Getting Our Brain In Shape

Getting Our Brain in Shape a 3-part series
January 12, 2016

By Neal Lemery

There’s a lot to learn about our brains, and recently, I heard Dr. Neil Nedley engage several hundred of my friends and neighbors in rich conversations about the human brain.

We can improve our brain’s health, and get it in shape. It’s time for a brain fitness challenge which is as important as working our muscles and getting our bodies in shape.

Yes, we can change our brains, our behavior, and our attitudes, and we can change the functioning of our brains.

We can move through depression, anxiety, fear, and other unhealthy “stinking thinking” by improving our nutrition, exercise, social life, and our attitudes! By learning of new developments in brain research, we can improve our thinking and our lives.

Here are some of the things I learned. All this is a great start to a rich community wide education and conversation about mental health and our well being.

PART ONE

Oregon has the second highest suicide rate in the country. Tillamook County has the third highest rate in Oregon. Mental health is an issue we need to address as a community.

The brain has 100 billion nerve cells. There are 100 trillion nerve synapses, and there may be the possibility of ten times that amount. Each one of these cells has 20,000 possible connections. There are thousands of categories of cells.

As complex as the brain is, we now know the brain can repair itself and, with the right tools, even re-wire itself. Our research on the brain is just beginning.

There is a lot we can do to optimize our brains. Consider the acronym NEW START. We need:

• Nutrition – especially from vegetables. Nutrients in food provide the building blocks of our nerve cells and what makes them function
• Exercise. At least 20 minutes a day, ideally using our hands, moving in three dimensions, to stimulate the brain
• Water, more than you might think but yes, you can get too much
• Sunlight, natural or from a light box
• Temperance – Avoid harm. Live in moderation. Practice self-control. Understand the long-term benefits that come from delayed gratification
• Air. Fresh air is vital. Get outside and move.
• Rest. Early to bed, early to rise.
• Trust. Have a trusting relationship with others, with Spirit.

PART TWO – What’s the Frontal Lobe Got to do with It?

Depression and Anxiety

We are experiencing an epidemic. What we have developed to improve happiness actually often impairs brain function. Electronic screens with flickering light reduce frontal lobe activity and induce a hypnotic state in the brain. Increased sexual stimulation actually reduces pleasure and interest. Poor nutrition, lack of exercise and lack of exposure to light and fresh air also reduce the ability of the brain to respond and function.

26% of Americans have a major emotional disorder. Over 50% have a minor emotional disorder. This phenomenon is found across all social, economic, and education groups. One quarter of physicians are depressed.

We must look for long-term gain. Once brain health is optimized, a family is able to leave poverty, reduce violence, addiction, unemployment, and hunger.

The frontal lobe is the least studied aspect of the brain and yet makes up 33% of the human brain. If it is compromised, it affects moral principles, social interaction, judgement and foresight. The frontal lobe takes 30 years to fully develop and is home to such things as abstract reasoning, mathematical understanding, and empathy. When enhanced, the frontal lobe increases a person’s creativity, originality, curiosity and adaptability.

The frontal lobe is the seat of critical thinking. Current research shows that 45% of college students lack critical thinking skills. Lifestyle and behavior choices play a large role in the development of the frontal lobe. Drugs that can impair this development include illicit and prescription drugs, alcohol, nicotine, caffeine and marijuana. Alcohol can impair brain function for as long as 30 days after consumption. Repeated use of marijuana lowers IQ permanently, also lowering emotional intelligence (EQ) and motivation.

Intelligence is the capacity to learn, retain, and apply knowledge. Advancing in a job is NOT related to IQ but rather to Emotional Intelligence (EQ). Creativity, logic, and persuasion are tied to EQ. Improved EQ increases longevity, enhances the immune system and improves social relationships. Emotional Intelligence can be taught and increased over one’s lifetime.

