ODE TO COSTCO AND ITS FANS

Costco
Costco
seems to be everyone’s darling.  Of course, it’s been my darling for years.   It’s got great stuff, great prices, great staff, even wonderful employee policies. But in the past week I’ve read two very loving profiles of the biggest of the big box stores in publications ranging from State of Grace — the blog of the remarkable Grace Davis, to the Sunday New York Times.

There are lots of reasons for this I think.  Of course there are the usual ones: excellent quality, bulk discounts on staples like paper towels, excellent store brand tee shirts (say some of the men in my life), remarkable produce, and pretty good everything else.

It’s also fun. At the ones around Washington DC, and the ones we used to go to in LA, I always feel like I’m at the UN.  Once, during the women’s World Cup, we walked in to find, gathered around the television section, an enthusiastic crowd that looked as if they were from every country in the world.  Mexico, the Philippines, India, Japan — just everywhere – all cheering together.  It’s always like that.  Big families, couples, singles, mom and pop restaurateurs, hipsters, geeks — everyone.  Even Douglas Coupland.  In my favorite of his books, Microserfs, he writes "my universe consists of home, Microsoft, and Costco." 

Simpsons It’s also home to one of my favorite Simpsons scenes ever:  the family almost drowned when they ran into and broke all the giant bottles of cranberry juice in  an aisle display and an ocean of juice flooded the store.

OH and I forgot books.  Best sellers, cook books, thrillers – if they’ve got something you want, they’ve got it for less than anywhere else.

So carry on oh noble vendor — serving us well and offering us entertaining distractions (if you can park) on Sunday afternoons.  We knew you even before the New York Times.  But before that?  What did we ever do without you?

Spirit, Sukkot and Love

I’m in the middle of considerable chaos.  If you’re an observant Jew you spend this week eating all your meals in something called a Sukkah.  It’s a sort of four-walled canvas room with a roof made of branches or corn husks or bamboo because you have to be able to see the stars at night from inside.  The idea is to remember the Jews wandering the desert living in "booths."  It sounds so weird it’s hard to explain but it’s also lovely and romantic and a great way to have company in the crisp autumn lunches and evenings.  It’s all lit with sparkly white lights (like Christmas decorations) and great fun.

The chaos comes from the cooking and planning.  I had a big lunch last Saturday and because it was the Sabbath had to cook it all in advance. It was damp and chilly but fortunately someone had lent me a crock pot so I put the soup on low just before the Sabbath started on Friday night and it was still hot for lunch on Saturday.  One of my guests was a vegetarian so I also made salmon, tabouli, eggplant casserole and salad.  A friend brought brownies and I made banana bread.  But it took FOREVER and learning how to arrange everything to serve outside added to the stress.  Everyone loved it but I was exhausted. 

One friend of mine does 16 people at a time (I had 11 counting us) and I’m damned if I know how.  I am still learning how to do all this -especially in a kosher kitchen.  The food DOES matter – it’s a sign of respect both to God and the holiday and to those who have entertained us so graciously as we made our way into all this so I get great satisfaction once the chaos has subsided but it’s tough along the way.  I am blessed in having friends to guide me and answer stupid questions like "can I use a "meat" infusion blender and still serve fish?"  Kosher niceties…

The funny thing is that the life we’re building now, around religious observance, sukkahs, fasts and prayers, builds a community that feels like the first real one since our days in the peace movement.  The goals are strangely similar too, a better world, better selves and great, common goals. 
I guess part of all this is the deep loss I have felt as those feeling dissipated in our days since the Civil Rights and Anti-War movements.  How amazing that the route back to them goes through the oldest of pathways.