Preconceived notions get us into trouble. We tend to stay in our lane and avoid new things. Sometimes, it’s better to muster a little courage and jump in – “Damn the torpedoes!”
Cooking is a necessary skill and provides the seed which, when planted, grows to form the memories of our lives. Hey, everyone gets hungry, right? Yet, as a young woman, I shunned the mastery of cooking skills. My mother was Irish and burned everything. My step-mother was an award worthy chef and party giver. I recall her attempts to educate me in the ‘art of food’ and I resisted. One time, I told her, “I didn’t need to learn how to cook because I was going to be a VP for Exxon and would hire a cook.” Yeah, that was me at 16. What a fool I was.
As a very junior exec, in Miami and Manhattan, people went OUT for dinner and we put the tab on our expense accounts. Yet, I was young, early 20’s, and dinner out was still expensive. I began the habit of inviting clients HOME for dinner, which was considered out of norm. Gosh, I had many failures in the kitchen during those years, but I learned even the failures were wins – cuz I actually invited people into my home. The wives of clients gave me extra credit for trying and having a little bit of courage (lot of torpedoes were sacrificed in those days). They actively helped me, giving me tips and tricks, sharing, in a kitchen, the way normal people do. By my mid-20’s, I had perfected many menus and loved to cook.
My secret weapon became “inviting people to dinner”. The best example of which came with one particular boyfriend. We met in a funny way. A little more about him.
The office gang was out late one night, we were celebrating a big case win at our favorite local bar. Coincidentally, it was the same bar where Donna Rice and Gary Hart were caught on the “Monkey Business”. Yes, we sometimes took cigarette boats to the Bahamas for lunch, and I swear, I still own part of a hotel in the Bahamas. I can’t quite remember where the hotel is, but I digress.
The evening went late as our bar tab grew. One of the regular bar trolls started to hit on me. He had been chasing me for a long time and I wasn’t interested. I was between boyfriends but would have to live on a desert island to ever consider this guy. In fact, if I was on a desert island, WITH HIM, I would probably consider killing him and eating his liver. He had too much to drink and was leaning all over me. To get out of the situation and not cause a scene, I told him I was dating someone. He challenged me. I lied and insisted I was “involved”. He stepped back, wobbled, and said, “Oh yeah, WHO are you dating?”
Caught in the lie and thinking fast on how to get out of it, I scanned the room. There was an attractive man, standing alone, across the LARGE bar, who was looking directly at me and the confrontation I was having with the bar troll. I took a deep breath and jumped in. Damn, there went the torpedoes.
With high drama, I pointed directly at the attractive man across the bar and insisted we were dating. The man across the bar was wise. He smiled…. then waved. I giggled a little to myself. He knew what was going on. He was reading the situation and my mind, but the bar troll didn’t believe our performance. He reared back and said, “Oh yeah? Well, I’m going to go ask him!” I panicked as the bar troll made his way around the bar. Quickly, on individual cocktail napkins, I wrote out my name in big letters and held them up so the man could see. He squinted a little bit but nodded. Message received.
I watched intently as the two men spoke. The bar was loud, but my mind was silent. After what seemed an eternity, the bar troll was satisfied and wandered away. Whew! The attractive man made his way around the bar, introduced himself, and suggested we grab a cup of coffee. It was 4:00am when we parted and he called me for lunch the next day. He was fascinating, youngest ever board member for a Fortune 50 pharma out of NY/NJ, soaring IQ, socially awkward, tall and handsome but impish and clever, and HILARIOUSly funny. We dated for two years, shuffled back and forth from Miami to NYC, and I almost married him. He was 12yrs my senior.
Back to cooking and why it’s important.
During the course of our relationship, his career took off and the social obligations of his duties mounted. I would fly-in and we entertained regularly in both Miami and NYC. Very few of the wives cooked and dinner at home was far more intimate, friendly, tactile, endearing. We formed alliances with enemies and made friends. It helped his career. A few months into the relationship, he called to tell me a story. He was in a helo with the CEO, headed into the city. It was his big chance, 20 minutes with the CEO, alone. The CEO tried to strike up a convo with him about the Dolphins/Jets game. He knew nothing about football – creating a silent ride. Bummer. It was the days of Marino/Clayton/Duper and I launched into a diatribe about the three touchdowns, last 2 minutes, the game was amazing! My boyfriend was almost mad – social skills were not his wheelhouse – and I can talk to a doorknob. He realized if I had been on the helo, I could have spoken endlessly to the CEO. Soooooo, he decided we needed to buy a ski house in Vermont, to socialize on the weekends with the generation above him, the decision makers, the movers and shakers.
Never mind that we were not married yet. Never mind that I didn’t have a primary home yet. It was time to buy a ski house. He made arrangements for us to spend a long weekend at the house to ‘check it out’ and kick the tires. Did I mention – I’ve never skied before? I mustered the courage and jumped in. More torpedoes.
Packing for the trip was frustrating, and I tried to decide what to bring. Didn’t own much flannel and LLBean, but I packed what I had. Those pesky preconceived notions, always in the way, eh? I thought it was a cabin in the woods. A picturesque, Currier and Ives, kind of a cabin, with smoke curling out of a fireplace. I packed apples, toilet paper, and granola bars, in case we could not get to a store. In fact, I left my heated curlers at home (mandatory for big hair in the 80’s), because of course, there would be no electricity in the woods. Right???? Right????
