Anniversary Blessings and All That Jazz

A bit grainy, taken off our cell phone, but proof of a
great "date night!"

My husband and I lived in different parts of Chicago the four years we dated. My little efficiency apartments featured a cast iron "Murphy bed" that threatened to squash me every time I lowered it from its closet, views of brick walls across alleys, cantankerous scraping of elevator cables sounding through the night and, yes, jumbo-sized cockroaches.

From the official Murphy Bed Co.
website. Folding away my cast iron
bed each morning was a feat of
strength and willpower!

On the upside, these cubbyholes granted me access to St. Clement's Church and singing in its choir, Lincoln Park brownstones, lakefront strolls, forays to the zoo and conservatory, cheap diners, classic movies at the Music Box Theater, coffee house sessions at the Old Town School of Folk Music. 

Ed and I were in our early 20's, had student loan payments, and were working for non-profits, but we didn't need much cash to have fun. He would hop a bus to meet me and we would walk and talk for hours -- rain, snow or shine. Some of the world's best sight-seeing was at our disposal, and we never carried a scrap of extra weight during those years!

So...to celebrate our 23rd Anniversary Saturday night, Ed took me to Girl and the Goat in Chicago's West Loop area (owned and run by Iron Chef America contender Stephanie Izard). Chickpea fritters; pork, beef and goat stew with homemade noodles; fresh-baked bread with bacon, butter, and diced pear. Outstanding and surprising  dishes! Dim, artsy interior with rustic tables and floor, wood-fed brick oven, chefs in tall, cylindrical hats, and a soaring bar area with iron grill work salvaged from some architectural treasure house.

Chicago's Field Museum, just a bus ride away when we
lived in the city. Photo by Bartholomew

After a week of our family fighting a respiratory bug, it was so delightful and unexpected to escape for the evening. After-dinner espresso and latte at La Colombe Coffeehouse on Randolph Street, then on to the Jazz Showcase to hear Benny Green and his trio. We sipped Bailey's Irish Cream in front row seats, positioned perfectly to see the pianist's flying hands. 

After the first set, Benny autographed a CD for us: "Marianna and Ed, Happy 23 Years! Many, many more and on and on..." When he saw us still there after the second set, he greeted us by name. He was upset, saying if he had known we stayed, he would have dedicated a song to us. He leapt back on the stage, grabbed the mike, but by then the lights were up and house music playing. The thought was there!

Funny how jazz has been a recurring theme in my life this year. I wrote about another powerful jazz encounter here: Monsignor Reilly, Great Jazz and an Amazing Week.

But back to Jazz Showcase. We watched the pianist (Benny Green), bassist (Ben Wolfe) and drummer (Kenny Washington) in awe as they moved in and out of improvisation seamlessly. Distinct voices, yet one stunningly unified team. Sounds like a metaphor for marriage at its best, although I didn't think of that at the time. During intermission, Benny told Ed and I that when he composed, he expressed things in music he couldn't put into words. I told him his music and performance reminded me of prayer. It seemed so fundamental, spiritual and free. He seemed touched when we said we couldn't think of a nicer way to spend our anniversary. He looks so edgy on his CD cover, but in person, seemed gentle and receptive, thanked us for our encouragement, and said "bless you," several times, for our comments.

In Father Robert Barron's youtube video about Seven Great Qualities of a New Evangelist, he talks about how we must be plugged into culture, and find God's truths and beauty shining forth through even the secular arts. I definitely felt God's goodness pouring through this trio's music. At times, the sounds were so delicate and probing, they seemed to express qualities like love, loneliness and pondering. At other times, these three men in suits rocked with exuberance, laying all their energies into themes they explored with deepening intensity.

Before we married, Ed read Jane Eyre to
please me. Pictured here is author
Charlote Bronte, painted by
J.H. Thompson. Image is in public
domain due to age.

Learning to appreciate jazz has been a labor of love. When I first met my husband, I thought jazz ran in circles with nowhere to go. But living 23 years with a trumpet player has led me to lay down prejudices. I've been blessed by an enjoyment of jazz that might never have developed if I hadn't determined to like it for Ed's sake.

The great thing, is that my husband also gives my preferences a try, which led him to read my favorite book of all time before we married (Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre), buy a second-hand canoe this summer, and take me to such an out of the box restaurant featuring goat cheese and locally-grown veggies for our anniversary!

