A Gent from Ghent

The limerick I never wrote; plus hometown love, breakups galore, and a joyride with one of my favorite writers.

I'm a couple of minutes late this week folks. I'm sorry. I'm going to try to make up for it with the following stories and tidbits...

I’ve never been good at writing poetry. It’s a source of shame because I really do love playing with words. But there’s something about the form that causes me to seize up and get stuck. I’m not sure why.

What I do know is that I’ve been noodling with a limerick about a man from Ghent since February. I was in Brussels at the time, eating lunch in a charming little restaurant on the city’s grand plaza. Seated next to me was an older gentleman, who nodded at me and said “Bonjour Madame.” I nodded back and said “Bonjour Monsieur” thinking that would be the extent of the exchange, but I was wrong.

He said: “Which language shall we use for our conversation? I know five: English, French, German, Dutch, (and I forget the fifth…forgive me)”

I said: "French or English are fine with me."

To which he replied: "English it is!"

So the man started going on about how Brussels is nice enough, but it’s no Ghent. His name was Richard and he was from Ghent, which he believes is vastly superior to most places in most ways and he began to explain why in great detail.

As Richard was throwing around his big Ghent energy (BGE), a server came to take my order. I ordered the salmon. The server wrote that down and walked away. Richard tut-tutted my decision and said the reason you come to this restaurant is for the mussels, and that I should change my order. After all, it’s why he comes to Brussels on the regular.

I kept myself from saying “oh so maybe Ghent isn’t so great after all.”

But then my mind started doing that thing it does, where I’m in the moment, but also having a little internal frolic about it.

And that frolic involved the beginning of a crappy limerick:

There once was a man from Ghent…on mussels his money was spent…

And then I realized:

Nah, too that's too clunky…and how do I work Brussels in…hm…

Anyway Richard continued extolling the virtues of Ghent, insisting that I go someday. Then he started asking me questions about hospitals and I got confused.

“Aren’t you a doctor?” he asked.

“No. I’m a writer.”

He looked so disappointed. Ah well.

My check came, I paid it, and I bid my new buddy farewell. But before I left he rummaged around in his coat pocket and handed me a map of Ghent…“for when you go.”

I thanked him and spent the day wandering around Brussels, smiling about this man who loves his hometown so much, he’d tell a stranger about it over lunch. I also wondered whether he was single. Not for myself, of course. For my mother, who might like weekly mussels dates with her man.

Next week: The story doesn't end here! I’ll tell you about how I finally put that map to good use.

Writing prompt: Write about your hometown. What does it look like, what are the locals like, what are your favorite/least favorite things about it, what do you miss most about it, etc? How did these things shape who you are now?

I'm not telling you to make the world better. I'm just telling you to live in it. Not just to endure it, not just to suffer it, not just to pass through it, but to live in it. To look at it. To try to get the picture. To live recklessly. To take chances. To make your own work and take pride in it. To seize the moment.

-- Joan Didion

Endnotes

A little something I wrote

Chef Katherine Gage Boulud’s perspective on food was shaped by her foodie upbringing and work in high-profile kitchens. Now she aims to expand the minds and palates of picky young eaters across the country with her advocacy for Spoons Across America, a not-for-profit that teaches students in Pre-K through middle school the joys and benefits of healthy eating.

“One of the most important elements of what we do [at Spoons Across America] is encouraging families to create a ritual of enjoying a meal together that is a place of respite from the rest of the world,” Boulud says. “Statistics show that children will be less likely to do drugs, have a teenage pregnancy, or commit suicide if they are connecting with their families at the table multiple times a week.”

Born in New York City and raised in New Jersey, Boulud felt she always had “a foot in the city,” as her mother’s identical twin lived in Manhattan and her father worked downtown at the New York Stock Exchange. She grew up enjoying family meals where everyone sat down, said grace, had conversations with each other, and tried new dishes—even if they weren’t sure they’d like them. Food wasn’t forced on anybody, and Boulud always understood that if she tried something and didn’t like it, she wouldn’t have to try it again for another six months to a year. Food was always something that was happy and positive, she says, noting such favorites as her grandfather’s Caesar salad, his fresh linguine with clam sauce, and buttery-sweet soft-shell crabs, which she still adores to this day. That sense of excitement at the table made her a more adventurous eater when she dined out at restaurants.

For more on Boulud’s career and mission to turn kids into more adventurous eaters, click here for the rest of the story, in the November issue of Palm Beach Illustrated.

Joyride of a Memoir

Susan Orlean has always been one of my favorite writers because of her knack for finding unexpected stories like The Orchid Thief and writing about them in an engaging, immersive way. Her memoir Joyride is a no less engaging and immersive look at her upbringing and path towards becoming an acclaimed writer, and I highly recommend it!

The New Breakup Album Queen

So Lily Allen's "West End Girl" came out last week, and OH MY GOD. We have had breakup albums before (cue everything Adele has ever written), but this one is a throat punch – and perhaps even a jugular stab – wrapped in the velvet glove of Allen's lovely vocals. "West End Girl" is a journey that begins with her thinking that she is embarking on this idyllic life with a new husband (David Barbour of "Stranger Things") in a new neighborhood near a sweet little school for their kids. Then she gets an acting job in London and things start getting weird because her husband can't believe she got this job, so he's determined to pull the rug out from underneath her. "West End Girl" is a journey through her stages of grief after the open relationship Barbour asks for goes all kinds of wrong, he blames Allen for needing one to begin with, and then she comes to terms with the fact that she was never the issue after all. The storytelling in this is a whole entire wild ride, 10/10 would recommend.

Speaking of breakups…

I’m SO glad my alma mater LSU decided to part ways with the world’s second-most despicable human — head football coach Brian Kelly — this past week. Yes, this will be an expensive divorce, paid for in large part by an unnamed booster. But now that it’s done, I’m magically more enchanted with LSU football than I’ve been in some time. Maybe Lily Allen could write an album that explains how this utterly stupid hiring went so wrong, so quickly. I’d buy that in a heartbeat, especially if it has a banger about Kelly’s Sunday morning meeting with the athletic director that reportedly went really wrong, really fast.

Where I hope you'll donate this week

Due to the government shutdown, supplemental nutrition benefits for low-income families run out tomorrow. Forty-two million Americans will be impacted by this, so please donate to a food bank near you. Thank you.