Last night I got home from work and started to make cupcakes. My husband tried to persuade me to just relax and forget making the cupcakes, it was late and my day had been busy enough. I looked at him and never had to say a word, he knew I would be making cupcakes; they were birthday cupcakes, needed the very next morning. Over the years, I’ve made many cupcakes late at night for events the next day. My children are both young adults now, so these cupcakes weren’t for classmates at school. However, these cupcakes were going to an elementary school for a celebration. This batch of cupcakes was being made to celebrate the birthday of a co-worker. We work together assessing reading levels for elementary students. Her birthday happened to fall on a “work” day this year, so that called for cupcakes at lunch for the testing team.
Margie, Adelle, Carol, Ginny, Susy, and seated in the center, Sunny our fearless DIBELS leader.
This co-worker is my dear friend, Laura. Several years ago, we had discussed how people are very similar to baked goods. Bakeries have big display cases with all sorts of wonderful items. The treats that get front billing in the case are always the pretty, beautifully decorated delicacies. The éclairs, turnovers, fruit tarts, and of course the frosted cupcakes. All tempting and delicious. Bakeries also offer items that have much more substance. Wonderful bread, quick breads, and muffins. These items aren’t as eye catching, but are equally delicious and more fortifying. We have decided that we are both muffins. Muffins aren’t up in the front getting all the attention. They aren’t frosted or decorated. They are scrumptious and versatile. Muffins are good any time of day. They go great with coffee in the morning, they are a nice addition to soup or salad at lunch, they make a wonderful afternoon snack, and they even can be enjoyed as dessert. Everybody likes a good muffin. They don’t need to be in the front of the case because people that want a muffin will look past the fluffy, sugary, tempting treats to find the perfect muffin.
Laura and Carol, two muffins on Shop Hop in Seattle.
As friends go, muffin friends are the best. Laura is my muffin friend. We met when our oldest children were in first grade. My son, Tyler, was injured while riding his bike and spent a few days in the hospital. Laura’s son, Johnny, insisted that his mom locate his “lost” friend who was suddenly missing from school. Laura and Johnny showed up at the hospital. Tyler immediately perked up at the sight of his buddy. Laura and I introduced ourselves and have never looked back. Those boys are now 22 years old. We have shared many good times, boosted each other in tough times, gotten into a good amount of predicaments together, laughed, cried, talked, and listened.
Muffins, like friends, get better and more interesting when you add ingredients. There is nothing better than biting into a muffin and getting an unexpected nut, piece of fruit, or chocolate chip. You can’t see what’s in a muffin by looking at it, the best parts are usually hidden within.
This is why the cupcakes had to be baked. They are sitting on the kitchen counter in all their frosted glory. They will be pretty and perky for the celebration. I made the cupcakes because I know that once they are gone and forgotten, I’ll be the lucky one. I’ll still have a muffin.
Happy Birthday, Laura.
Laura Keolanui Stark is a muffin who loved her birthday cupcakes. She had a great birthday filled with good friends and family, and all their good wishes. Thanks everybody, especially fellow muffins: Carol , and Penny who first shared the Muffin Classification Theory with me when we were in China. Laura can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.
Friday, September 10 was the opening day of the Puyallup Fair, the 8th largest fair in the world. Between 10 a.m. and noon, admittance is free if you bring a can of food for the food bank. They make sure to tell you this when you enter a quilt.
John had a meeting at work that morning scheduled to end at 11, so I figured I’d be able to work out, shower, meet him, and make it to the fair by noon. I gave him a can of beans as he left for work in case we had to go in separate cars. At 11:35, he called to say he was running a little late, but was 5 minutes from home. He'd underestimated how heavy traffic could get on Meridian on opening day.
We took our secret route back downtown to the fair only to discover a few thousand other people had the same “secret” route. Time was ticking closer and closer to noon as we crept along. Everyone else was aiming for an official parking lot. We parked in the backyard of the first house that had a homeowner flagging us in.
Eight minutes and several blocks to go. I should have kept my workout shoes on. I was jogging in 3 inch heels, hanging onto John’s arm to avoid a twisted ankle. At 11:59, we stood across the street from the Gold Gate, canned goods in hand, willing the sign to blink, “Walk, walk, walk.” The crowd carried us along, through the turnstiles, and we were in! How close could we cut it?