That great meal and music was soporific, because next morning, the whole family stayed in bed until noon -- an unheard-of luxury. We arose to Ed and my actual anniversary day, which mimicked the glorious, sunshiny weather of our wedding day. I remember my parents driving me and my boxed wedding dress and veil along Lake Shore Drive toward St. Clement's Church, Lake Michigan glistening at our side and sun smiling overhead -- and us belting out the show tune from "My Fair Lady" -- "I'm getting married in the morning. Ding-dong the bells are going to chime..."

We had relatives fly in from as far away as Ireland and England. We never guessed that within a week, Ed's father would be stricken by a brain embolism. How blessed we were to have both sets of our parents at the wedding.

The now-Bishop of Tulsa (then, President of the Catholic Church Extension Society) Father Edward Slattery, sang the "Creation Mass," and our St. Clement's Church Choir sang, finishing with part of the Hallelujah chorus from Handel's Messiah. After Ed and I were named husband and wife we turned to face the congregation, and the 30-some members of the choir waved to us from the loft of the newly-refurbished, historic, Romanesque-style church! Ahhh, memories.

Memories filtered pleasantly through my brain all weekend, as our leisurely celebration of life together extended through Sunday. We had two coupons for a nearby coffeehouse, so walked there in the afternoon to exchange gifts. I bet we looked silly walking down the street, each carrying a large, brown shopping bag. Ed got me an ingenious bird feeder that attaches to the kitchen window so we can watch birds while doing dishes. I got him a quintet's worth of Canadian Brass sheet music so he can play with the kids on their trombone, trumpet and clarinet, along with a Canadian Brass CD. Also, Handel's Messiah sheet music and CD so he can play along on his trumpet. I love how our gifts benefit the whole family.

Later, at 5:00 PM Mass, our family was asked to bring up the gifts. The entire theme of the Mass happened to revolve around the one-flesh, sacramental union of husband and wife. A great Indian priest gave a homily full of scriptural references and rich insights as to God's plan for marriage. In one of the lighter moments, he told of an English couple who held a world record for being married for eighty-something years! The wife advised forgiving each other and always going to bed good friends. The husband summed up his approach in two words: "Yes, Dear!"

The Battle of Lepanto, 1571, painted by acclaimed,
19th-century Filipino master Juan Luna. Image is in public
domain, due to age.

After dinner, I read this article from Soul Magazine to Ed and the kids, to remind us about what an amazing anniversary date Ed and I have. October 7th is the Feast of the Holy Rosary. On this day in 1571, the last oared, naval battle in history took place. An outnumbered, ragtag fleet of Christians turned back a powerful invading force of Turks threatening to overrun Europe. (The Muslim fleet was powered by Christian slaves at the oars.) The Christian victory is credited to the fact that Europe united in praying the rosary, since defeat seemed certain. You have to read the story of this incredible battle. The prolific writer G.K. Chesterton wrote a poem about the event, called Lepanto. The language and imagery are breathtaking. 

Well, for Ed and I it's been twenty-three years (not counting the four we dated) -- six pregnancies (three miscarriages), various catastrophes (job loss, illness, disputes) -- but above all, shared faith, sacramental blessings, companionship, family, and the sense of adventure as new opportunities unfold.

Looking out to a bright future,
with Edward J. Slattery, now
Bishop of Tulsa, OK.

Has it all played out as I envisioned as a 16-year-old? Hardly. In many ways it has surpassed my hopes and dreams. It's a lot like jazz. We improvise as we go, helping the other each sound his or her own unique tune, yet begging God to blend us in pleasing harmony, forging something beautiful in our hearts, home and the world.

Happy Feast of the Archangels

And Now, A Little Technology Humor

Monmouth College left a recruitment message in our voice mail. Our spiffy new arrangement feeds these messages through a voice recognition system and emails them to us in text format. Remember that game "telephone," with kids whispering a message to each other to see how it emerges at the end? Well, this version of "telephone" had my family howling with laughter...

Message as it appeared in the email:

Date	: Sep 19 2012 06:04:57 PM
From	: MONMOUTH COLLEG (130********)
To	: E. Bartholomew (16*****-****)

"Hi, this is Matt from Monarch College calling for ******. We were just calling to see how your senior year in high school is going and also to see if after a few groceries if you're gonna be interested in looking at at colleges mama college is very interested in having you attend here. Oh we are just wondering if you'd be interested in actually point here. If you haven't heard of us and we can check our website at mom's college that you. I love you. See what you're looking for a college education, then you can feel free to schedule a campus visit or apply online is completely free. They don't they wanna do either. So, we'll, we're gonna try to get a hold of you a couple weeks and if you have any questions you can feel free to call us at 1-800-***-****. Thank you" 

--- Brought to you by ***age --- 

This email was sent from a mailbox that does not accept replies. 


