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reporting from the rim of the sinkhole

At about 4 PM, a few months ago, Pete sent me an email saying something about soul food.  I was rushing to end my day so I overlooked the attachment that would have filled me in on the details and why he thought this might be of interest to me.  I dismissed the message quickly.

That evening though as fate would have it, I got another message on my email informing me that I had a new follower on Twitter.  This was big news given that it is a rare occurrence.  As Pete assures me that I am right behind Lady Gaga in terms of followers, I must assume that she might have like twenty-eight.  So, I decided to check out my ignored little bird account and see who my new follower might be.  Once there, I stumbled upon a flurry of activity on the feed from someone I follow–chef and food activist Bryant Terry, author of Vegan Soul Kitchen and Urban Grub.  The excited conversation was about a PBS documentary Soul Food Junkies which was apparently being aired right then.  The praise was pouring in for this film by Byron Hurt, about his exploration of the historical and cultural roots of soul food cuisine and its relationship to the current health crisis with its impact on the African-American community.  

Ah, now I got it.  I ran upstairs to the TV room and grappled with the remote.  Mastering its controls I pushed that channel button frantically.  I must mention that I have about as limited a relationship with the television as I do with my Twitter account–and relying on an old antenna like apparatus, have access to about seven channels.  Still, I knew I did get PBS.  Round and round I cycled through those seven channels, three PBS stations and still could not find the show I was looking for. It seems PBS offers a few different channels these days, and I don’t get the one on which the program was aired.   Instead, what I did find on was a program about a guinea worm eradication program sponsored by Jimmy Carter’s Carter Center in Africa.  It was rather fascinating though quite gruesome to watch.  Apparently, water-borne guinea worm disease which has plagued a wide swath of Africa and Asia for thousands of years is poised to be eradicated.  In 1986 when the Carter Center began its campaign with the partner countries, there were an estimated 3.5 million cases in 21 countries.  By 2012 there were 542 cases left in just four African countries.

Guinea worm disease is contracted from ingesting drinking water contaminated with larvae that once inside the human abdomen grow into worms up to three feet long.  These worms eventually emerge from the body through excruciatingly painful blisters on the skin.  I guardedly watched as health workers painstakingly exorcised these worms from the legs of screaming children and stoic adults, wrapping the worms around little sticks which were slowly turned.  One worm, one person at a time.  The success of this amazing eradication program has been due to water treatment and filtration programs and community education at a very grass-roots level.

A few days later I was able to watch Soul Food Junkies on pbs.org.  It is an excellent film and I have been talking it up with a lot of my clients–and others as well.  Many of my clients are African-American and my daily consults revolve around discussing this interface between food as cultural identity and health.  Soul food is not the only problem area.  Many cultural cuisines that have sustained people for millenia are causing problems in the context of our modern existence.  This is due to various reasons including agricultural alterations in the actual foodstuffs that form the basis of these cuisines, more processed versions of these dietary staples being substituted for the real foods, traditional diets being padded with the excess of sugars, concentrated carbohydrates and other addictive substances that infiltrate our beings and a massive increase in sedentary lifestyles and stress.  The vulnerable communities that are more exposed to poverty and its attendant health disparities are experiencing greater discord between their food and their health.

This is multi-layered stuff that claws at the core of who we are as eaters and which reveals how deeply connected we are to our heritage.  Food is clearly not just extrinsic matter.  It communicates intimately with our cellular makeup.  And, it is a heavenly sacrament.    I remember as a child listening to my mother and my aunties trying to sever the relationship between my hypertensive grandfather and the heavily salt-cured foods of his Russian roots.  Little did I know I would one day be standing between an African-American man and his beloved fried chicken or an Asian woman and her dear little grains of rice.

But yes, there I am.  Standing tall at five feet one, holding firm with my big professional tweezers before every diabetic who sits in my office. With exact precision, I try to extract each granule of sugar  that has gone rogue in the bloodstream, wreaking havoc on the body–sort of like a guinea worm.  Just as guinea worm disease takes hold in unsuspecting individuals so does diabetes.  Persons consuming available foods for the  purpose of sustaining survival and attaining some pleasure, awaken one day to learn that they are infested with massive globs of excess glucose.

I have been doing this work for a long time and I can tell you that the diabetic epidemic is getting worse.  My daily roster is full of newly diagnosed cases of diabetes.  This morning I woke up to some crazy NPR story about the woes of candy makers due to the relative high price of sugar–the price regulated by the Farm Bill.  Apparently, the makers of Dum Dum lollipops require 100,000 pounds of sugar for the daily manufacture of ten million Dum Dums–and they are having a hard time affording it.  Can those numbers be for real?  Well, please don’t tell Dum Dum  that I have some sugar stockpiled in my office–mounds of the stuff that I have removed from my clients.  I know they will just try to recycle it right back into the very folk I took it from.

Diabetes might not seem to be as bad as guinea worm–but one can actually make many metaphorical if not actual comparisons.  Diabetes leaves many physical and emotional scars.   My clients look at me through eyes that plead to spare them from this scary disease–that comes complete with implements that stab and jab and symptoms that pain and worry–depleting the soul.  I scurry furiously to help pull them out of the sinkhole of this very complicated condition.  If a disease caused by a swarm of microscopic larvae can be eradicated from the planet, it is hard to believe we can’t do better to minimize the incidence or increase the reversal of diabetes.  The methods employed essentially would seem to be the same–clean food, governmental responsibility, education and cultural adaptation.

And so, that is why the work of Bryant Terry and the film of Byron Hurt is so important–and why folk should watch Soul Food Junkies and align it with their own food foundation.  And, why you should quickly sign on to the Food Summit Revolution 2013--a series of incredible interviews on these urgent food and health matters that will be aired between April 27th and May 5th.  Time is of the essence and Jimmy Carter deserves a rest.

Thank you for reading, really.  As always, thoughts, tweezers and twitter followers welcomed.

In health, Elyn

My Plate Haiku

Food made joyfully

As a gift of time and self

Feeds body and soul.

by Anne-Marie

My Plate Photo by Nirinjan

calories of separation

I am related to Fay Wray.  Yes, the actress known for her theatrical screams, who portrayed Ann Darrow in the original King Kong film.  More dramatically, though inadvertently, she was “the beauty who killed the beast”.  I guess lots of ordinary people have some connection to famous ones–but mine is pretty crazy, right?  When Fay Wray died in 2004 at the age of 96, the lights of the Empire State Building were extinguished for fifteen minutes in her honor.

English: Fay Wray's star on the Hollywood Walk...