PART THREE – “Know Thyself”

Enhancing Emotional Intelligence (EQ) occurs in five stages. The first of these involves self-awareness and understanding your own primary and secondary emotions. Why are you feeling that emotion? What thoughts and experiences are tied to that emotion? Feelings can lie. How we think, influences our reactions to problems and situations. Use the THINK technique to identify if these thoughts are helpful or harmful. Are they True, Helpful, Inspiring, Necessary or Kind? This is at the root of “Stinking Thinking.” The second stage of Emotional Intelligence involves the ability to manage our emotions and the thoughts that lead to them.

The third aspect of enhanced Emotional Intelligence is the ability to accurately recognize emotions in others. This is coupled with the ability to practice empathy, or the ability to understand and feel the emotions of another person even though you are not experiencing their situation firsthand.

The final two aspects of Emotional Intelligence have a lot to do with social relationships and “getting ahead” in life. How well we manage relationships with others and how effectively we can motivate others are features of a well-developed EQ.

There are many ways we sabotage the development of our EQ. Negative self-talk yields to adverse emotions. Magnifying minor issues or minimizing major issues are signs of impaired EQ as are defensiveness and denial. The alternative to this is an attitude open to repair and redemption. “A man who commits a mistake commits another mistake if he doesn’t correct it.” – Confucius

Practicing self-control, expressing gratitude, finding hope, seeking “bright lines” of morality, seeking worthy goals, and giving of self willingly are part of living the “psychological good life” and are the foundation for personal transformation.

We can turn setbacks into victories. Find the lesson, apply it, and
Move on. Then look back on defeat and smile.
–David Schwartz

Taking Time To Listen

“Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen.”
― Winston S. Churchill

Yes, I learn more when I listen than when I speak.

If I admit to myself that I don’t know it all, that I don’t have to dominate the conversation, to show others how much I know, then I can really learn. In listening, there is evaluation, analysis, and, gasp, thinking.

I might even change my views, and look at the world, or at least a small part of it, in a different way.

And, in the listening, I will learn, gaining new wisdom to meet the challenges of life.

–Neal Lemery 1/12/2016

Beginnings and Endings

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.

“Delicious Ambiguity.”

― Gilda Radner

What I do today won’t be perfect, and the result won’t be all neat and tidy.

The new year is upon us, and while I have high aspirations for what I want to accomplish, I won’t achieve perfection. The ideal will escape me.

Life. It is the journey, and not the destination.

Onward!

Neal Lemery 1/4/2016

Change

What you’re supposed to do when you don’t like a thing is change it. If you can’t change it, change the way you think about it. Don’t complain.”
― Maya Angelou, Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now

Today, the first day of the new year, is here. Change is here. Change is inevitable.

I take down the old calendar, and put up the new one. Its pages are fresh, clean, but soon to be filled up with appointments, events, the significant occurrences and adventures of the new year.

A fresh year, a new start, and off we go. Already, I am deciding what to do, how to interact with the world, how to be a productive and healthy person.

How do I meet the challenges of the new year? Old habits, old ways of thinking, or maybe a new approach, a new paradigm for the new year.

Every day, actually, is like New Year’s Day. We have that ability to make a fresh start, and embrace new ways of thinking, every day.

I embrace the old ways, the routines. They are comforting, predictable, familiar. Yet, following those old ways, being in my rut, assures me of not growing, and not realizing my potential in this new year, this new day.

A new year is a new beginning, if I want it to be truly a fresh start.

“Be the change you want to see in the world,” Mahatma Gandhi said.

I do want the world to change. But first, I need to change. It is up to me to begin.

Today.

Neal Lemery 1/1/2016

The New Year Comes

“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.”
― T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets

The new year is almost here. I’m ready for a change, to go with the new calendar on the wall. Soon, there will be a new month, a new year, and the rest of winter. But, I’ve been adrift, not quite able to put words to this feeling, this restlessness for looking at life in a new way, with new words.

