Full Plate

In a past life, there was just Don and I. No kids. Not an Ian, nor an Emma, and not yet a bonus-package Andrew.

Just the two of us, young and unencumbered and full of hopes and plans and dreams. Our path was clearly marked and in those early years of our marriage we moved several times. Each of those moves was an education related journey leading us from Utah, for a short stop in Nevada to finish undergraduate work, then ultimately to Arizona where we would settle and make our home for many years.

Until we started all over again, but that is another story.

Our first home in Tucson was a studio apartment for married students at The University of Arizona. The sprawling apartment community was a series of dilapidated single story structures painted an odd trendy southwest-seafoam-green. House sizes ranged from the single room studio apartment like we rented, to dwellings in the 1, 2 or 3 bedroom range. For the larger families there was the genius arrangement of two larger apartments, adjacent either side by side, or front to back. A shared wall removed made it a comfortable home for the whole clan.

The people of this apartment community--Christopher City--were as varied as you can imagine. There were many like us, transplants to Arizona from various places in the USA, studying for advanced degrees under the hot desert sky. Also, returning students (imagine such a thing!) who were finishing degrees long ago begun, or embarking on new studies leading to new careers. Students of all ages, all walks of life, all stages of maturity and from all over the globe. It was my first experience living in a fully integrated international community. That in itself was a fascinating experience for me, a young girl born and raised in Utah, to share in and learn about the cultural diversity which surrounded us there. Living there in that community was a valuable education for me. I witnessed much, gathered important information and opened my heart and mind to the new and unknown. It was grand.

In Christopher City I learned about the Muslim custom of never returning an empty plate. My friend, Cynthia, a tall, fair, blue-eyed blond American woman taught me about the custom by sharing with me her mistakes after meeting and marrying Shudri, a tall, brown-eyed, ebony topped, handsome Jordanian man. It was kind of her to share her knowledge. I immediately employed the information with my neighbors and friends. Though I could never match the exquisite tastes presented to us by our devoted and loving Libyan neighbors, I knew that my effort of "filling the plate" would be recognized and appreciated. I did my best to return plate for plate, and when the Cuscus bil-Bosla arrived I returned potato salad. Fragrant Sharba Libiya? A pot of homemade Chicken Soup. Then tit for tat, a mouthwatering plate of Basboosa was answered with a mountain of Chocolate Chip cookies.

That habit quickly became ingrained in me, and even after moving away from Christopher City and its strong international influence, I continued the practice. Now it is actually difficult for me to return an empty dish to someone who has generously shared time and treats with me.

Which brings me to this.

Last week we were again the recipients of kindness and goodness and generosity. As the postal carrier buzzed the front bell last Saturday morning, I got a little giddy as I spotted through the front window that in his hands he held a box. I knew that in that box were books. Sent from Anno who lives in the states. Anno came by to read my whining blog one day and between her comments on the page and the ensuing email exchange afterward we discovered a kinship. Or at least I feel that with her. I have been a devoted reader of her blog ever since, and I believe she frequents this little spot on the web as well. If you are not yet a reader of Anno's Place, I highly recommend you step over and get acquainted. I could wax poetic for ages on all that Anno is, but I will sum it up with this, she is an inspiration. Go read, you will see I mean.

So, if you don't mind, I am going to use this venue here to give my heartfelt thanks to this generous blogging friend.

Dear Anno,

I am grateful beyond words for your kindness and generosity. It has been a real treat to sit and read your delicious picks for me. I don't know how to say just how grateful I am. And I thought you should simply see what it means to my daughter that you took the time to correspond with me, package the books and ship these choices to us:

You could say she is eating it up. I am eating it up. We appreciate you and we thank you heartily and profusely.

Love,

jenn

And, because I can't return an empty plate. A trip down memory lane for Anno. These are shots I took of her childhood home here in my neck of the woods.

Hey! Anno, if you lived here, you'd be home now!

It may seem obvious, but I will say it anyway. Once again, my plate heart is full. My belly mind content. My soul is fed.