The Best Breakfast in Boynton Beach

Whenever I am in Boynton Beach around breakfast or lunchtime I make it a point to have a meal at The Diner. The Diner is always busy, and the staff is always friendly and efficient. I was surprised to learn that they are still in their first year of business.

The word “diner” calls a lot of different images to mind. There’s the greasy spoon, the 1950s-themed soda fountain, the Jewish deli, and the Greek diner. The Diner in Boynton Beach isn’t really any of those.

There’s also the fabulous breakfast and lunch place you find on the New England shoreline, in Connecticut, or maybe in Maine. The sort of place that is family-friendly and family owned, where the food is fresh, healthy and delicious. That’s what the Diner is like.

On the lunch menu are things like spinach salad with strawberries, walnuts and goat cheese, or a chicken and hummus wrap. You can also get homemade soups or a great burger.

Breakfast includes omelets and frittatas. All the ingredients are high-quality and there are many choices for ingredients, including asparagus, spinach and olives.

If you want to spoil yourself you can enjoy chocolate chip pancakes or eggs benedict. If you want to eat light the fresh fruit bowl is wonderful, as are the yogurt dishes with fruit, granola and honey.

Along with the great atmosphere and great service, you’ll be as pleased with the check as you are with the food – the Diner is also affordable!

Equal Pay for Equal Work is a Terrifying Notion

I became aware of gender discrimination when I was a child in kindergarten in the 1960s. It happened because of a fabulous toy that suspended wooden airplanes on a metal track. Every day during playtime a group of boys grabbed the airplane toy before I could get to it.

On this one particular day when I checked the toy shelf I found the airplane toy still there. The boys were playing with a new toy that involved cars. Finally, the airplanes were mine!

I sat down with the toy, but before I got to play with it my teacher came running over.

 “Chrissie, dear, that toy is for the boys. I am sure there are some boys who want to play with it. Let’s put that back and find you a good toy for girls.”

I was hurt and angry, but I did as I was instructed. It didn’t make sense to me that there could be such privilege for one gender, and such injustice for the other.

That night my mother confirmed it. Women were not treated fairly, and had been fighting for their rights for years. Mom agreed that girls could play with airplanes, and even fly real airplanes. She also reminded me that my teacher was very old and might not understand that beliefs about what girls could do were changing.

When I was a teenager in the 1970s I subscribed to Ms. Magazine, wore tee shirts with feminist slogans and joined marches and protests. In the early 1980s I worked for the National Women’s Political Caucus campaigning for the ill-fated Equal Rights Amendment.

There was a song we used to sing which discussed the economic inequality of the genders. It was called Fifty-Nine Cents, a reference to the fact that, at the time, women made fifty-nine cents for every dollar earned by a man in the United States.

I bring up that equal rights anthem because of a remark made by President Obama in his State of the Union address this week.

“You know, today, women make up about half our workforce, but they still make 77 cents for every dollar a man earns," Obama said. "That is wrong, and in 2014, it's an embarrassment. Women deserve equal pay for equal work."

That really struck me. It has been over thirty years that I, as an adult women, have been engaged in the fight for gender equality, along with so many other fine people. In that time we have won exactly eighteen cents. Eighteen cents in thirty years. That’s not even a penny a year.

I wonder what I would say to my twenty-year-old self if I could travel back in time. “All those doors you are knocking on, all those letters you are writing, all that fundraising you are doing…” I might say. “All that you are doing, along with all the hundreds of thousands of other women, will earn you eighteen cents over the course of thirty years.”

How might my twenty-year-old self react to that? Would I say “Well, at least it’s a step in the right direction?” Or would I hang up my marching shoes and recognize my work as a basic waste of time?

Eighteen cents in a step in the right direction. Change takes time, especially when the power structure doesn’t want to change.

Our gender-based society of yesteryear defined masculinity as being able to take care of a woman. I suppose if a woman is making enough money she doesn’t need a man to take care of her financially. That could be threatening to men, I suppose.

