Three things from DAH.

 

DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. I wonder when I wander. 

 

My Dad and his parents said it often: "Mustn't Grumble." It was part of their ethos, a very British ethos. Just suck it up because things could be worse (and likely are worse for someone else). I settled on "never complain and never explain" (attributed to the 19th Century British statesman Benjamin Disraeli). There are, of course, situations when you should offer explanation, but, according to The Art of Manliness, not "if the critical/offended/skeptical party is someone you don't know personally (like a stranger online or the public in general), don't care about, and/or don't respect as an equal — someone who shouldn't have any say or sway over your choices — then taking the time to explain why they're wrong, or why you've made the decisions you have, is ill-advised. To be concerned with what someone outside your circle of respect thinks, is to allow yourself to be pulled down to his or her level." If I want to lower my self-worth, all I need do is complain or offer an explanation as a sad excuse. I don't want to lower my self-worth. 

 

During the COVID-19 pandemic my wife and I ate less meat. a lot less meat. We still eat seafood occasionally. And we're not doctrinaire: We can imagine situations that might not be meat-less. Our three dogs still eat meat. The thing is, we don't much miss it. There are so many options today, if we crave something meat-like. We have friends who pasture-raise grass-fed beef: Magruder Ranch in Mendocino County. Mac Magruder says "our cattle live well and have only one bad day." If we were to want beef, that's the beef we'd choose, rather than standard feedlot fare. I've driven California's I5 freeway too many times. I never appreciate the aroma of the Harris Ranch feedlot near Coalinga. 

 

My Dad attended Grammar School in Melton Mowbray, a town in England's East Midlands. He played trombone, rugby, and a lead role in Gilbert & Sullivan's The Gondoliers. And he made me aware of Stilton Cheese and Melton Mowbray Pork Pies, local food products celebrated far and wide. The Enclosure movement in England (1750-1850, thereabouts), for good or ill, resulted in higher agricultural productivity. Midlands cheesemakers had a byproduct, whey, that could be fed to pigs. The pork industry grew, and the pork pie was born. The pies from Melton Mowbray became famous, and are now protected (fewer than a dozen producers are approved). In February 2018 we bought a couple of Melton Mowbray Pork Pies at London's Borough Market, and took them back to our holiday flat for supper. "We should heat them to enjoy them properly," said Dan. "I've never had them heated," I said, hesitant. We heated one (one has to try new things), which was a mistake. The cold one was properly much nicer. And there's a meat I'll still eat, without complaint or further explanation. 

 

And a bit more:

 

by Andrea Cohen

 

Of course we stole

the motel soap. Weren’t

 

we supposed to? So

we could go home

 

and try to hold

those slippery

 

slivers, which,

like everything

 

we pretended

was ours, touched

 

us, and vanished?

 

(Published in the print edition of the September 18, 2017, issue of The New Yorker) 

 

And that's all for this week.

From Mary Oliver’s poem Sometimes …  

Instructions for living a life:

 

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