UK Reflections

By Joyce Hedges

Great Britain’s Queen Elizabeth II died on Sept. 8. That same day, my husband and I landed in London to begin a month-long vacation in England and Scotland.

After the 10-day national mourning period, we watched the royal hearse carry her casket down Cromwell Road in front of our hotel on its way to Windsor Castle.

She was the monarch of a country I don’t live in. Her death, at 96, was hardly unexpected. Yet her death had a profound impact on me.

Being in my mid-60s, I had hoped this well-planned vacation would unfold at a slower pace than previous overseas trips. I wanted to make time for daily contemplative prayer. I even yearned for a pilgrimage aspect since our trip included a visit to the holy island of Iona in the Scottish Hebrides.

Mostly, I didn’t want to collapse in my hotel room every night because I felt the need to tick off “sights seen” on a list compiled by someone else. I’m looking at you, Rick Steves.

But, this historic moment was not in anyone’s guidebook.

Londoners were in shock. They kept saying, “I was surprised at how sad I felt.” or “It’s the end of an era.” Queen Elizabeth served so long that, when she died, only those over 80 could claim to have remembered another monarch.

In honor of the Queen, events were cancelled and museums closed, but what I felt wasn’t disappointment, but a surprising connection with my mother. She was born the same year as Queen Elizabeth.

And though she died in 2009, Mom was now with me. She reveled in the gorgeous choral music we heard at Westminster Abbey’s Evensong and watched the Queen’s procession and funeral on giant video screens in Hyde Park. As the mournful bagpipes started up, I wept. I knew Mom would have loved the Queen’s sendoff full of pomp and circumstance.

When Queen Elizabeth began her reign, my mother was raising children on a farm in Indiana. I imagine her reading about the beautiful young queen living a fairy tale life, filled with foreign travel and meetings with the famous and powerful of the day.

My mother admired her contemporary’s sense of duty and her poise as a rare woman in leadership.

Mom became a true Anglophile after living among expatriate British families in Africa during the early 1960s. After a year in Africa, our family visited London. We had even sailed home on the Cunard Line’s “RMS Queen Elizabeth” in 1962.

Mom loved afternoon tea and favored British movies and Britcom reruns on her PBS station. Bawdy dialogue was fine as long as it was delivered with an accent.

Memories of the Queen and my Mom kept converging on our trip. When a Royal Opera performance was cancelled, we got last-minute tickets to a musical in the West End. “Come From Away” is about the passengers and crew of a flight that was diverted to Newfoundland when all flights were grounded because of the Sept. 11, 2001 terrorist attacks. My parents had been similarly stuck in the Maritime Provinces of Canada while on vacation on 9/11.

After the royal funeral, our trip continued to Scotland. I cannot report that I became a serene holiday maker. Traveling on our own meant every decision about meals, activities and transportation was ours. Just the way we wanted it. Except my travel journal includes the word “exhausted” in nearly every nightly entry. I fell victim to FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) and walked too many miles on most days.

Make no mistake: we were grateful every day to have the time and resources to make such a wonderful trip. However, my prayers were not contemplative. More like, “Thank God, we caught our train.”

On a London bus, I overhead a Peruvian tourist refer to my husband as “el viejo.” That smarted, but she was right. We are the elders now.

Author Henri Nouwen said a person’s death can be their final gift to the world. The Queen brought my Mom and I together on a pilgrimage of self-knowledge. Thank you, ma’am.

Joyce’s mother, Mary Shreve.

The Joy of Za’atar

by Melinda V. McLain

As our gardens give up the last bits of summer harvest, it’s now time for Fall feasting on hard squashes, gourds, and of course, some of ya’ll are having a great time with your annual love affair with all things pumpkin.

Before the pandemic, The Good Table UCC spiritual community always had a community meal after our Sunday Gathering that we called La Mesa. Like so many other things lost during the pandemic, we have not restarted this weekly shared meal due to COVID concerns. But here’s a favorite dish that Bonnie Hariton used to bring to share at La Mesa from Jerusalem: A Cookbook by Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi, that you can make it home. And hopefully, we’ll be able to restart La Mesa again in our new space in El Sobrante sometime next year!