English: Fay Wray’s star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 6349 Hollywood Blvd. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The story is even a little more interesting.  Cousin Fay was born in Canada to a Mormon family who eventually moved to Hollywood. She attended high school there and entered the film industry at a young age.  Though most famous for her role in King Kong, she had many film and TV roles in her long career.  It was in Hollywood that she met and married my grandfather’s cousin, Robert Riskin.  Well, I know you are probably wondering if my connection by marriage counts–but Robert Riskin has a celebrated history as well.  He was a prolific playwright and screenwriter–an Academy Award winner best known for his work with the director Frank Capra on films such as It Happened One Night, You Can’t Take it With You and Mr. Deeds Goes to Town.

So, while they led very glamorous Hollywood lives, the bulk of my relatives lingered in New York.   Though many of them possessed various artistic talents, my celebrity relations remained thus limited.  Nonetheless, though I live in a tiny circumscribed world, I am tickled by the notion of brushes with fame.  My short list includes that of being picked up while hitchhiking in Big Sur by Carl Reiner and his wife, and of providing nutritional services so to speak to Tommy Lee Jones, Tom Brokaw, Peter Martins and Bill Bradley during my various stints as a waitress.   I actually had a little tiff with Mr. Bradley about a diet soda–he shouldn’t have been drinking the stuff anyway.

And, then there are my amazing nutrition connections.  I have mentioned before that not only do I know Mark Hyman–I lived with him during college;  I had breakfast with Marc David; I am pretty positive that I grew up in the same town as Michael Pollan–so that is association by geography; and I did clearly imagine seeing Mark Bittman in Brooklyn one day.

So, already sitting on a pretty full nest of impressive–though perhaps exaggerated–VIPs for a small village girl, imagine my surprise when this happened.  A few weeks back, my inbox began to flood with feed from my professional and personal networks about a new book called Salt Sugar Fat:  How the Food Giants Hooked Us.   Everywhere I turned, I was seeing or hearing about this new expose of the food industry.  My first reaction was to file this for later.  But, then something caught my eye– in the tiny print of the text that appeared on my screen.  The author was Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative journalist Michael Moss.   It took one quick message to my college and journalist friend Ellen to confirm my suspicion.  This was not just any old Mike, Mark or Tom–but another very real connection.

Michael Moss is an ex-boyfriend of Ellen.  I knew Michael through her.  Many years ago, when they were together, Michael was assigned to cover the New York State Legislature in Albany where he knew no one–except Pete and I–and baby Morgan.  So Michael hung out–and ate–with us.  At that time he was finishing his first book, Palace Coup:  The Inside Story of Harry and Leona Helmsley of which I have an autographed copy–made out to the three of us.  Though we lost touch a long time ago, I was aware that he was a well-regarded journalist.  He had won the Pulitzer in 2009 for his investigation of an E-coli outbreak.  So, I was not at all shocked to see that he had written another book.  Instead, I found it remarkable that someone I knew was bringing big attention to a matter so near and dear to my own work.  The news about the book now seemed more close than far.  Eager to get my hands on an excerpt the day it ran in the New York Times, I grabbed the magazine section from my brother-in-law before he even finished his beloved puzzle page.

In the weeks that have ensued since the book was published, Michael Moss has been very busy on the circuit with very public appearances including the Daily Show.  Its been nice to see him again.   From my perspective, I am not sure that the book unveils anything entirely new regarding how many processed food items are insidiously designed to ensnare its consumers.  Much of this has been revealed by the likes of Eric Schlosser in Fast Food Nation, David Kessler in The End of Overeating, and Greg Critser in Fat Land and discussed by people like–me.  However, from my reading of the excerpt, I think what Michael has done is put faces and names to the industry.  He got inside and he obtained admissions from those who were controlling the direction and deception of the products–that what they were doing was bad.  The depth of the collusion is always chilling to encounter, no matter how many times one learns of it–and for many this will be new.  He writes, “it’s telling that many of the wealthy food executives I spoke to about their products wouldn’t dream of eating the stuff themselves.”  How he managed to obtain hidden documents and how deeply he infiltrated, speaks to his highly tuned investigative acumen.

So, here I am again, giddy that I actually know someone else who is poised to affect the societal metabolism.  I am not sure how heavy his final indictment was–but he has certainly added to the conversation.  To highlight  what this is all about, I leave you with this little expose from nutritionist Rob Leighton about Krave Nation, Kellogg’s relatively new cereal.  Stuff like this makes me want to scream one really huge Fay Wray scream.  Believe me–I have it in me–even if it is just by marriage.

Please continue to join me in the collective noise making about food justice and reclaiming a path toward real food and societal health.    Drop me a line, say hi, and share your thoughts.  When you are famous I will be so glad to say I know you too–though I am thrilled to know you anyway, right now.

Speaking of which, I am always thrilled that Joanna Hess is my dear friend–absolutely and positively.  Joanna is a teacher, artist and visionary who has managed to bring additional beauty to the already stunning Hudson Valley region in New York.  Joanna is the recipient of a donor kidney which provided her with a rebirth to a healthy life.  April, the month of rebirth and resurrection is also National Donate Life Month.  Please read her article  (p.14) on the importance of organ donation and encourage yourself and your friends to become donors.

http://www.turnthetidefoundation.org/unjunkyourself.htm (fun videos and messages for kids)

http://www.hungryforchange.tv/  (important film)

In health, Elyn

My Plate for Joanna

Smooth peanut butter

Spread on a peeled banana

Snack time perfection.

By Gretchen

under the waning gibbous moon

Tonight, as sleep calls to me, while the waning gibbous moon that illuminates the night sky is 88% full, I take an excerpt from a previous post, Muse of the Girl, in recognition of Eating Disorder Awareness Week.   A gibbous moon is one of the phases of the Moon, when the size of the illuminated portion is greater than half but not a full Moon.

Waning gibbous moon. Français : Lune gibbeuse ...

Waning Gibbous Moon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I want to discuss the war that doesn’t get covered, that wages within many girls and women–of all ages and sizes–who hate their bodies and therefore deny a large part of their selves.  Or, who, by not loving themselves, direct a lot of abuse toward their physical temples in both thought and action.  Though they often wish they were invisible, we see them walking around in all sizes– including those we deem acceptable and those we envy.  Persons, whose self-worth has long been determined by the numbers on a scale or by an image in a mirror.

The war, where the collective pain and problems are as profound as those we ascribe to obesity–and the physical consequences are often more severe or deadly.  Here, confusion and dictates about food and eating scar the bountiful landscape.  Here, much potential is lost and much love is denied.  I think we all have wandered into and many have lingered in this place where reality is distorted and self-flagellation and deprivation seems deserved.

This is the ignored epidemic.  Not many resources are designated, but I have apparently been assigned to cover this front.  My field notebooks are filled with stories and quotes that are usually too intimate for me to share.  But, they reflect the reality that too many females (and increasingly, males) believe that without perfection they cannot be whole and should not take up much space on this generous planet.  It is heartbreaking to witness this.