Stung again by my preconceived notions. After the airports and car ride, we finally arrived. It was the most beautiful home I’ve ever seen. Even today, 30 years later, that home ranks in my top five. It slept 14, comfortably. It was spacious and airy without being pretentious. And the kitchen………, was a dream come true.
The kitchen table was a single plank of wood, with sanded edges and a beeswax finish. It sat 20, easily. There was a long fitted bench on one side, backed by a mini-balcony, which overlooked the family room and fireplace. The opposite side of the table had regular chairs and chairs on the ends. My mouth fell open. I was ready to move in, but I had not explored the rest. Rounding the kitchen, the fridge was as big as my bed, and an extra fridge and extra freezer. Good Lord, I could have bathed triplets in the slate sink. And the pantry……., the pantry was so big, it needed a bowling lane. A commercial 6 burner stove, which was unusual for the 80’s, and 4, count’em, 4 ovens (two banks of double ovens). OMG! Remember all those holidays when we need an extra oven? My eyes lit up like I was on crack! Realtors claim a kitchen sells the house for a woman, and within 10 minutes, I was calculating how much our down payment would be. I was SOLD.
About 5 steps down was the family room, but the enormous windows rose to eye level with the kitchen and looked out to the side of a double black diamond ski hill, just steps from the front door. Of course, I had no idea what “double black diamond” meant at the time. The bedrooms were sumptuous. The baths all had steam in them, which was fun to play with, but I had no curlers. Oh well….. The next morning I had to ski.
Finding a closet full of ski equipment and clothing in every size, I was ready to jump in, full torpedoes, again. Boyfriend met up with some friends and they took off down the double black hill. Gee, it looked so easy for them. Swooshing! I could do that, surely. I was pretty athletic and in good shape. He scheduled lessons for me on the bunny hill…, which was humiliating. The kids on the bunny hill and lil’ ole me had a tough time. After hours and sweating through my gloves, I gave up, went to the clubhouse, and ordered a triple cognac. It wasn’t even 11:00am. I failed miserably and was not a skier. He found me, nursing coffee, in the clubhouse. I wanted to play in the kitchen. Hey, we all have our skill-sets. He was happy to finally play with the big boys and no longer felt like a step-child. Good! After laughing at my effort to ‘snowplow’, I told him, “I’m going back to the house to cook, come home when you are hungry.”
The bus took me back to the house, I grabbed car keys and headed out to find hot rollers and groceries. I was happy and humming. As I drove out of the resort, I realized there was snow and ice on the roads, but not in the resort. Even the roads in the resort were heated. Swank place, hmmmm, definitely not a remote cabin in the woods. Again, I shook my head at the error of my preconceived notions. The grocery store was a wonderland. Spent way too much, but everything looked good. By the time I made it through the liquor store, I could barely get the supplies in the car.
Back home, in the kitchen, I found a radio and cranked up the volume. I cooked like a Tasmanian Devil. I made hors d’oeuvres for snacks. I made a double batch of bread because it was mandatory to use all four ovens! I whipped up a pot of chili using t-bones, and a big pot of shrimp gumbo. I marinated more steaks for the next day. I made grandma’s potato salad and had 4 Apple pies in the oven when boyfriend whizzed through the door with all his buddies.
Inside the house, the men stripped out of their ski gear and rounded the corner to the kitchen. “What the hell is that smell?”, one of the men was roaring, “I’m following my nose!” I knew some of the men but they looked so different, sort of sweaty, wind-tunnel-hair rumpled, very different from polished as I had seen them before. “Oh my GOD, she made bread!”, said another. True, I had 8 loaves cooling on the plank table. “It’s still HOT!”, said another, “Do you have any butter?” They were already in the frig and digging in the drawers for a knife. The were like a pack of wolves, wild and ravenous for food.
Another man stood by the ovens, whipped open all the doors, and pointed “LOOK! She’s making PIE!”, he said, and in a flash he picked me up and whirled me around, “My God, you’re an angel!”. It was the CEO. Leaving the oven doors open and putting me down, he grazed further down the kitchen and stopped to stick his nose over a stockpot. “What is this? I’ve never smelled that smell before. It smells DIVINE!”, he said. But then he lowered his voice to an 8yr old version, and came within 6″ of my face, “Can I have some….., please?” I still hadn’t said a word. Boyfriend made his way to me, kissed me on the cheek, “I think they’re hungry.”
“Wait, wait, WAIT!”, I said. I was the only woman in the room, with a bunch of hungry bears, and I seized the opportunity. I closed the oven doors. It was still my kitchen. I swatted the hand of one of the VP’s, “Not yet”, as he was tearing into a loaf of my bread. From the extra fridge, I gave them three trays of homemade hors d’oeuvres and dips, “Nibble on this and call your wives, cuz you are ruining your dinner plans.” I shook my finger at them and several lined up by the phone. The snacks were cold and the men looked at me like they had just been punished by mom. They were forlorn and practically drooling on the table. One whimpered, “….but the bread is getting cold.” I grinned. “Okay, okay”, but you need a bowl,”, I capitulated. “And the pies are not done yet”, I had just put them in.
The women arrived in moments (they were obviously waiting on their men to come home to go OUT to dinner) and looked like they just stepped out of Bonwit Teller. Beautiful jewelry. I was still in thin pants and a thermal shirt but was wearing my pearls.