Isn't it great how communication keeps getting easier?!

What We Do Changes Who We Are

Michelangelo's the Creation of Adam

in the Sistine Chapel at the Vatican.

Identity – What We Do Changes Who We Are...

Philosophy buffs, C.S. Lewis and Tolkien fans...Click on the link above to check out this riveting reflection by Peter Kreeft, that appeared at The Integrated Catholic Life blogsite.

Best Face Forward

Pleasing through our complexions...how far must women go to be judged worthy? One of the most popular film stars of the 1920s, Clara Bow was known as the ultimate flapper, and had a complicated personal life to match her flamboyant style. Photo is in public domain.

My high school reunion is this month. When I was little, an event like that would have Mom “putting on" her face. I would scramble for a ringside seat. Women back then approached hair and face like architecture, building up from bedrock. Headband framing the naked canvas, Mom pursed and smeared: Ponds Cream, foundation, blemish stick, “rouge,” eye shadow, eyebrow liner, mascara (for a really big event, false eyelashes), powder, and the grand finale, lipstick to tie the new, refurbished package in a bow.  

Another half hour untangling curlers, styling springy, Dippity Do-slicked curls, sliding in a hair extension called a “rat,” encasing the “do” in a sprayed, silicon shell, snapping on earrings, and dabbing perfume behind ears, and the lady, from the neck up at least, was complete. I dreamed of styling my own elegant mask. But would it be freeing?

One landmark day as a teen, I trotted off with Mom to a cosmetics counter for a makeover. A white-smocked lady slathered my blemish-marked skin with lotion. That launched me on an extravagant cycle: exfoliating cream, astringent wash, moisturizer, foundation, blush, powder, eye shadow, eyeliner drawn with a brush, mascara…voila!...a new creation. The results boosted morale. With makeup, I perceived myself as more polished, confident, and acceptable in the eyes of the world.

I wasn't alone. An October 12, 2011 New York Times article asks: "Want more respect, trust and affection from your co-workers?" and outlines a Harvard psychology study that shows makeup-wearing women faring better in the workplace.

By the time I worked downtown in my early 20’s, I wouldn’t leave my apartment without “my face on.” Forgetting to tuck makeup into my purse was irksome, getting my face right in the morning, essential. As hours passed, I sensed eyeliner or lipstick smudge, and fished out a mirror to check the damage. Catching me pressing palm against lips to blot lipstick, a coworker asked if I was ill.

Then, came the Great Unmasking. Children arrived. Hugs and kisses took precedence over image. Makeup happened when I had time, until I developed chemical sensitivities. Even hypoallergenic cream made me itch. Mom developed the same condition, making the whole synthetic beautifying process more pain than pleasure.

A funny thing happened as Mom and I ditched chemicals. Mom’s hair naturally grayed into stunning silver. At least in the eyes of this beholder, simply wearing her own face increased her beauty. As for me, I made peace with my unvarnished reflection. In time, I quite liked it.

Today, not slaving over and smothering my skin just to pass through my door makes me giddy with gratitude. I applaud current fashion trends featuring light makeup and easy-care hair. I still enjoy wearing lip color. As for the rest of the hooplah, I’ve sent it to the Pit of Oblivion. Hurray!

Many women take cosmetics in stride, using them as helpful beautifying tools and not a distraction. But for one who felt naked without a synthetic mask, it’s nice breaking the attachment.

In the online comments section of that New York Times article, women raged over the inequity of society and workplaces discriminating against women without makeup. Men are not expected to spend 20 minutes daily on skin care, so why must women?

On the other side, some women equated makeup with influence. "There are times when you want to give a powerful 'I'm in charge here' kind of impression, and women shouldn't be afraid to do that," by, say, using a deeper lip color, said pro-makeup Sarah Vickery, quoted in the New York Times article, and an author of the Harvard study. 

She is also a Procter & Gamble scientist, snarked one online commentator, while another asserted, "a person shouldn't feel like they look hideous in public without makeup."

In the end, one truth emerges: true beauty shines from within. Some crabby, self-absorbed women in exquisite makeup, look severe and unattractive.  Other women with plainer, unadorned faces beam as they good-naturedly live their day.


Society should reach that point where no woman is discriminated against or judged because she does not wear makeup. As for women who enjoy "war paint," more natural-minded consumers are demanding safe cosmetics, so women do not have to sacrifice health for beauty.