Our first stop would be The Pavilion, to see my quilts. On our way, I told John, “Don’t expect to see a ribbon on either of them.” He gave me a questioning look. I explained, “The quilting on them isn’t the greatest.”
We got off the escalator, and walked through the doors, craning our necks, looking through the hundreds of quilts for mine. It didn’t take long to spot the pink and brown “Walled Garden” just inside the doors; no ribbon.
If you look closely, you can see my blue and yellow quilt on the next row, to the right.
Almost directly behind it on the next row, was the blue and yellow quilt, “Spring at Last!” Pinned to the lower right corner, was a shiny, white, 3rd place ribbon! I was stunned!
I had been pleased to finally finish this quilt since I started it in 2004! Then I was happy to enter it in the fair, with hours to spare. To win a ribbon definitely added some very sweet frosting to the cake!
Laura Keolanui Stark is still grinning. She can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.
Last semester, my daughter was in a class that invited several international professors to talk about their impressions of America. She said that the professors from Asia, for the most part had positive things to say about their experiences while living here. But, the European ones were very critical. One from Denmark remarked (along with other snide comments) that America doesn’t really have a culture.
It raised my daughter’s hackles. Probably because my husband has traveled extensively for his job, and we’ve had many European visitors come and stay at our house. It’s always the same story with them. For some reason, Europeans are always lecturing us about what’s wrong with America. We had an Englishman who was moving to the U.S., tell us his plans for making the U.S. more like the U.K. I didn’t say it, but I thought, “Good luck with that!” It’s irritating and rude. I’ve never gone to another country, and pointed out what I thought their shortcomings were. As an “ugly American,” I enjoyed the things I liked, and overlooked what I didn’t. I’m not arrogant enough to think I’m going to change a country to meet my expectations. So, I return home, to the U.S., where I like it best.
Nobody asked, but here’s my answer to his snobby observation that America doesn’t have a culture. If we don’t have a culture, why does everyone in the world know who the U.S. is? And why does everybody criticize our nonexistent culture? Does he know what a cowboy is? Has he heard of Hollywood? New York? Rock ‘n roll? Country music? Football? Baseball? The richest farmland in the world? The interstate highway system? The internet? Universities that students from all over the world strive to be admitted to? Blue jeans?
Our culture isn’t tied to national costumes, or one dance that we’ve done for hundreds of years. Our culture is many different cultures. Drive through any town in America and you’ll find Mexican, Italian, Thai, Chinese, and “American” restaurants. Our culture is forward thinking, not mired in the past. That’s why we don’t have many ancient buildings, particularly out here in the West since it’s fairly new. We like to renovate and renew rather than preserve. American culture is not pretentious. Sometimes it’s downright tacky. We don’t take ourselves so seriously that we can’t laugh at ourselves. And I think it would be hard to find an American who would proclaim that we’re perfect.
Yesterday I spent the day at the Puyallup Fair, one of the top ten largest fairs held in the world. We stood in line for forty-five minutes for scones. Most of the time, I chatted with a Hispanic woman in front of me. Her husband looked Samoan. The group in front of us included a Caucasian couple who were introducing a Filipino man to scones. An African couple sat nearby on a bench. When we finally placed our order for a dozen, the cashier introduced us to the exchange students making the scones. The six of them were from various European and Asian countries. They couldn’t believe how long we were willing to stand in line for the puffy triangles of dough stuffed with raspberry jam. But they hadn’t had a chance to taste them yet.
We walked past hundreds of booths with tempting foods from around the world, and around the U.S.: bratwurst, pirogis, burgers, teriyaki, shave ice, barbecue, corn on the cob, funnel cakes, elephant ears, corn dogs, etc. before we settled on Philly steak sandwiches for lunch. We paused to let rodeo horses clomp past us with cowboys in the saddle on their way into the stadium. We admired all the photos taken by international shutterbugs. We were on our way to the hobby hall to check out the collections ranging from Beatles memorabilia to thimbles, when we stopped dead in our tracks.