There we were, boyfriend at one end of the table, happy he was Chief for a day, and me at the other end of the table. He seemed so calm and happy, like he was the genteel host. It was an odd group of uber wealthy. The men ate with a mix of their hands and utensils and the women relaxed. Candles flickered and all was right with the world. They ate 6 loaves of bread and put a big dent in the chili and gumbo. By the time dinner was done, we were all friends, laughing, and several helped me clear the table, like we were a family….., warm, endearing, tactile, unavoidable, …..my secret weapon.
Still at the table, they all looked sleepy and satisfied, but the pie timer went off and they were wide awake again. Two men jumped to help me unload the “treasure” from the oven and hovered over me. The two explained details of the pies to others, play by play,  like they were sportscasters. As most women know, sometimes the pies come out perfectly and other times, not so much. These apple pies could have been photographed. I made 4 with the intent to keep one and give the others to various houses, so I had dressed them up a bit.
I placed the pies in the middle of the table, but they were bubbling and too hot to eat. Lots of oohhh’s and ahhhh’s. Tentatively, they looked at my pies as if they discovered a new life form, examining them from different angles. I noticed one man sneaking his fork to the edge of a pie to ‘snitch’ a taste, when the CEO took center stage. He grabbed a neighbor’s napkin and also used his napkin to pick up one whole pie and put it in front of him. “I want this one”, he said definitively, “This one is mine.” His wife laughed, admonished him, and told him he had to share. There were at least 16 of us. He looked down the table at me and fixed his stare. He curled his lip a little, took a deep breath and said, “I’ll give you $1,000 for this pie. It’s been 30 years since I’ve had homemade pie and I want the whole damn thing.”, pause, “I want to take it home if I can’t eat it all.”
“You might have to sleep with that pie.”, said his wife. Whoops! Overstepping. I laughed to diffuse and said, “Punkin (yes, I just called him punkin without realizing it), I will make you a pie any time you want one.” I moved to get plates and ice cream, but by the time we got back, they were already picking at the pies. They couldn’t wait until they cooled.
Some moved to the family room, men poked at the fire. Some of the women and I launched a big discussion about pies and cakes, I was learning more tips and tricks. I recalled finding CD’s from Sinatra and Dean Martin and put them on. Couples cuddled and some danced. I got the impression they hadn’t been “like that” in quite a while. It was a home run of an evening and oh, so…… comfortable.
I slept like a baby. Boyfriend woke up, starving again, turned to me and said, “I’ll help you make breakfast!” I grinned. We were in the kitchen and I was still wearing long johns and a robe when the doorbell rang. Muffled voices at the door and bargaining back and forth. I was working on blueberry pancakes, fresh Vermont bacon, and fried eggs – little runny in the middle. Boyfriend rounded the corner to ask me for “permission”. I was puzzled. Four of the guys from last night were at the door and wanted to invite themselves to breakfast. “Is it okay with you?” said my boyfriend, then, …….”They waited until our lights came on.” I stopped and thought, here were grown men, healthy and wealthy men, lurking outside our home, in the cold, waiting to see when our lights came on, salivating all the while, to eat breakfast. I felt sorry for them.
Poor babes….. They not only needed food, they needed a little bit of love and kindness. Cuz the kitchen is home, and love, and everyone needs that, right? Throughout the morning, people came in and out. The phone would ring, with a wife on the other end, “Do you have my husband?” I told them to throw on a coat and walk over. It was a slower pace than what they were used to. We lingered at the table, talking, and I had a mountain of help for the clean up. Several women confessed they didn’t like to ski and they stayed with me. Most had children my age and those women had nothing to prove on a ski slope. The boys went off to conquer the mountain while we curled up by the fire and planned dinner. The CEO’s wife asked me a favor.
She wanted to call the CEO’s mother’s maid (!!), and get the recipe for a pecan pie, which was his favorite, if I agreed to help. “Oooohhh,”, I loved the idea. She called, we were thrilled and planned the big surprise. The women were lovely that day. All pretense evaporated. We shopped, cooked, and cackled like a band of thieves. Dinner was casual, big salad, scratch lasagna and chicken parm. The smell of Italian food hits a hungry man broadside. The time arrived for dessert. The women twinkled because we had a secret.
A couple of the women presented the CEO with his favorite pie from childhood and told the story of the phone call. For the sides, I added maple to fresh whipped cream and we sugared some extra pecans and oranges with a splash of Grand Marnier. We even found birthday candles in the pantry and sang to him. His lower lip went down, he was genuinely touched. No $100,000 present could have been better. He looked down the table to me, searching, but I pointed to his wife and said, “She did it all.” Not entirely true but that’s a womans’ secret. He got up from the table, went over and kissed his wife sweetly, whispering something in her ear. Well done. Good day. No more torpedoes, everything was easy and calm.
When I put my head on the pillow that night, I threw up a little prayer of thanks to the division manager in heaven who handles pies. The recipe was a winner. Best damn set of pies I’ve ever made.
We bought the house.
Moral of the story: Invite someone into your home. Break bread. Don’t worry about making mistakes or try to make everything perfect. The best things happen when you don’t really plan it. Let your men be guys and don’t cling….. sooner or later, they will get hungry.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

