Boar’s Head, a deli meats vendor, has issued a very big recall involving 71 of theirproducts. Listeria is the contaminating microorganism, and there have been two deaths reported.
Here in Paradise the Boar’s Head brand is carried by City Market. Actually I am not a fan of even the Listeria-free version of these products. There are less expensive competitors sold in the same store that I think taste better and as far as I know haven’t killed anyone.
To be fair, there are many places along the path from farm to table where such contamination can occur, and we learn through the media of many of the outbreaks as they occur.
What must it have been like 150 years ago? When not even the flawed supervision of today was in place? Were people dropping like flies … that is … the thousand flies hovering over the butcher’s table?
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BTW, in case you were wondering what Listeria look like, here’s a group out for a stroll on a Sunday afternoon. Perhaps on a sandwich near you.
(Also – those are not legs. Bacteria don’t have legs.)
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Growing up surrounded by a bunch of Norwegians in Minnesota it wasn’t hard to be sheltered from parts of our country’s story. In fact, I can pretty much pick the moment when my real education in American History began to fill in what were some pretty large blanks.
Up until then, it was George Washington, a sanitized version of the Civil War (slavery not mentioned), and a whole lot of brave farmers with pitchforks and muskets going out to fight those bloody Redcoats.
(Let me hasten to add here that those bloody redcoats are now some of our BFFs)
No, my historical virginity was lost when a high school classmate’s father introduced me to the book “A Century of Dishonor,” by Helen Hunt Jackson (photo at right). Published in 1881, it laid out the systematic maltreatment of the indigenous peoples of America by European settlers. Once my ignorance had sprung a leak, it was not hard to find other literature on the subject.
So this week’s issuance of a report by the Interior Department on the infamous Indian boarding schools was not news, but an important official recognition of past misdeeds. By the report’s tally, nearly 1000 children are known to have died in those schools in the United States. And every child in those schools had been taken from their families where their Indian-ness was scorned and derided at every turn. Many were subjected to physical and sexual abuse.
Today there are strong forces that would have us pull a tarp over everywhere that America went wrong. Pretend that we don’t live in a land forcibly taken from its original inhabitants. Pretend that not being content with thievery, we resorted to malice of nearly every sort against them.
Pretend that slavery was portrayed accurately in the Disney movie “Song of the South,” with lovely lighting and an upbeat soundtrack. A land where slaves were happy, owners were kind, and Zip-a-Dee–Doo–Dah was the national anthem.
I believe that we are a great country. Part of that greatness comes when we can honestly approach our history, warts and all.
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Okay, I wasn’t going to do it, but here’s the clip from Song of the South (1946) which was my first education on the “peculiar institution” of slavery. You can see where I might have had a slanted takeaway.
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The two senior-est citizens in our household are Poco the cat and Jon the human. Poco is having some real issues with arthritis and with mental processes. He seems to get confused, performs some odd repetitive behaviors, and has developed a sleep disorder.
This latter problem involves me. Within an hour after I have gone to bed he comes into the room meowing loudly and repeatedly. This is not okay, and I have told him so on several hundred occasions, with little effect.
Once I am up and out of the room with him he stops singing his noisy serenade. And there we are. It’s eleven o’clock and we’re both awake, staring at one another. I curl up on the futon and go back to sleep. In two hours he gets me up again. Repeat. Repeat.
It’s not his fault that aging has disturbed his sleep cycles, I have little doubt that he’d like to sleep through as much as I would. But that apparently is not to be.
So we’re spending more quality time together these nights. Sheeesh.
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The air is so thick right now with Kamala this and Biden that and Cluck this and Vance WTF that the weather app on my phone has added a new reading: BS level.
The reading right now here in Paradise is 67, which is interpreted as posing a moderate risk to sanity and one’s immortal soul.
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Little Home In The Valley 
”Give A Little Bit” brings back good memories
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Supertramp’s big years were when we were living in the UP. I thought the the Dolls did a pretty good cover.
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Hoping Harris and Walz are gonna be the ticket for you guys. And always a joy to hear Pentangle!
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