The star ingredient of this dish is a Middle-Eastern spice blend called za’atar. You can make this spice yourself, or you can buy it at Middle-Eastern or other well-stocked grocers. The name, za’atar is of ancient origin, possibly Akkadian, but also describes the plant known in English as hyssop. While this spice blend varies from culture to culture in the Middle East, it is usually a blending of herbs such as oregano, thyme, coriander, marjoram, or hyssop with sumac, sesame, and salt. And even if this recipe doesn’t appeal to you, za’atar is a fabulous addition to almost any dish that needs a bit more pizzazz!

Roast Butternut Squash with Red Onion, Tahini, and Za’atar

Great as a vegetarian/vegan entree or an excellent side dish! Consider adding to your Thanksgiving or holiday table too.

Ingredients:

1 large butternut squash, cut into wedges (some like it peeled)

2 red onions, cut into 1” wedges

4 tbsp good olive oil

Maldon (or another good) sea salt and black pepper

3 1/2 tbsp tahini paste (easily found now at Trader Joe’s!)

3 1/2 tbsp lemon juice

3 tbsp water

1 small garlic clove, crushed

1 oz pine nuts (about two tbsp)

1 tbsp za’atar

1 tbsp roughly chopped parsley

Directions:

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Put the squash and onions in a large bowl, add three tablespoons of olive oil, a teaspoon of salt and some black peeper, and toss well. Spread on a baking sheet and roast for 40 minutes until the vegetables have taken on some color and are cooked through. Keep an eye on the onions – they may cook faster than the squash, so they might need to be removed earlier. Remove from oven and let cool.

Put the tahini in a small bowl with the lemon juice, water, garlic and a 1/4 tsp of salt. Whisk to the consistency of honey, adding more water or tahini as necessary.

Pour the remaining oil into a small sauté pan on medium low heat. Add the pine nuts and half a teaspoon of salt, cook for two minutes, stirring until the nuts are golden brown, then tip the nuts and oil into a small bowl.

To serve: spread the vegetables on a platter and drizzle over the sauce. Scatter the pine nuts and oil on top followed by the za’atar and parsley. Option: Bonnie throws in some pomegranate seeds for color and little flavor bombs!

Happy Fall!

Click HERE to view the entire Newsletter!

Click HERE to read Nancy Lemon’s expanded article “Few Plans or Reservations”

Few Plans or Reservations

By Nancy Lemon

This summer my husband Blaine and I took an eight-week trip in our minivan, which he converted last year into a campervan. We took 8 ferries, one of which was a 16-hour trip. We traveled over 4000 miles: up to Prince Rupert in northern British Columbia close to Alaska, then east to the Canadian Rockies and the many national parks in Alberta, south to Montana, west through Idaho and Washington, then south to Oregon and Northern California.

We sometimes visited friends and family, including Blaine’s 100-year-old aunt in Missoula, Montana who is still living in her home with her 72 year old son, and a wedding reception for my cousin’s daughter and her new husband in Eugene, Oregon.

My cousins, siblings and I distributed our mother Adelle Lemon’s ashes on Mt. Rainier in an obscure spot, along with her sister’s ashes and the rest of our father’s. My brother David, who has participated in Native American spiritual practice for decades, prayed in Lakota, and my sister Mary read our mother’s favorite poem, e.e. cummings’ “I thank you god for most this amazing day.” Adelle and her sister and our father are now part of the mountain they loved so much.

While Blaine drove, I read PG Wodehouse novels to him, navigated using our atlases, maps, and phone apps, and looked for hot springs, campgrounds, and parks with picnic tables. We had very few reservations as we enjoy spontaneity; we always found a legal and safe place to camp. I also researched a lot of names and history as we went along, including learning about the local First Nations and Native American tribes.

