reporting from the rim of the sinkhole

Apr26

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

so-duh

Jan22

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

My Plate Haiku

Food is medicine

Farmers are doctors, Cooks priests

Eat, pray, eat, pray, love.

by Gordon

of poverty and light

Dec22

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?

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: 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

Nov16

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

a bushel and a peck of ways to address childhood obesity

Sep23

It seems that we spend a lot of time fixing things that should not have ever become so broken. Not only time is wasted but a lot of resources– that seem to be rather scarce these days.

As this relates to the care and feeding on the physical, emotional and spiritual levels of human beings, we certainly have been drawn off course. Some significant digressions from what should have been a rather intuitive matter or a natural symbiotic relationship with the natural and nurturing environment have occurred.

Healthy Children (Photo credit: Korean Resource Center 민족학교) drawing by 13 yo Suzy An, Irvine, California

Though early humans expended much of their energy trying to procure food for survival, they still seemed to have had time for other endeavors as well–like discovering fire, inventing the wheel and designing clothes. Nomadic cultures certainly had to find to go or take out food solutions. One would think that at this stage of the game, we too should be able to both nourish and progress.

Listening to the persistent conversation about the problem of obesity one might think evolution-wise we were still inventing the wheel. The top experts in the field are engaged in the mandate to ferret out the problem and find solutions, huge research projects are undertaken, big monies are allocated, programs are created, public health campaigns are rampant. The hunt is on and it has been going on for decades. This time its pursuit is not roaming bison or wild turkey but the reclaiming of our natural homo sapien form and functioning. So far, we seem to have only snagged the primordial beast of eat less and exercise more.

I wonder if this all has to be so difficult. Where and how did we stray so far off course? How did we allow the school food situation to get so bad? Other nations with way fewer resources than ours have maintained a large degree of nutritional integrity,even if in the form of some hearty gruel. Jamie Oliver, a simple lad from England, has managed to bring nourishing food into kids’ cafeterias.

Today, sadly aware that September is Childhood Obesity Month, I venture into the childhood obesity debacle to suggest that maybe we can shift the focus, listen to our inherent wisdom, reclaim our cultural connectedness and tweak the approach, to save some on the expended resources that we are currently draining. I know these are complicated matters but perhaps there really are more holistic solutions.

Here are some possibilities:

ð Mandate paid maternity leave of a valuable length. The United States is one of only three countries in the world that does not offer paid maternity leave. The other two are Swaziland and Papua New Guinea. Most countries provide paid leave of between 14-22 weeks. Norway allows 44 weeks, while Canada allows 50. Most mothers here who do get to stay home for a meager six weeks after the birth of their babies generally are those whose jobs provide disability insurance. Wow. What a warped difference in consciousness. We are also quite stingy in terms of annual vacation time. Without time for parents to establish healthy routines, many important aspects related to family and child health are neglected. Additionally, one cannot even begin to discuss weight matters without considering the role of stress on our eating and metabolism. maternity leave comparison maternity leave petition

ð Revisit infant feeding recommendations. Our early feeding practices rely on the introduction of cow milk and soy-based proteins, processed grain cereals and juices as babies’ first foods. Infant feeding recommendations promulgated by physicians professionally under-educated on nutritional matters and baby food manufacturers seem almost sacrosanct in our society. The digestive imprinting and physiological adaptations to our first foods provide important clues as to children’s feeding inclinations. Ignoring this stage is short-sighted.

ð Teach our Children to Eat like the French (and other food conscious cultures). This article by Karen Le Billon highlights this important issue. I might call this Nurture Children’s Developing Food Palates Appropriately. This means we should not be catering to children’s unformed palates. Doing so dwarfs the development required to appreciate more sophisticated and healthier foods, tastes and textures. Overexposing children early to an onslaught of sweet and chemically-produced tastes inhibits acceptance of the wide variety of foods required for a balanced diet. This is a major problem. how the french feed their children