A new friend and I meet, sipping coffee milkshakes, as he tells me of his life and his hopes for the future. He is full of optimism, and hope for a new beginning. His life is changing, much for the better, as he distances himself from chaos and anger, to curiosity and new vocabulary.

He thinks I’m wise, and I can teach him much. Truth be known, he is my teacher, my spiritual guru today. Like him, I need to free myself from old patterns, old demons, and look ahead. I need a new vocabulary, and fresh eyes to see the world unfolding before me.

“I want to explore so much,” my friend says.

I could easily define him as a failure, a cast off, for something he did several years ago. His family has rejected him, and society has sent him to prison.

He’s a prisoner, I thought, but really, he’s free now. He’s been released, and can now truly live his life. One person’s idea of prison is another’s university of life.

A paradox. Yet, he feels free now, for the first time, to be who he wants to be, to stretch himself and move ahead in his life.

For the first time, he is with people his own age, making friends, going to school, and learning to write. He’s waking up every morning in a place where he is not beaten, screamed at, or kept away from the world. He’s escaped from the darkness of his family’s chamber of horrors, and has come into the light, joining the world as a real person.

He searches for words to express himself, and the words for his waves of emotion, all new to him. This coming year is a new beginning for him, a gift to be opened and cherished, with words and emotions he has never known before.

We discover we are both gardeners, in every nuance of the word. Like me, he’s browsing the seed catalogs, and placing his order, dreaming of the coming springtime, where one plants and brings forth new life. He yearns to nurture the garden of his own soul.

“Who am I?” he asks.

“Anything you want to be,” I reply. “You can choose now. The world is yours to explore.”

And, not just for him, I realize. It is my choice, too. I, too, am in this world, and I also can make those choices and have those opportunities. We are both gardeners and poets, thinking of spring.

And we are both prisoners, of our thoughts, our old perceptions of the world and how we fit into the mold of what others expect of us, how they think we should act and think.

Like my buddy, I too can be free, and move on towards the coming newness and freedom of the new year, and be who I really want to be.

12/28/2015
Neal Lemery

A Few Hands of Rummy

The week before Christmas is always hectic. So much to get ready for, so many little errands, the to do list that doesn’t seem to stop. And, part of me struggles with the short days and the long dark and cold nights. There’s a big part of me that just wants to eat comfort food, ingest lots of sugar, and snuggle under a blanket with a mug of tea.

I recently stopped by the nearby youth prison for my weekly visit with a guy. No one has come to see him in the last four years, so I’ve been asked to come and say hi, be his friend, so he can gain some people skills. Soon, he’ll be out in the world, and will need to be able to interact with the world. Spending some time with me is a start in all that.

Once a week, we play cards. He’s teaching me rummy. I’m not sure of the rules, andI think we have our own version of the game going on. He’s the teacher, a new role for him, and he’s starting to enjoy teaching this old man a few things.

The conversation is a little one sided. He’s not used to company and making small talk. He’s struggling with math at school, so keeping score in the game of rummy is good for him. He’s making something in wood shop. He’s keeping it mysterious, so I think its my Christmas present.

I’m getting him a blanket for Christmas, one that features his favorite football team. He mentioned he’d like that a few weeks ago. But, now he’s claiming he can’t remember what he asked me for Christmas. I wouldn’t tell him today. It’s a surprise, a part of the excitement of the season.

Except for what he’s getting from the prison, and a local fraternal organization, no one else is getting him a present.
He said he liked the Christmas card I sent him this week. He mentioned it several times, but not finding the words he wanted to say.

He showed me the card he was making for his grandma. It was sweet, with a little Christmas tree and the ornaments, Charlie Brown style, made from a sheet of copy paper, colored with crayons, and hand blocked letters. He’s sixteen now, but the card had the look of something from an art class a long time ago. Yet, it was something from his sweet heart. I’m hoping I get one, too. It would go on the frig, and I’d show it off to my friends and family.

