beto and Lindsey, our dear friends and, oh yes, family, too. They are freshly grieving the loss of their sweet son Beckham. Their pain is unbearable. But their spirits are indomitable. It was so good to be with them.

Next month I will get to see my friend Ricki Lea who, in the 9 years that her son battled cancer and in the 21 months since her son died, has always impressed me with her fortitude.

My aunt Jetta would have been 63 earlier this month. This year on her birthday we had not mentioned to the girls that it was Jetta's birthday. But out of no where, Clara said, "I just saw Jetta! Driving that white car!" We chose to pretend that Clara's vision was real.

In February, I attended my grandmother's funeral; the days surrounding that event were what I called a Mema Memorial Bubble. It was more sweet than it was bitter, to simply remember and relive. I think of her so often, especially now that the flowers are in bloom and her birthday nears. She would have been 94 this weekend.

Just today I caught Clara playing in the other room and singing Put Me in Your Pocket - incorrectly but sweetly. Julia chimed in with accurate lyrics and they both carried on singing.

We are all thinking of those who have gone before.

Put Me In Your Pocket (click through to hear Mema sing it)

Put me in your pocket so I'll be close to you

No more will I be lonesome and no more will I be blue

And when we have to part, dear, there'll be no sad adieus

For I'll be in your pocket and I'll go along with you.

Getting Ready for Urban Grown

I'm really looking forward to the Urban Grown tour this summer! The girls and I went two years ago and we had such a nice time. The first time I went was 2009, back before Cultivate KC was even called Cultivate KC! Now the organization is celebrating their 10 year anniversary, and I was asked to write a piece for their Urban Grown newsletter that went out in March. Here it is...

Looking Back, Looking Forward: Ten Year of Local Food 
By Emily Akins, Kansas City Food Circle.
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED HERE. 

This year will be my 10th season with my Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) farm, which was my first step down a long and winding path of amazing people, delicious local and organic food, and incredible connections.

Along that path I found out about the Kansas City Center for Urban Agriculture, which was renamed Cultivate Kansas City in 2011. I signed up to take a class at Whole Foods, taught in part by Katherine Kelly, co-founder of Cultivate Kansas City, which included a farm tour of what is now called the Gibbs Road Farm. By then I had already begun working as a volunteer for the KC Food Circle, a non-profit that connects eaters with local, organic, and free-range farmers and was beginning to find my way around the great resources available in Kansas City. And I had already learned to appreciate where my food comes from.

When I heard about KCCUA’s Urban Farms and Gardens Tour I decided to sign up to help. It was winter. The days were short and the vegetable crispers in my fridge were empty, but I began meeting regularly with the amazing volunteers who were planning and preparing the 2009 Urban Farms and Gardens Tour. Before I knew it, it was a hot summer day, the growing season was in full swing, and I was driving around from farm to farm helping to keep the tour running smoothly. I was also enjoying my opportunity to learn about urban agriculture. I went to small farms, large farms, urban farms and backyard farms. Each one provided a wealth of food and information.

I wasn’t the only one who responded so positively to the tour. It has grown each year – as I think much of the local food movement has in Kansas City. With the KC Food Circle, we’ve seen a steady increase of farmers and eaters who want to become part of our organization, and great support from our volunteers and our community partners like Cultivate Kansas City.

I’ve learned a lot and enjoyed food so much in the years since my first season. And I inadvertently became much healthier. I hadn’t set out to eat more whole foods, but buying directly from our local farmers encouraged me to do so. I think this makes my family and me healthier but I also think it makes our community healthier.

This is the beauty of food grown so close to home -- I know the people who grow my food. They have taught me how to store, prepare, and preserve all the delicious produce that comes to me fresh from their farm every week. I can even visit the farms and see with my own eyes where my food comes from. Best of all they have provided me with confidence. I know that their sustainable farming practices both enrich the earth and make for delicious, fresh produce. And I know that each crop and each farmer and each urban farm is enabling Kansas City to grow stronger every year.