ð Stop advertising and marketing food to children. Over thirty-five years ago Michael Jacobson of the Center for Science in the Public Interest and Action for Chidren’s Television petitioned the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) to restrict advertising aimed at children–in large part due its effects on children’s dietary preferences and intake. The FTC agreed that such practices were inappropriate. However, the food, toy and advertising industries pushed back and unfortunately pressured Congress to halt taking action. Today,17 to 20 billion dollars are spent annually on the marketing of non-nutrient foods to children. Additionally, while our FDA continues to hold to its stance that artificial food dyes and preservatives in our food are safe, other countries have begun to take progressive action to remove these substances from their products–even in foods made by American manufacturers–for their children’s sakes. michael jacobson television food advertising elimination of food dyes

ð Integrate relaxation/yoga/resilience training and cooking/gardening curriculum at all grade levels. Respect recess, provide it daily and preferably before lunch.

ð Protect farmers and subsidize fruits and vegetables.

Well, using agricultural measurement, I think that is enough for now. If we truly and intelligently wish to address this matter– and to heal what should have never become so broken– we have to restore the capacity of those best equipped to nourish and protect our children–the parents, farmers,cooks, teachers and schools. And yes, it may require the creation and implementation of policies on a larger-scale to facilitate that as a culture we are prepared to do so.

Regarding the Let’s Move initiative, my contention is that children innately know how to move–it is not them who need to get their butts in gear. May we love our children a bushel and a peck.

In health, with a hug around the neck, Elyn

please share your thoughts or additional ideas on this matter or just like on my homepage. thanks.

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Thanks to our farmer

Blueberries kissed by the sun

So much to enjoy!

by Crystal

oh mother

Aug5

I was hoping not to have to work today. It is Sunday and I promised myself a little repose. So there I was actually lounging on the couch this morning when the news of New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg’s announcement of the Latch on NYC breastfeeding initiative filtered into my airspace from a NPR podcast.

breastfeeding (Photo credit: sdminor81)

Clearly, the launch of this voluntary program for New York City’s hospitals was timed to coincide with World Breast Feeding Week. The story started off nicely enough with rational presentation of the benefits of breastfeeding and informed that 27 out of 40 New York City hospitals have already signed on to the recommended policy. But, it then whacked me with a tirade of the backlash to the initiative–bemoaning that women do not want to have their parenting decisions enforced, especially by a man–and specifically not by health policy promoting Bloomberg.

I rolled over and groaned into the cushions. My hopes for a relaxing day were shattered. I intended to glue my attention to the Olympics–one of the rare times I surrender to watching TV– but this report was going to interfere. Having just discussed the topic of breastfeeding a few days ago in Blessed Feeding Summer Rerun, I had no choice but to respond to this in a timely manner. Water polo and volleyball could wait, but this must be addressed before track and field and gymnastics takes to the screen.

In brief, Michael Bloomberg did not make up these policies, and in fact, they are not mandates. These are recommendations consistent with the guidelines of the Baby Friendly Hospital Initiative. Other larger jurisdictions have already implemented these policies. The intention is not to take choice away from women or to impound life-giving nourishment. It will not send women back into the kitchen chained to the stove with babes pulling on the teat as some editorials that I read implied. Instead, it is a long overdue remediation of a situation that separated the human species from their species specific milk and compromised in both subtle and profound ways the health of many moms and babes. The superiority of human milk, as compared to artificial milk or formula, for human babies is not disputed and its immuno-protective properties are well established. There are many other benefits as well of mother’s milk as substance and breastfeeding as method.

What is not as well-known is that formula companies have participated in the disruption of this mother and child feeding relationship for many years and that this has promoted a cultural ignorance about the benefits of breast milk and a communal lack of wisdom regarding supporting women in this most natural of human behaviors. Big corporations have been the beneficiaries of immeasurable profits by influencing infant feeding through using extreme measures by literally getting invited right into the hospital.

Pregnant woman are wooed with coupons, samples and free merchandise. New moms are given goodie bags with loyalty promoting formula brands. What formula a baby is started on has nothing to do with the baby or the doctor, but by whatever company got their hands on those tiny sucking lips first. Where else does this marketing intrusion occur so blatantly in matters related to health?