My son would be mortified if he knew I was telling this story, but I’m going to tell it anyway. The daily whine from the media, and their stories of Cohen have become white noise. We’re waiting for something bigger to happen. Need a distraction? Here we go.
No matter our career, politics, or station in life, our most important job is as a Mom or Dad (after wife or husband). Being a parent is tough and there are a million ways to fail – on a daily basis. Kids don’t come with a manual. Gosh, I was wholly unprepared and motherhood was a humbling experience. That said, we altered our life so I could “work at home”. Can’t think of one mom or dad who wished they spent LESS time with their kids. Yet, children are also a challenge and continually test our limits. We often capitulate to a child’s whims to avoid public embarrassment, or because we are busy, or because we want to “be their friend”….., which leads to children testing the limit of acceptable behavior. I was a big fan of limits.
Well, Gunner hit my ‘limit’ in 4th grade. It was a Tuesday night. We read a book and I put him to bed. When I went to tuck him in and give him a kiss on the forehead, he told me, “I hate school and don’t ever want to go back.” He had never said anything like that before and it was completely out of character for him. It was like he announced he just murdered the neighbor. Inconceivable. I didn’t react at all. I said, “Okay, honey”, kissed his forehead, and off to slumberland he went. Checking in, ten minutes later, he was sleeping like an angel.
Back in the kitchen, I was cleaning up and stewing over his words. I called his teacher who was also his piano teacher, no problems. I called his best friend’s mom, no problems. Please understand, he was an exemplary student, no bullying. He wasn’t running guns or drugs. He was fine. We had an enormous project going on in the backyard, tiling the pool, building fireplaces, a garage, lots of men here, and every morning he would grumble about missing the activity at the house. School was boring. I suspected he felt like he was missing out on our fun – which was really more like hard work. I thought, “I’m going to fix his attitude right now!” Can’t have a kid who does not want to go to school or fakes an illness to stay home. I hatched an idea.
Phase 1, Lay the groundwork – The next morning, I let him sleep until 8:30am. He woke up, realized he was late for school, and shot out of bed like a bullet. I was in the next room, my office, patiently waiting to spring my trap. I asked him what was wrong at school and why he reacted so badly, not wanting to go back. As I figured, he wanted to take off a few days. No, school was his “job”, but I was fighting gorgeous weather and a bored little boy with spring fever.
Speaking to him like he was a business associate, I told him I seriously considered his words last night. I respected his wishes, as “You would never make such a grand statement about your future without thinking it through……” I told him, “I talked to your father and admit, we are disappointed. We hoped you would attend college, yet many children do not.” We would love him no matter what his chosen career. I told him I called his principal, Mr. Jackson (whom I adored), and related your decision to DROP OUT of school.” He went wide-eyed and began to protest, but I pressed on. I also told him, “We are worried about your ability to get a job, but YOU are LUCKY, since we both own businesses we can help you.” I asked him to get dressed, put on work clothes – no breakfast that day.
I got through it without cracking a smile. Phase 1 complete. I wish you could have seen the look on his face. He stammered and objected a little bit but I kept talking. He was just young enough for me to still keep my bluff up.
He tiptoed into the kitchen, apprehensive, but ready and dressed. I put my hand on his shoulder (like he was a man) and walked him to the backyard. Our lot is 600′ deep, so it’s a long way out there. As we were walking I explained how Dad and I were going to help him launch his career. I spoke with Mr. Dave, who had a crew tiling the pool. Dave agreed to accept him as an apprentice because he was “big for his age”. I continued, if it didn’t work out with Dave, and he was FIRED, Mr. Ismail the mason, had a crew who was installing 140 tons of fieldstone for gardens and Mr. Ismail said he could use him to haul rock. Finally, if it didn’t work out with Ismail, the plumber, Jody and his crew, could use him to help dig.
About halfway down the backyard, he started crying and apologizing. I stopped but I didn’t touch him (which I desperately wanted to do). I told him he needed to stop crying, because construction crews are always brutal to the new guy……. and….. if you show up and you’re crying, it will be even worse. He swallowed the tears.
We walked to the shop and made out a timecard for him. I explained his pay schedule and the concept of taxes and Social Security. “You mean I have to pay for all this?”, he said. Oh yes, son, you do. We walked to the back, where the men were working, and I formally introduced him to Dave and his crew. Of course, I already talked to Dave, his wife, and men, earlier in the morning. Everyone was in on the plan except Gunner. I wished him luck. Instead of running/working with the crews, I left and went back to the house….. and I cried the whole way.
Phase Two, hit a snag – I called Dave’s wife about halfway through the morning. Apparently, Gunner was a fabulous employee. She LOVED him. He was hauling 50lb bags of mortar and doing well pushing a wheelbarrow. She said, “He listens so well, I only have to tell him what to do one time. He’s the best ‘second’ out here.” I said, “Nonononoo…. He’s supposed to be miserable.” She said, “Well, good luck with that.” I was frustrated. The weather was beautiful, and he was outside instead of sitting in school. He was having fun with the men, feeling like he was part of the team. I tried to focus on my work and give my plan until lunchtime to work.
The men broke for lunch at 11:00am and Dave’s wife called me. The men invited Gunner to go to lunch, downtown, with the rest of the crews. He refused and told Dave’s wife, “Surely, mom will be ‘over this experiment’ by lunchtime.” He was mocking me. Dave’s wife said, “That little squirt thinks YOU will give in!” I thought, “Oh yeah?” It was time to double down. I was thinking about what to do when she told me Gunner was headed into the house for Spaghetti-O’s and Grandma’s applesauce, his favorite lunch.
Phase Three – Gunner bellied up to the kitchen table and I treated him like he was a husband home for lunch. I was the spider, drawing him into my web. He was different now, and a ‘grown man’. I made his lunch and presented him with a bill for his food. “What!!!!”, he said, “You’re going to charge me for my lunch?” I nodded and got out a legal pad. I explained his budget, how much he made, our mortgage/utilities/food/insurance, etc., and what his share would be. I subtracted all of his expenses and circled a number at the bottom to show him what he would be left with AFTER taxes and household expenses.