I am excited to see the growth that has already happened in Kansas City and I am even more excited to see where Kansas City will be in the next 10 years as more farmers farm, more eaters eat, and as the efforts of Cultivate Kansas City continue to fill our urban core full of delicious food.

###

Here are some of my favorite pics from the Urban Grown Tour in 2013. All the pics are HERE.

Mother's Day

Me and My Mom - about a week after I became a mother

First and foremost, here's to my mom. She taught me everything I need to know to be a good and happy person. I know that is no small feat and I know that not everyone is quite so lucky.

I will share here the tribute that I shared with the friends and co-workers who were all gathered at my mom's retirement party earlier this spring and who all seemed to be in agreement about what a remarkable person she is ...

Mom is patient, Mom is kind.  

She does not envy. 

She does not boast. 

She isn't proud.

Mom does not dishonor others, 

she is not self-seeking, she is not easily angered, 

she keeps no record of wrongs.

Mom does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 

Mom always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. 

And secondly, here's to my babies. I couldn't have imagined a more delightful pair. They are distinctly amazing, each in their own lovely way. I am grateful for them every day.

My first born on her first day - Julia - 9/19/10

My second born on her first day - Clara - 8/17/12

Here I will share the wonderful way that Julia made me feel better today. I had promised to speak to a small group of college students today, but hadn't realized it would interfere with the Mother's Day event at the museum that I'd wanted to take the girls to. I was feeling guilty (mom guilt!) that I'd chosen to do a bit of work instead of being with my little family for that brief window of time, and on Mother's Day to boot. Then Julia asked if I wanted to hear a Mother's Day song. She sang the first line... "Mothers. They're so good. They help people - even strangers they don't know." And without even realizing it, Julia made me feel much better about my decision to take time out of my Mother's Day to help a few people I don't even know. Thank you, Julia. You have no idea. 

Happy Mother's Day

My first Mother's Day - 2010

My third Mother's Day - 2012

My fourth Mother's Day - 2013

all the mothers and all the daughters - 2014

Visit from Honey and Papa

Last weekend my parents came for a long awaited visit. Since my grandmother moved in with them two years ago, they haven't been able to visit us as often as before. The girls (and let's be honest - me too) were ecstatic for them to come.

They arrived about an hour earlier than I expected so we were all minding our own business - the girls were having a kazoo marching band around the house - when I saw their car pull up. I told Julia to look out the window; when she saw that it was them, she squealed loud enough to break glass.

Breakfast with Honey and honey.

The dance class. It's a small class. 

Reading the New Yorker with Papa and wearing new
"Owl Be Up Late" jammies, a gift from Honey.
And it was true.
They were up very late each night - too excited to sleep. 

We packed the weekend full ... we visited the farmers market (love me, love my farmers market), we observed Julia's dance class, we visited the art annual, and we gardened - oh, how we gardened. 

We ripped up a strip of grass on the side of the yard
(and by we I mean mostly my mom)
and replaced it with a flower bed, rose trellis,
and transplants from my grandmother's rose garden.

There was a lot to tend to, here in the freshness of spring and the newness of this moment in time. It had been such a long time since their last visit.

A weekend together is never enough - no matter where we spend it.

"I am doing the best I can."

Julia and the small clay globe she made at school for Earth Day.
She also learned the following song sung to the Farmer in the Dell tune ...
We love the Earth, our home -
Its oceans and its trees.
We eat the food and breath the air,
(inhale deeply)
So no pollution, please!

Several things coincided with Earth Day this week: one was the Table of Faiths dinner sponsored by the Greater KC Interfaith Council and one was AIDS Walk KC.

I celebrated Earth Day by increasing my understanding of watersheds during an informative presentation by the Blue River Watershed Association and by watching a striking film called “Chasing Ice,” which follows the work of James Balog as he tracks and photographs the rapidly melting glaciers that are the dead canaries in our coal mine earth. The long list of contaminants in our water and the startling statistics on how rapidly our climate is changing motivated me to redouble my actions, even as they also left me feeling discouraged. Will I and my efforts really make enough of a difference?

