Corned Beef
Ah hah, I got you. You thought that this post was going to be about Corned Beef. That lovely stuff of deli afficianado delight sliced thick or amazingly thin as you choose, then piled so high between two slices of rye bread that a civil person would have to utilize a knife and fork, which , of course, none of us do. Well, it is after a fashion, although I know relatively little about Corned Beef coming, as I do, from a somewhat ethnically inpoverished background. Rather this this is about growing old and staying young and the connections in between.
My husband, when parked at a deli, is fond of inquiring of the compatriots then present “Who makes your favorite corned beef?” Then, often before they have a chance to respond, he tells them “You favorite corned beef tastes like the stuff from the deli you went to when you were twelve.” There is a truth in that, or a truth of sorts, believing as I do that truth is largely relative and maleable.
Perhaps much of who we are, of what feels right to us, is set by our experiences when we were young. How much of our perception of well being as adults comes from how closely we can now approximate our youth? No, not all of those insecurities and inadequacies that tormented ones childhood and teen years, but the good things. The memories of food, security, health and youth.
This all came to me, other than occasionally being queried about corned beef, when I noticed that I was no longer as limber as I had been, as I remembered being in that long past youth. I had spent years in my youth during high school and college doing ballet and jazz dance. Being limber, flexible and strong, was what feeling young meant to me. Now, creeping past fifty, I was beginning to get stiff. Oh, nothing major, I could still touch my toes, even in three inch heels, but clearly no longer the smooth ease of movement that characterized my decidedly un-wild youth. Steps need to be taken. The situation cried out for rectification.
So, for the new year, Pilates is the answer. Yoga would serve as well, but according to some Pilates is dance based, so the movements and language are more familiar. However, the methodology is perhaps less important than the end result. Means versus ends, ends versus means we shall see. A different truth.. A question remains grammatically though as to what the verb would be, or perhaps it is the gerund. My grammatical comprehension is failing also along with the vanishing flexilibity, but admittedly grammer was never a strong point. I am Pilating, or am I Pilatesing. I am confused, but that isn’t news either.
With regard to Corned Beef I am even more confused. Corned Beef always came with cabbage in my family and was pretty much boiled to death. Not much there that would explain my husband’s passion about it. Although, admittedly, as with me his passion isn’t for Corned Beef, but rather for youth and that previously ingrained sense of well being.