Having been touched by the lives of so many amazing, intelligent, gorgeous, creative, warm, gentle, caring and funny individuals who have been broken in this battle of self and body, these are some things I wish would receive front page headlines:

Bodies change, contours soften, bellies round, babies fill, bloat happens, hunger informs, weight is not absolute, judgmental words injure, beauty shines, food nourishes, wisdom evolves, body protects, hormones ebb and flow, pleasure is permissible, fat is often just a feeling in one’s head and restriction revolts.

If you are living this, put down the staunch resistance, begin the surrender and trust your inner feminine voice.  Please know you are all so beautiful and you possess that which really matters.  Take a moment to put your hand on your heart and belly and send love to yourself.  Take a deep slow breath and be thankful to your body.  Send a healing thought out to other women, because I assure you, you are so not alone.  Hold the daughters and ask to be held.  Reclaim your place.  Change the internal tapes.  Know there are many paths to healing available.  The world needs everything you have to offer.

How fully illuminated is your feminine moon?  What else might you wish for others to know and trust?

Any sharings will be welcomed and respected.

In love and health, Elyn  

my plate

my plate

My Plate Haiku

Deep scarlet red beets

 Reveal your sweetness to me

 Slip out of your skins  

By Elyn

who do i love?

Happy Valentine’s Day.  My day started out with a visit from Ms. Henry.  Now, if she is not the true expression of this global love fest, I don’t know who is.  One might almost expect for her to leave a trail of rose petals behind as she spreads love wherever she goes.  Ms. Henry always has some story that both surprises and delights.  Today, she told me that she had informed everyone, that in no way were they to get her any chocolate this holiday.  If they wished to get her anything, she would gladly accept red foods.  And, wouldn’t you know it, her six-year-old godson and his mom gifted her with apples and pomegranates.  And, the little boy told her that they had shopped for the fruits at the food coop.  It was only 9:15 in the morning and I felt my heart opening wide.  photo (1)

The rest of my work day was filled with more touching moments  as I had some other clients tell of their own personal blossomings and awakenings on this lifetime eating adventure.  I was feeling light in spirit as I raced out of the office to tend to some mothering duties–and the late afternoon sun granted me enough warmth that I shed my dark winter coat and threw it in the back seat of the car.  After a little bit of rushing around, I was then grateful to join a circle of friends who were gathering for a cozy showing of the movie Moonstruck, thanks to the abundant and incredible hospitality of Heidi, whose love flows out through her wonderful culinary gifts and the pouring of the perfect glass of wine.  Tonight’s Italian theme-based dinner was baked ziti, (meatballs on the side) and rapini.  Rapini is a green and Brassica rapa vegetable, rich in Vitamins A, C, and E, folate, potassium and detoxifying indole-3-carbinol compounds dear to my heart–of course.  Oh, and  beautiful, homemade individual heart-shaped flavanoid-blessed chocolate cakes.  How sweet is that?

So, though my main squeeze was not home, and all cuddling was reserved for Chico the cat, it was still a special Valentine’s Day.  In its honor I want to take a moment to share a list of some of the (not previously referenced) amazing people I love whose work informs and supports my own and who inspire me by the generous sharing of their wisdom, wit, intelligence, passion and pure love for keeping us all a little healthier and happier.

Nutritional Wisdom:

Andrea Nakayama:  http://www.replenishpdx.com/

JJ Virgin:  http://jjvirgin.com/

Paula Owns:  http://www.paulaowens.com/

Lisa Nelson:  http://www.lisanelsonrd.com/

Gentle Approaches to Dietary Self Management:

Angela Minelli:  http://www.wellnesswithangela.com/

Environmental Toxins and our Personal Health:

Lara Adler:  http://www.laraadler.com/

Body Acceptance:

Deah Schwartz:  http://www.drdeah.com/

Parental Amusement:

Honest Toddler:  (I just love when Zena reads me these tweets!):  https://twitter.com/HonestToddler

Please take a moment to check these out.  I hope they will lead you to that which you may wish to know.  Share with me if there is anyone you love whose message is also along these lines.

With full heart, I call it a day–loving you.   Like this if you will or forward me some love by way of a comment, subscription or sharing.  Or, a My Plate photo or haiku!

In health, Elyn

PS.  Both Ms. Henry and Chico could use some healing prayers, so please send some their way.

Rose's Plate

Rose’s Plate

My Plate Haiku

Hearts are not just

reserved for romance–

every living thing is in love!

By Kat   (my friend, whose writing and photos I also adore)  http://katadventures.com/author/katadventures/

the amazing mr. s–still ticking and kicking butt

Hello,  I am re-posting this story about Mr. S on the occasion today of his 90th birthday.  He came to see me two weeks ago.  We discussed vegetable juicing.  He was about to purchase a juicer–actually two, one for him and one for his daughter.  The rest of the story is still the same.

I had a visit this week from my friend, Mr. S..

I first met Mr. S. three years ago, when he was 85 years old.  So, he is now 88. Like clockwork, he comes to see me every six months, as close to the exact date as possible.  He gets signed onto my schedule as a patient, comes to my office and sits in the chair, and hands me his glucometer to show me his blood sugar readings–which are always normal.  That is about as far as I can fairly say his patient status extends.  For the rest of our encounter, he serves in the role of my inspiration. organic Heirloom tomatoes at Slow Food Nation'...

Mr. S. is a lifetime military man who served in three wars.  Yes, three wars.  He was born before the Great Depression.  He has had colon cancer, some heart irregularities, and a touch of  diabetes.  He has a handful of doctors he sees religiously.  He is by all usual accounting, old.  But, when I go out to the waiting room to call him, he is always sitting there in a nicely pressed, often comical T-shirt, stylin’ sneakers and with his MP3 headphones in his ears.  He is muscular and fit and he truly looks like a kid.  He still works part-time, walks most everywhere, and has a profoundly full and secure memory bank.

Six months ago, when I last saw him, his appointment was on a day we had a really big snowstorm.  Instead of driving to work, I took the commuter bus.  I had to trudge, in Dr. Zhivago-like fashion, down streets that plows and shovels could not yet tend to and that cars and buses could not negotiate.  I came in the back door of the building, frosted with ice and quite bedraggled.  As I turned on my computer, I realized Mr. S. was there waiting for me.  Apologetically, and still dripping and bothered, I went to receive him.  There he was–serene and bone dry, as if he had come in from an alternate climate and mindset zone–like Key West.

Though he is the consummate gentleman, and will not let me hold the door for him, he hails me by my last name, as if we are old war buddies.  Each visit plays out essentially the same.  He bemoans the physical impairment he witnesses around him due to collective ill-health, he is shocked by the corpulence of young people and he is disturbed by how poorly most are eating.  He always asks me if I know who invented those little motorized scooters that assist those who are mobility impaired.  He considers them a serious hindrance to most who rely on them.  I reply that I don’t know.