“My gin rummy buddy gave that to me,” I’d say. “He’s quite a guy.”

We play a few hands, and discover we have an extra Queen of Clubs. He doesn’t know what to do, so we change the rules and play 53 card, five queen rummy. It really is our own game now. We’re just making it up as we go along.

The hour flies by. We’re busy shuffling, dealing, laying down some runs, and adding up our points. He’s beating me, big time. We don’t talk about much. But, we don’t need to. We’re just hanging out, two guys having a good time, playing some cards.

“Are you having a good time?” I ask.

“Oh, this is great,” he says. “Yeah.”

“I’m really glad you come to see me,” he says. “Otherwise, I’d be all alone.”

The other guys here are busy, and the room where we play can get pretty noisy. But, my buddy is zeroed in on our card game, intent on adding up his points, and beating me.

“I’ll see you at the Christmas party next week,” he says. “And, don’t forget my gift.”

I’ll get one from him, too. But, he’s already given me the best present, the simple gift of an hour, a little conversation, and some hands of cards, and his face breaking out into a little smile.

And, maybe that’s the best gift I could ever have for Christmas.

12/23/2015
–Neal Lemery

A Little Soup and Cornbread

My community has had a hard week. Nearly a foot of rain, 70 mph winds, and many roads, schools, and businesses closed, people flooded out. Farms have been flooded and lives have been disrupted. And, the storms have kept on coming, with each new day bringing new challenges.

We are resilient folks, in the habit of doing kind things for our neighbors, helping out, offering support, food, a place to stay, and thousands of other small acts of charity and kindness.

Yesterday, I was enjoying lunch in a local café with my wife, taking a break from our errands on a day when the roads were opening up, and the shelves in the stores were getting restocked. The mail had gotten through the high water and landslides on the highway.

We were talking about being grateful to wake up in a warm house, with electricity, running water, and no water coming through the door, and how we like living in a place where people care about each other.

A man rushed into the café, with a container of homemade soup and some cornbread in a plastic bag.

“This is for the man that lives in the woods. He comes by here most every day,” he said. “I want to make sure he gets this.”

“When you see him, give him this,” he said. “Please”.

He was on his way out of town, now that the roads were opening up, but he didn’t want to forget about the homeless man who lived out in the woods, in this very wet and windy week.

“I’ve been worried about him,” he said.

The waitress nodded, and mentioned she hadn’t seen him lately. Before she could try to tell him that she probably couldn’t accept the task, health laws and such, he flew out the door, thanking her again for helping out a homeless guy.

She filled up my coffee cup again, a few tears in her eyes.

“That man in the woods, he comes by here once in a while,” she said. “But I haven’t seen him this week. I’ve been worried, too.”

“Hopefully, he’s made it to the warming center in town,” she said. “But, the water’s been high and covered the highway. Such nasty weather.”

I sipped my warm coffee, and finished my burger, with new thoughts of appreciation for the simple comforts in life, and watched the rain hit the window, as another heavy shower moved in.

I don’t know the man, and I haven’t seen him around. But I think about him now, and what it must be like, living out there in the woods, in a week when the rivers are over their banks, and the winds howl through the trees.

We know those woods, and go there for walks, looking for birds and old trees, spring flowers and berries later on in summer. I hadn’t thought that people lived there, though, especially not now, when the ground is soaking wet, or even flooded, and the winter storms blow through. I shivered, squirming inside my nice dry shoes, trying to imagine what last night might have been like, sleeping out there, in the dark and the rain.

In a few weeks, it will be Christmas, when we’ll hear that story again, about a homeless couple and how they found refuge in a barn, and a place to give birth to their beautiful child. How a stranger had let them use his barn, and gave them food.

The waitress put the soup and cornbread in the cooler. The café fell silent then, everyone watching her, everyone thinking about what we’d just seen, thinking about being homeless and hungry on a day like today, the meaning of Christmas, and angels in our midst.