A few days later, on Saturday, I attended AIDS Walk KC for the first time in my many years in this city. I was so moved to see so many people gather for the same cause. Many people walked in memory of those they’ve lost; others walked simply in solidarity. Each person there put a drop in the bucket of support. It is a bucket that needs filling and that can only fill one drop at a time. 

In my mind I went back to the night before Earth Day, to the Table of Faiths dinner that Sergio and I attended. During the closing remarks, Reverend Kelly Isola invited everyone in attendance, which is to say people from a wide variety of faith traditions and people who represent a broad spectrum of religious expressions, to “do the thing that is yours to do.” Which, of course, means different things for different people.

I decided that maybe the things that I do - the actions I take to combat hatred or environmental degradation - are the things that are mine to do. And maybe it doesn’t matter that they are small. They are mine and I am compelled to do them.

Maybe it is my job to be a hummingbird ...

Stinging Nettle

"Stinging Nettle" - such an "Eye of Newt" kind of name

This is stinging nettle. It's a wild edible, I suppose, although you can't eat it when you find it in the wild. I didn't actually find it in the wild myself - I found it at the Eat Local and Organic Expo. It was my farmers who found it growing wild on their farm. I bought it out of curiosity.

It's stings your skin when you touch it (hence the name) but it's safe to eat if you cook it first. ("Really?" I asked the farmer. "Really?" Sergio asked me when I told him. "Really?" You might be asking yourself.) Really it is.

I followed this recipe which instructs you to steam it for 20 mins, which I did and which takes away the sting. This site also says that nettle puts kale and spinach to shame. ("Really?" I wondered, having long since been convinced that kale is the "valedictorian of vegetables.")

Low and behold it is rich in antioxidants. I wonder, are all those nutrients cancelled out if I cram my stinging nettle into a hot mess of eggs and cheese? Even if it's local/organic/free-range eggs and cheese? Maybe. Maybe not. But it tasted good. The recipe worked almost perfectly apart from the fact that I don't know how to make an omelette; any shortcomings of this dish were due entirely to my ineptitude. The stinging nettle was great. Spinachy-tasting in the omelette, though it gave off the most complex minty-potato-ish kind of smell while it steamed.

I wondered why it is I've made it this far in life and haven't learned how to make an omelette. I guess it's because I don't like them all that well.

But I liked this one for sure.

Looking forward to the leftovers tomorrow.

Stinging Nettle Omelete (or Omelette?) 

"Looking back, looking forward: Ten years of local food"

This article appeared in Cultivate KC's newsletter, Urban Grown, in March, 2015 in anticipation of their 10th anniversary. Happy Anniversary, Cultivate! 

Looking back, looking forward: Ten years of local food

By Emily Akins, Kansas City Food Circle

This year will be my 10th season with my Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) farm, which was my first step down a long and winding path of amazing people, delicious local and organic food, and incredible connections.

Along that path I found out about the Kansas City Center for Urban Agriculture, which was renamed Cultivate Kansas City in 2011. I signed up to take a class at Whole Foods, taught in part by Katherine Kelly, co-founder of Cultivate Kansas City, which included a farm tour of what is now called the Gibbs Road Farm. By then I had already begun working as a volunteer for the KC Food Circle, a non-profit that connects eaters with local, organic, and free-range farmers and was beginning to find my way around the great resources available in Kansas City. And I had already learned to appreciate where my food comes from.

When I heard about KCCUA’s Urban Farms and Gardens Tour I decided to sign up to help. It was winter.

The days were short and the vegetable crispers in my fridge were empty, but I began meeting regularly with the amazing volunteers who were planning and preparing the 2009 Urban Farms and Gardens Tour. Before I knew it, it was a hot summer day, the growing season was in full swing, and I was driving around from farm to farm helping to keep the tour running smoothly. I was also enjoying my opportunity to learn about urban agriculture. I went to small farms, large farms, urban farms and backyard farms. Each one provided a wealth of food and information.