He maintains that most folk hear, but they refuse to listen.  Whereas, I tend to see the current health crisis as being due to a combination of societal failures, he is mainly about personal responsibility.  He god blesses me frequently, confounded that I have the patience to do what I do–repeatedly trying to knock sense into people, as he says.  He is a philosopher and a sage, and though I do infer that he has a few skeletons in his own closet, he awakes each day committed to being the best that he can be.

He buys good old regular food, he cooks it and he enjoys it.  We chat about what he has recently prepared.  Beans and veggies are usually in the mix and he loves fresh, local tomatoes. I have on three different occasions had Mr. S. accompany me to little talks I have given, as my daily quest is to try to inspire health.  When I introduce him, I ask the audience to guess how old he is.  The oldest guess so far has been 71.  When we reveal his true age, the crowd goes crazy.

Now, it could be said that Mr. S. has just been blessed by a good set of genes or that he is just lucky.  He has had not only one, but three big opportunities to have been blown to pieces and yet, here he is, still intact both mentally and physically.  He obviously has some good collection of the factors that we seem to understand as longevity promoting.

However, before our sessions come to an end, he always reminds me of one more thing. Mr. S. has a Mrs. S..  She is frail with some dementia.  Above all else, he says, it is his job to be healthy in order that he may take care of her.  If he wasn’t able to be there for her, who would?

Although I have heard it before, I am always a sucker for this part of the story.   It seems that we are not wired fully for self-preservation as self-destructive behaviors are too easily inclined.  This is especially true for men who don’t seem to take as good care of themselves as women do.  What Mr. S. understands is that love is a necessary ingredient in the big gestalt of health.

He is also not too far off in his perception that my work entails a high degree of trying to knock sense into people. However, rather than using a sledge-hammer approach, I too try to offer and prescribe as high a dose of Vitamin L(ove) as I can.  Perhaps, it is really all we need.

Do you have a Mr. S. who inspires your life?

In health, Elyn

I hope you enjoy the beautiful new My Plate Plates.  I am still accepting more plates and can really use some new Haikus.  So, send me your plate photos, inspired Haikus and likes and greetings, so I know you are dropping by for some virtual tea and crumpets.

susan's plate

susan’s plate

My Plate Haiku
Food is medicine
 Farmers are doctors, Cooks priests
 Eat, pray, eat, pray, love.  
 By Gordon

so-duh

I have a confession to make.  I recently had a soda.  Yes, I did.  That means, of my own volition, I purchased the vibrantly colored 12 oz can, pulled up on that little flip top, and brought that fizzy, bubbly nectar–rife with all its high fructose corn syrup–up to my own lips…and swallowed.  Then I swallowed again.  And, I did all of this under the bright lights of the  public eye.  I tell ya.  That little burst of Sunkist Orange Soda was quite satisfying.

It was a cold winter’s night.  Pete and I had gone to our little local community-run movie theater where nice volunteers staff a humble concession stand.  I don’t really know how it happened.  I was thirsty.  Ordinarily, I would have just purchased a water–which was what I was assuming I was about to do again as I approached the counter.  However, uncharacteristically, my thirst informed me right then and there that it would not be humored this time by just plain water and it insisted that I consider the offerings stocked in the small glass-front refrigerator.  

I was stunned.  I did not know what to do.  Healthy-oriented me does really enjoy a few lines of lightly sweetened specialized iced teas but there were none of those to be found in that bastion of freon-cooled fare.  Instead, there were just waters, sodas and those pouches of Capri Suns that you stick  little straws into.  I panicked.  The cloyingly sweet fruit juice concoctions aroused a mild nausea, the sodas provoked my usual disgust and disdain and the concession people were beginning to look at me funny.  Suddenly, the sun logo on the little orange can seemed to wink at me and I found myself saying, “Yes, I’ll have an orange soda.”  When I went back to sit in my chair, Pete turned to tell me that the seat was saved…for me.  He really did not recognize me with that can in my hand.  The last time he saw me with a can of soda was about 1981 when we were parched and poor living in Dallas, Texas.

Now, you might not think this was such a big deal without appreciating that I have about the lowest per capita soda consumption and am kind of like the Carrie Nation of the soda-drinking world.  I tote around soda bottles emptied of their original content and refilled with their hidden sugar equivalency.  I  paste pictures of skulls and cross-bones on these bottles.  I make my victims hold those bottles while I read them the insidious list of ingredients that their beloved brands contain.  I make them weep as they promise to not ever imbibe again.  When forced on rare occasions to empty the bottles of their original contents so I can use them for my own devices, I don plastic gloves and a face mask.  That is how corrosive I consider these substances to be.  And, if anyone had ever dared offer my own kids a soda in my presence, who knows what their fate may have been.

So, imagine my inner confusion as I leaned over and whispered to Pete during the movie, “This is pretty good.”  Now, don’t get me wrong.  It is not like I never had the stuff.  I was raised on soda.  The only thing that had stopped me from having a relationship with it long ago was an early adoption of a whole foods/crunchy granola lifestyle, an understanding of the depleting aspects of white sugar and a resistance to large multi-national corporations.  If I had not had such a strong philosophical position on such matters way back, I might have just gone along enjoying these nice little fizzies with the rest of the masses.  Especially the innocent flavors like orange, black cherry and ginger ale.  Sometimes they do just hit the spot like nothing else can.  If not bolstered by my iron-clad conviction that soda should be a banned substance, I could easily imagine getting another one of these little cans of sunshine the next time I go to the movies.  And then, maybe when I go to a restaurant or if I am on a trip.  I could then just keep a few in my own fridge.

Maybe I should have relaxed a little last week with my lovely 35-year-old-client–300 plus pounds, diagnosed with diabetes a year ago whose blood sugars are better but still not in good control.  He is drinking way less Pepsi than he used to.  Now,he only has one or two cans a day, sometimes none, while on the job during the day as a building maintenance supervisor.  Should the fact that he is the father of five– the youngest of which was with him during our consult and who was the cutest thing ever–matter?  Is it just a coincidence that he sees a connection between his blood sugar levels and his soda consumption?

Maybe I shouldn’t have tried so hard last week to figure out what was up with my 34-year-old pregnant client.  Prior to this pregnancy, her chart indicated that there was evidence of high blood sugar–hyperglycemia–without a full diagnosis of diabetes.  She came in bemoaning her foul moods, agitation and lack of both patience and energy.  Came to find out she has been consuming 2 to 3 liters of Cherry Coke for a long while.  Imagine her surprise when I pulled out a sugar-filled bottle of her favorite blend from under my desk.