—Neal Lemery 12/12/2015

Bringing In The Light

I take so many things for granted. And, I often think there aren’t many miracles in life, in the ordinariness of the day. That is, until we pay attention, until we make room for them to happen.

In the rush of daily life, I almost let this one slip past me, unnoticed.

He asked me to help build the campfire so he could get it just right. Everyone was depending on him. It had to be perfect. This was his task, and he wanted to do it perfectly. He’d never been asked to do this before. It was the most anyone had every asked him to do.

Only men built fires, and wasn’t he just a boy?

We gathered his chosen sticks of wood, dry and perfect for his fire. He picked up the kindling, methodically splintering it over his knee. Even the paper was torn just so, all arranged, ready for the match.

We had to wait, a friend had to get the matches. We had some time, and I asked him about his campfires past, who had built them, what happened around them.

It was small talk for me, until he spoke. His voice got quiet, his eyes wet, his hands shaking. No, this was big talk, big stuff, big wounds.

Only a few campfires, only a few of the only good times in his past, what he could remember of them. Most of childhood was just a fog; he couldn’t remember.

He thought this fire would fail, it would not burn, and everyone here would think he was a failure. It was the old familiar story, it was the ending that he expected. Wasn’t that the story of his life?

This was his fire, his first fire he had built. He wanted to say his dad would be proud of him, but halfway through the words, he choked, looked away, not able to say that, that dad would be proud.

The matches arrived, and I handed them to him.

“Light your fire, son,” I said. “You can do this.”

There was a spark, a small flame that grew, catching the paper and kindling he had laid so carefully, his most important task ever in his young life.

I asked him to blow on the small flame, to make it grow. And he did, a smile breaking across his face.

The fire, his fire, was ablaze, catching the big sticks, sending flames up high.

“Good job,” I said. “You did well. I’m proud of you.”

Those words, ones he had never heard before, filled the air, filled his heart. The words he had never heard, until now.

He nodded, not saying a word. The fire crackled, as we let those simple words sink in, letting him really hear them.

He built the good fire, the fire everyone liked. Soon everyone crowded around to feel its heat on this chilly morning, to cook our lunch, warm our hands and our hearts.

The others, the builder of the fire, and I sat around the fire, sharing our lunch, a few stories, our friendship.

“Great fire,” they said. “Thanks.”

He looked down at his shoes, and then at the fire, taking it all in, feeling the warmth of their praise, their thanks, warming his heart on this cold winter’s day.

His big smile lit up his face, and added more light to our day together.

A miracle, in the coldest, most ordinary of places. But that’s where miracles happen, when its cold and lonely, and you think your life isn’t all that special.

We just need to be ready to let the light in.

Neal Lemery, 12/6/2015

Thanksgiving, 2015

Finding Thankfulness and Gratitude in My Life

“Thankfulness is the beginning of gratitude. Gratitude is the completion of thankfulness. Thankfulness may consist merely of words. Gratitude is shown in acts.”
–Henri Frederic Amiel, Swiss philosopher

The harvest is in, the garden has been put to bed, and the weather has turned cold. The days are growing shorter; winter has arrived. It is the season of a comfortable chair, a warm blanket, a mug of tea and a good book.

It is also a time of being thankful and grateful. At Thanksgiving, we gather around the table, sharing food and companionship. It is a time of quiet celebration.

Thanksgiving is a quiet, contemplative holiday with few expectations. Simply being together and sharing a meal is all that the holiday seems to require of us. Oh, and the obligatory giving of thanks. In the rush towards the consumerism and frenzy of Christmas, it seems easy to slide right by this time of giving thanks, and plunge into the next holiday.

And, when we do that, we forget to pause and reflect, and to be truly thankful.

The real holiday, the real celebration this week is a time to go inward, to truly appreciate what we have in our lives, and how we are to live, to truly be children of God. Thanksgiving is all about love, in all of its dimensions.

