Life is an old family recipe

First of all, I wish I could say I invented the title of this column, but I did not.
I opened the cover of the August edition of “O, The Oprah Magazine” and there it was in an “IKEA” ad. Sometimes my themes cook up that way, like instant potatoes, they grow into something really good from nothing more than flakes.
I’m at a bit of a standstill with my sailing adventures in that my rather antiquated six horsepower motor continues to gum up and give me angst.
Nothing worse for a fresh new solo sailor (whose first real adventure was wrought with stormy memories) than to be threatened shortly thereafter and repeatedly with a coughing, sputtering two-stroke disaster.
Who knew one could have a touch of post-traumatic stress disorder after a rag doll affair in a sailboat? Yup uh huh.
So my motor is in the shop and sailing is sidelined until “Little Miss Evinrude” is running like a top.
No doubt I am trying to embrace my own preachings of patience—especially since I’ve waited months to sail and find myself stalled by simple mechanics.
Even so, I could use time at the dock to practice my bowlines. The “rabbit” and I are not seeing eye to eye at all.
I have failed to grasp and put into action the rote lesson, “You make a loop, the rabbit comes up through the hole, goes behind the tree and back down the hole,” more times in the last six weeks from fellow sailors trying to teach me how to tie the ultimate sailing knot, than I did in all the cumulative years of lessons learned raising three teenage girls and learning that I cannot “nail ‘Jell-O’ to a tree.”
So I lean back into “Life is an old family recipe.”
What does that mean to you?
Perhaps it is simply that old family recipe of homemade bread, rhubarb jam, or a fruitcake recipe handed down by your grandmother and into your kitchen and out among your children.
Perhaps “Life is an old family recipe,” is reflected in your vegetable garden or in your hay field, because it’s the same way your father or your grandfather taught you.
Perhaps it is simply that you raised your children inside the same values you were taught from your parents. Perhaps it is that you raised your children outside of the values you were taught from your parents. Both are your recipe choices.
Perhaps it is the value you place on spiritual growth, a belief or understanding of a power greater than yourself—or a non-belief. Either way, it’s your life recipe, and your choice.
Perhaps “Life is an old family recipe,” is based on always being in control, or in letting go, being cherished or neglected, challenged or encouraged, smiled upon or always judged—and living it forward or passing it on—or not. Choices.
“Life is an old family recipe.”
And for what it’s worth, I think it’s worth some thought.