Granola-In-Chief

Over 35 years ago, my mother and I learned to make granola using a recipe from the newspaper. It was an instant hit. Family and friends loved our granola. Over the years, I perfected it, adding more ingredients, which, by the way, increased the cost of turning out a batch.

As more children came along, they got bigger and hungrier. I quickly discovered that to keep them granola-satisfied, I'd have to plan ahead. Not all of my granola ingredients are available at the grocery store. I rely on either a health-food grocery or natural food co-op to stock my pantry for granola-making.

Nuts and honey are the priciest ingredients. I found myself checking prices on these items everywhere I went, including a health food market in tiny New Hampshire, Ohio, on our way to Taylor University in Indiana. At best, one batch of granola calls for $2 worth of honey.

While it's not a complicated recipe, my granola takes some time to plan for, and with 6 people in the house, one batch lasted a maximum of three days. "Oh, this is so good, mom! It's almost gone, can you make more?"

Over the years, satisfying my family's craving for granola became a bit of a burden. I knew how they loved it, and felt guilty if the granola container sat empty. Even so, I began making it to give away. It makes a dandy gift in a mason jar, tied up with a colorful ribbon.

As the kids began to move away, of course they missed my granola. So I'd make a batch to send, especially on birthdays. Then the cost nearly doubled, factoring in the postage.

At last, almost too late, I realized it was time to teach the children how to make their own granola. I can't say that plan has worked very well, simply because it's easier to teach a child a skill while he's still hanging around the kitchen rather than living 400 miles away.

I realize I have let myself become the Granola-In-Chief. It seems the family looks to me as the only one who can supply the crunchy treat. While they could learn the skill themselves (as a couple of them have), they became so accustomed to my provision that they'll do without before getting in gear to make a batch themselves.

I like to give. It makes me feel good and needed in my kids' lives. But it's not sustainable. There comes a time when the greater good is served by requiring kids to do for themselves. It's more efficient. It's longer-lasting. It helps everyone.

My job is to teach and enable my children: not to rely on me, but on themselves. Everyone is stronger for it.

You might call it my Declaration of Independence. Sounds a lot better than Declaration of Dependence.

Pearl Harbor

More than 2,000 Americans perished seventy years ago today when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. I remember it being a Sunday from the stories my mother told me. She was 16 years old, and the news came over the radio as Americans returned home from church and ate lunch. Television news was a decade or more in the future.

Growing up, I was curious about my mother's younger years. I cherish those conversations because Mom's been gone for many years. That December Sunday was horrific for the entire country and of course the world. Because of the events in Europe, most Americans knew that the bombing of Pearl Harbor signaled the beginning of full U.S. involvement in World War II.

Pear Harbor changed the lives of most of Mom's classmates, then juniors in high school. With few exceptions, the boys would become young soldiers upon graduation. They would be flung east and west: to the south Pacific or stationed in Europe, and many would die.

Viewing this time through the lens of the controversial Vietnam era, I couldn't comprehend how thousands of teenaged boys would risk their lives in war.

"It was a different time, with so much at stake. Nearly everyone understood that our country's survival hung in the balance. Young men - and women - saw it as their duty to serve their country," Mom said. "They just went."