This year there is much to be thankful for: the necessities of life, purposeful work, time with friends and family, health, and being able to serve, to be of service.

People in my life this year have achieved much. One friend is moving into a new home, his first, very own, this is really mine, home. A year ago, he was adrift, unemployed, unsure of himself. Today, due to his hard work and his belief in all of his possibilities, he has a rich, purposeful life.

Another friend is casting aside distractions and old misery, and healing old wounds. He’s taking charge, doing healthy things, putting his life in order.

Another friend passed a test in school. He conquered his fears, his self doubts; he has conquered his sabotage of a future of rich possibilities. He is ready to move on, and he has shown to himself that he can grow, and learn, and be successful. He has climbed his own mountain, and can believe in himself.

I am recharging my own creative energies. I am writing a serious book that gives voice to those who are less fortunate. I am immersing myself in creating music and art, and being an advocate for others. I am pausing to look at the beauty of the world, in this very moment, to appreciate who I am and where I am going.

All this is scary, terrifying work. What if I actually accomplish what I dream? Are there really no barriers, no limits to what I can accomplish, if I put my mind and my soul into the effort? I might be successful? Me? But, then I will have to take on even greater challenges, and be responsible for my effort. Really? Little old me?

Yes, me. I am the one. I am the one who can change the world, one little step at a time. Changing the world is really my job. And, I can do it.

We all have our obstacles. And we are all capable of success, and believing in our strengths, our possibilities.

I am a citizen of the world and I pay attention, I learn, and I try to apply my energies and my awareness to being an instrument of positive change.

We live in troubled times. Yet that has also been true in years past. Every generation has faced that challenge, and had to answer that question, can I really accomplish my dream?

I choose to be an agent of change, and to not retreat into silence and indifference. I believe we are called to respond and to act, to be proactive, to be God’s instruments of change.

Maybe I can’t wave my magic wand and achieve world peace. But, I can move in that direction. I can bring myself and my work into a state of constructive peacefulness. I can work to nurture that energy into my family, my neighborhood, and my community.

I can make a difference.

I can join with other like-minded people, and consistently do good works.

Each of us is a peace-maker. Peace making has to start somewhere.

“Let there be peace on Earth and let it begin with me,” the song says.

We all have our story. Be a listener, and hear someone speak their truth, perhaps for the first time. Let everyone’s story be told, and be heard.

Each of us can do an act of kindness and compassion. Pay an act of kindness forward. Buy a stranger a coffee, help an elderly person with a package, talk to a friend, visit the sick, the lonely, the imprisoned. Maybe bring a meal to a sick neighbor. Volunteer.

Strike up a conversation while waiting at the grocery store check out. Ask the clerk how they are doing and listen to their answer. Hear them, deeply and compassionately. Hug a friend who seems upset, lost, without hope.

In any of that work, there is kindness and compassion. You are giving of yourself, and you are showing others how to be human, how to be kind and loving.

“Be the change you want to see in the world,” Mahatma Gandhi said.

Our example, just something simple, can change one person’s life. And in that, we change the world. We make our planet just a little better.

Isn’t that the Golden Rule? Isn’t that what the prophets, the scions of great religions have preached? Isn’t that being an instrument of God’s love for every one of us?

Each of us is special, unique. We are here for a reason. And, isn’t that reason to show love and compassion, to be kind, generous, thoughtful of others? By our example, we show the way, we demonstrate how people should really live, how we really are the children of God.

Today, I give thanks, and I am grateful. And, in my own, small way, I am making a difference, I am changing the world, one small act of kindness at a time.
—Neal Lemery, November 24, 2015

The Makings of Soup

Start with an empty kettle, preferably on a cold, rainy day, next to a garden in a prison. Surround yourself with a number of young inmates, serving long sentences, isolated, estranged from their families. Make sure they are close to you, hungry for lunch and hungry for the simple joy of simply being together and wanting to accomplish something important today.