 Some of the fault lies with the women, too, who feel that having a man take care of a woman financially makes her feel “like a lady.”

Every family has to figure out what works for them financially and logistically. Sometimes one parent elects to stay at home with the kids while the other brings home the money. The days in which the man was always the breadwinner and the woman was always the caregiver are long gone.

To deny a woman, especially a mother, access to equal pay for equal work creates hardship not just for women, but for their families.

When I was very young, my family consisted of just my mother and me. Mom worked a job to support us. One day she discovered that a male peer whose time with the company was shorter than Mom’s and whose tasks were exactly the same was paid substantial more than she was.

When Mom confronted her boss, this was the answer she received. “We have to pay him more because he has a family.”

That was almost forty-five years ago. I remember it as if it were yesterday. In the eyes of the boss, our family was not a family because it didn’t contain a man.

We’ll come a long way since then, but obviously not far enough.

These days, I notice many strong men and women who believe in the radical concept of equal pay for equal work choose not to identify themselves as “feminist.” When I ask them why, they don’t really have an answer. The concept of being a feminist feels uncomfortable to them.

I think they have let other people define feminism for them in false ways. “Feminists hate men.” “Feminists don’t love their children.” “Feminists are complainers.”

Rush Limbaugh once said “Feminism was established so as to allow unattractive women access to the mainstream of society.” I don’t think I need to deconstruct everything that is wrong with that sentence.

The sad part is, that kind of smear campaign against a simple request for inclusion actually worked.

Here’s another quote about feminism that makes more sense to me, from suffragist and journalist Rebecca West. “Feminism is the radical notion that women are people.”

When I was young I believe that to be a funny quote. It was tongue-in-cheek. Of course the basic notion that women are people can’t be radical and scary, can it?

Apparently, I was wrong. The concept of treating women like people is terrifying.

The sad part to me is this. If I do the math based on history, I am not likely to see equal pay for equal work as a national policy in my lifetime.

Sigh.

Carry on, daughters.

Memories of Pete Seeger

One of the first things I saw this morning when checking my Facebook account was the announcement of Pete Seeger’s passing. He was 94.

All day today folks have been sharing their memories of Pete on social media. A few of those memories included me, like this one from Corinna Makris (used with permission). Corinna and I volunteered together at the Great Hudson River Revival one year.

“And then right before me was Pete, picking up garbage. No entourage, no security. I approached him, nervous because omg PETE SEEGER and I asked, "Pete, how come you're picking up garbage? Shouldn't you be in the VIP tent?" Pete laughed and said, "Toshi won't let me. Says I'll get a swelled head!"

That story is so quintessentially Pete Seeger. Though I met him many times, I didn’t know him personally. Each time I saw him he had an air of gentle conviction, humor and integrity about him.

I was fifteen when I first met Pete Seeger and saw him play. It was in a folk music coffee house in a church basement in Hartford, CT, called “The Sounding Board.”

My father loved Pete Seeger, and identified with him. They were of the same generation, and of the same spirit. Pete’s music was a bridge between my father and me at a time when a bridge was badly needed.

I saw Pete play many times after that first time; with Arlo on a revolving stage, in small theatres, and of course, each year at the Great Hudson River Revival.

The last Revival I attended was many years ago; my now-adult son was only two. It was the first time I attended as a patron rather than a volunteer. To my young son, Pete was not an activist or a champion of civil rights. Pete was the man who sang “Froggy Went A’Courting” and “She’ll be Comin’ Round the Mountain.”

A few years later, I found myself in charge of a creating a skit for a group of children in a talent show. I turned Pete Seeger’s Foolish Frog into a blockbuster.

It’s easy to count the ways Pete Seeger’s music touched my life. It is hard to count the ways Pete Seeger’s message shaped my life. Maybe, more than anything, he taught me the power of music, and the power of laughter.