Women’s efforts to nurse have been sabotaged in hospitals for decades by babies being given sugar-water or formula without consent. Birth attendants including doctors and nurses not educated in lactation have also impeded the mother’s success at nursing. The result is a society that for decades has been led to believe that nursing is difficult, inconvenient and an impediment to maternal freedom. What has created barriers for mothers choosing to nurse is not nursing, but a lack of education, limited support, pathetic maternity leave policies, lack of comfortable places for nursing and pumping and a prudish culture that has turned feeding at the breast into a lascvicious act aggravated by laws that even make nursing in public illegal in some places.

If you wish to discuss enslaving factors as regards women’s choices, this is what people should be concerned with–not the new policies. Of course everyone knows that some moms and babies will require formula and that some women will continue to choose it for a multitude of reasons. I am pretty sure the locked cabinet that the policy suggests will not be in the hospital basement by the janitors’ supplies and that women won’t be found dragging their IV poles down the hall in desperate search of contraband formula to sate their starving babies. And, I strongly doubt that nursing staff will be utilizing methods of intimidation to enforce breastfeeding.

This is just an opportunity to fully educate and inform and to take the profits out of our babies bellies. It is one of a long series of efforts by many health care professionals to enhance the health of women and children in both the short and long-term. This is not rocket science nor is it evidence of a nanny state. If we as mothers have to choose our battles–this is not the one to wage.

Comments?

In health, Elyn

http://www.worldbreastfeedingweek.org

http://www.womenshealth.gov/breastfeeding/ benefits of breastfeeding

http://blogtobabyfriendly.wordpress.com/2012/08/03/bloomberg-under-fire/

http://www.babyfriendlyusa.org/eng/docs/2010_Guidelines_Criteria_Rev%2011_28_11.pdf

http://www.npr.org/2012/08/03/158097386/new-york-officials-breast-milk-may-be-best-formula

private health

Apr29

My dilemma was really excited. We hadn’t been to a conference in a while. Usually I try to keep my nutritional dilemma quiet and out of sight. But, last week as I was heading to a meeting of the New York State Public Health Association I figured nothing would be too controversial, so I relaxed my grip on it a bit as we headed out. It was an unusually warm morning and as I let down the car windows, my dilemma, riding shotgun, stuck its head out into the fresh air, giddily taking in all the sights and smells like a golden retriever.

We arrived at the hotel, easily found a parking space and the right room, and settled in. I applauded the availability of Tazo Tea and forgave the choice of bad white bagels. I knew there was some consciousness on the part of the Association to be mindful of the food so I appreciated that there was an alternative to the usual sugary breakfast pastries.

The title of the conference was “Transforming Communities through Public Health Practice”. The keynote speaker was Michelle Davis, Deputy Regional Health Administrator for the US Department of Health and Human Services.

As I sat through the morning, I checked the program to remind myself of the focus of the day and why I had chosen to apply my limited continuing education benefits here. Though I mainly do my nutrition and health thing privately within the confines of my small offices, working with one member of the public at a time, I also try to promote health messages to a larger audience as well. I practice what I term stealth health–introducing information or programs that enhance well-being in both supportive and unsuspecting ways. Here was an opportunity to listen and learn from others who are out there doing community transformation. This is what motivated my choice–to be with my peeps–like-minded people doing great things in this arena.

As an attendee I learned of the new goals of the Healthy People 2020 initiative; I heard about some worthy activities happening on the local scene; and, I sat in on an interesting session that reviewed a relatively well-funded menu labeling education campaign that encouraged consumers to choose fast food meals containing 600 calories or less. The initial results were apparently somewhat disappointing though the evaluation data was limited. The research ironically showed that those who did not receive the message curtailed calories more than those who did.

I thought I had my dilemma well-leashed at this point, but in retrospect I realize it was already starting to whimper and whine. However, it was not until I attended the first afternoon session, ”Development and Implementation of Formal Policies and/or Local Legislation to Increase the Availability of Non-Sugar Sweetened Beverages in Public Buildings: Reports from the Field” that its bark became disruptively loud. The session was facilitated by two women who had overseen a project of the NY State Association of County Health officials wherein monies and other resources were allocated to a handful of county health departments to assist their county governments in achieving this goal.