Add an aching heart or more, maybe a dozen, mixed with feelings of loneliness and disconnection, even a little abandonment. Throw in a handful of indifference, and a pound of neglect.

Take a gallon of tomatoes, grown by these men in this garden. Grown from seeds, where their sprouting was a miracle of life witnessed by those who had never been placed in fertile soil, watered, and kissed by sunlight and love. Tomatoes potted up in rich soil, then transplanted out in the spring sunshine, to grow, and bloom, producing wonderful red, ripening tomatoes, and harvested by young, eager hands. Don’t forget to stir in the pride that comes with using OUR tomatoes.

Simmer the tomatoes, adding heat from the stove, and the heat of a young man’s heart, eager to learn and show that he can do this.

Slice some onions, preferably sliced by a young man who had never held an onion, never knew how to peel and slice it. Add the spirit of his curiosity and excitement, of being a cook, making something to eat, with his own hands. Take all that and simmer it in your heart, and feel the warmth of that nurture your own soul.

Find a frying pan, and heat it on the stove. Add olive oil, making sure your assistant chef gets a drop or two of the oil on his finger, so he can taste the sweet richness of olives ripening in Californian or Italian sun, asking him to describe a taste he has never had before on his tongue. Add the warmth of his smile to the soup, and stir gently.

Teach your young friend to peel a few cloves of garlic, by smashing them with the flat of a knife, watching him lean down to smell the pungent garlic, freshly peeled and minced. See him smile, when he realizes he has learned something new.

Find some peppers nearby, the ones the young men grew in the greenhouse this summer, the ones that are now just ripening. Ask him to select the peppers himself, asking him to trust his own judgment as to whether they are ripe. Gently stir in the newly discovered sense of trust and respect into your soup.

Put a wooden spoon in your young friend’s hand, letting him stir the onions, garlic and peppers together, as they begin to sizzle in the heat of the olive oil. Put some salt and black pepper, and a little brown sugar in his hand, letting him judge how much to add, when to stir, deciding when the mixture is cooked just right. Fold in the sense of accomplishment and the pride of making his own soup into the mixture, and remark about how wonderful it all smells.

Let him discover what happens when you mix the wonderful medley of onions, peppers, garlic, salt, pepper, sugar, and olive oil, and his accomplishments and emotions, into the warmth of the tomatoes, the transformation into soup.

Stir gently, letting the flavors blend, letting him slip into the ownership of his creation. Hand him a small spoon, urging him to taste, and evaluate, to enjoy his work, his creativity. Watch his face, overcome with pleasure and art, as he seriously evaluates and decides what to add.

Stand back, and let him take control, adding basil and a little more salt. See the glimmer in his eye, as he finds a secret ingredient to add. Enjoy his boldness, as he adds a pinch of his secret ingredient, and add that sense of power and confidence to the soup.

Gently whisper that it is time to add the milk, that the soup should be ready soon, for all the other men to enjoy. Ask him to taste it again, and sense all of its wonderfulness. With tenderness, tell him that this is an amazing soup, that everyone will love it, that it will be the best thing to experience on this cold, rainy day in the garden.

Watch him hold himself up strong, shoulders back, as he ladles out the soup, handing a bowl to all of the other men, his friends, his compatriots.

“I made this,” he says, to each of the men. Each one of them takes their bowl from him, with a slight motion of deference, respect, and thanksgiving.

“Thank you. Thank you,” they tell him.

And, a few moments later, see him smile as the room fills with the chatter of hungry men filling their bellies with warm soup on a cold rainy day.

“This is delicious. This is the best soup I’ve ever had. Amazing. Fabulous. Ah, so wonderful.”

See him nod, understanding what this is all about, what we have accomplished today, the making of the soup, the growing of the man.

–Neal Lemery 11/16/15