The New Reality - Letter to home

The New Reality - Letter to home

Oh how could they, destroy that beautiful place inside our minds?

Deep moonlit scapes, wonderous pool under the waterfall.

I was sitting in a chair, mindless and speechless, a husk of my former self, staring at the four walls.

You were gone.

You have been gone more than ten years.

Or so they tell me.

I don't remember anymore.

The medications make it all surreal, a dream, if I remembered it, I might kill myself.

Sickness in a mind, reports say, I could be quite sane and it is the rest of the world that's mad.

I try to tell the doctors here that.

Maybe they are the sociopyschotic mad men in their deep starched white coats meandering room to room looking for something to cure their sickness, writting it down on their clipboards.

Angry suicidal, homicidal, I have become, or would, if the medications wouldn't step in and protect the idiots at the supermarket.

Blocking the aisles, chattering like rats over some dead issue, tissues?

Who cares.

I just want my box of cereal.

Toasty oats.

With raisins.

Anyways, tomorrow, if I'm good, the nurses say I can have two cookies with my apple juice.

Anyways, good night Mom, I'll write more later, I love you,

Your son,

George

Everything has worth - even a turd!

I walk the streets of a rich, artsy neighborhood.

Trust kids writing and painting, Ive moved up from my living under a tree days.

There's still homeless people, even though our President and his supporters say the job market is doing great.

I was homeless.

I had a job.

I was making 800 bucks.

Rent was 900.

So there I was, homeless.

I was still writing, drinking beer, as a way for sleep.

Everyone wonders why the homeless drink.

How else do you fall asleep when you're too scared to fall asleep?

I have a house now, a condo, but not because of anything our government has done or hasn't done.

I remember, everyone is 1 misstep from becoming a homeless reject.

People see you as trash when you are homeless.

No one is trash.

Everyone has worth.

Even a turd.

Everyone, even the rich, are one step away from being in that place, homeless.

To be screamed at, GET A JOB, even though you have one.

I wish people would remember, everyone has a worth.

Recipe from Butte, Montana: Lydia's Meaderville Ravioli

RECIPES FROM BUTTE, MONTANA: LYDIA’S MEADERVILLE RAVIOLI – FROM GRANDMA’S BOOK OF COOKING

(AKA WOMAN’S GLORY – THE KITCHEN)

A VERY BRIEF HISTORY OF MEADERVILLE, MONTANA AND LYDIA’S

Repost from my blog at Elitewriters.org

My dad was born and raised in Butte, Montana, specifically Meaderville, Montana which was an mostly Italian-American suburb of Butte.

Meaderville was named after Charles T. Meader in 1880.

Meaderville was swallowed up by the Berkeley Pit, an open pit mine, in the late 1960s, early 1970s, lost forever except in stories and fading memories of its past citizens.

Meaderville was in its own right a story upon itself with its abundance of restaurants, taverns, night clubs and specialty grocery stores. So much so, that it earned the nickname “Little Monte Carlo.”

Lydia, a world famous Italian style restaurant in Butte, began its life in Meaderville before moving to the Flats in 1946 where it is still currently operating in still much the same way it was back in its early, good food and plenty of it.

A year ago, I was going through my parents’ belongings in preparation for moving out of the house(a long story in its own right involving the state taking said house after my parents’ passing) and discovered one of the cookbooks that my grandmother had giving to my mom.

Inside it was a couple of pieces of paper with some handwritten notes, some looking like my mom’s and the rest in some hard to read script.

“What the hell,” I thought, “It’s been a few days since I wrote a blog!” and settled down into some translations.

THE RECIPE

~DOUGH~

3 Cups of Flour
3 Eggs
1/4 Cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil
1/2 Tablespoon Salt
About 2/3 Cup Warm Water

(NOTE FROM ME: No instructions on making the dough. We assume you know what to do! If you screw up, the spirit of my grandma will come back and kill you! Just kidding, she was a sweet lovely lady, my grandfather though will kill you!!!)

~FILLING~

1 Cup Lean Ground Pork
1 Cup Cooked and Ground Chicken
1 Cup Cooked and Ground Veal
1 Cup Cooked chopped Spinach
1/2 Cup Parsley
1/2 Cup Ground Celery
1/2 Cup Ground Onion
1 Cup Bread Crumbs (soaked in chicken broth)
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1/2 teaspoon Allspice
1/4 teaspoon sage
3 Extra Large Eggs
2 cloves of ground garlic

Melt in saucepan 1 cube of butter, 4 tablespoon Extra Virgin olive oil then add above ingredients except for the eggs,spices and breadcrumbs(NOTE FROM ME:Basically throw all the meat, spinach, probably the garlic in to the butter and oil. Doesn’t say this but, well. I’d throw the garlic in first, give it a nice base for the meat and such to do its thing!) and let cook for about 15 minutes.

Remove from stove and cool.

Then add soaked bread crumbs and the three eggs and mix well.

Add the spices and 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese(NOTE FROM ME: Ingredient list does not include the cheese! But who cares! Just add it! What do you mean you don’t have any cheese?! GO GET SOME!!!! I’ll wait!!!)

~SAUCE~

Place in sauce pan 1/2 cube real butter, 3 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil, 1 clove crushed garlic, 1 small onion, “ground” 1/2 pound ground beef(NOTE FROM ME: 1st ground is in quotation marks in original recipe – don’t ask me, just do it!).

Cook for about 15 minutes then add 1 can large tomatoes, 1 can tomato paste diluted in 1 cup of water. Add 1 cup dry ground mushrooms and a can of sliced mushrooms. 1/2 teaspoon of salt. 1/2 teaspoon of pepper. 1 teaspoon of oregano. 1 teaspoon of thyme. 14 cup ground parsley. 1/4 cup ground celery.

Simmer slowly for 2 hours.

~FINAL PREPARATION~

Roll out dough and place filling in mounds. Cover mounds with dough and cut around each one with a pastry wheel.

Boil for 15 to 20 minutes in salted water.

Drain thoroughly, place on platter, and cover with sauce and a heavy sprinkle of grated Parmesan cheese.

~FINAL WORDS FROM THE BLOGGER~ 

Hopefully it all works out for you.

If it doesn’t, buy a plane ticket to Butte, Montana and go to Lydia’s (ain’t too far from the airport!) and tell em I sent you.

You’ll leave stuffed.

~SOME LINKS JUST CAUSE~

LYDIA’S: A MONTANA TRADITION

LYDIA’S SUPPER CLUB

MEADERVILLE, MONTANA – FLICKR