_{Photo: Pete Seeger at age 88 photographed on 6-16-07 at the Clearwater Festival 2007 by Anthony Pepitone
Creative Commons}

Fuzzy Cloak Weather

It feels silly to speak or write about the weather, but here’s the thing. At great time and trouble I uprooted myself, my business and my family to move from the Northeast to Florida for exactly two reasons – the sun and the ocean. I wanted to be in a place called “The Sunshine State.” For me it is all about the weather. Call me shallow. I do poorly at seasonal adaptation.

Over the past few weeks it has been unseasonably cold here in Florida. I realize this is no state of emergency when compared with the health and financial risks associated with the polar vortex in other parts of the country.

There are some Floridians who refer to temps in the forties and fifties as “glorious” and “lovely.” I am not one of them.

But I did hear a term that made me feel better about having to bundle up for the bonfire drum circle and to do tarot readings at the ironically-on-the-coldest-day-of-the-year Snowbird Appreciation Festival at a neighboring Tampa Bay community.

The term is “Fuzzy Cloak Weather.”

Many like-minded northerners have sought shelter from the cold, sleet, ice and snow here in Florida. With us we brought only the very best of our cold weather clothes – the ones we wore at festivals, circles and fairs. Having to mothball those gorgeous and expensive capes, cloaks, robes, boots, hoods, and wraps made of wool, satin and velvet was perhaps the only downside of moving to Florida.

This past Friday I was going to skip the drum circle. It was just too cold to sit outside, drum and dance. Then I remembered it. It’s fuzzy cloak weather! I’d been to drum circles in colder weather up north, and had a great time.

Sure enough, around the blazing fire I found my friends in beautiful hand-knit sweaters, flowing velvet scarves and colorful hats. It was so warm close to the fire I could take off my faux fur to dance.

Anyone who says we don’t have seasons in Florida has never spent a year here. After six years I am beginning to feel attuned to the Wheel of the Year in Florida. We don’t have a time of scarcity and a time of plenty. There is no urgency to celebrate our survival. Food grows all year, but changes with the seasons. Basic parts of the environment, such as light and water, change through the seasons.

Up until this year I have dreaded having to wear winter gear. Some winters are colder than others, but never for more than a few days at a time, and rarely colder than forty degrees. Some years the winter gear – even the fuzzy cloak itself – never comes out at all.

This year I am in the Tampa Bay area. Here it is often ten degrees color than where I was in South Florida. Although I love it here, the drop in temperature is not an advantage.

At the same time, I am relatively at peace with frigid Florida for the first time. Sometimes the cooler temps make a bonfire more fun! Perhaps it’s a blessing to wear our fabulous winter gear and remember that we once knew how to have good times in cold weather.

We can do that in Florida, too.

A Grammar Cop Turns in her Badge

Although my writing is full of hasty typos, my inner Grammar Police is pretty vocal. Sometimes it is everything I can do to keep from spray-painting road signs to encourage motorists to drive slowly, rather than slow.

I was raised that way. When I brought my new husband home to meet my grandmother her first words to us were that I was pronouncing his last name (now mine) incorrectly. I wasn’t – but that’s a good example of the tree from which my apple fell. My own apples (now trees themselves) are careful speakers and writers, too.

I understand the intentional use of bad grammar for emphasis, as in “That ain’t gonna happen!”

I understand poetic license. “He don’t love you like I love you” sounds better than “He doesn’t love you like I love you” in the cira-1975 pop tune.

And now, finally, I understand something else about language. Usage changes. The rules change. And that’s not always a bad thing.

If language didn’t change we would still say words like “forsooth” and “verily.” When I was a girl I read a manners book that instructed polite young ladies to acknowledge a kindness with “I thank you.” The curt “thanks” was rude.

In modern casual writing we now use terms like “ok” and “cool.”

