VERY SHORT & SWEET #5
Ma's Birthday Treats, Twinning with My Doctor, Steve Martin's Humble Beginnings, & David Ogilvy (Yes, Chef!)
Hiya Friends,
I’m up in the Bay Area, celebrating my mom’s milestone birthday with the family. Suffice it to say, this has not been a good weekend for our collective cholesterol numbers. Many donuts and cinnamon rolls have been devoured, and tonight, there was birthday cake.
Meanwhile, my 26-year-old nephew told me several times that he subsists entirely on steak, potatoes, bread, eggs, edibles, and alcohol, and his cholesterol numbers are GREAT! Whatever, kid. My cholesterol was shipshape at 26 too. Talk to me when you’re forty, if I’m still around.
Alas, all the donut consuming and family kibitzing has left little time to fiddle with my newsletter. I’ve put together a quick round-up of content I’ve enjoyed this week, and added a short cholesterol/donut related piece that I wrote in 2019. This was previously published by the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop via the University of Dayton Ohio blog. ⬇️
STATINS OR DONUTS
A teen in a lab coat came to collect me from the waiting room and I assumed she was a candy striper.
"Hello, I'm Dr. Tran," she said, extending her dainty hand to shake my sun-spotted claw. A petite young woman with flawless skin, she wore a lab coat over a familiar J. Crew plaid shirt.
"We're wearing the same shirt," I said.
Her face lit up. "I like your style."
"Hashtag Twinning!" I said.
"They have such great sales. I got this for $20," she said.
I decided then and there that this young woman had made all the right decisions in life — achieving a Ph.D. by 16, and successfully sniffing out great bargains. She diagnosed me with mild Eustachian tube disorder, which meant I was a middle-aged woman, in a full-price shirt, with clogged ears due to allergies. I had clearly made a wrong turn somewhere.
This visit followed yet another disappointing health revelation. Six months prior, I found out that, for the first time ever, my cholesterol had surpassed 200 with the bad cholesterol in "heart attack eligible" range. I'd been a pescatarian most of my life, maintained a healthy weight, and avoided most fatty foods. But in spite of treating my body like a reliable Honda Civic, the engine was showing signs of corrosion.
For the next six months, I avoided anything that could be categorized as "delicious." So long, cheese! Arrivederci, donuts! Au revoir, Boozy Fruit Punch! I ate tons of apples, switched to soy cheese, and consumed enough salad to feed the entire population of Vatican City. When it was time to retake the test, I marched into the lab with the confidence of Charlemagne, certain I had vanquished bad cholesterol.
Two days later, the results were in: my cholesterol was down a lousy 12 points but not the bad cholesterol — it thrived.
My 90-pound mother tried to console me on the phone. "It runs in our family. My father dropped dead of a heart attack at 50."
"If those are my odds, I better get my affairs in order," I said.
As I was crafting my "Goodbye Cruel World" status update on Facebook, a French medical video caught my eye. My Français is trés rusty, but the main gist, as far as I could gather, was that high cholesterol is a scam manufactured by pharmaceutical companies to push dangerous meds. This was a life path moment, the proverbial door #1 or door #2. I'd already pursued a degree in advertising instead of a Ph.D. and paid full-price at J Crew, but there was still time to make the right choice. Statins or donuts? . . . Gotta run, the donut shop closes in 30 minutes. #Winning!
STEVE MARTIN’S HUMBLE BEGINNINGS
Today, The New Yorker, republished a piece Martin wrote in 2007 called, “In The Bird Cage,” about his humble beginnings performing on a stage at Knott’s Berry Farm. Like his memoir, Born Standing Up, this essay is a delightful read. An excerpt below:
The Bird Cage was a normal theatrical nuthouse. Missed cues caused noisy pileups in the wings, or a missing prop left us hanging while we ad-libbed excuses to leave the stage and retrieve it. A forgotten line would hang in the air, searching for someone, anyone, to say it. The theatre was run by Woody Wilson, a dead ringer for W. C. Fields, and a boozer, too, and the likable George Stuart, who, on Saturday nights, would entertain the crowd with a monologue that had them roaring: “You’re from Tucson? I spent a week there one night!” Four paying customers was officially an audience, so we often did shows to resonating silence. On one of these dead afternoons, Woody Wilson peed so loudly in the echoing bathroom that it broke us up and got embarrassed laughs from our conservative family audience.
Read more.
AD MAN, DAVID OGILVY WORKED AS A CHEF IN PARIS
I may have already plugged Ruth Reichl’s Stack, La Briffe which includes tasty articles/essays from her archives, recipes, and occasional product recommendations. This past week, R2 included several pages from ad man extraordinaire, David Ogilvy’s memoir, “Confessions of an Advertising Man,” where he reveals that at age 20, he worked as a chef at the Hotel Majestic in Paris. Fans of the anxiety-inducing TV show The Bear, will enjoy reading Ogilvy’s hot takes about working 63-hours a week for Monsieur Soulé at Le Pavilion, ergo, “the most influential restaurant of the last century.” “From morning to night we sweated and shouted and cursed and cooked.” Read the excerpted pages by clicking the box below.
That’s it for this week. Hit the ❤️ if you enjoy these posts or drop a note in the comment section. I always love hearing from you. xo H2
Wow, go Tina! I'm going to get that memoir at the library this week. You have such a gift for words and a gift for friendship. Thanks!
Aww! I remember reading that Steve Martin essay when it first came out. It struck me then and it strikes me now what a brilliant guy he is. I especially remember the part of Mitzi Trumbo because she went to Reed College, my son's namesake. Such a pleasurable read. Thanks!