Once again, there is new hoopla in the divisive soda world as Coca-Cola is releasing these commercial spots touting their supposed corporate responsibility in the fight against obesity while at the same time ignoring the true effects of their confectionery concoctions.  You can watch one of them here.  My peeps, Mark Bittman, Marion Nestle, CSPI and others  are thankfully responding to this deceptive campaign accordingly.  This is good because I am busy in the trenches.   These little stories I cite above are just examples of situations I really encounter over and over, even in the course of a day.  Corroded teeth, eroded stomachs, poor mood regulation, extreme belly fat and of course, diabetes lie in the wake of soda consumption and its adherent addiction.  It is this that fuels my manic reaction to the stuff–and will continue to do so.

Being diagnosed with diabetes is like falling down Alice’s rabbit hole.  Every day, I meet the people who have unfortunately fallen into the hole chasing some elusive White Rabbit.  Reality changes mighty quickly and quite extremely.  Simply awakening from a strange dream will not make it go away.  Eating cake will certainly not help and the Red Queen is apt to yell, “Off with her toes!”   And, Coca Cola and Pepsico   will have nothing to offer except a Cheshire Cat smug grin.

So, though I enjoyed that little refreshment, it will be a long time until my next one.  In the meantime, I leave you with a link to some powerful stories.  A Widow’s Story and Simply Raw.

As always, I look forward to your thoughtful comments and warm hellos.

In health, Elyn

I am so glad to introduce the new My Plates.  Thanks to those who have submitted their beautiful plate photos.  Photos and haikus always welcome.

erin's plate

erin’s plate

My Plate Haiku

Food is medicine

Farmers are doctors, Cooks priests

Eat, pray, eat, pray, love.

by Gordon

of poverty and light

Amid all of the celebrations of the holiday season it sure is easy to over indulge and to gain those few–oh excuse me for a moment–my dilemma is tugging at my sleeve.  Sorry, it seems to be interrupting me to say something about property.  Property?  Puberty?  You know, despite its omnipresence in my life, I often don’t even understand my own dilemma sometimes.

It is like when my son was little and (prematurely) learning to talk, he would get so frustrated when his word was misinterpreted.  When I would repeat the statement to make sure I had heard it correctly, like, “You want some bed?”  he could only surmise that his mother must be severely limited and he would implore the heavens for some relief.  Who on earth he would beg says, “I want some bed”  and even if they did, why would they say that when standing in the kitchen after nap time?  What part of “bread” does my mother not get?027

My dilemma is reacting the same way now.  So, with a deep breath, I will take its sweet little face between my hands and ask it to calm down and try to tell me again.  Oh, I get it now.  Poverty.  My dilemma is asking me if I could please not write about holiday eating, but instead about poverty

Oh, poverty.  ”Right now?” I ask, in the midst of this season of tinsel-tinged holiday cheer?  Yes, it replies.  Write about it on this darkest day of the year when we most crave the light to illuminate all that should be revealed.  ”Can you just try?” it says in that adorable little voice.  ”About poverty and nutrition?”

What do I know about this topic and what credentials do I have to write about it?  Well, I do work in a Health Center that serves the poor–the uninsured, the under insured, those whom sit at the bottom of the economic ladder, those lacking in many of the resources that others easily possess.  And, I do educate on nutrition.  Yet, I am still nervous to presume that I have the right to tread here.  My own perceptions are actually a bit blurry.  Though every day I am deeply privileged to have my clients share the stories–somewhat intimate–of some parts of the realities of their lives, I cannot claim to really know what their impoverishment feels like.  And, though yes, the majority of my clients are poor, some poorer than others–they all mainly go to sleep with some roof over their head and some food in their tummies–even the homeless ones.  Furthermore, they possess a richness that nourishes and inspires me as well–whether it be of spirit, honesty, feeling, fortitude, resilience, wisdom, story-telling, family and community connection, self-reflection, humility or appreciation.

Yet, I am still perplexed, so I look back at my dilemma and ask, “But, don’t people already know about poverty and nutrition?  That it is complicated but it has something to do with the cheapest (hunger slaying) food often being the least healthy; the battered economy; governmental food subsidies; food deserts; reliance on convenience and processed foods; income inequality; the history of supplemental and commodity food programs and the lack of a just and sustainable food program?  And, haven’t I already discussed things like food addiction and the impact of excessive sugar sweetened beverages on emotional and physical health?  And, I probably have already ranted about even bigger, more amorphous issues like lack of breastfeeding, TV advertising, health disparities, a stress-based society and may I now even add environmental toxins and gun violence which disproportionately affects our poorer neighborhoods–and how I believe all these things affect our bodies and who we are as eaters.

My dilemma nods and whispers, “Well, is there anything else you’d like to add?”  I sigh. Maybe it is on to something.  There are many disparaging assumptions made regarding how the poor feed themselves.  Maybe what I can do for today is to shed some light on how poverty in modern-day America infringes upon the hunting, gathering, and metabolic fundamentals required for normal human nutrition–a process that has become quite enigmatic for many, but more profoundly for those who must often do with very limited resources.  In the daily conversations that I have about this elusive, ill-defined quest for proper eating–oft imagined as being as simple to prescribe as popping a pill–I am perpetually filtering many realities that are probably rather obscure.

So, here it is.  Most of my clients would like to eat better.  They would–but there are numerous hindrances.  Many are tired.  Very tired.  Those who work, often work very exhausting types of jobs.  Many of them–the home health aides, the certified nursing assistants, the truck drivers, the cleaners, the warehouse stockers and even the retail workers–work variable hours, often with overnight shifts which distress the natural circadian rhythms and thereby the sleep and eating patterns.   Those who don’t work are often depressed or in chronic pain.  Food provides easy relief.  They live in neighborhoods where people get shot and murdered.  They forget how to use and move their bodies.  Many over their lifetimes have cared for so many others that self-care is just an amusing oxymoron.  Often, just the physical requirements that cooking entails become difficult.

Additionally, when money is tight for food, so commonly it is for all the things associated with food preparation and eating.  This includes appliances like stoves, ovens, dishwashers, refrigerators and freezers–and even the kitchen table and chairs.  Some of my clients live in accommodations where not all of these are provided or where they are not properly working.   Some only have a microwave to cook their food.  Some live in settings where they have to share a kitchen with random roommates.  Some people keep food in their bedrooms to prevent others from eating it.   Those who live in group programs have no control over the type of food that is provided.

And, then there are the even smaller things like a set of good knives, measuring cups and spoons, pots and pans, a blender, a cutting board, a steamer or a food processor.  For many a modern cook, one could not imagine even basic food preparation without most of these accouterments, if not even more.  Yet, for some these are downright luxuries.  Just recently, I did a display on winter squashes to promote these nutritionally blessed, fiber-dense and delicious denizens of the food kingdom–but even so, I was cognizant that unless one buys them pre-cut and frozen these pretty gourds demand a whack of a proper, well-sharpened knife to reveal their inner gifts.