I wasn’t the only one who responded so positively to the tour. It has grown each year – as I think much of the local food movement has in Kansas City. With the KC Food Circle, we’ve seen a steady increase of farmers and eaters who want to become part of our organization, and great support from our volunteers and our community partners like Cultivate Kansas City.

I’ve learned a lot and enjoyed food so much in the years since my first season. And I inadvertently became much healthier. I hadn’t set out to eat more whole foods, but buying directly from our local farmers encouraged me to do so. I think this makes my family and me healthier but I also think it makes our community healthier.

This is the beauty of food grown so close to home -- I know the people who grow my food. They have taught me how to store, prepare, and preserve all the delicious produce that comes to me fresh from their farm every week. I can even visit the farms and see with my own eyes where my food comes from. Best of all they have provided me with confidence. I know that their sustainable farming practices both enrich the earth and make for delicious, fresh produce. And I know that each crop and each farmer and each urban farm is enabling Kansas City to grow stronger every year.

I am excited to see the growth that has already happened in Kansas City and I am even more excited to see where Kansas City will be in the next 10 years as more farmers farm, more eaters eat, and as the efforts of Cultivate Kansas City continue to fill our urban core full of delicious food. 

Arlie P. Gandy

Arlie P. Gandy 

May 31, 1921 - February 6, 2015

BIOGRAPHY

Arlie Gandy passed away peacefully on February 6, surrounded by her family. She lived 93 years of a beautiful life. She was born to Julia (Wesson) and Joseph Octor Taylor, along with two sisters and four brothers. Her father died when she was eight years old and her mother raised all seven children with a remarkable strength of spirit and perseverance in central Texas during the depression under conditions of extreme poverty and hard work. Arlie was shaped for life with a deep commitment to family and home, and a belief that with gumption and hard work, one could do almost anything.

When she was nineteen years old, she married Alvin Gandy. Aside from the fact that she was beautiful, he loved her spunk and sincerity. Wherever they lived, she made it home - across Texas in Dublin, Monahans, Brownwood, Dallas, Ft Worth, and in later life, Indianapolis, San Antonio, Kansas City, Detroit, Miami. While in the Dallas/Ft Worth area, they had three daughters. Through the years, sons-in-law and grandchildren rounded out her family, and along with many family friends, they all came to call her Mema. 

She was preceded in death by her husband, Alvin, her daughter, Jetta, three brothers and two sisters. She is survived by daughters, Judy and husband Winford Akins; Joyln and husband Mickey O'Neill; and her close family - Damon Akins and sons Hollis and Reuben; Emily Akins and Sergio Moreno with daughters Julia and Clara; Tyler Thomas and daughters Ling and Minli; Hilary O'Neill; Christopher and Bailey O'Neill; Jo (O'Neill) and Max Gleason; and her dear friend and daily caregiver, Carol Johnson. She is also survived by many members of her beloved Taylor family, including her brother Joe; and members of the Wesson, Gandy and Cox families.

She will always be cherished for the unconditional love she showered on everyone around her. She was a gifted listener, entering deeply into the joys and sorrows of each of us. She was the master of mighty and lasting hugs and handshakes. Her faith in God was indisputable and unwavering. Ever gentle and always direct, no one ever wondered what she believed. To be in her prayers was pure grace and one of life's great blessings.

She loved the music of her early years and in her later life sang a 'new' song every day - from memory - every verse and chorus of every hymn and all the songs of the '40s. As she came closer to the end of her life, in her last moments, all of her singing turned to songs of heaven.

She leaves us with vivid memories of flower gardens and a trellis of abundant pink roses; fabrics, quilts, ruffles and lace; favorite foods on special occasions; amazing stamina and daily optimism. Her love made the everyday and the simple profound.