My cousin Jan in British Columbia, who sometimes worships with us on Zoom, lives on Malcolm Island at the northern end of Vancouver Island in Sointula, a town founded by Finnish Utopian socialists in 1910. Jan is close to the local First Nations tribe, the Kwakwaka’wakw. She took us to a beautiful dance performance in Alert Bay, a nearby island, in the tribe’s Big House, where cedar logs burned while dancers of all ages welcomed us and shared this important part of their history and spiritual/medicinal practice. She also took us to the tribe’s cultural center, where we saw beautiful carved ceremonial masks and other objects, some of which had been stolen for years and put in white people’s museums and collections but are now being returned. We also saw several huge totem poles and spoke with one of the master carvers, a friend of Jan’s. The tribe and Jan asked us to stop buying farmed salmon as they said it is destroying the wild salmon stock on which they depend for food as well as spiritual sustenance.

The tribe and their white allies are mourning the deaths of the 215 First Nations children whose remains were recently found buried near some of the now-closed residential schools. On both of these small islands there were orange ribbons, and teddy bears wearing orange T shirts and First Nations regalia, commemorating this outrageous tragedy. Jan showed us where the local residential school had stood not far from the Big House before being torn down, with First Nations people crying, yelling, shaking, and throwing rocks at it.

Canada was very beautiful and rural, and it was reassuring to see plentiful water everywhere! We noticed that many of the Canadian National Parks included information and displays about the original inhabitants, a welcome change from the displays we had seen elsewhere which invariably started with the white explorers and settlers. Even so we noticed how many of the rivers, lakes, highways, mountains, etc. were named for white men rather than using the names the First Nations called them. It’s time to rename many places.

When we crossed back into Montana it was too late to get to a campground in Glacier National Park so we pulled over and camped in a deserted spot on the Blackfoot Reservation, dispersed camping.  We were close to Chief Mountain, a mesa-like prominent rock. As we were about to eat dinner on our small camp table, suddenly the wind came up and a thunderstorm broke, with lightning and rain. While sitting in our car, I drew a picture of the mountain. I could tell by its presence that it was an important spiritual and historical site.

The next evening while we were camped inside the Park at Two Medicine Lake, the ranger invited us to a campfire talk by a Blackfoot elder named John. This is part of a 40-year old program at Glacier National Park called Native America Speaks. It should be in every US National Park!

After praying in the Blackfoot language John explained its meaning. He spoke about his journey coming back to the reservation to heal from years of drugs and alcohol and feelings of worthlessness, of not belonging in the world. He is healing through embracing his heritage and spiritual practice. The Blackfeet have been on their land, which includes the Park and a lot of southern Alberta, for 14,000 years! After the talk, I asked him about the significance of Chief Mountain and he said he had just been there for a four-day vision quest. I knew from David that this involves fasting from food and water, sitting in one place, and waiting to receive a spiritual vision.

 In Idaho, we visited an Indigenous colleague of mine who has worked for decades running an Indian DV agency near Yosemite and educating many people about the issues facing Native survivors of abuse. She’s now retired though still assisting and consulting in the movement.

When we got to eastern Washington we had internet access via our phones, so I looked up the Kalispell tribe, as I could see from the atlas that we were approaching their reservation. It turned out they were hosting a 4-day Pow Wow, the first since COVID, and everyone was welcome. As we arrived, the security team asked to look inside our cooler to make sure we had no alcohol (we didn’t), as alcohol, drugs, and firearms are prohibited at the Pow Wow. We asked if there was an entrance fee and they looked surprised, explaining it is free. Blaine and I had planned to drop in briefly but ended up staying overnight, camping with hundreds of First Nations and Native American people on the reservation. It was quiet and grassy and mellow and had the cleanest Porta Potties we saw on the entire trip.

The evening’s celebration at the Pow Wow inside the large round covered arena was very moving. There were drummers sitting and chanting in groups of six people around a large drum,  and a drumming competition between the groups. There was an announcer with an excellent PA system. There were many benches to sit on and people selling traditional beef jerky, smoked salmon, and other food. And there were hundreds of dancers filing in and forming a huge spiral in the center, dressed in beautiful regalia.

At the cultural center in Alert Bay we had learned that for many decades it was illegal to have a Pow Wow, and children in Indian schools were beaten for speaking their languages. But here on the Kalispell Reservation, at this gathering, everyone was bursting with energy and joy and pride. I made a video of this processional while I cried for joy that in spite of genocide, in spite of overwhelming pressure to give up their languages and cultures, in spite of high rates of poverty and domestic violence and COVID, these First Nations and Native Americans from many tribes were united and thriving. And that we were truly welcome.