He was furious and hurt at the same time. “Throwing me out of the family”, he protested. I explained it was a great sacrifice for us while he went to school, but school was his job. If he wasn’t going to do his job in school, then he had to contribute. He gobbled down his last meatball and spouted something about “I would rather sleep in the car than pay a mortgage.”, got up, walked out of the back door, slamming it as he left. Phase 3 complete.
He sat on the edge of the pool and waited for the men to come back from lunch and he must have sat there for a long time. That afternoon, Dave’s wife said he was quieter. The sun came out and it was hotter. He was sweating but doing well, holding his own. Normally, I worked alongside the men. All day long I was fielding calls from the men for decisions, but I could not go back there and keep a straight face. He had to be on his own and out of my control. Not a time for mom. This was a job for men.
Phase 4 failure – About 2:00pm, I got a call from Dave’s wife. She called my cell from the shop was bragging about Gunner. She was teaching him how to use a tile saw, and “understood how to leave the line, cut on the line, take the line” almost as well as she did”. That way they could operate two saws with the other men in the pool and work faster. I thought, “OMG, this is not working the way I envisioned.”, although I was happy he was doing well. Now what? Of course, I want my son to learn construction, but I don’t need a 10yr old tile cutter.
Somehow, I had to make him WANT to go back to school.
Phase 5 – About 2:30pm, I strolled to the back and pulled Gunner off the crew. I had an idea that if I made him see his future, he might change his mind. I took him to the bank to open his checking account and arrange for direct deposit. Of course, we both knew all the women at the bank. He plopped down in a club chair and melted into the leather, in front of Pam, who opens accounts. Pam was happy to see him and commented on what he was doing out of school today. “Oh, I quit school!”, he said, “I’m a working man now.” Pam shot me a look and I gave her a grin. “Well, it certainly does agree with you”, she said. “Bad comment, Pam”, I thought, but I did take a hard look at my son. He was rosy-cheeked and a little bit sun-kissed. Damn, he looked like he just stepped out of a Ralph Lauren advertisement. She filled out the forms, he signed them. She shook his hand, welcomed him as a new customer, gave him a tour of the safety deposit boxes, gave him a folder with necessary info, a ceremonial pen….. and two red suckers….. his favorite. Oh, the irony.
Next stop, I took him to our guy who handles our investments. We opened an IRA for his retirement. That was a rude awakening for Gunner. Retirement planning cut into the money he thought he was going to spend. LONG lecture from the financial planner about his future —- without me in the room. Phase 5 was a win, but he is a stubborn boy.
That night, he ate like a grown football player, took a bath and he grabbed a pillow and blanket to go sleep in the car. I told you, he’s a stubborn one. Wonder where he gets it? At the doorway, he shouted to me, “I guess I’m too old to read a book, huh Mom?” He was a little boy trying to fight me like a big man. I got up and met him at the back door. I told him that I knew the day was hard but I was proud of him. I moved to kiss him goodnight and he backed away. I said, “We’re just a little worried about your future, but you’ve made your decision.” He walked out the back door, in his pajamas, but I left the lock open. He wandered around for a little while, outside, but by the time I turned off the lights in my office, he was in back in bed. I tucked him him in and kissed him on the forehead. He snuggled into the covers, “yeah-h-h-h”, he whimpered as he drifted off.
Phase 6 – The next day, he was up early, as the men come in at 6:30am. They brought him a chicken & biscuit, and he grabbed a pair of gloves and a band-aid for a blister. He had almost accepted his fate. Husband and I were busy that day. We were very involved in Gunner’s school, and Friday was a party we previously agreed to sponsor. I explained to Gunner it wasn’t fair for the other kids to miss out on a party, just because he DROPPED OUT of school! It was an awards party for reading books. Gunner was #1 in his grade and the party was for the top 25 in 1st – 6th grade. I asked him if he wanted me to bring home his trophy. Tough love.
All day long we moved things for the party. The men helped me unload a popcorn machine and the DJ equipment and run them over to the school. Of course, Gunner was part of the crew, setting up for a party where he would have been honored. Principal Jackson caught Gunner and shook his hand (he was in on the plan and great) and wished him “well in life”. Later on in the day, the snow cone vendor arrived and we had to go back to the school and unload again. Many trips back and forth as we shuttled supplies and decorations. Gunner was beginning to turn…… He wanted to go to the party. He saw friends on the playground and fought back tears in the delivery truck.
Phase 7 Capitulation – That night, Gunner ate like a horse. He was exhausted and sported several blisters on his hands and feet. He took a LONG shower and a bath. I went in to his room to kiss him goodnight but he appeared to be asleep. I headed to my office for the overnight correspondence with China. He got out of bed and came into my office, “to have a conference with me about his future”. I listened and it all came pouring out. He cried and begged to go back to school, “But I WANT to go to college!” and “I don’t want to join the Navy!”. I stifled a chuckle, several of the men were Navy vets and had talked to him about joining the Navy when he was old enough. Odd that later on in life he would apply to the Naval Academy…. and use two of them as a reference.
All throughout the process, everytime he objected, I reminded him it was he who made the decision and his words and decisions have consequences. “You can’t make wild claims and say crazy things without expecting people to take you seriously.”, I said. He understood. We agreed he should go back to school but it was HIS decision. “You didn’t cash out my college fund, did you mom?”, he wanted to know. “No son, not yet…..”, I replied. He wanted me to read to him. I laid down to read and he spooned me. He was back to being a little boy instead of a “working man”.
Finale, the Reward!! – The party at school went FAR better than planned. The DJ we hired was exceptionally good. Husband and I were surprised he was so talented. Everyone danced and partied, lots of Conga lines. It was so much fun all the students from all classes were turned loose to party and play. Gunner was accepted back with ‘rockstar’ status. It was as if he had been in prison, or on some great adventure to a distant land (working with the men). He proudly showed off his blisters as battle scars to impress other boys, and especially the girls. His friends wanted to know every detail of his journey. His teachers giggled but understood everything we did. Some asked me, “Can I send you a few more to straighten out?”
That kid didn’t miss a day of school for years. And he still has his IRA.
Don’t ever try to run a bluff on a mom.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Settle in, this one is super-duper juicy.