Nonetheless, I have often railed against the changes in our language, fearing that when we lose the form of language we lose some of its function. I worry that that our language is becoming less beautiful and less precise.

Recently I read something that changed my understanding. The evolution of our language is not always about apathy, laziness and stupidity. Sometimes it’s about brilliance and creativity.

One of my favorite writing blogs is “Daily Writing Tips.” Recently Maeve Maddox shared “The New, Delightful use of Because” which outlines and praises a new slang way of using the word “because” as a preposition. For example, “I’m going to the movies because, popcorn!” Or, “I signed up to take senior citizens to the theatre because, hey, free plays!”

Maddox admits that not all grammarians will dig this new use of “because,” but it seems she does, and so do I, because, hey, clever sentence structure.

Communication needs to be precise. But words are also the material of creativity. The evolution of language is not always about dumbing down. Sometimes it’s about lightening up. Sometimes it’s about our cultural agreement of what things mean.  Sometimes new language trends are smart, sassy and descriptive. And that’s cool because, innovation!

Note:
While Maddox was clear to point out the obvious - that the "because" preposition should not be used in formal writing, I didn't get that her use of the word "delightful" in the title was actually sarcastic. She doesn't like it. but I still do.

Every Year the Nations on Earth do Magick Together

Those who study astrology and honor the movements of the sun, moon and planets as powerful times and times of spiritual and magickal opportunity often poo-poo the change of the calendar year. Our calendar is contrived, and not based on anything truly “natural.” It’s a young calendar, too. Many spiritual people find more power in older measurements of time like the Chinese New Year or the Jewish New Year.

Nonetheless, many astrologers found the New Moon in Capricorn on January 1, 2014 to be an auspicious start to the calendar year, although most were quick to say the changing calendar is simply an artificial marker and means nothing.

I disagree.

Sometimes magick is not only what we observe in the movements of the heavens. Sometimes power comes from what we ourselves do.

As a planet, we have all agreed to our calendar. We have all agreed to the date and time that marks our new year. More importantly, even the most secular of us have agreed that the change of the calendar means something. What does it mean? It means an opportunity to let go of the past. It means a time to celebrate past accomplishments. It means a clean slate for the future. It means a time to be optimistic about what might be, and a time to take control of our future by manifesting different behaviors and reaching for different ideals.

That so many people across the globe have agreed to this is what gives the concept of the New Year its magickal power. That we all put our energy into this is what makes it meaningful and valuable.

That’s a way magick, energy, spiritual power – whatever you want to call it – works.

Every year our planet collectively creates the intention of a wonderful new year. Magickal practitioners might see this as a creation of a “magickal child” or an “artificial elemental.”

Tracking the New Year ringing in across the globe is like a “Rolling Thunder” spell, which increases power each time a time zone is added.

Every magickal ritual needs a point of release, where the collective energy that has been built during the ritual into a fervor is sent into the Universe all at once.  At this moment our intentions are sent out to be made real.

When people say that their NYE experience was “magical,” they may be more accurate than they think!

So often we focus on the terrible things that have happened and are happening on our planet. On the other hand, it could be a lot worse.

What if this global magickal spell for a great year which we perform annually is actually working to help keep us in balance, and safe from global catastrophic events?

Nick's on the Hollywood Broadwalk

The Hollywood Broadwalk has plenty of restaurants and bars. It’s easy to pay too much money for mediocre food. At the end, what you are really paying for is location – to eat and drink watching the ocean, and watching the people on the Broadwalk – people of all ages, people skating, biking, walking on stilts, people playing music and dancing.

The Broadwalk is one of my favorite places to hang out when I have the time. Recently, I’ve become a regular visitor to Nick’s Bar and Grill. What drew me there in the first place is this. Even when all the surrounding restaurants are dead, Nick’s is always busy.

Do not expect a five-star meal here. This is a beach shack bar and grill.  Some of the chairs are ripped and some of the tables tilt. Some of the wait staff are less than friendly, and they don’t always get your order right. If you can enjoy it for what it is, you might find Nick’s to be the quintessential Broadwalk experience.