They effectively reviewed how the different counties applied their efforts–which really were intended to decrease the availability of sugar sweetened beverages (SSBs). They described media campaigns, seltzer water promotion activities, revenue concerns, working with government officials from the top down and with procurement managers from the bottom up. They discussed vending contracts and how these are virtually impossible to change until the contract runs out. They explained the challenges, push back and resistance that each county encountered and the small changes that were made. This was absolutely positive action, but it required that they had to play nice politics with these good public dollars.

I suppose I know this is how the process works but the cumulative view of the public health community working so hard for such small gains–even in the public sector–turned my dilemma rabid. It circled wildly, foamed at the mouth and even raised its hand and expressed its opinion. To calm it back down, I had to go get it a fruit kabob at the next break.

Who do we still have to convince at this stage of the game that vending machine revenues will not outpace health care spending? Who do I need to invite into my office to hear the daily stories of health compromised by tepid health care policies and timid action? How many cases of people addicted to Mountain Dew, Pepsi and other such SSBs must I detail as evidence to show how they suffer from rotted teeth that cannot be repaired; ravaged digestive systems bandaged with a plethora of damaging antacid medications; excessive weight that has literally brought them to their knees; anxiety propelled by excessive caffeine; and, destroyed glucose control that relegates them to a life with diabetes? Is it not tragic how many are children and young adults are already affected?

I always say that if I was the ruler of the food planet, I would remove sodas immediately. There is a heavy toll on health from such irresponsibly marketed products available for consumption with the clink of just a few coins in most public places–not only here but around the globe. And, though soda addiction knows no boundaries, as usual, the poor, are disproportionately affected. Recently, a client of mine told me that the school bus company that he works for removed soda vending from the employee break room. Cannot our own government agencies venture such a commitment? Bearing such witness, I am perforce required to display the amount of sweeteners in various SSB bottles wherever I may be. Right now in the lobby of the health center I have such a display with associated handouts. People truly gasp when they see the load of sugary stuff that otherwise stays dissolved in the highly acidic medium.

This week, just a few days after the episode at the hotel, a fifteen-year-old boy who has lived a large part of his life in a home for trouble youth was brought to see me–ostensibly for his high weight problems. He was accompanied by a case manager–and another boy who came along. We had a pretty good chat and among other things, we talked about his soda drinking. I told him I really felt sodas were toxic substances that deserved some type of poison label. He asked me if I had a Sharpie. I said of course, dug it out for him–and he drew me a page full of well-executed skulls and crossbones. I thanked him profusely for his contribution to my crusade. Who knows, perhaps through this experience of participation he will become a stealth health advocate. When we were done, I gave him and his little buddy two water bottles that I had actually picked up at the conference.

Afterwards, I realized my dilemma had been watching the whole encounter from under my desk. It pawed at me and looked me squarely in the eye. It bemoaned that private health is truly a deeply public health matter and visa versa, and with its tail between its legs it quietly crawled away.

Let me know what you think about this issue. Thanks.

In health, Elyn

http://www.mindbodygreen.com/0-1282/How-a-Sip-of-Soda-Affects-Your-Health-Image.html

http://www.nplanonline.org/sites/phlpnet.org/files/Beverage_Industry_Report-FINAL_20110907.pdf an in depth look at the soft drink industry by the National Policy and Legal Analysis Network

http://www.healthypeople.gov/2020/default.aspx

http://nyspha.roundtablelive.org/Default.aspx?pageId=447049&eventId=406624&EventViewMode=EventDetails

My Plate

My Plate Haiku

Lagoon watercress

Peppers my tongue

With spring joy.

by Roxanne

no passing

Nov23

Today, I awoke to a landscape that looked like a poorly iced cake. A wet, mushy, disorganized snow fell overnight and pathetically covered the ground, leaving crumbs of grass unattractively exposed. Now, a cold, icy rain is falling and I am glad that I don’t have to go out for a while. So, I am curled up warm and cozy, just chillin’ with my dilemma. We are wondering where is the art in the science of nutrition.

photo by Jennifer O'Conner

Sometimes, the standard approaches used in this field seem as dreary to me as this grey day. Reducing food to its macronutrient content; shaping diets to conform to a square, triangular or circular configuration; indicating proper serving sizes by comparing them to a computer mouse, a golf ball or a dissected thumb tip; helping decipher rather indecipherable food labels; or interrogating the true source of our hungers–objectifying these practices can leave me as uninspired as a plate of overcooked green beans.

