Meatloaf and Livin' Life

 Published in the Idaho State Journal on August 29, 2021. 

An old friend recently stopped in town on her way to climb in the Cascade Mountains. This friend is a “kid” who played soccer at Idaho State years ago and became a favorite dog sitter of mine. She’s all grown up and doing a great job livin’ life in Colorado. We talked way too late on a work night, and as the yawns encroached on our conversation, she got out a pocket-sized sketch book. She set it on the kitchen counter and said, “I’d love for you to write some of your best advice in there before I head out in the morning.”

What columnist doesn’t love giving advice? Even more so when asked. With this kind of free reign, the wheels in my mind woke up, and I went to sleep thinking about the wisest people whose paths I have  crossed. What could I synthesize into a single piece of advice?

The advice that I didn’t write, but that I felt compelled to share verbally comes from my mom, of course. It’s not about life so much as it is about meatloaf. My mom made the best meatloaf in the world right up until I was able to improve it.  I never run the oven in the summer, but when the cooler fall weather arrives , I put Mom’s best advice in action:  line the bottom of the loaf pan with two pieces of bread, the heels if you have them.

This is a genius use of the never-loved bread heels that serve to soak up a bunch of grease. When the loaf is finished cooking, the bread peels away and the dogs in the house will sit at attention until it  cools. I never give them the pieces all at once because they don’t need all that grease either, but little bits over a few days are a treat.

I didn’t include this advice in the sketchbook because it wasn’t oven season. Also, she’s still young. I imagine she’ll try a plant-based diet in her mid- to late 30’s like many athletes do in an effort to improve performance or ease the pain when everything starts to hurt. The meatloaf tip doesn’t apply to daily living. I wanted to come up with something more poignant that applies at any life stage.

I recalled a few years ago when a friend’s daughter was a junior in high school. This student had friends, good relationships with teachers and administrators, and schedules tailored to her learning style, yet she approached her mom wanting to transfer schools mid-year. Her mom told me,  “She doesn’t realize that wherever she goes, she has to take herself with her.”  Those words have stayed with me since, and become the best advice I could give – or receive.  And just like Mom’s meatloaf, I’ve added a personal touch to build upon the overall guidance. This was the advice I wrote in the sketchbook:

Always remember that wherever you go, you have to take yourself with you; always remember that wherever you go, you get to take yourself with you.

The original message from my friend with “have to” addresses personal accountability in any given situation. Once when I was having conflicts at work, at home and in a volunteer endeavor, it dawned on me that with so much conflict in those days, perhaps I was the problem. Whether being unreasonable, failing to see others’ perspectives, or just plain grumpy, I was well-served to do a personal assessment before spending another second on what people around me were saying or doing. When frustration envelopes me in all directions, I’m obliged to recognize how my own thoughts, words or actions are affecting (tainting) the situation –  and my outlook.

When “have to” in that first sentence is changed to “get to”, the theme shifts from accountability to empowerment.  We get to take ourselves with us. We aren’t just stuck with ourselves. We are blessed with ourselves.  When frustration envelopes me in all directions, I have the ability to recognize how my own thoughts, words or actions could affect (improve) the situation – and my outlook.

Our ability as humans to live and thrive together in this world can be boiled down to how we balance personal accountability and self-empowerment. As our kids started school this week during a pandemic this is the core of what I want them to consider this school year.  Will their life be better in a different situation? Or can their life be better if they are better? With so much out of our control, we can control our own thoughts, words and actions and when we address those, some of the worst of situations can shift.  This was the back-to-school discussion in our house. And , it took place over some hand-crafted,  made-with-love meatloaf. 

My friend sent these pictures to me at the end of her trip to see me - I mean, at the end of her trip to hike the Cascades.

The sun in the Cascade Mountains. Is it rising or setting? Photo by Liv Zabka

On top of the Cascades. Photo by Liv Zabka

 

His hand-written note

 Published in the Idaho State Journal on August 15, 2021.

A couple weeks ago on the morning after my 30-year high school reunion, I gathered my coffee, the Sunday paper and my collection of cards and stationary. When I have an event like that, the build-up and hype can be so intense that I feel a harsh emotional crash when it’s over. That old-school quiet thinking and writing of “thank you’s” and “it was so great to see you’s” help ease the descent by bringing gratitude and warm fuzzies into focus. It helps the good times last a little longer and cement them in my brain, and I hope it does the same for those to whom I write.

This reunion was particularly grand because it combined the classes of ’91 from Poky and Highland. The classes of ’90 from each school also joined because they had to cancel their event last summer. Since I had gone to Hawthorne Junior High, my class split with most heading to Highland and fewer of us heading to Poky.  I had a blast reconnecting with junior high classmates as well as people from high school.

As I sat down to read the paper before writing cards, my mind was abuzz reminiscing about those six years of my education and the wonderful people who crossed my path. At the top of that list of wonderful people is Gail Siemen. Mr. Siemen was my principal all three years at Hawthorne Junior High, and on the morning after my reunion, he was at the forefront of my mind as I came upon the obituaries.

Mr. Siemen passed away two days before our reunion. I had to take a few minutes. I’m still taking a few minutes.

During my time at Hawthorne, I got the opportunity to work with Mr. Siemen on a few projects when I became student body president. Whenever we had assemblies, he would pull me aside to let me know the program and guide me through what to say in the microphone. Speaking to 900 fellow junior high students was terrifying. Mr. Siemen helped make it less so.

When I left Hawthorne and went on to Poky, I got a message in class my sophomore year to call Mr. Siemen. My ninth grade earth science teacher had died in a car accident. Mr. Siemen asked a few former students to come back to Hawthorne to share their memories of Mr. Terch in an all-school assembly. 

When the service began, the student body applauded the introduction of the first speaker. It was not an uproarious round of applause with whistles and cheers, but still a thunderous clapping of hands. I wasn’t sure that we should be clapping in a memorial service, so I looked to Mr. Siemen. He wasn’t clapping. He was agitated and it was one of the few times I noticed him not smiling. He jumped out of his chair after a few seconds.

Mr. Siemen not-so-gracefully took the microphone from the student speaker. He was kind but firm in explaining why we were gathered in the gym and acknowledged that while it is normally appropriate to offer applause when someone is introduced, it was not appropriate for that occasion.  The sense of being slightly scolded was edged out by feeling lovingly educated. A stern lesson to kick off a memorial service may not have been “appropriate” either, but seeing his instinctual need to educate and offer heartfelt guidance in those moments speaks to the man he was.

A couple years later when I was elected student body president at Poky, I got my very own mailbox in the office. The first official presidential correspondence I received was a hand-written note from Mr. Siemen. He expressed his well-wishes and faith in me. I hadn’t been a student of his for years, but he still thought about me. He still rooted for me, and he took the time to tell me in a personalized, intentional way. That gesture was powerful.

I continued to run into Mr. Siemen as I got older. He came to many of the ISU volleyball games I played in, attended many of the ISU Hall of Fame celebrations I went to, and seemed to need things from Fred Meyer at the same times I did. He was always quick with a bellowing “Hi, Billie!” or “Hi, Kid!” and a smile to back it up.    

Many will remember Gail Siemen for his kindness, positivity and educational leadership. Many will remember his athletic accomplishments at Idaho State, his steadfast Bengal-boosting or his role as a family man. It was sweetly poetic that I had a stack of blank note cards and a pen right next to me when I read about Mr. Siemen’s passing. With every hand-written card, letter or note I ever send, his inspiration and influence endure. I will always remember Gail Siemen for his hand-written note.