Each person has their own circumstances.  Though I must serve my clients quickly and effectively I have to obtain some information before I venture in with suggestions.  I cannot assess for all of the above.  I must pry for information with the utmost gentleness and respect to get a quick sense of where we are starting from.  Depending on the person, sometimes it is obvious, sometimes not.  The foods that are now commonly touted to be required for a healthy diet, I sometimes must ask permission to utter.  I say things like olive oil, brown rice, walnuts, almond milk, and on a good day, quinoa, preceded by “may I?” and followed by “thank-you.”  What might seem like a mole hill of a price differential could quite truly be a mountain.

Thankfully, there is usually space for an appropriate conversation about food and eating when the context is understood and appreciated.  And, fortunately too, the realm of health-giving foods contains some low-cost and readily available options.  My clients are glad to be reminded of them.  Usually, they learned of them from their grandmothers as well.  But, most importantly is when that light goes on that says that they are worthy of nourishing themselves in the best way that they possibly can.  That they matter.  Then this abstract matter of nutrition  begins to make some sense.

So, I guess, my main observation is that bottom line, despite our economic differences, we are first most eaters–doing the best we can with what we know and what we have in the moment.  And, that somewhere, somehow, it is always about love.   I look back at my dilemma for some confirmation.  Oh well.  It has fallen fast asleep.

Please share your thoughts and comments.  I welcome your feedback.

Read below on the new My Plate Invitational

Blessings and light.

In health, Elyn

http://the2x2project.org/health-gap-wealth-gap/

my plate

my plate

My Plate:  In honor of the New Year, I invite you to submit a photo of your own beautiful plate to be placed in rotation along with the My Plate Haikus.  My My Plate is  the prettier and more personal representation of the My Plate put forth by the USDA as a model of how Americans should feed themselves–which replaced the food pyramid.  I can’t wait to see yours.  Haikus always welcome too.  Thank you.

Submit to zimcat@verizon.net   Subject:  My Plate Photo

faur faur away liquidated

With the story in today’s news of Hostess Brands threatening liquidation of its company and the future of the 500 million Twinkies that are baked–I mean manufactured–each year at stake, I present this piece about our snack food lives again.  I wrote this piece in January 2012 when Hostess filed in bankruptcy court for Chapter 11 protection.  On the surface the story is about labor costs, unions, workers rights and the economy,  but mixed into the batter are issues about our health care costs (once again) and  changes in American food consciousness and its effects on the industry and the economy.  However, it still remains to be seen if Ding Dong, the Twinkie is truly dead.  I dare to say I doubt it, but as you will read below, Carlos Barrios’ interpretations on the 2012 Mayan prophesies deserve heeding as the calendar is shortly set to begin its next cycle.

http://abcnews.go.com/Business/twinkies-maker-hostess-vows-liquidate-company-strikes-persist/story?id=17725053#.UKZJzORfCSo

Recently, I read about someone who was working on an environmental project in the Maldives.  After a day of difficult field work, the writer said the group enjoyed kicking back by relaxing on a boat and enjoying a snack of faur.  Ah yes, faur, that local favorite made from betel leaves, cloves and nuts.

Now, of course we here–here being the US of A–do snack on some natural foods like fruits and nuts, but in thinking about the Maldivians floating in those beautiful turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean and about other cultures as well, I got to wondering, what would be our native snack if one day all of the giant snack food manufacturers just got so sick of themselves they just fell down belly up.

What soothed and satisfied us before a certain Mr. Herman W. Lay began hawking his wares?  Around here, I suppose we had products made of maple syrup like maple cream which is yummy; and, had apples and pumpkins made in to pie–and beef made into jerky.  And, what about the potato chip?  A nice tuber scrubbed clean of its earthen sod, sliced thinly and cooked to a crisp in a pot of oil.  Could that not count as native fare?

Legend has it that the potato was first chipped by a Native American chef quite close to where I live.  I could bike to that sacred ground–or walk there in pilgrimage  if really gastronomically inspired.  The story goes that George Crum, annoyed by a customer’s complaint about the dinner potatoes being cut too thick, responded with a plate of very thinly sliced, translucent, barely there taters.  The rest is history.

It turns out that the first product Mr. Lay began to sell was the potato chip–about sixty years after that restaurant mishap.  So, one could argue that the potato chip–along with the corn chip–were indigenous snacks until they were co-opted by Frito-Lay.  They may in fact have originally had some nutritional benefits as might faur– though my brief research suggests that betel leaves in excess are not without their own set of problems as well.

Somehow, with the mass introduction of packaged snack foods we began to seriously stray from our more nut, seed and fruit-eating behaviors.  While families in Afghanistan still relax–if they can–with pistachio nuts and dried apricots, things here have never been the same since the arrival of  Bugles.  I remember seeing my first bag of Bugles at my childhood friend Susan’s house.  Once trumpeted onto the communal palate it seemed there was no turning back.  I suppose the same could be said for all of our modern snacks including the once seemingly indomitable Twinkie which is eighty years old already.

Surprisingly, I actually don’t encounter the Twinkie much on my nutritional beat.  It is either so ubiquitous that it doesn’t register on my radar screen or it does not command valuable prime shelf placement anymore.  And, amid the thousands of diet recalls I demand from my clients, I hardly ever hear mention of them.  Little Debbies seem the more popular portable snack cake these days.  Now that I think about it, the Twinkie despite its iconic reputation, is rather tame and boring in comparison to more obscene or more seductively marketed snack newbies.  I guess this explains why it may be on the smush-ing block–and not because it has 37 artificial ingredients.

The Mayans Correctly Predicted the End of the World in 2012:  Hostess Twinkies RIP

However, it is the chemically-laden nature of most of our snack foods that have granted them predominance and permanence in our lives.  If you doubt  this issue of purposeful manipulation by the food industry, take a look at this 60 Minutes segment   http://blackgirlsguidetoweightloss.com/video-clips/video-vault-inside-a-lab-that-creates-chemical-flavorings/  or, at this dissection of a twinkie at http://blog.fooducate.com/2010/06/11/a-visual-of-twinkies-37-ingredients/

But, getting back to my original query, if just say, Bugles, Twinkies and all the other thousands of products that dominate the snack manufacturing world were suddenly to go extinct, what would we do?  What could we reach for that would be grown from our regional environments and get the dietary industry’s seal of approval?  Could a chomp on some Eastern White Pine needles substitute for pretzel sticks?  They are an excellent source of Vitamin C and can be made into a tea as well.  Would we dig our teeth into some bark which was actually a food source for the native tribe for whom the glorious Adirondacks that tower nearby were named.  Actually, the name Adirondack literally means bark eater for the sustaining dietary practice the tribe was known for.