I seem to prefer something a little juicier with more feeling, color, passion and heart in this pursuit of health promotion. A tad annoyed with me, my dilemma poses that I should have just become an art historian, museum curator–or an artist–if I wished to find Picasso, Rembrandt or Gauguin in my daily work. Or a chef or a farmer, it grunts. It is right of course.

My dilemma reminds me that I know darn well where this work comes alive–where it jumps off the page turning from black and white into full technicolor; where it brightens from canned pea puce to fresh green pepper emerald; and from hamburger helper to the most tasty, soul nourishing food that one can ever imagine. I know where palette meets palate.

One of the most inspiring aspects of my own work is the collaboration I am able to do with an organization called the Capital District Community Gardens (CDCG). This non-profit is committed to irrigating food deserts with a vengeance through a variety of projects. It is responsible for 47 food gardens in the local community, a farm-to- market program for youth, an initiative that enables small local corner stores to appropriately stock and effectively sell a variety of fresh produce; and, a program that serves childcare programs. In addition, it is the mother of the Veggie Mobile–the healthy answer to the ice cream truck–a produce section on wheels.

This brightly painted, bio-diesel and solar-powered retrofitted truck winds its way–playing Beatles, Motown and Hip Hop–through under served neighborhoods in four urban centers. It brings its well-stocked bounty of wholesale priced fruits and vegetables, locally grown when available, to public and senior housing units, schools, neighborhood centers and–I am thrilled to say–the health center where I work. When I called them about two years ago and asked them to help promote the message of food as medicine, they expanded their schedule to accommodate my request. It is amazing for me to watch every Tuesday as patients, staff, clients of the center’s substance abuse program and neighbors take their turn in line to shop. Most times I witness some beautiful gem of nourishment. Recently, I was touched observing an elderly gentleman speaking to his wife on his cell phone telling her what was available and filling his bag based on her requests.

photo by Jennifer O'Conner

A few weeks ago, I went to the rolling out party of the CDCG’s newest baby. A smaller version of the Veggie Mobile– called Sprout–was ready to take to the road to expand their service area. As I was on the highway heading to the event, a big McDonald’s truck got ahead of me as it sped in from the on ramp. As I wrote about in my post, Morose Meals and Human Bites, McDonald’s tries to get my goat–so I knew this was no ironic coincidence. The back panel of the truck pictured a giant-sized box of French Fries, with the words NO PASSING. Don’t they think they’re clever with their subliminal messaging? However, I know what those starchy sticks are made of. Potatoes, vegetable oil, canola oil, hydrogenated soybean oil, natural beef flavor made from wheat and milk derivatives, citric acid , dextrose, sodium acid, pyrophosphate and salt; prepared in canola oil, corn oil, soybean oil, hydrogenated soybean oil, with TBHQ, citric acid and Dimethylpolysiloxane will not seduce me.* Immune to their tactics, I switched lanes, put pedal to the metal and passed that truck right by.

As I arrived at little Sprout’s press conference, I got all choked up. There it was–the art and poetry. It was a most beautiful and colorful canvas. Bright greens, reds, oranges and yellows were everywhere from the painting on the truck to the gorgeous apples, yams, bananas, squash and collards that filled it. County Supervisors and other local politicians were there to welcome this new addition to the fleet, stating that only 44% of people in this city had access to healthy food. Sprout’s efforts would help to increase that number. How wonderful is that? So, take that you big giant McDonald’s truck. You are no match to this little mighty David.

photo by Jennifer O'Conner

After the speeches were over, local residents who were present began to shop. I took an apple that was being offered and grabbed a big juicy bite. Here, a few blocks from the very Hudson River that had informed the palette of a whole school of artists, was a veritable Garden of Eden–in a backstreet parking lot. This is where nutrition leaves science behind and becomes a thing of true beauty.