Sometimes it works to keep it simple. Extra-virgin coconut oil  cleanses and moisturizes, apple cider vinegar is a good astringent, and a healthy, holy outlook on life gives faces a glow. The first two items are found at health food stores. The third, takes hope, humor and a lifetime of persistent prayer, a recipe that makes people winsome with age.


I know the pleasure makeup can bring, especially when trying to make a good impression for some special event. A small part of me wishes I could go beyond the lipstick for my high school reunion. But by the grace of God, it feels good to be unmasked, and putting my own best face forward.

Chemicals found in makeup comprise a toxic list. Can you imagine saying, “I’ll be ready in a minute, Honey, as soon as I plug my pores with octyl methoxycinnamate, propylene glycol and methylparaben”? To learn more about harmful and even carcinogenic chemicals in makeup, check out the non-profit Environmental Working Group site: http://www.ewg.org/skindeep/?key=39529902. The site also provides information on natural beauty products.

Summer Holiday

Photo by Marianna & Ed Bartholomew 

Summer Holiday
By Marianna Bartholomew

Green         to swim and roll in
                 to tickle face and feet
                 to smile in

Sweet         breeze to bathe and breathe in 
                 to wave arms and to sigh in

Smooth       lake to drift and dance in

Soft            cotton to wrap in

Gentle         arms to nap in

Originally called "Early Summer Holiday," I took the "Early" off in honor of August. I wrote this as a young, single woman, dreaming about the ultimate summer day -- shared with some amazing man who had yet to arrive on the scene...

God answered my prayers in my husband of 23 years. Back in the day when my man had his acoustic guitar out daily (he's a trumpet player now), we put these words to music. 

It's been such a busy summer. Lots of DIY projects and tasks. How about you? I just had to post a little reminder that summer (and time with our loved ones) is to be savored.

Soup Bone of Contention

Photo by Daniel Bartholomew
Cream of Swiss Chard Soup. At least I love it!

Cucumbers, scallions, stevia, pumpkin...from mundane to exotic, my garden is bursting its seams this August. Those 100-plus degree days didn't defeat it. 


I gathered blackberries for breakfast, made an omelet with Hungarian wax peppers and chives for lunch, and even made Baba Ghanouj from eggplant for an appetizer this week. 


"No thank you," said my family to the Baba Ghanouj.  "No thank you" to the omelet. And when I blended up Cream of Swiss Chard Soup yesterday, 18-year-old daughter first refrained from comment (through politeness), then told me it tasted like grass. 

Just one of the cookbooks I use to try
livening up meals. This book is edited by
 Janet Swarbrick.

Second sibling said "Thank you" and declared the soup "okay." No fireworks there. 


The 12-year-old liked it, maybe. No one cleaned their bowl voluntarily. 


Why did this soup matter? The more we eat from the garden, the lower my grocery bills. But that's not all. Swiss Chard is one of the most nutrient-dense veggies on the planet. My kids have largely scrounged their own lunches this summer and this pattern has emerged: peanut butter and jelly, Ramen noodles, grilled cheese. Day after day.


Thus, my attempt to squeeze a little nutrition into the party. My teens, tween and I actually had this conversation:


Me: "Just finish the soup, ok?" I had put minuscule servings into our smallest bowls.


Child: "I did finish it." 


Me: "Then why is it still in your bowl?"


Child: "Look!" Child shows me a half-inch ring above the warm, green pool below -- evidence that several spoonfuls were attempted.


Me: "There are potatoes in there. It tastes just like potato soup. Eat it until you can see the picture on the bottom of the bowl." (A winter Currier & Ives scene. But no matter.)


Child: "You can see the picture, look!"


I repeat. These were not toddlers, but a tween and two teens. Sigh. We even began our morning yesterday with a "Saint of the Day" and Scripture readings from the Magnificat. Double sigh. The meal ended with contention. I let some frustrated words fly. It's so hard to meet collective rejection over the no-brainer concept that fresh should trump processed.


Middle son explains his bias. "Mom, they're vegetables." At least half the nation would probably agree with him, since modern palate often craves processed fare.


But...what to do with a garden full of greens no one wants? 


Guilt doesn't work. I've talked about those starving kids in Africa. Coercion seems pitiful since we are talking older kids, here. "Eat your veggies and you can have your dessert." Please. Nagging is a nuisance and plunges pleasantries at the table into a scene from Shakespeare's "Taming of the Shrew."

Photo by Marianna Bartholomew
Veggies from my garden. Now, if people would only eat them!

Subterfuge seems the best ploy. Hide those nasty vegetables. I've tried tucking them into sauces with some success, although my husband and I are trying not to overdo pasta. I could make a meatloaf and hide the greens, but who wants to heat up the kitchen for an hour mid-summer? I juiced veggies a few days ago and loved it, but again faced the chorus of "No thank yous!" from the kids. 


