juliespeaks

The unvoiced thoughts and ideas of a septegenarian.

TESTOSTERON

TESTOSTERONE

 

I like men.  Growing up I had boyfriends, not girlfriends. I took great delight in sitting on the handlebars of Pete’s bike and being taken for a ride. I adored the guy who lived three doors away and let me drive his Harley –Davidson. I sat in awe of an English professor who had hyacinth blue eyes and smelled like the sweet tobacco he used in his pipe. I fell in love with one who draped me in Spanish moss and pretended I was his bride. As an adult I much prefer the company of, and conversation with, men rather than women.  I’d rather shoot pool in a pub than go to a tea party. I don’t, however,  long for a car that’ll win the Indy and I’ve no wish to outscore anyone on the golf course. I do prefer the ladies locker room with its aroma of fresh flowers rather than sweat, lavender scented hand lotion, hair dryers and thick, fluffy, pink towels.

 

Let it first be said I am not a biologist and have little concrete knowledge of hormones. There is a great deal of scientific research into the question of whether testosterone really leads to aggression. Much of it attempts to prove that testosterone – by itself – is not the bad guy but most studies conclude but that it plays an important role in  terms of both individual survival and procreation. There is also clear evidence of a connection between the hormonal effects of testosterone and the outward expression of aggressive behavior. While it is common to think of  testosterone in terms of sexual activity, it is, by no means confined to that arena. It plays a primary role in aggressive behavior exhibited in a variety of circumstances.

 

I have come to believe the Creator misjudged the amount of testosterone to be given to each sex.  Men have much more testosterone than women. There is no doubt in my mind but that testosterone is responsible for much of the world’s evil.  From the time they become adolescents, men are driven by that hormone. Every female in sight becomes a sexual challenge; every sport played is an opportunity to become “top gun.;”  every bit of land is a temptation to conquer. Can you find  a woman who has started a war?

 

Fantasy  – Wishful Thinking. What would the world be like if both sexes had been given an equal amount of that hormone in lower doses?  Men might understand they are not wimps if they compromise: that they do not have to conquer to be respected. Women might be a little less reticent to engage in challenging activities.  Our society might become one with less individual competition and more group co-operation. Our divorce courts might well be far less crowded.

 

Generally, the Creator made good choices when the world was created but I think He/She/It goofed up on that one.

 

Post a comment

 

Julie Rose

Julirose601@gmail.com

Leave a comment »

SOUL FOOD – AN ODE TO AUNT KITTY

SOUL FOOD – AN ODE TO AUNT KITTY

 

She had a wooden chopping bowl the size of a washtub.

I hadn’t the faintest idea what gefilte fish was.

She said ”I’ll teach you”.

I learned by chopping  – endlessly.

I’ve  now chopped enough fish to stock Lake Erie.

 

At Passover we chopped nuts and apples by the buckets.

In my kitchen I toyed with  the recipe

Mixed a little nutmeg into the cinnamon,

Added some raisins or apricots;

Occasionally won a round of applause.

Tried Persian Charoset – adored by some guests

Too spicy for others.

 

We left off chopping and began to knead

Kitty insisted 100 kneads were essential

I divided the challah dough in thirds to be braided

She cut each piece in half and s said

“We braid six, Prettier.”

She never let me forget I failed the proofing yeast test

 

I  learned brisket doesn’t have to taste like shoe leather

Meatballs demand sweet jam and chili sauce,

Those cubes of beef the butcher calls beef stew

Are delectable braised in red wine and onions

After they’ve marinated for two or three days.

 

I learned to make chicken soup without a whole hen,

Used only a bag of bones, a few wings

And never forgot the thyme

I learned guests expect matzo balls in their soup.

After some practice mine were light as a cotton ball.

 

“Forget the matzo balls next shabbas,” he said.

“Make some knishes instead.”

Knishes?  Quick – call Aunt Kitty.

He once asked for borsch.

Bought beets, dug out a grater:

My knuckles bled for three hours.

Alas, he wanted cabbage borsch.

 

Mandelbrot, Sponge and Honey Cake?

Boring I concluded – leave those to the bakery.

Bourbon  Pound Cake and Cinnamon Tea Rolls

French Apple Tart and Lemon Bars are better.

Forget chopped liver.

The odor of broiled liver nauseated me.

That’s what delis are for.

 

Aunt Kitty’s wooden chopping bowl

Is now a cherished part of my kitchen.

It’s an octogenarian,

A stranger to planned obsolescence.

It holds fond memories of a motherly woman

Who knew her way through the maze of Jewish soul food.

 

Horrors – I’ve lost the chopper!

 

Simcha

 

Post a comment

 

Julie Rose

Julierose601@gmail.com

Leave a comment »