It turns out my musing about what we are munching on is not without some precedence.  There is a wild foods movement, that promotes the preservation, tasting and enjoyment of  indigenous foods and that is dedicated to sustainable foraging and harvesting methods.  Assortments of  micro-nutrient rich foods including preserves, jellies, syrups, mushrooms, teas, vegetables and vinegars may made from some familiar and many unfamiliar but common vegetation.   There are various possibilities in how we could be deliciously nourishing ourselves with nature’s natural snack foods.

Neither is it without some prescience.  I just received some writings of Mayan elder, Carlos Barrios, a ceremonial priest and spiritual guide who is learned in the interpretation of the Mayan calendar.  In his clarification of the 2012 prophecy, he states it portends a time of transformation rather than an end of the world– and that we need to be prepared for this by focusing on acts of unity.   Amid his recitation of a few required actions, I was a bit surprised to see him advise, “Eat wisely–a lot of food is corrupt in either subtle or gross ways.  Pay attention to what you are taking into your body.”

http://www.seri-worldwide.org/id435.htm

Sounds wise to me.  I wonder– like peak oil– when we will reach peak adulterated food.   How will we find our way back to what the native Hawaiian’s call Aloha ‘Aina—love of the land that feeds us?

In health, Elyn

my plate

My Plate Haiku
Lagoon Watercress
Peppers my tongue
With spring joy.  
 By Roxanne

 

Related Post:  The Twinkie Affair

dear eaters

Recently, having taken the commuter bus to work, I walked past a low-income housing complex that is on the way to the Health Center from the bus stop.  As I approached the complex, I saw two women standing on the sidewalk in front of the buildings.  I would guess they were both in their sixties.  One of them was blind and was holding her white cane.  The other was standing very close to her, ready to guide her if necessary.

autumn leaves

autumn leaves (Photo credit: Muffet)

I was quickly scurrying along, gauging my pace on my need to arrive at my office on time.  As I only take the bus on occasion, I was aware that my mind was taking in very different impulses along this route than when I drive.   As the two women came into view I processed thoughts about the nature of their relationship, kindness, the burden of poverty coupled with blindness, and a reminder to myself to work on my gratitude list.   Just as I was passing them, the blind woman said, “And I heard that sugar substitutes aren’t that good for you, and that they make you crave more sugar.”  The sighted woman replied, “Yes, I heard that too.”

I often say that it does not take long in the course of my day for some nutrition based message to filter into my consciousness.  Yet, this was  an unexpected source.  By the time the women exchanged the two sentences my steps had already taken me just past them.  For a split second I thought to stop to engage them in a conversation, to inform them of my nutritional proficiency and expound on the topic of artificial sweeteners, affirming what they had heard.  Instead, I felt my lips turn into a mild smile that was intended to be for them, but that neither would ever see.

I think I absorbed the experience as a quiet lesson that one never knows how or where new information flows.  In this regard it related to my own work of attempting to expand nutritional consciousness and yet not always knowing how or where my own or others efforts are reaching.  I internally thanked the women and carried their story into my day–and referenced them as my teachers with some of my clients.

This story also has meaning for me as I come full cycle of having written this blog for two years–and as I contemplate beginning a third.  Looking back, I see that I have written 75 posts on various nutrition-related issues.  I see them as vignettes that describe the milieu that defines eating in this current and complicated time; the challenges that dictate and mutate our food culture and the experience of the real and humble people who eat in response and reaction to this environment.  I hope others see them in this way too.

I often wonder if my stories have resonance and purpose and whether they are instructive.  Or, if they need be.  Many people out there are doing incredible work and informing in clear and beautiful ways on how to address and improve human nourishment. It is not infrequently that I have doubts about the service of my writings and if they justify the time they demand.  Are my words flowing into any cracks and crevices that may be helping others that I may never know about?  Or, as my wise friend Lisa Dungate, who writes Lion’s Whiskers suggests, if my writing serves to fulfill some need of personal expression, that is adequate as well.  Sometimes I don’t know.

But here are a few things I do know:

Everyday a small but real number of people from all over the globe are reading my blog.  Thanks to the amazing stat collecting abilities of WordPress, I know that people from eighty-four countries have seen The Nutritionist’s Dilemma.   Just yesterday I had readers from Poland, Bangladesh, India, Pakistan and Saudi Arabia.  People in Azerbaijan, Mauritius, Guinea-Bissau, Estonia and Oman have crossed paths with my ideas as well.

My blog is listed in  Healthy Living Blogs and I get some nice readers from that connection.  This site offers a very vital community for people writing on many diverse topics devoted to health.  I encourage anyone interested in writing and reading about these issues to visit and support the members of this site.  I give thanks to Lindsey Janeiro and the staff at HLB for creating this exciting space and offering all the amazing opportunities that they do.

That my blog was also chosen by Marc David and the Institute for the Psychology of Eating as one of the Top 50 Emotional Eating Blogs of 2012.  Check out #47.  This was a big surprise and very exciting.  It is particularly meaningful as Marc David’s work has been phenomenally inspirational to me on my own path.  I have shared my feelings about the importance of Marc’s contributions in Three Good Mark(c)s.

And finally, that I have a circle of subscribers who do follow me and who offer words of kind support along with relevant insights of their own; as well as a few hundred clients a year who I am privileged to work with and who always inspire me with their courage and capacity for change.

So, though the anniversary date of my blog just happened to occur during one of the most intense of times– in the post-Superstorm Sandy and pre-election week.  And,while my own dining room table was still littered with hurricane preparedness supplies and Halloween trappings and my head swam with thoughts about health care reform and the millions affected by the storm for whom eating had suddenly taken on a new meaning regarding survival, I committed to continuing the blog that I had birthed into being one fall day, two years ago.  For the occasion, I have dressed it up with a new decorative theme that I think is very nice and makes for a cleaner read.  If you are a subscriber and usually receive my posts via email, do go to my home page to see its new threads.  I hope you like it.

My commitment includes my decision to allow myself greater voice and visibility.  In my tiny corner of the world, in the confined spaces of my offices, I bear witness to some big and powerful stories.  If I can participate in the larger conversation and in turn can give expression to someone’s experience that may help others–then that can be a good thing.  Who knows?  Maybe a person standing on a sidewalk in Baku, Port Louis, Bissou, Tallinn or Muscan or even in my own community will help carry the information or inspiration forward.

As always, comments, clicks on the like button, subscribings, sharings, stories, feedback, my plate haikus–and any suggestions for improving the quality, content or technological capacities of my work are greatly appreciated–no, let me amend that–deeply craved.  Let me know you dropped by for a virtual cup of tea with me.   Thanks.