Several months ago, I read a long and highly technical article about the money trail from Russia to “green” organizations in the USA. Allegedly, the Russians were funding groups to stop fracking and promote alternate forms of energy. I thought, “hmmmm”, and made a mental note. We all have our doubts about the “Muh, Russia” investigation because it never made sense – no motive for Trump and the Russians already did business with Hillary/Bill. Yet, if the Russians primary export is oil, it would make sense for Russia to want to curb American oil production. The article was plausible, and the authors did a good job of tracking the money. I forgot about it because I’m a simple person behind a keyboard with no authority.

But the Steyer/Oil/Russians/Green/Anti-Trump story keeps coming back and it’s starting to make sense as part of a bigger picture.

Tom Steyer is the California billionaire who spent millions to run advertising on CNN and other outlets promoting the impeachment of President Trump. Please don’t click on this link as it leads to CNN.

Yesterday, we learned Steyer will fund opposition to Jim Jordan and Mark Meadows. Link to article from WaExaminer Steyer’s PAC, “Need to Impeach, is launching a weeklong TV ad campaign, worth $75,000, in the districts of Jordan and Rep. Mark Meadows, R-N.C., two of Trump’s biggest defenders in Congress. Both congressmen cruised to easy re-election victories in 2018.” Further in the article, we learn Steyer threatens to spend 7 figures on his ad buys. It COULD be part of Jerry Nadler’s attempt to ‘persuade the public that impeachment is necessary’.

But what the heck is wrong with Steyer? Why is he so adamantly opposed to our President and everyone in the Trump Admin? Did they have a deal 30 years ago which went bad? Did Trump steal Steyer’s former girlfriend? Why all the animus? Check out these Steyer tweets and trust me, they WON’T age well. Note, we have Steyer retweeting Nadler (coincidence, part of a pattern, or planned?)

Did you hear the rumor Steyer made his money in oil? Does it seem strange Steyer would now be such a vocal proponent of green energy? Did Steyer have an epiphany which would explain his 180 degree turn on the subject of energy? Or was there a turn in opinion at all?

Then, this morning, I saw this line in a Breitbart article. A green campaigner whose war on the U.S. fracking industry curiously aligns with the one waged and heavily funded by his Russian friends? 

You mean Steyer made his billions on Russian Oil????????? I had to get a new cup of coffee and read further. No kidding. Steyer is in bed with the Russians. How about that one?

From the article, a bit of background: “He made his fortune through his hedge fund Farallon Capital Management (at one point the world’s 19th largest) which in 2008 invested in Geotech Oil Services, one of the largest oilfield service companies in Russia. In 2010 Steyer sold part of his holding to the Volga Group, a privately held investment group that manages assets on behalf of Russian oligarch and Putin confidante Gennady Timchenko.”

And Timchenko is one of the Russians who were sanctioned by Mnuchin, Sec of Treas, in the Trump Admin.? And…… “A leaked U.S. State Department cable put a finer point on it stating that Timchenko “is rumored to be a former KGB colleague of Putin’s.” A real link to an actual Russian? Makes Steyer’s comments look rather odd.

It gets better.

Steyer’s been buttocks deep in Russia since the 90’s. When the Soviet Union fell apart, the US State Dept (USAID) called on Harvard to ‘advise’ the Russians on how to run an economy. Two guys were selected – Harvard economist Andrei Shleifer and Jonathan Hay, and they named the project Harvard University’s Institute of International Development (HIID). The two guys got into trouble, trying to make money for themselves, and were charged by our gov’t. Here’s a copy of the filing for the case: Link

Well, on page 5 of the indictment, we learn Andrei Shleifer is married to Nancy Zimmerman (follow the wives), who, during the time relevant to this litigation, managed a hedge fund known as Farallon Fixed Income Associates……. and Farallon was owned/managed by ………, guess who?   Tom Steyer.

From the article, “Harvard would eventually shutter the HIID following the scandal. Farallon provided the investment vehicle for a number of those schemes and was also the target of legal action by the U.S. government for its role.” Ohhh, we’re going to need another cup of coffee. You mean Steyer was colluding with Russian oligarchs and doing something illegal? You mean Steyer’s company actions were soooooo nefarious, he was charged by the US Federal Gov’t? And no one went to prison………

But what happened to Steyer? “How did he get out of his problems?”, you might ask. Ohhh, I would never intentionally IMPUGN the honor of Tom Steyer, but suddenly he seems to have an epiphany …….. at the same time he becomes a backer of Hillary Clinton. Oh lookie here, we found a letter from students at Yale and others, protesting Steyer and questioning Farallon’s investment ‘ethics’ from the March of 2004.