*http://outoftheboxfood.com/2011/06/30/whats-in-mcdonalds-french-fries/

Capital District Community Gardens, http://www.cdcg.org/

Two other projects have recently come to my attention that have also served to remind me of the color of nourishment. One is the work of Gina Keatley, a chef and nutritionist, who witnessing malnutrition in East Harlem, founded a non-profit called Nourishing NYC.

http://chefginacooks.com/#blank

http://edition.cnn.com/2011/EALTH/09/15/cnnheroes.keatley.nutrition/index.html

The other is a fascinating documentary called Urban Roots, by film maker Mark McInnis about Detroit’s urban agricultural movement. I just saw it this past weekend. It captures a grass-roots revolution in its truest sense that is impacting the access to food and hence the nutritional status of a largely disenfranchised population in a post-industrial era.

http://www.treemedia.com/treemedia.com/Urban_Roots.html

http://www.11thhouraction.com/urbanroots

Please check out all of these groups and their work. I am sure donations would be welcomed.

So, in celebration of our harvest feast, rich with the hues of autumn, I give thanks to all who grow and help bring food to the table–for there lie the most important nutritional lessons of all. And, deep gratitude also, to my readers, Haiku poets, friends and family. Inspired by you, I strive to bring creativity and love to my own purpose.

Happy Thanksgiving.

In health, Elyn

my plate

My Plate Haiku

Food is medicine

Farmers are doctors, Cooks priests

Eat, pray, eat, pray, love.

by Gordon

the nightmare before halloween

Nov4

It has been one year almost to the date that I first began my blog. Just as I was ready to celebrate having come full circle, I realized that there was one more event in the liturgical feeding cycle to attend to in order to truly do so. Halloween.

Halloween is this nutritionist’s nightmare. It makes all my dilemmas go screaming wildly around in the scary darkness like a gathering of roaming ghosts. Starting in mid-October, I began to see discussion of these hair-raising topics appear in various articles. Some people were writing about Halloween as a sanctified binge eating holiday. Commentary ensued on memories of guilt encompassed candy hoarding and gorging. Then guilt minimizing strategies were presented–instructions were offered on how to partake but not overdo; and, suggestions were given on organic, high cacao content, lower sugar, chocolate alternatives.

Then, there was the issue of the politics of chocolate–the problems of impoverished cocoa farmers, environmental degradation and the use of forced child labor on cocoa farms. With one-quarter of all candy sold annually in the US being purchased for Halloween–this is no small matter. EqualExchange, the producers of organic, fairly-traded chocolate products sponsors a Reverse Trick or Treating Program. Trick-or-treaters give a piece of Fair Trade chocolate attached to an informational card as a mass action to educate the public about this.

Finally, the childhood obesity issue surfaced as well. I learned of a dad from Georgia, David Soleil, whose activism was inspired by being fed up witnessing too many Halloweens–overweight parents driving cars around his neighborhood unloading their children at intervals to gather the loot; pillowcases loaded 3/4 full with candy, and the endorsement of multiple pre-Halloween events. He launched a response with a movement called Healthy Halloween House where people pledge to provide a healthy trick or treat alternative. I love his slogan–”Eat the pumpkin and let the candy rot on the porch.”

So, with my own inner pillow case filled to the brim, I informed my daughter–as I do every year–that for the holiday we would be distributing some Skarrots (baby carrots packaged in fun inducing wrappers) and pencils–and that she would be doing reverse trick or treating. In her kind, gentle way, she asked me to sit down. She assured me lovingly, that every other day of the year I do my part to encourage healthy eating and I have spared many children many pounds of sugar–but, she does not want to be one of those “weird” houses on the T&T trail. And then, she asked me if I have forgotten where we live.

