Chicharones for Jesus

Last evening there was a knock at the door. I was busy cooking so Carolyn answered it. As so often happens in our neighborhood it was a person soliciting, starting off in rapid fire Spanish.

(When I answer the door, the person never starts off in Spanish because I absolutely don’t look Hispanic but Carolyn, although light skinned, is unmistakably Hispanic.) After a couple of seconds the person paused—probably because Carolyn had a look of absolute non-comprehension. “Oh, you don’t speak Spanish,” she asked?

And of course Carolyn said no.


I overheard the rest of the conversation pretty well. The young lady identified herself as being with a church group raising money for homeless people in our community and, would we like to make a contribution.

Before Carolyn could say no, the young lady was able to add, “And, we’re selling chicarones. The money goes to the fund.”

“How much,” Carolyn asked.

“Only a dollar,” was the reply.

I sounded off from the kitchen that my wallet was sitting on the table right next to the door. It only had 2 bills in it—a single and a twenty. Carolyn handed over the single and came back with a bag with a couple of sizeable sheets of chicharones—each about 6x10 inches. Now in our neighborhood, it’s fun to stop in at the local bodego, Los Hermanos Reyes for some of their delicacies. I’ve seen sheets of chicarones in there that were a couple of feet square.


We’re reasonably religious but we tend to not donate when people are at the door seeking church donations probably because it happens 2 or 3 times a week. And while we like chicharones along with tamales, fresh vegetables and other things that people knock on our door regularly to sell, we typically don’t “bite”. But, this was chicarones for Jesus. That’s a good deal. Because there’s nothing tastier than fresh chicarones.

So, later on after dinner, we decide to pull out the chicharones. They’re crispy and light and taste vaguely of corn. I sampled them again. Same result. I looked closer. They were a uniform thickness and had marks on them like they were extruded. Hmmmm, these are fake chicharones. Real chicharones taste like pork, because they ARE pork—porkskin. These had just a real light oil taste like they were baked.


We got fake chicharones for Jesus. We got hosed. I hope that young lady really was from a church group and that the money went to their cause.

But the next time someone tries to sell us chicharones for Jesus, I want to see the chicharones first.

The World From Our Balcony 1

We’ve been feeding hummingbirds for about 3 years now. The feeder is hung on our second story balcony convenient to any of the little critters who are always passing through our neighborhood.

The birds pretty much transit through here hanging around for 3 or 4 weeks before moving on. I’m not real sure of the varieties but my Google search suggests that we get a lot of Anna’s and Broadtails. The one thing I am sure of is the difference between males and females. As in much of the animal world, males have brighter plumage and are more distinctive looking than the females and like males the world over try to be the bully boss of everything. The males can get so protective of this little spot of territory that none of the birds gets much time at what we call the “big ugly flower”.

We tend to give the birds descriptive names when identify individuals. We had one scruffy looking one with a growth on its beak we named Durante. Recently there was a really pudgy female we called Big Bertha.

We upgraded the feeder a couple years back to one which has perches so the birds can light and rest while drinking. Sometimes the birds cooperate and let the feeder fill up with 3 or 4 birds and sometimes its as though they’re afraid someone will get more than they will so they chase any other birds away. It can be great fun watching them soar around (I’ve been buzzed many times by hard charging hummingbirds chasing one another). And occasionally they’ll even share and all 4 perches will be active at once. We’ll have anywhere from 3 to 10 birds which come by for a drink at the feeder at any one point in time.

A few months back we had a first which was 5 birds drinking at once (2 sharing one perch). But the best was about a month and a half ago when one evening we counted 10 birds buzzing around the feeder during what we call “the follies” which is at dusk when all the birds want to get their “last call” before heading off to roost. This night there were 10 birds perching or hovering around at one time and we counted 7 on the perches at once. And of course, as so often happens, there’s one more aggressive bird which has to come charging in, pushing and shoving and scatter all the others off the feeder in a burst of whirring, flapping wings.

It’s entertaining and it’s also a reminder of how we interact with one another. There’s plenty of nectar if we take our turn and share. But, you know, there always seems to be one jerk who wants it all for himself and who has to try to prove his self-importance by squawking the loudest and making the biggest fuss. Sound familiar? Yeah, we’ve all seen people like that. We’re not so different from the hummingbirds. We’re just bigger and can’t fly.

But man is it fun to watch these little birds fly around and maneuver. Instant acceleration. Stop and hover on a dime. For the cost of about a half cup of sugar a week, it’s terrific entertainment and a lesson in how to get along (or not get along) with others. Plus, they’ll really let us know by hovering close and squawking if the nectar runs out. I even had one fly into our apartment one day—apparently just to check us out.

That’s a bit of the world from our balcony. The hummingbirds make it a more enjoyable world.

Home Improvement

This morning my local paper ran an AP article headlined “Home Economics” which discussed a new trend—that of homeowners doing more of their own maintenance and upkeep around their home in order to save money.

What I find appalling is the extent to which people have moved away from maintaining their own home. Seemingly, all over America people are rushing to Home Depot and Lowes (whatever happened to Ace and Our Own hardware stores?) for supplies and materials. The sales of lawnmowers and snowblowers are up. Sales of cleaning supplies are up as are sales of paint. You know, people who are too affluent, busy or whatever miss an incredible amount of satisfaction. When I left the Midwest 11 years ago, I don’t think I knew of anyone who either didn’t do their own yardwork (or who didn’t use the free child/slave labor also known as a tax deduction).

One featured couple listed the things they are now doing themselves. They have laid off their gardener and housekeeper, don’t go out to dinner several nights a week and iron their own clothes. According to the couple, they are saving $10000 a year. Ten grand! Do these people not understand how they could have boosted their 401K, 529 or savings?

The most important things, quite frankly are the satisfaction of pulling that nicely ironed shirt on that you, yourself, ironed (I can iron a dress shirt with sharp crease in 5 minutes). Or the satisfaction that you managed to mow the front yard before the tip-off of the NCAA hoops game and did it so that the tell-tale lines left by the wheels are either perfectly symmetrical—like a major league ballpark outfield--or have disappeared all together because you know how to mow on diagonal lines. Or, how about the satisfaction of a perfectly raked back yard in the fall where maple leaves are now afraid to fall? Did you ever find yourself sneaking peeks at the freshly mown or raked yard and say to yourself, “yep, that’s my yard looking good and my back that’s a bit achey”. Come on already, remember “Home Improvement”?

This is how we’re supposed to live. If we need someone else to mow the yard, that’s where the neighbor kid comes in (assuming there’s no one over 12 at home who can do it) who will come over either trundling his own mower or use yours and do the whole yard for $10 which you gladly pay because it’s a bargain and because the kid can use the cash. Or in the winter the same kid will come over and clear off your driveway and sidewalk after a snowfall if you can’t or won’t. God, I remember one time spending the best part of a whole day out with my dad cutting through 10 foot snowdrifts on our corner lot in North Dakota. It was frigid cold and yet it was one of the times when my Dad respected my work and ability to keep with him and when we weren’t arguing.

And there’s a social aspect to it too. BSing with the neighbor while leaning on a rake or snow shovel, or helping to sling a hammer when there’s a project going on. This is what living’s all about. Not hiring everything out and viewing our possessions as trophies. It’s what makes a home.

So anyway, I’m glad for this “trend”. It’s too bad that some folks are losing income because people are doing more for themselves. But the good news is not only is this a good way to save money, it builds families and communities as well—nothing says lovin’ like taking the kids on an excursion to Lowes or Home Depot!