November 1, 2010
The Comfort of Tolstoy
I am not sure when I read my first book by Tolstoy, but I know this – he was in my life long before I was born.
Tolstoy was my mother’s favorite writer.
We had old, worn out, hard cover copies of his books sitting on our bookshelf. I don’t know where they came from, maybe my mother’s schoolgirl days.
Each book was divided into a number of volumes. The books were bound in soft, stained red leather. The paper inside was fleecy white and had a distinctive dusty, book-y smell.
The feel and the smell of those books has been imprinted on my consciousness forever.
And the characters and the stories? They live with me every day.
I named my daughter Natalia (nicknamed Nena) after Natasha Rostova in War and Peace. Sam’s middle name is Leo (Tolstoy’s first name.)
Both my mother and I reread all of Tolstoy’s books many times during our lives. We talked about them again and again. We changed our minds about different characters and interpreted events and relationships in contrasting ways. Tolstoy gave us the vocabulary to discuss themes and subjects that we might not have had the courage to discuss otherwise.
As my mother grew sicker from Alzheimer’s Disease, she grew fearful and suspicious of the world around her and all its inhabitants. She slept less and less. Nothing seemed to follow the rules of behavior that her reshaping mind dictated.
Except for Tolstoy.
In the last year of her life she could not read. She hardly slept. She did not know who any of us were. She had lost most of her connections to the outside world.
But many nights, Jeff and I found her lying on the living room sofa tightly holding on to one of the volumes of the soft, worn out copy of War and Peace. She pretended to read.
Sometimes she held the book upside down.
When none of us could bring her comfort, Tolstoy did. Not with direct words anymore, but with the deeply ingrained memories and shadows of the world he created. Of the girl and woman that she once was. It was the one stable, unmoving constant in a life rapidly degenerating out of control.
My mother held on to that book until she died.
February 17, 2010
Dinner with Friends
A few nights ago, we had dinner with old friends. Between the nine of us, three generations were represented. It was one of those magical evenings when no one was in a hurry or longing to be somewhere else. The fire was burning in the fireplace, Ella was singing on the CD player, appetizers and wine glasses set out. We sampled home-made hummus and pita bread, had a glass of wine or mineral water, and caught up on the news of the past few weeks.
When we sat down to eat, everything about the table made us want to sit and linger for a long time. The dishes made me think of Tuscany. The menu took me to Serbia and the memory of my mother. I haven’t had home-made, stuffed grape leaves since my mother died six years ago, and the pungent flavor brought joy and memories of childhood. There was also chicken with mushroom sauce, grilled vegetables and wild rice. And for dessert, a wonderful orange cake; people kept having seconds, and not a crumb was left over.
After dinner, we sat in a circle in the living room, had coffee and talked. Conversation meandered between the economy, job losses, the state of the world. My niece will be starting college next year and we wondered about the future of education and various options for young people. Our conversation was earnest and serious, but no one was anxious. When we left to go home later that night, the winter seemed to have lost some of its bite.
Dairy-free orange cake
- 2 eggs
- 1 cup sugar
- ¾ c. brown sugar
- 2/3 c. oil (corn, canola, or similar)
- 2 large oranges (for zest and juice)
- ½ t baking powder
- ½ t baking soda
- 1 ½ cup flour
Preheat oven to 375 and grease a springform pan.
Beat eggs and sugars until light. Add oil. Add zest of the two oranges and then squeeze them (you need 2/3 cup orange juice, so you might need to add a bit) and combine well. Add the dry ingredients and combine well.
Pour into springform pan and bake for about 40-45 minutes, until cake tests dry in the middle.
When cooled, unmold and top with the glaze:
- ½ cup confectioners’ sugar
- 2 T orange juice
Stir together until smooth and dribble over cake with a spoon.