Her family is ever grateful to her caregivers - Carol, Sara, Rosa, Patricia, Diana, Melanie, Lena. 

Viewing will be Wednesday, 9am-9pm, with family present from 5-7pm at Mercer-Adams. Services will be Thursday, February 12, 2:00pm at Mercer-Adams Chapel with interment in Chapel Hill Memorial Gardens.

From mercer-adams.com

http://www.mercer-adams.com/memsol.cgi?user_id=1515979

Mema

Me and Mema

This is me and Mema last Saturday. She passed away peacefully this morning. She was 93. 

At times like these, thoughts turn to the afterlife. So many people seem so certain about what happens to you after you die. Some are certain that they DO know what happens. Some are certain that they don't know what happens. I have no idea what will happen to YOU when YOU die. But I will tell you what will happen to me...

When I die, my first stop will be Mema's house on the corner of 45th street. I will park by the big chain link gate at the back. There will be a dog in the yard, and it will be Daisy who will be as happy to see me in the afterlife as she is every night when I come home in this life. There will be roses on the trellises - tons of them. I'll go through the back door of the house and Jetta and Mema will be there in the tiny kitchen. It will not be a special occasion or a big day or a triumphant reunion. It will be a Wednesday. The dinner on the stove will be simple. Chicken and Dumplings or Spaghetti. We'll drink Lipton iced tea and eat chocolate chip cookies made with the recipe on the side of the Nestle Toll House chocolate chip package. We will watch Wheel of Fortune. And we will be so glad to see each other. 

Rest in peace, Mema. 

Not Destroying Your Marriage (AKA: Fixed It!)

Oops!! It would appear the folks at FamilyShare.com accidentally posted an article from 1950. Don't worry. I fixed it!

Here's my rewrite for the modern day, using Family Share's original headers and a few choice excerpts from the ghastly original. (Which you can read here: http://familyshare.com/…/5-ways-you-are-unknowingly-destroy… )

5 Things to Avoid in Order to Have a Healthy Romantic Partnership
(Caveat: you are probably not destroying your marriage and this list actually DOES work for women and men.)

1. Living outside of what you can afford.
AKA: "your husband's means."
Don't spend more money than you make. Also don't name your budget after the breadwinner (if you have one of those). Make a budget together and call it "our" budget and "our" means.

2. Constant negativity
AKA "A good man wants you to be happy, and if he can't help you do that, it makes him unhappy."
If at all possible, find a partner who is mentally sound enough to manage his or her own happiness. So that his or her happiness is not YOUR responsibility. Then look for ways to share both the ups and the downs in your lives with one another, helping to lift one another up and be your best self through the good and the bad.
Also: don't listen to anything that says "a good man wants you to be happy, and if he can't help you do that, it makes him unhappy" because that's just someone telling you that a man's happiness is more important than a woman's.

3. Putting everything else first.
AKA "Put your husband first."
It is good to prioritize. Also, you might want to consider taking care of yourself first before you can tend to anyone or anything else. Like putting your oxygen mask on first on the airplane before you help your kids with their masks.

4. Withholding Physical Affection
AKA "It's worth it to give in."
No means no.

5. Not speaking his language
AKA "Don't waste your time giving subtle hints that he won't understand."
Establish open and honest communication. Actually, this point was fine on the original Family Share post if you just take out the first 8 sentences where it talks about DNA and makes women sound manipulative and men sound simpleminded. (By the way, what's actually in our DNA is adenine, guanine, cytosine, and thymine.)

‪#‎fixedit‬

Thanksgiving in Nashville (a photo essay)

So glad that one of us actually had our iPhone on hand to capture the great memories from Thanksgiving in Nashville. 

Flying!

Caramel apples!

Like kids in a candy store. 

Our family + downtown Nashville

Clara

Grocery shopping with cousin Ainsley!

Quality time with Grandma Joyce.

Quality time with (Great) Grandma Sarah.
Happy 90th Birthday!

Cousin shenanigans.

Wheeeee!