We live in an old Victorian village of the type that inspires the imaginations of people like Tim Burton. It is truly the epicenter of Halloween. Houses are old enough to provide residence to a few generations of real ghosts, tiny streets with closely packed houses draw hundreds of trick or treaters from miles around…and our next door neighbors are deranged, wonderful folk who do things like this…

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=2106225736226

Their preparations are usually quite furtive, though they say things to me like, “Did we tell you we got a snow making machine?”, or ask, “Do you have a fire extinguisher? Good.”

So, heeding my daughter’s words, and not even knowing where to buy hundreds of bags of Scarrots; and not convinced kids would really use the cutesy pencils that trees gave their life for, I backed down. Still, I knew I personally would not be able to buy the drugs–I mean candy–nor distribute it. In cowardly fashion, I assign the purchasing to my husband or to the friends I invite for the festivity of the evening; and the distribution to whatever available child or visiting foreign exchange student I can find. Figuring out the amount we need requires a complicated quadratic equation and often we have miscalculated. This means that we have to indenture our own children and recycle the booty they have worked hard for; or we have to run upstairs and hide in the dark, pretending we are not home.

Halloween evening was perfect this year. The weather was gentle with only a touch of autumn’s crisp bite in the air. At the witching hour, all the creatively costumed children emerged from their homes, and took immediately to their task. As we were simultaneously welcoming friends, warming the cider, finishing the pumpkins, adjusting costumes and oohing and aahing at the little munchkins crowding the porch–we realized we were going to be in trouble early. As I was frantically emptying the bags into the cauldron we keep, trying to appease the munchkins turned monsters now knocking down the door, one of my guests said that the contents of the candy bags had gotten smaller. He was right and this was seriously offsetting the math. Later, with the cauldron barren, we found ourselves sitting with the lights out–considering giving away some of our chatchkas, art work, cats and used pencils.

Early in the evening, a Jedi knight informed my husband that he required two offerings. My husband asked why. His headless horseman friend, said that he was making up for last year. Amused, my husband was about to challenge this request, but the Little Red Ridinghood mother bared her big teeth, said he was in the hospital then and snatched a candy for herself. Next year we may ask for discharge papers or a gnawed off wrist band.

So, once again, we gaped at our neighbors’ amazing creation– which draws hordes of happy revelers–spun through the few hours of insane madness, walked the streets with our friends–and it all eventually quieted down. We were reverse trick or treated, and there was actually some healthy and adorable popcorn to be found.

At the end of the night, I removed my Bob Cratchet ba-humbug costume, enjoyed a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup or few and imagined that everyone will be needing a nutritionist come morning’s tolling of the bells.

What does Halloween bring up for you?

In health, Elyn

http://www.fairtradefederation.org

http://www.healthyhalloweenhouse.org

my plate

Are we what we eat

Or do we eat what we are

Are they the same thing?

by Julie

attacking the causes of obesity, really?

Oct29

I have been having what I suppose you could call a blog clog lately, or maybe a blogade. Lots of stuff and stories going around in the brain but they are experiencing a log jam while trying to get out in some type of orderly fashion.

Howard Johnson’s Restaurant

This seems to have started when Pete showed me a Jane Brody article from the New York Times a few weeks back called “Attacking the Obesity Epidemic by First Figuring Out Its Cause”. I should probably just have considered it a moot subject and ignored it, but it wrapped its little serifs around me and wouldn’t let go. You mean we haven’t already figured this out? Apparently not. And, this is the missing piece that has still been feeding the epidemic so to speak?

According to Ms. Brody, an impressive team of experts spent the last two years investigating the big O and published their conclusions in a series of reports in The Lancet. I will assume that what she goes on to describe is a reflection of their findings, and not a cover up for some obscure but shocking discoveries that will remain hidden in a boring medical journal. Apparently, the impressive experts determined that the demise of the following is responsible for the puddle of fat we now find ourselves in. From the 1940′s through the 1970′s more or less– the years that preceded the epidemic–we played, walked and biked more; watched less TV, ate meals prepared at home by moms who mainly did not work, ate out only for special events, downed mainly hot or cold cereal for breakfast, had fewer mass-produced convenience foods, and consumed fewer refined carbohydrates as well as fewer calories.