When the Golden Age women (those over 60 like me) had their time to dance, they moved like queens, stately and dignified, and the whole audience rose to honor them. This was a major contradiction to the way that older women are often treated in white society, dismissed and seen as unimportant.

The next morning I followed the sound of a flute and struck up a conversation with an Apache man named Geronimo. He was playing a Japanese Shakahachi flute made of resin rather than bamboo, which makes it much easier to take on travels without damaging it. He graciously and eagerly answered Blaine’s and my questions about many things we had seen and wondered about -- totem poles are commemorating important historic events, the Thunderbird signifies a major treaty or agreement, differences between Southwest and Northern Indigenous practices, etc. Geronimo explained that the upcoming canoe event on the river next to the Pow Wow grounds was not about speed but about skill in making the boats and paddling as a team skillfully and silently. He encouraged us to stay for the rest of the Pow Wow but we were ready to move on.

A few days later at a commercial hot spring we soaked in near the Columbia River, I struck up a conversation with a Native Yakima woman. My mother had volunteered each summer with the Yakima tribe though I don’t know what she did there.  It turned out this woman had been at the Kalispell Pow Wow and was also moved by the opening processional dance. She asked if we had stayed for the beef feast, though we had not. She said that at this meal, the hosts feed everyone for free. I was impressed by the generosity of this practice.

While of course we had many wonderful experiences during the trip -- swimming in mountain lakes, hiking, seeing glaciers, making popcorn over the campfire, etc. -- this account is focusing on the aspects of our trip that dealt with Indigenous people, as those were particularly significant for me.

We’re sharing this week’s recipe from a fabulous local organization run by an Episcopal priest friend of Rev. Melinda. You can check out their website by CLICKING HERE!

Harvest Fatoosh Style Salad

At our 8th Annual Harvest, in August, we were treated to a delicious salad made with blistered whole grain Hourani berries. The salad was created by Chef Dominic Machi, Director of Food and Nutrition Services at one of California’s largest school districts, Mt. Diablo Unified School District, along with his Culinary Manager, Chef Joshua Gjersand.

Since then we’ve had many requests to share the recipe (Harvest Fatoosh Salad) and offer whole Hourani berries to our customers. So, here we go!

Harvest Fatoosh Style Salad

Serves six

Ingredients:

1 cup Hourani whole wheat berries, soaked and cooked
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (2 lemons)
1/4 cup good olive oil
2 teaspoons flake salt
½ cup sheep’s feta, crumbled or diced
2 minced scallions, white and green parts
1 bunch or about 1/2 cup chopped fresh mint leaves
1 bunch or about 1/2 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
1/2 firm cucumber, unpeeled and chopped
2 cups seasonal tomatoes, chopped
Freshly ground black pepper

Directions:

Soak the Hourani berries in water for 6-12 hours. Drain and rinse the berries. Place berries in a saucepan with a 1⁄4 tsp salt and enough water to generously cover them. Bring to a boil and turn down to simmer for about 20 minutes until al dente. The grain should be plump and chewy, not hard or mushy. Drain well and place in a large bowl. Drizzle the olive oil, 1 tsp. salt and pepper while still warm. Let cool.

While the berries are cooling, chop the scallions, mint, parsley, cucumber, tomatoes, feta, 1 teaspoon flake salt, and more pepper. Gently mix the herbs, vegetables, and feta into the berries. Squeeze lemon juice and more olive oil if you wish and mix. Season, to taste. Serve at room temperature or cover and refrigerate. Tabbouleh is best enjoyed at room temperature. If refrigerated, let sit for 30 minutes before serving.

Optional - boost nutrition and digestibility

Sprouting the berries

As with all wheat berries, sprouting them before cooking unlocks loads of health benefits.* The germination process breaks down some of the starch, which makes the percentage of nutrients higher.

It also breaks down phytate, a form of phytic acid that normally decreases absorption of vitamins and minerals in the body. So sprouted wheat has more available nutrients than unsprouted grains. Those nutrients include folate, iron, vitamin C, zinc, magnesium, and protein. Sprouted grains also may have less starch and be easier to digest than regular grains. It may help people who are sensitive to digesting grains.