From the Epiphany letter  : “We are students and alumni who attend the universities that entrust millions of dollars of endowment funds to Farallon. We write to request a meeting with you to discuss the ethics of Farallon’s investment practices.” This letter is from people at Stanford, UPenn, Yale, and University of Texas and it’s pretty much a threat to Farallon and Steyer.

Keep in mind, the date of the charge against Harvard guys is June 28, 2004. AND only the two guys were charged. When and why did Steyer suddenly form “NextGen Super PAC” to support Hillary? Keep following the timeline, this is a year or so before all the Uranium One business cranks up. Keep in mind, no one from Farallon went to jail for making zillions in Russia, with help from the Harvard guys. And Steyer eventually sells out in ’08 and ’10.

So, what does Steyer do with his time? He is one greedy son of a bitch, this guy. Steyer decides to make money promoting the OTHER side of energy and hops into bed with the Russians (did he ever get out of bed?) and the Dems with their green activists, you know, those easily manipulated students, who don’t ask too many questions.

Get another cup of coffee, with Bailey’s this time, and peruse this sweet little document. It’s only 7 pages but here’s the summary. You guys have to see this to believe it: Link

“On July 30th 2014 the United States Senate Committee on Environment and Public Works issued a Minority Staff report titled “The Chain of Environmental Command: How a Club of Billionaires and Their Foundations Control the Environmental Movement and Obama’s EPA.” The 92–page report details a dizzy web of “dark money” from foreign investments to the American environmental movement through a foundation called Sea Change Foundation. At one point, the authors identify the limitations of their report:

While this report sheds significant light on the who and the how, the truly outrageous nature of these complex arrangements are only understood by exploring the why. This report articulates several possible reasons for the convoluted and secretive structure of the far-left environmental movement; yet, at the end of the day, we are still asking – why? Why are members of the Billionaire’s Club going to such extreme lengths to hide their generous support of supposed charitable causes?

In the below report, we believe we have taken an important step toward answering that question with new information and never-before-identified players and connections.
Our report begins where the Senate report ended, with Klein Ltd. Klein Ltd., a corporation that “only exists on paper” and is based out of a Bermuda law firm called Wakefield Quin, gave $23 million dollars to environmental bundler Sea Change Foundation from 2010 to 2011, which has given tens of millions to other U.S. environmental groups.

While it is unclear who is funding Klein, the law firm controlling this shady offshore funder of the U.S. environmental movement has ties to Russian money laundering, a friend and advisor of Vladimir Putin, Russian oil production, and more. According to its Articles of Incorporation, Klein was formed by two employees of Wakefield Quin
(WQ), a Bermuda law firm. A Klein director and WQ senior counsel, along with another WQ senior counsel, have pasts that should be considered questionable at best. Both held directorship positions in a group, owned by Russian minister of telecommunications and longtime Putin friend Leonid Reiman, which was the subject of a 2008 money laundering case. The group was ultimately convicted in British Virgin Islands court.

WQ’s Russian involvement doesn’t stop there. Marcuard Spectrum, a Moscow-based investment firm, operates a hedge fund in Bermuda based out of WQ’s office. Both of the aforementioned WQ lawyers are listed in leadership positions. Further, one of the founders of Marcuard is also the chair of Russian owned oil giant Rosneft.

There have been significant questions about whether foreign interests—particularly Russian—are funding attacks on U.S. natural gas because it would hurt the Kremlin. Here we have a major foreign funder of the U.S. environmental movement tied through its Bermuda office to Russian money laundering and the Russian government.” And folks, that’s just the summary for Klein and Sea Change Foundation.

Here is the link to the 92 page report done by the Senate called “How a Club of Billionaires and Their Foundations Control the Environmental Movement and Obama’s EPA” Link

OMG, Rosneft? Does Steyer have another house in Bermuda AND in Moscow? Funneling money to a Bermuda shell corp? With a Russian hedge fund working out of the SAME law firm? To fund the green movement in the USA? To influence the Americans to STOP producing oil and LNG?

Sooooooooo, the Green Movement is funded by Russians who are influencing USA policy? OMG, this is too good for words. Green = Pro-Russia. Climate change narrative is coming from those already ‘influenced’ by Russians. Wow.

Are you ready? It’s not just Klein, LTD or Sea Change. And yes, Steyer did donate 4.15 million to the Sea Change Org. We found more trails of foreign money. Nest of Green money link  Blue Green Alliance Foundation, Environmental Defense Fund, the Rockefeller Family Fund and many others. They oppose fracking, drilling, LNG export, pipelines, anything oil related. And Russians help to fund it.

Now, it all makes sense. Now, we understand, as clearly as I can see my empty coffee cup, why Obama wanted to kill coal……. and why the left opposes fossil fuels. It’s all about the money for a few people at the top of the pyramid and their dolts they fund as activists.

Did ANYONE think the legislature of California gave a damn about straws? If they’re really worried about ocean pollution, why aren’t they protesting the Chinese Embassy? Does ANYONE think AOC really wants us to all ride bikes and save the earth? Do you really think Socialist influenced teacher orgs would spend 20 yrs trying to indoctrinate our kids on “global warming” if there were not “trillions at stake”?