Was that Elvis we heard singing? We u-turned and joined the crowd, peering over their heads to spot Elvis singing to packed bleachers of fans. He was dressed in his 70s Vegas white outfit with the cape and wide, sparkling, gemstone-studded belt. The audience was clapping and singing along. When he finished the show with “An American Trilogy,” everyone rose to their feet, and there were some teary eyes in the house. Elvis was back in the building, and reminded me of what America’s about. We can have opposing views intense enough to fight a Civil War over them. We can be flashy and outrageous. We like being able to become anything we want “when we grow up.” We hate taxes. We can be fiercely independent, stubborn, generous, tender hearted, and strong all at the same time.
Which leads to my thoughts about 9-11, and the latest controversy about a mosque being built in the shadow of Ground Zero. Our country is founded on constitutional rights. No other country on earth has come up with a better system of government. No Muslim country has the rights that our country has. It’s interesting that they take our strength and turn it against us. The Muslims have a right to build a mosque where the Twin Towers were destroyed by them. But does the word “right” mean the same thing as “obligation?” Do they understand that our tolerance has limits?
Anyone can become an American. But based on what I saw at an Elvis impersonator concert, we won’t be changing into Europeans, or submitting to Sharia law any time soon.
Laura Keolanui Stark can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.
All summer long, almost every time I left the house, I drove past the neighborhood elementary school, and the reader board flashed the message, “Read 5 books this summer.” The not-so-subliminal message worked. Two weeks ago, I started counting the books I’d read since school let out.
First, a friend gave me her copy of The Girls from Ames by Jeffrey Zaslow. It is the true story a group of girls who grew up together in Ames, Iowa, and have kept a 40 year friendship going. It was interesting to compare how girls’ friendships were when I was growing up to how they are now. It was also fun to look at their yearbook pictures and see how they look now. The main appeal though, was that they were close to my age, so reading it was almost like going to my high school reunion.
The second book of my summer was Griffin & Sabine by Nick Bantock. It’s an “old” book, published in 1991. If I was still in school and had to read a certain amount of books, this book would be perfect to meet the quota because it’s pretty much a picture book. It’s a book that I’ve already read. I was at a used book store and it was in the clearance section for only $3! I picked it up vaguely remembering that I’d liked it, and that it had a lot of cool artwork in it. It was still intriguing. As the jacket says, “It’s the correspondence between Griffin and Sabine. It is a story that is partly a romance, partly a mystery, and completely a work of art. Each page contains a new card or letter, rich with lush colors, brilliant drawing, and wildly imaginative creatures and landscapes.” It was definitely something different, and well worth $3.
I confess that I didn’t read every single page of the third book I am claiming for my summer reading list. It was The Best American Non-Required Reading 2007, edited by Dave Eggers. My son Johnny bought it for a college English class he took his sophomore year. For some reason one night, he told me about a graduation speech made by Conan O’Brian. That speech is included in this book, so I read it and had to agree that it’s hilarious, as well as insightful. Short stories are great to have on hand when you’re running errands or have to kill time in waiting rooms. I carried this collection around with me, picking and choosing the pieces that appealed to me. It kept me entertained for a couple of weeks.
Number four was Summer People by Brian Groh, chosen because even though you aren’t supposed to judge a book by its cover, I really liked the cover: a series of oars hanging inside a rustic shed painted blue. The main character, Nathan, accepts a summer job as a caretaker of the eccentric matriarch of an exclusive New England coastal community. He interacts with some quirky characters, falls in love with a girl who doesn’t feel the same way, and ends up being the butt of all the rich people’s problems. Somehow, that summary sounds better than the actual book. Something was lacking. Nathan was a pathetic character, and the big “secrets” that were revealed didn’t live up to the vague suspense.
I just finished the fifth book of summer, a mere 13 hours before school begins once again in Puyallup. It was an easy, fast read, The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. For some reason, I thought it was about dog racing, but it’s not. It’s about a race car driver from Seattle. The story is told by his dog, Enzo. It’s a very interesting point of view; after all, pet dogs probably see humans at our most unvarnished, honest selves. It was a sad book, but I should’ve seen that coming. Don’t all books with or about dogs end up being sad? But I don’t regret reading it. I liked the characters, it did have lots of good driving tips, and it got me to my goal of five.
I hope that the kids starting school tomorrow have their five books lined up, or better yet, read more books than I did, so they’ll be ready with the teacher asks, “What did you read this summer?”
Laura Keolanui Stark is shuffling through her stacks of books to find the next one to read. She can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.