I will try to keep my cynicism to a minimum, but remember I did warn you about this side of me in my post, Diet for a Small Caterpillar. Maybe this is breaking news or perhaps fascinating ancient history to those born after those more svelte decades, but two years of research, really? Those impressive experts could have just come and asked me, or better yet could have paid me. I’d love to be a paid impressive expert. I was actually one of those referenced skinny, cereal eating, hop-scotching kids on a bike, who occasionally ate out at Howard Johnson’s with my family when my non-working mother was too tired to cook. Wait, how old are those exalted researchers, anyway?

With all due respect to Drs. Gortmaker and Swinburn, et al who were cited in the article– unless I am remiss for not reading the source material, this is superficial and obvious stuff. A lot has changed since that time and the changes have had many effects on the human experience besides causing obesity. I think it is myopic to put the attack and hence the shame and blame only on those walking around with the visible consequences of our societal shifts or imbalances. Many things have increased since the ’70′s besides weight like divorce, cancer, childhood poverty, autism, learning disabilities, alcoholism, underage drinking, the perverse pursuit of thinness and high school dropout rates–and all carry a high cost as well–but these conditions are invisible in the rising tide of humanity. Still, even if we are to keep our attentions just on the problem of obesity, one could identify other significant and more profound influences.

One of my impressive experts, Marc David, who I introduced previously in another post, Three Good Mark(c)s, meaningfully and sensitively addresses this topic in his article, ‘A New Way to Lose Weight–Listen to It’. Moving beyond the easily observed poor food choices that plague us, he explores causes of the emotional hunger we face these days that propel people to overuse or abuse food. These are very important, and when personified, they are what present in my office everyday–repressed feelings, unmet needs, self-doubt, chronic stress, disconnection from one’s body and loneliness.

These are associated as well with the larger cultural issues that he dares expose. These are not new, but the ramifications are coming to a head, perhaps similar to global warming. He speaks of a nation that has valued excess and over consumption; a culture that values speed and ease; a world filled with fear, anxiety and mistrust; and, a people separated from their spiritual source.

Though I don’t fit their demographic, I have come to enjoy reading the magazine, Outside. It is for those who live the active life–in a rather bold way–and is a tad less dry than The Lancet. In a recent issue, there was an article on renegade British chef, Jamie Oliver, who is sincerely trying to clean up our country’s food mess. I admire Oliver’s means and message. I share his penchant for crying. The author, Jeff Gordinier, describes the obstacles Oliver is facing here in America. He writes, ”As one wag put it, Oliver “just doesn’t get the fact that excessive consumption is woven into our national DNA.” This concurs with some of what Marc David is saying.

If lack of identifying causes is impeding solving the problem then acknowledging our national and personal constitutional make ups is as important as looking at what we are eating for breakfast now, well, compared to in my day. Doing so would help to explain why we lay down reason in the feeding of ourselves and our children.

My own causative list would go even further. It implicates the usurping of the practice of medicine by the pharmaceutical industry, unethical corporate practices and the disempowerment of women in pregnancy and birth for starters. I’ll leave it there for now. As I’ve hopefully unclogged the blog, I will be able to pick up on those topics soon.

Stay posted. I promise, that will be fun.

Please comment and tell me what would be on your list.

In health, Elyn

http://psychologyofeating.com/a-new-way-to-lose-weight-listen-to-it/

Personal Health: Attacking the Obesity Epidemic by First Figuring Out Its Cause (nytimes.com)

http://www.outsideonline.com/outdoor-adventure/best-jobs/Will-Work-4-Food.html?page=all

my plate

Hunger tiptoes in

From bellies, hearts or minds

Feed me now she calls.

By, Eva

the nutritionist's dilemma

a nutritionist's musings on the realities of eaters and eating

Archives

reporting from the rim of the sinkhole

so-duh

of poverty and light

faur faur away liquidated

a bushel and a peck of ways to address childhood obesity

oh mother

private health

no passing

the nightmare before halloween

attacking the causes of obesity, really?

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