CABLE NEWS

A great day for cable news.

A shooting event at a baseball field in Washington provides non-stop, repetitive fodder, exhaustive coverage for at least two days.

Meantime, it is fortunate that nothing else worth noting  is taking place on Planet Earth. 

THE HUNTERS

Such a probing,

a hunger, to discover

whether skeletons rest

in crevices on Mars,

or diamonds crust upon

the shores of planets

far too distant to perceive.

Then there's the race

to find the smallest bit

"The God Particle,"

they call it, 

or more prosaically,

"Higg's Boson,"

supposed to tie

all things together.

What a kick for humanity

if it turns out to be 

the same as love.

-e. hujsak

CORN -ON - THE - COB

Summer is approaching. Memories of the farm - the old swimming hole, boiled new potatoes, corn-on-the-cob.

It reminds me that  my brother Alex was something of an expert on corn-on-the-cob, having figured out how to get freshly picked corn into boiling water in the shortest possible time to avoid starch onset. He advised planting corn as close to the kitchen as possible. When the corn is ripe you set the water to boiling in a pot on the stove. Then you pick the corn and run, don't walk, back to the kitchen, shucking the leafy covers on the go, the object being to get the corn cooking immediately.

Boiled new potatoes got me thinking. History records that Sir Francis Drake and Sir Walter Raleigh introduced potatoes to Ireland and England in the sixteenth century. after Conquistadors discovered them  in Peru. I doubt though, that I will be remembered for having introduced corn-on-the-cob to Poland, but for the record, I can relate how it happened.

One summer day, around twenty five years ago, nephew -in-law Slav appeared at our doorstep accompanied by his sister Ula and her daughter, who were visiting from Poland. After visiting for a spell, we invited them to lunch with us. The table was set with a variety of garden goods, including a plate at each setting with a freshly boiled ear of sweet corn on it. I remember a slight frown on Ula's face and a wrinkling of her nose. She said to Slav, in a soft, melodious voice, "In Poland , we feed this to pigs!"

Slav replied with a smile, "You smear butter on it, then salt it. It's very good."

They did find it good and remembered it upon returning to  Poland. There they introduced it to friends, who introduced it to friends and, well, you know.