In health, Elyn

Dangers of Artificial Sweeteners: http://topdocumentaryfilms.com/sweet-misery-a-poisoned-world/

http://www.amazon.com/Sweet-Deception-Splenda-NutraSweet-Hazardous/

Superstorm Sandy Relief:  http://www.amazon.com/registry/wedding/32TAA123PJR42

My Plate Haiku

My Plate Haiku

Hunger tiptoes in

From bellies, hearts or minds

Feed me now she calls.

by Eva

michelle, my first lady

Dear Michelle,

I have been worried about your husband Barack’s eating habits.  From following him on the campaign trail during these very arduous times, it seems that news items abound about him chowing down on ribs,  chili dogs, pizza and pastries.  Yes,  I know  that  he needs to go meet and greet his constituents and that he is eager to support small business owners around the country.  This does mean that he must go and find where the people gather–and that is often in settings that involve the communal act of the serving and eating of food.  I deeply appreciate that he is of the people and can get down and chow down with the common folk.  I also I know he is a very generous guy and stories have reported that he is sometimes buying goodies to bring back to his hard-cranking campaign workers or public servants in the numerous locations where he has touched down.

pumpkins grown by farmers, carved by zena and tomas

I do not mean to undermine his profound need for nourishment to keep him going, but it seems that a lot of yellow and red light foods are speeding their way down his own gullet–with obvious gusto–and with no traffic infractions being incurred.  Just for those of my readers who don’t live in the world of childhood nutrition education, the traffic light metaphor refers to a system of identifying foods as either green, yellow or red light signifying always, sometimes or rarely ever to be eaten.

I am reminded that when Barack’s friend and mentor, former President Bill Clinton was in office, his legendary appetites were the subject of much attention and downright mockery.  I believe he lusted for Philly Cheese Steaks.  So, why are your husband’s eating habits not garnering the same scrutiny?  Unfortunately, unlike pudgy Bill, it is because he is thin–actually, it is worse than that.  He is skinny.  I say unfortunately, because being skinny can sneak up and bite ya.   I imagine it must have been a bit disconcerting for you when that burly pizza parlor owner, came right over and just picked poor Barack right up off the ground with that big bear hug.

With all the attention on obesity, we forget that the non-obese can suffer health consequences as well and are equally vulnerable to the effects of poor diet, smoking and stress–which I know are issues your husband contends with.  These can be more detrimental than just extra pounds alone.  I think I heard that he has quit smoking–so that is good.

I will assume that when at home, our dear President consumes lots of White House grown organic vegetables, and grass-fed, hormone-free animal products prepared by some of the best chefs in the land.  And, that he plays basketball and does other activities to stay fit.  Hopefully, he also has a team of massage therapists and other holistically oriented practitioners to assist with his well-being.  Maybe he just eats these red light foods when he is on the road–like kids who go crazy for sweets at other people’s homes when such foods are forbidden in their own.

Believe you me, I do know that it is  impossible to control our husbands’ behaviors.  Here I am a nutritionist, and my own hubby has quite the pedestrian sweet tooth.  No amount of my homemade kale chips can keep him from occasionally going out and finding a bag of Cheeze Doodles and the perfect dish of ice cream.  I bet Hilary knows what I mean.   Still, I am wondering, if given your highly touted platform and efforts regarding the urgency of improving nutritional status and decreasing the burden of illness on our nation, whether Barack could and should be modeling more healthful eating behaviors.

I was troubled by a story I heard on the radio just last week.  NPR  did a story on what Obama and Romney were doing to sustain their non-stop high-energy requirements on the final leg of the campaign.  This was right before Hurricane Sandy changed the agenda.  They  interviewed some campaign assistant who started out by saying that when Barack got off the plane that morning, he headed right over to get some Krispy Kreme doughnuts.  You probably don’t know that I have a little, shall we say, vendetta against Krispy Kreme, so you may want to read my posts, Kicking Butt with Krispy Kreme and Magic Doughnuts–The Nutritionist’s Nemesis.  So, upon hearing that, I was all ears.

It got worse.  I was shocked to then hear Barack himself saying something to the effect that all that nutrition stuff is your thing, but he doesn’t care.  It is an election year and the White House will be giving out lots of candy for Halloween.  My, I don’t know how you felt about that, but I was disappointed to hear such an off the cuff remark that indicated to me a disregard of the real importance of proper nutrition in improving the health of our citizenry.  To really turn the tide on the dire consequences attributable to the standard American diet  (SAD) will take more than lip service.  It will take courage to exhibit true leadership in this matter–and leading by example.   Sugary sweets are not a substitute for the relief this electorate truly seeks and perpetuating good-natured excuses and exceptions for our food behaviors will not reduce our massive health costs and its drain on our economy.  That quick sugary fix will ultimately lead to a massive crash in mood and energy.

Never you mind.  Your husband still has my vote.  Yet, I am writing this with trepidation as the election is still a few days away.  I do wish for him to have four more years–healthy years– in office.  I hope it will not take a quadruple bypass surgery for him to appreciate and attend to the benefits of a healthful and vegan diet as it did his friend Bill.  It would have been nice if while stumping in North Carolina he had stopped in at that wonderful restaurant, The Laughing Seed Cafe that I mentioned in Forks on the Road.

Though Barack might not need them, the future of health care, Medicare and Social Security are seriously on the line right now–and we need him to make sure that those programs are there for those of us who will.  Perhaps too, with a second term, he can work to integrate some more holistic preventive health measures into Health Care reform.  Please, keep up your good work and see if you can get Barack to eat his beets.  I read that he does not like them.  Do let him know that betalain-rich beets are blessed with many healthy benefits.  Great for the cardiovascular system and the lowering of high blood pressure.  And, that makes those beautiful red gems a nice little aphrodisiac food too–wink wink.

Respectfully,

In health, Elyn

PS.  As you ready to advance your agenda for the upcoming term I hope you consider the work of chef, food justice activist and author Bryant Terry whose inspiring work is focused on opening the doors to a future where everyone in this country has access to tasty and healthful food.  http://www.bryant-terry.com/

Trick or treat?  Thoughts or comments?

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/03/01/obama-doctor-president-st_n_480450.html

http://www.linkedin.com/today/post/article/20121010160411-203080237-x-ray-vision-carrots-changing-how-our-children-eat

http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/09/11/pizza-shop-owner-scott-van-duzer-on-bear-hugging-president-obama.html

http://www.nypost.com/p/news/national/president_barack_obama_diet_7PxbdwfaMCyEKla9ZEc8HO?photo_num=14

My Plate

My Plate Haiku

Are we what we eat

Or do we eat what we are

Are they the same thing?

by Julie