The prices are reasonable for the area and the menu is varied. The salads are fresh and made with mixed greens rather than the browning iceberg available at most places. Portions are generous. I’ve enjoyed meat, fish and vegetarian options at Nick’s. The food is always fresh and tasty, and there are always drink specials.

So if you are ready to sip a cocktail and eat some food on the beach in Hollywood, Florida, give Nick’s a try!

Everyday Miracles

Here’s another post about my favorite plant. It’s a seven-foot-tall angel trumpet (brugmansia) given to me as a potted plant by a snowbird returning to Canada.

Now my plant is as tall as a tree it’s large pink fragrant blossoms have caught the attention of my neighbors. Do I have any seeds to share? Not yet. But I read on the internet that the brugmansia is easy to grow from cuttings either left in water or simply stuck in the ground.

It was time to prune anyway.

When I was finished pruning I had seven sticks prepared according to the internet instructions.

I put four in individual jars of water. I stuck three in the ground.

I had only a wee bit of hope for the sticks in the water. I figured in a few days I would be dumping out the water and throwing sticks with mushy bottoms onto the compost heap.

I had even less hope for the sticks in the ground. I even had a few people tell me they were pretty sure you couldn’t just stick a stick in the ground and have it grow.

What really happened was life. Right before my eyes life happened. Each stick sprouted new life.

I quickly gave the sprouts in jars to my neighbors. Now I’m watching the sticks in the ground grow leaves and branches.

These sprouting sticks remind me of the suit of Wands in many tarot decks. The suit of Wands is related to the element of Fire. In some decks the Wands are shooting out flames. But in some decks the Wands are blooming and growing leaves and flowers.

In some traditions of Wicca a sprouting branch is the appropriate altar tool to invoke the element of Fire.

The metaphysical properties of Fire include life energy, passion, creativity and spirituality.

The ease with which my trumpet flower sticks became new life spoke to me of the fiery power of life force energy.

It reminded me of the miracles that happen around us every day, and of the miracle that life is every day.

That I’m making this discovery in the middle of December feels like the biggest miracle of all to this Yankee living in the Sunshine State.

What Marianne Williamson Might Mean for us

Marianne Williamson is a recognizable voice and face in the modern New Thought spiritual community. She writes best-selling books and is part of Oprah’s cadre of spiritual masters.  I imagine Marianne Williamson’s teachings would be rolled into the future religion of “Oprahism” as prognosticated by the writers of the cartoon series “Futurama.”

Marianne Williamson has officially announced her candidacy for election to the U.S. House of Representatives from California’s Congressional District 33. Her campaign slogan is “Create Anew.”

We are used to religious figures running for political office; but not this kind of religion. From Williamson’s candidacy announcement on her webpage, we read this.

“While many seekers have turned away from politics, viewing spiritual and political pursuits as mutually exclusive, I agree with Mahatma Gandhi that “Anyone who thinks religion doesn’t have anything to do with politics doesn’t understand religion.” I don’t believe we can afford to be “selectively conscious,” applying more enlightened principles to only some aspects of human endeavor.”

Some people believe that the unprecedented current political divisions in our country are related to the entrance of right-wing born-again Christianity to the political forum. Arch-conservative Barry Goldwater warned us about this possibility in 1994 with these prophetic words.

“Mark my word, if and when these preachers get control of the [Republican] party, and they're sure trying to do so, it's going to be a terrible damn problem. Frankly, these people frighten me. Politics and governing demand compromise. But these Christians believe they are acting in the name of God, so they can't and won't compromise. I know, I've tried to deal with them.”

Christian extremists worked together over decades to garner support and take control of the Republican Party. While many of their assertions are laughable (a raped woman can’t get pregnant, for instance) some of these religious politicians make their dangerously erroneous statements as duly elected members of Congress.