Color me suspicious.

Meanwhile the effing Russians and Germans are building the Nordstrom pipeline? And Merkel was ‘upset’ that President Trump ‘mentioned’ the pipeline? Oh yeah, buddy, we are onto you now. Now, I am actually mad at the Russians and their “green billionaire whores” here in the USA. Our President, his administration, and the boys from Texas are going to kick some Russian/Silicon valley ass.

In summary, NOW do you understand why Jill Stein was sitting at the table with Putin, right next to Putin’s Spokesman? and Chief of Staff? Gee whiz, maybe that’s why Mike Flynn was there (our guy in the room?). It might explain Carter Page’s periphery involvement and Papadopoulis too……., all experts on oil.

We can see clearly now. The fog has lifted. We understand why President Trump pulled out of the Paris Accord, and why we magically have 16 LNG ports coming on line. It explains the trip to Poland and the LNG deal. It explains Wilbur Ross using oil and LNG as bargaining chips. It’s all about the oil and the money.

Economic power, baby! And USA leverage!

Trump wins, USA wins, and we win!

If medical care is 16% of our economy, the amount is about 3 1/2 TRILLION dollars. Is anyone completely satisfied with their healthcare? What do we get for our money? What if a cure to our ailment existed but we did not know about the cure? What if the possible cure for our terminal disease was not yet approved by the FDA? Well, we have a solution to the FDA problem with President Trump’s “Right to Try”.
What about other diseases? What about AIDS? How much money, press, and human suffering, do you suppose we’ve expended on AIDS?
Bookmark 1:57:20 in President Trump’s SOTU speech in this video. Listen for a minute or two while the President talks about AIDS and the possibility of finding a cure. LINK to speech.  LOOK at his face.
Was it strange to you that President Trump would address AIDS and ask Congress for money to eradicate AIDS in 10 years? Did it sound like an outlandish dream at the time? His speech was February 5th, about a month ago. LOOK at the video. President Trump knows something, but he is not elaborating.
My ears perked up because our family was so involved in AIDS research and treatment. Husband’s biggest case involved a big pharma, prescribing human growth hormone to AIDS patients, and billing Medicare $20K a month. Physicians were prescribing an amount 4-20X’s the FDA recommendation to treat the SYMPTOM but not the cure for AIDS. Pharmacies and physicians were bilking the taxpayers, lining their own pockets, at the expense of those who were terminally ill.
Yet, President Trump’s reaction speaks to “new strides” in AIDS and we are “so close”. It was odd language.
Because we are the Q tree, we look for references, hints of things to come, information available to ‘SOME’, but not the general public. Because we are critical thinkers, we notice information from disparate sources. We like to connect the dots.
QPost #252 is a cryptic post about Red Cross and diseases being invented by families, AIDS, etc. The post is not specific, sounds like a wild claim, and could be interpreted in multiple ways by millions of people….. all with their own opinion.
But then we come to Q Post #694
Q !UW.yye1fxo ID: ee33a6 No.300473 📁
Feb 7 2018 22:06:12 (EST)
What if cures already exist?
What about the billions (public/private/govt) provided to fund cure dev?
Sheep.
These people are sick!
Q
Gee, that’s pretty specific. No naming a particular disease but making a specific charge of suppression of a cure.
Well, it would make sense. We all know it’s more profitable to treat the symptoms of a disease than find a cure, right? We also suspect many diseases have been cured, and the cure suppressed, in order to continue the money train. The conspiracy theorists are in overdrive and wondering if we will begin to see an avalanche of the ‘cure’ for many diseases.
We also know, from 2 days ago, the second AIDS patient was ‘cured’ of AIDS and the key seems to come from a bone marrow transplant from those who are Euro-Caucasian 1% gene carriers who are resistant to the disease. Link to NYTimes article
Another curious incident was the sudden resignation of Scott Gottlieb, Head of the FDA. Gottlieb recently quashed a rumor that he was leaving and was specific about announcing his 2019 plans and agenda for the agency. What happened? We have no explanation. His resignation could be related or it could be a simple coincidence. Link to the Gottlieb resignation article.
Further news, across all media outlets in the public sphere, swirls around the President’s attempt to lower prescription drug pricing, and the Dems seem to agree. Yet, the two political parties disagree on HOW to lower costs. Meanwhile, we know there are 5 major diseases which soak up about 600 billion dollars in prescription costs (high blood pressure, diabetes, etc. ). Strangely, we get an announcement from Eli Lilly, a new generic diabetic medication, which would lower costs to treat a long term illness —- by 50%. Link to Barron’s article on Lilly’s new generic.
We throw around the terms “billion” and “trillion” so much so that ordinary citizens can’t possibly grasp the concept of how much money we are really talking about. Well, if we COULD save 60 billion dollars for the medical treatment of one of our most common diseases, diabetes, the amount would be equal to the entire budget for the Dept of Education – including federal student loans. Yeah, it’s a LOT of money. Recall, the Obamacare plan did nothing to reduce the actual cost of healthcare. Obamacare merely mandated who would pay for healthcare and what kind of services were to be provided.
Are we moving to a time where we actually begin to examine effective ways to lower health costs?
Keep your eye on breaking news from the medical community. Let’s all hope we see an avalanche of good news……….. and take your vitamins!