Method
It’s easy. Use a 64 oz. glass Mason jar. Place the berries in the jar and fill the jar with water. The water line should cover the berries by 2-3 inches.

Let sit at room temperature for 12 hours. Drain the water and rinse with clean water, drain again.

Turn the jar on its side. Spread the berries out for maximum air circulation.

It can take anywhere from 6-12 hours to sprout. Depending upon the time of year–warmer temperatures will reduce the amount of time it takes to sprout the berries. Every 6 hours, turn the jar upright, fill with water to wet the grains and drain. Set the jar on its side and spread grains out again to continue the sprouting process.

The berries are considered sprouted when the tip of the root (the radicle) emerges from the berries. When you see tiny white tails emerge, the grain is ready to cook.

Once sprouted, cook immediately per the directions above, or refrigerate for up to 24 hours. Sprouted, uncooked berries can be frozen for up to two months.

*Harvard Health Blog

In The Community

Meet Rev. Dr. Melinda V. McLain, Pastor of The Good Table, & Community Volunteer, Elli Nogal-Rothe. Pastor Melinda talks with Elli about the history The Good Table Cafe and her hopes for the possibilities it will bring to the El Sobrante community.

Special thanks to Jacob Day for taking the video, Nicole Morin for editing, and Pastor Melinda and Elli for chatting with us.

Join us for our next Work + Fun Day!

When: Saturday, September 24th from 12-3 PM

Where: 5166 Sobrante Ave, El Sobrante 94803

Sat. September 24 will be our Community Work + Fun Day @ 5166 Sobrante Ave, 12- 3p. Wear sturdy shoes and clothing and bring work gloves and favorite gardening tools. And please bring a good quality mask so we can all stay safe from COVID and construction dust.

Help us share the Good word by following us on Facebook and Instagram

Most houses try to divert water from gutters into the street as quickly as possible, which then goes into storm drains and in our area, eventually into the Bay. What if we thought about our watersheds as a water capture system. Your house can be part of an effective water capture system returning thousands of gallons of water to the local environment.

Let’s Rethink Rain Barrels:

Typical use of rain barrels is to store rain to be used later.  

House roof area - 1000 sq ft - most single story houses will be twice that.
1” of rain = 625 gallons of water.

Average rain barrel - 50-65 gallons so you could refill one barrel 10 times with 1” of rain. 

A low annual rainfall, 10” = 6500 gallons. Average rainfall, 20” = 13,000

The most efficient way to store thousands of gallons of water is in the ground. 

My rain barrel method:

Divert gutter downspouts into 65 gal rain barrels. When the rains come, I attach a garden hose to one of the spigots on the barrel and run the end of the hose into the yard, preferably an area with mature shrubs and trees. Especially good if you can heavily mulch the ground. From time to time, I move the end of the hose to different areas. Even if all you can do is move the the end of the hose a short ways from the house and into the ground, it will have plenty of benefit. At the end of the rainy season, I close the spigot on the barrel to store some water for the dry season.  Rain barrels are designed to have a spill over area. In a heavy rain storm, you might get water overflowing the barrel because the hose can't divert it fast enough.  That doesn’t happen often in my experience..
That water not only can soak deeper into the ground and send roots deeper, thereby protecting them from the hot, dry surface in the summer.  An inch of rain falling on the ground only goes about 1” deep into the ground.  With enough water, it will slowly seep deeper into the land, hydrating and nourishing all the living soil organisms which will in turn store more water in your soil.  

Basic permaculture principle regarding water - slow it, spread it, sink it.  Capturing it in rain barrels (slowing) long enough to divert it to the land (spread it) where it can slowly sink.  If enough water is sent back to the land, we could begin to refill our water table.  It will also return to creeks and rivers more slowly and over time so more water stays on the land, supporting a steady habitat for wildlife! Water is life - capture more life for our yards, our communities, our planet. A virtuous cycle!

Click HERE to view the entire Newsletter!