"Just take one sip and try it," I'll usually say. This time, I didn't bother.


I did all the right things. Breastfed each baby and raised them on whole foods. I even had a little manual baby-food grinder, and steamed and pressed their first carrots and peas. 


Now, I'll place some garden fare on the table and watch eyes collectively avert to other quadrants. In exasperation, I'll finally say, "You don't have to like it. Just take some like a vitamin." 


The usual protocol in my house is to wait until the substance is cold and has been tracked across the plate, before donning a heroic face and taking it in a few dramatic gulps. The kids do eat some veggie eventually, because that's the rule. If I go to the trouble to prepare some dish, the least they can do is eat a respectable portion of it.


I can sauté delectable veggies in butter with a dash of lemon and sea salt, and the crew still grimaces downing the ration.

Photo by Marianna Bartholomew
Fresh from the garden tastes astonishingly real.

Of course, the kids aren't considering ramifications of diet choices to health and limb. All they know is that modern taste buds eschew too-real garden fare. I do sympathize. I remember staring at my childhood dinner plate at mounds of zucchini from our organic garden. Next day? Another mound. So, I do have some empathy. For heaven's sake, even my husband has texture issues. For him, if it's slippery or pureed, forget it.


Perhaps when the kids are grown and more savvy consumers, they'll think back with at least some affection to the steady flow of organic goods that visited their childhood table. 


But for now? It's a different story. Eggs straight from an Amish farm? No thank you, we don't like eggs. Milk from that same source? The stuff from the store is so much better. Fresh garden goods March through October? Ugh.


Year after year, dinner plate after dinner plate, the same old battle. Who wants to turn every meal into a food war? 


So, the boys came with to Costco last week and I caved. Corn dogs from the freezer? Now, we're talking.


"Look, Mom. They're natural. No msg!" 

Frankly, the lure of good 'ol American processed outweighs the appeal of natural for lots of the population. Even my veggie soul is visited by cravings for White Castles and the occasional bean burrito from Taco Bell. It's all about balance, with the ratio needing to heavily favor the good. Thank heavens restaurants are trying out fresher menu items. That vegetarian burrito I got at Qdoba today was great! But since our food budget doesn't allow for frequent dining out, I try my best to recreate the bliss at home. Thus, my angst when success eludes me. 

Photo by Marianna Bartholomew
At least garden flowers are
always appreciated.

I've heard of families where the kids take to veggies like barnacles to a submarine. Since this particular trait skipped the Bartholomew gene-line, say a prayer for me, the beleaguered gardener and cook. Say a prayer for my husband and kids, who are tired of the topic. And, if any reader has a positively fool-proof recipe that even veggie-haters love, please share! 


In the meanwhile, I'll count my successes:


*Including the kids in the planting, watering and food prep process gives them skills for the future.
* Grilling vegetables can be great, if you don't set them on fire.
* Inviting the family to find a veggie-themed recipe a week adds some dash to the menu. Middle son discovered a Greek-inspired meatball recipe with mint that was easy to prepare and delicious. Youngest son found a pesto sauce (from the cookbook pictured above) that rocked our garden-fresh basil. 
* Fresh thyme, chives and garlic folded into cream cheese, thinned with a little milk and sea salt, makes a fabulous dip.  Actually, any spices will do.
* Zucchini muffins and chocolate zucchini cake go down well (along with lots of sugar, alas). 
* My daughter used fresh basil in a chicken recipe yesterday and it gained general approval. 
* Now and then, a couple of my kids get brave and enjoy a few Southern fried green tomatoes. 
* Cucumbers sliced are always easy and inoffensive.
* Fresh tomato slices on a burger work.
* Loads of hidden veggies can be tucked into stew.
* Once or twice a year, I'll make beer batter veggie tempura. Yum. No one complains.
* Squash or pumpkin bread and pie are hits. And gathering our Halloween pumpkin from the garden is a blast.


Now, for those of you shaking your heads because your family positively loves garden delights, I've included the Cream of Swiss Chard recipe. I thought it was delicious and delightfully easy. It's pretty too. Don't you agree? (See top photo.) But I can't promise your family will love it!

“Cream” of Swiss Chard Recipe! - Recipes

See the bottom of this recent post for a listing of my most popular gardening posts: Garden Gift

Photo by Marianna Bartholomew
"Square-foot Gardening" helps me plant dozens of
vegetables on one-quarter of a city-sized back lot.