127 ~ Elder, berries
When I was a child my mother gave me the nickname "Strawberry King" (which shifted each year as the summer progressed to "Watermelon King" or "Corn King"). As an adult I've expanded the palette of my palate to include trout, and last week I did my annual tradition of a 'strawberries & trout run', driving further west into the Driftless Area for strawberries from an Amish farmer, Gideon Zook (best name ever), with some trout fishing in streams along the way.
Strawberries are one of our few foods native to both Old and New Worlds; true global citizens. I've found and eaten wild strawberries in countries as diverse as Laos and Romania. For centuries Europeans ate mainly a native woodland strawberry that they transplanted to domesticity in their gardens. Then the New World came in, and today most cultivated strawberries around the globe are the progeny of a hybrid cross between a strawberry from Chile and one from eastern North America.
Gideon was able to sell me seven quarts of sweet, deep red perfection - one quart to eat on the drive home, and six for other uses, chief among them strawberry-rhubarb pie.
Driving back, another destination for one of the quarts came to mind. In addition to strawberries, I love older folks. Like many of us I love talking with them and hearing their stories. To be sure, as we age wisdom doesn't just automatically nest in us, like swallows under an old bridge. It has to be sought and developed. Nonetheless, all elders have seen and experienced some things I never have and never will. It's a privilege to spend time with them and hear their stories, and indeed some have shape the experiences and the grief and the joys of their lives into nests of wisdom.
One of my favorite elders is a 101 year-old associate of Frank Lloyd Wright, who still lives at Wright's home and studio, Taliesin. She and her architect husband came to Taliesin in 1952 to live and work with Wright, and she's still there. And she's sharp as a tack. Amazing, and wonderful, and with a wealth of wonderful stories. What better person to gift a box of Gideon's gems? And for a sweetheart like her, I like that strawberries are heart-shaped, and in the rose family, Rosaceae.
And so a few days ago, on a pristine summer morning, I drove up to that extraordinary house, and left a quart of berries for a centenarian with a beautiful soul.
As I drove away, it occurred to me that life felt perfect, that for at least this one day, one morning, nothing could be better than this.
And so here's a suggestion: In the next few days, call or visit someone older than you, and listen as they tell a story. It may be a sweet gift to both your lives.
If the spirit moves
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