In The Community

Meet Darrel DeBoer, site architect at the Good Table. Darrel talks to us about his history working with The Good Table and his hopes for the possibilities it will bring to the El Sobrante community.

Special thanks to Jacob Day for taking the video and conducting the interview, Nicole Morin for editing, and Darrel for chatting with us.

Join us for our next Work + Fun Day!

When: Saturday, August 27th from 12-3 PM

Where: 5166 Sobrante Ave, El Sobrante 94803

Sat. August 27 will be our Community Work + Fun Day @ 5166 Sobrante Ave, 12- 3p. Wear sturdy shoes and clothing and bring work gloves and favorite gardening tools. And please bring a good quality mask so we can all stay safe from COVID and construction dust.

Help us share the Good word by following us on Facebook and Instagram

Dreaming the Future of The Good Table

By Melinda V. McLain

The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams. – Eleanor Roosevelt

“Futuring” is a special discipline within the humanities that is used a lot by businesses trying to get ahead of new market opportunities.  It is also a fairly complicated and incredibly inexact science with high stakes outcomes for companies seeking to remain profitable in a rapidly-changing world.

While studying for my doctor of ministry, we did study some of the disciplines of futuring and imagined ways to apply these insights in a local setting such as a church or community service organization. Amongst many startling things I learned from this course work was that “the future is plural, not singular”.

I remember thinking that while it is easy to say the future is plural, not singular, it is very hard to live with that idea. It’s much more comfortable to think that life will progress in a more predictable fashion. But if we haven’t learned anything else from all the unexpected shifts that have happened these past few years, we now know that the future is truly unpredictable! I know I didn’t have “global pandemic” on my bingo card! And five years ago when I first met Gavin Raders of Planting Justice, I didn’t really have “constant threat from wildfires” and “global weirding” weather patterns due to climate change on my future possibilities radar.

Although some of these big cultural and weather shifts have been surprising, fairly ordinary and predictable events often lead to different futures too. For example, a cancer diagnosis changes everything for a particular family - at the very least in the short term - and sometimes forever. Similarly, new neighbors can bring gifts and skills into the community that are dazzling and delightful. And unexpected kindness from friends and even strangers can sometimes change everything.

When I meet people in the community who are peripherally interested in The Good Table project, I am almost always asked, “when will you open?” And if I found Aladdin’s lamp tomorrow - I assure you this might be my first question! It is definitely a question when I wake up in the middle of the night worried about how to get this construction process finished. What I don’t worry about is whether we will eventually open and that this project will be a great boon for our communities.  It’s just a matter of when and how, not if or maybe. We will finish the renovation and we will someday open The Good Table Café and Planting Justice Nursery! We will see this beautiful dream come true and we are so grateful for all of you who have helped in any way.

Still, we have some big stumbling blocks to overcome. As many of you know, we had a major break-in in mid-June by wire thieves that destroyed or removed all our rough electrical from the building resulting in a loss of over $100,000 and time that we cannot ever get back. But this isn’t the only burglary we have had since we acquired the property in April of 2019. An electrical generator was stolen in 2019, one of our contractor’s trucks (which he managed to recover!) in 2020, and Planting Justice has had two trailers stolen in addition to the major break-in in June.

We did foresee that our site would be a target for crime and we did - and do have - security measures in place, but those efforts clearly have not been adequate and our whole security system was stolen as part of the big burglary in June. I have also lost count as to how many padlocks we have lost that have been cut by thieves.

The security system and locks have been replaced, but there are other unexpected consequences too. What I didn’t expect was how depressed and broken-hearted I would feel after so many burglaries. I suspect I was just lucky by virtue of social privilege to not have been a regular crime victim before. And perhaps I was naïve to think that doing something “good” for the community would lead to a “good” set of future outcomes. And yet, I’m tired of bad news, exhausted by grief, and yet ready to make progress instead of constantly being in recovery mode from yet more bad news.

The art and craft of futuring has become more and more challenging - even for businesses with tremendous resources - let alone community-based groups like ours. But I still believe in our dream and have hope that we will keep moving forward and faith that we will open eventually.

Thank you for your support in terms of kind words, volunteer time, talent, and your financial gifts too. It all makes a difference!