MARIE'S MUSES

“The reward of a thing well done, is to have done it.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

When I first moved over here from Canada, I came over on a fiancée’s visa. I was not allowed to work at first. We had to get married and only then was I able to apply for a work visa. I arrived here on the 31st of October in the year 2000, we were married on November 11th (a hard anniversary to forget I was thinking) and just a few short weeks before Christmas I got my work papers.

I was so excited. We were living in Chester at the time and there was an Elderly Residential Home right across the road from our flat. They always had an advertisement up in the local shops looking for people to work there. Each time I had walked past the home, I had gotten a feeling in my soul that I was to work there and so, one sunny day,  with my papers in hand, I decided to stop by  and apply for a job.

I had never been a Care Assistant before, but I was a caring person and I had cared for a young lad with Muscular Dystrophy back in Canada, which had involved a lot of lifting and such, so I was really pleased to be able to come home and tell Todd that I had gotten a job. It was only part time, about 20 hours a week, but it was a job. I loved my first few induction days. The residents were really sweet and I loved spending time with them and getting to know them as I cared for them. I wasn’t so sure about the other Care Assistants though. I had seen a few things that disturbed me and they were quite rough around the edges. There was one in particular who was quite a bully and I had felt the sharp edge of her tongue a few times. I also didn’t like the rude and abrupt way in which she treated the residents.

Actually they were all a bit rude and abrupt with the residents. For people who were supposed to be “care” assistants, there seemed to be very little caring going on. They seemed more concerned with getting outside for a “fag” break and a gossip about how drunk they had gotten on the last weekend, then they did in actually caring for the people they were being paid to care for. They also swore a lot and, well, to be perfectly honest … I didn’t quite fit in, as much as I tried to be friendly and cheerful.

Meal times were a horror in and of itself. I was of the feeling that because the residents had spent a good lot of the day cooped up in their rooms or plunked in front of a television that mealtimes should be an event, a time for them to socialize with each other and enjoy the food that had been prepared for them. This was not the case. It seemed the main goal was to push them into the dining room and get them to eat their meals as quickly as possible (if at all) and then whip them out of there and back into their rooms so that the cleaning up could begin and the cook could go home! Anyone that had any trouble at all eating, hardly had the time to begin, let alone eat their meals. It was horrendous.

After about a month I was called in to the Managers office and told that unfortunately there were no more Care Hours for me, but there were cleaning hours if I wanted them. The truth was I had “cared” too much and the other girl’s had complained that I was too slow. I needed a job however, and so I stayed and did the cleaning hours, even though I felt in my heart that what they had done was wrong. I really did care about the residents and I was worried about who would do the little things for them that I had been doing, or take a few minutes to chat with them and let them know they were special, or share a smile and a kind word with them.

I didn’t really like cleaning. It was mindless work and quite boring. I especially didn’t like cleaning the bathrooms, but I did it as best as I could anyways, and I found that if I sung hymns to myself, the chore was a lot easier to get through. I still got to spend a few minutes here and there with the residents and I was mostly on my own, so I didn’t have to worry about anyone bullying me or making me feel inconsequential. I did that job for over a year before I left the home to go and work at a service station with my Todd. The whole time I was there I had tried to do my job to the best of my ability and to be as cheerful about it as I could be. I really missed some of the residents when I left, and often went back and visit them from time to time.

In life there will be many times we will be called to do chores and jobs that we might not necessarily feel that we really want to do. We may feel over qualified for doing them and that they are beneath us. A job worth doing though, is a job worth doing well, as simple or as small as it is. Doing our chores with a cheerful heart can make all the difference in the world and can help turn a simple labour into a labour of love, and that IS a very good thing. J As the Shakers used to say… “Hands to work, Hearts to God.”

This is an old standby that I like to make when time is short and I don’t really feel like getting stuck into something complicated. Simple, tasty and nourishing. This, too, is comfort food. (Don’t feel the leftovers to the dog though, you’ll regret it, I guarantee …)

Serves 4

This makes a delicious and simple supper. Hearty and family pleasing. Todd really enjoys this when I make it and I can say with a certainty that the leftovers taste even better the next day, so it’s worth making the whole recipe, however you can quite successfully cut the recipe in two if you wish.

1 package of smoked frankfurters

2 (415g) tins of baked beans

1 heaping dessertspoon of tomato sauce

1 TBS Dijon mustard

1 TBS dark soft brown sugar

1 tsp hot pepper sauce (Tabasco)

(You can cut this down if you don’t like your food too spicy)

1 TBS dark molasses (in the UK you can use a combination of dark treacle and golden syrup)

1 cup flour

¼ cup caster sugar

2 ½ tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

½ tsp salt

2/3 cup yellow cornmeal (polenta in the UK)

1 cup buttermilk

2 TBS olive oil

1 egg, lightly beaten

4 ounces roasted diced green chilies

¾ cup grated strong cheddar cheese

1/3 cup diced red onion

Pre-heat the oven to 180*C/375*F. Cut the frankfurters into 1 inch pieces and brown them in a large hot skillet. (There is no need to add any fat to the skillet). Once they are browned add the beans, tomato sauce, mustard, sugar, molasses and pepper sauce. Stir it all together really well and bring to a simmer. Let cook for about five minutes, on low heat, while you make the cornbread mixture.

Sift the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt into a large mixing bowl. Whisk in the cornmeal and ½ cup of the grated cheese. In a separate bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, oil and egg. Stir the wet ingredients into the dry just enough to combine, without over mixing. Fold in the roasted chilies and red onion.

Place the hot bean mixture in a lightly buttered casserole dish*. Pour the cornbread mixture over top. Sprinkle with the remaining ¼ cup of grated cheese. Bake in the heated oven for 30 to 35 minutes, or until the cornbread is well risen and nicely browned. Remove from the oven and let cool for 15 minutes before serving.

*Note- You can also bake this in individual casserole dishes as I have done above.

Note to Lyn- I will post the letter later on.  My magazine is laying next to my side of the bed and I don't want to disturb Todd just yet!