While the political left in our country has always had the backing of many socially conscious Christians, the United Church of Christ doesn’t have mega-churches or a prosperity doctrine. It would be impossible for a UCC or New Thought preacher to raise the kind of funds and fervor that the right-wing extremists do.

But what about a candidate like Marianne Williamson? She is using her spiritual message in her campaign, just as the Christian extremists do. She is well-funded, well-known, well-loved and well-connected. She might even appeal to the socially-conscious lefty Christians. If Unity Church and the Universalist Unitarians vote as a block she’s got a good chance at victory.

I am not naïve enough to think that one spiritually conscious person in the House of Representatives could make a lot of difference. But what if she is the first of a wave? What if the “spiritually conscious” could do what the Christian extremists have done? What would happen then?

I could see a number of possibilities, some of them as laughable as the right-wing-nuts forbidding schools to teach actual science. While I might personally believe that tarot cards could help create a balanced budget I can’t condone their actual use as part of our nation’s decision-making process.

I having a feeling, though, that the New Thought and New Age politicians might be a little more even-handed than the Christian extremists. I think the New Thought folks might even try to govern with love rather than with fear.

One question is, can the spiritual community mobilize voters the way the born-again Christians can? It will be interesting to see what happens. Will churches who need to constantly fundraise to keep their doors open be willing to encourage their congregation to hold fundraisers for Marianne?

If Marianne Williamson is successful, and if she is the first of a wave, it will be interesting to see if there is less hypocrisy and more honesty in one brand of spiritual politics than another.

Typically, those who rule with religion rule with cruelty. Will Williamson and those like her be any different? I hope we get a chance to find out.

Photo: Marianne Williamson Miami Book Fair International, 1993
Creative Commons License, MDCarchives

Seven Rules for Personal Happiness

There are lots of ways to be happy, and lots of ways to define “happiness.” Whatever happiness means to you, here are seven ways to help you get there.

1. Use your tools, resources and skills.
   Know what you’re good at doing. You’ve got to have a true inventory of your resources. You’ve got be able to know where your talents lie. Sometimes our talents come to us so easily that we don’t realize their value. Sometimes we are so busy worrying about the resources we don’t have that we forget to utilize the resources we do have.

2. Don’t use fear as an excuse.
   Fear is a natural human emotion. If you wait for a time when you are not afraid to step outside of your comfort zone you may wait forever. Maggie Kuhn said “Speak your mind even if your voice shakes.” If you want to be happy you have to do what is in your mind, even if all of you shakes.

3. Don’t rely on someone else for your happiness.
   It’s great to have friends, a life partner and children. But we can’t make the people around us responsible for our happiness, and we can’t use a lack of people around us as an excuse to be unhappy.

4. Life isn’t fair so don’t expect it to be.
   Inside most of us is a six-year-old stomping feet and yelling “That’s not fair!’ If we let our indignation at the large and small injustices in the world rule the way we see the world we will be victims and not survivors.  Survivors are happy, victims are not.

5. Don’t make happiness a goal.
   Eleanor Roosevelt said, “Happiness isn’t a goal, it’s a by-product of a life well-lived.” Even the Declaration of Independence refers to “the pursuit of happiness” as an inalienable right, not happiness itself. People who say "I just want to be happy" have missed the point completely. Don’t try to be happy. Try to be passionate. Try to be compassionate. Try to be creative. Try to be involved. Happiness will come naturally.

6. Don’t compare yourself with others.
   Max Erhmann said it best in his famous poem “Desiderata.” “If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.” Tend your own garden without worrying about what your neighbor is growing. Your garden is what will make you happy if you let it.

7. Appreciate the small things in life.
   A great cup of coffee, a beautiful sunrise, a bird’s song – it truly is the little things that make a difference. When we appreciate the little things the big things seem to fall into place. Those small moments of happiness often add up quickly.