https://stephenmoore.medium.com/?source=post_page-----463cc4682b10-----------------------------------

Stephen Moore

https://marker.medium.com/the-fall-of-theranos-fraud-not-failure-463cc4682b10?source=post_page-----463cc4682b10-----------------------------------

Jan 4·4 min read

Photo: HBO

First they think you’re crazy, then they fight you, then… you get found guilty of committing wire fraud to the tune of billions of dollars.

One of the most enthralling business sagas of all time has drawn to a close, at least…

https://ryanfan.medium.com/?source=post_page-----1f6329f1f2ff-----------------------------------

Ryan Fan

https://index.medium.com/i-had-perfect-attendance-at-work-and-have-gained-nothing-for-it-1f6329f1f2ff?source=post_page-----1f6329f1f2ff-----------------------------------

Dec 24, 2021·6 min read

Photo: krakenimages/Unsplash

Before yesterday, I had almost perfect attendance at work in my two and a half years of teaching. But I finally called out to get a COVID test after my fiancee tested positive for COVID.

Photo by Raghavendra V. Konkathi on Unsplash

Apparently, debt cancellation isn’t the most popular topic in Christianity.

https://scottcdunn.medium.com/?source=post_page-----c9c4f95b8ab3-----------------------------------

ScottCDunn

https://scottcdunn.medium.com/the-very-first-sermon-christ-gave-taught-us-about-the-jubilee-c9c4f95b8ab3?source=post_page-----c9c4f95b8ab3-----------------------------------

Dec 25, 2021·5 min read

It’s early Christmas morning as I write this. I just could not sleep with this story dancing around in my head. The sugarplums are really upset at being pushed aside. I’m thinking about why we celebrate the birth of a man who preached…

By Scott Dunn

What we do with this holiday is dependent on the choices we make.

https://scottcdunn.medium.com/?source=post_page-----814fbf01eaa8-----------------------------------

ScottCDunn

https://scottcdunn.medium.com/we-create-the-magic-of-christmas-814fbf01eaa8?source=post_page-----814fbf01eaa8-----------------------------------

Dec 24, 2021·4 min read

I can remember Christmas in childhood. My mom got these incandescent Christmas lights that would just randomly blink. I loved how those clear glass lights would blink in a way that I could never predict. They mesmerized me. I also loved the way the lights cast multicolored shadows onto the walls…

Rosie Alderson, PhD

Dec 22, 2021

·

5

min read

Photo by Sandra Seitamaa on Unsplash

A couple of winters ago, I travelled to the ski resort of Levi, in Finland. Nestled in the arctic circle, the landscape is awe-inspiring— great swathes of white, punctuated only by majestic snow-laden trees and small, charming settlements populated with cosy wooden buildings.

Increasingly independent lifestyles aren’t good for all of us, and especially not for families.

https://medium.com/@RhianninB?source=post_page-----dcfd0a1da74d-----------------------------------

Rhiannin Bunney

https://gen.medium.com/in-losing-the-village-we-abandoned-societys-parents-dcfd0a1da74d?source=post_page-----dcfd0a1da74d-----------------------------------

Dec 17, 2021·10 min read

Photo by Benjamin Manley on Unsplash

It takes a village to raise a child.

I had a very different experience of growing up in the United States. I wasn’t…

https://clivethompson.medium.com/?source=post_page-----d64291cea550-----------------------------------

Clive Thompson

https://marker.medium.com/who-was-first-with-a-big-idea-its-often-hard-to-know-d64291cea550?source=post_page-----d64291cea550-----------------------------------

Dec 22, 2021·6 min read

Guglielmo Marconi invented radio in the 1890s — but so did Nikola Tesla and several others. (Photo by Nicolas Buffler)

I recently wrote about the history of “pinch and zoom” — and how Apple didn’t really invent it. Apple executives love to claim they did; Steve Jobs even stood on stage and boasted “boy, have we patented it!”

https://kategreentripp.medium.com/?source=post_page-----3a340c067550-----------------------------------

Kate Green Tripp

https://forge.medium.com/when-life-is-slow-go-even-slower-3a340c067550?source=post_page-----3a340c067550-----------------------------------

Dec 13, 2021·3 min read

Photo: Artur Łuczka / Unsplash

Last week, my car needed service.

I typically manage such days of privileged inconvenience by dropping my car at the dealer and grabbing a ride home with a friend or taking advantage of Toyota’s free shuttle service. But in these unusual times, when policies and hours of operation change as county health…

https://philosophyasawayoflife.medium.com/?source=post_page-----3419f18bb86f-----------------------------------

Philosophy as a Way of Life

https://philosophyasawayoflife.medium.com/what-philosophers-think-2020-edition-3419f18bb86f?source=post_page-----3419f18bb86f-----------------------------------

Dec 16, 2021·9 min read

[image: the “Thinker” by Rodin outside Philadelphia’s Rodin Museum, Wikimedia; this is essay #351 in the Philosophy as a Way of Life series]

Philosophy, contra popular opinion (even among some philosophers) makes progress. I have written a whole (free!) book (summarized here) about how that works. The basic idea is that philosophy, unlike science, is in the business of discovering, exploring, and refining conceptual landscapes defined by the questions in which philosophers are interested in.

Story by Bella Coronado

Esperanza Coronado didn’t cook because she had to, or because it was a hobby; cooking was her love language, how she communicated joy.

On the rare occasion when my Abuela’s four sons, three daughter-in-laws and 12 grandchildren gathered together, we came around her food. She valued the way food brings people together, because it brought warmth that could be felt in every room; it was felt through conversations between family members around the table.

Her cooking left an impression. From birthdays to family gatherings, if anyone came through my Abuela’s front door, they would instantly know they were about to be fed well.

My Abuela was more than just the food she made, you could tell because she put her whole heart into making sure everyone enjoyed a good meal. It is one thing to make food, but cooking a meal to be shared between your family is a way of expressing love in the most sincere way.

Folded tamales rest on a plate before being cooked in a giant steaming pot. Photo by Sawyer Moss

Growing up, I remember the package of tamales that would magically appear on our doorstep during the holidays. Traveling 976 miles from Yucaipa, California, the tamales would last for months in our freezer. Their flavor was rich and spicy, wrapped up in chewy masa and corn husk envelopes.

My Abuelos immigrated to southern California in the 1960s. My Abuelo worked in the Coachella and San Joaquin Valley. He later became the foreman of two egg poultry farms. My Abuela often stayed home cooking and caring for their four sons and occasionally helping on the farm.

I grew up visiting my family in Yucaipa during summers and sometimes around the holidays. All of my fondest memories with my family involve food.

I have many memories of eating in my Abuela’s tiny kitchen, my Aubuelo somewhere out back tending to his goats, the black and white desert scenes of an old Western film playing on the TV.

When I was 15 she showed me how to make tamales.

My Abuela was known for her tamale recipe. My dad told me that it wasn’t Christmas unless she made them.

She would marinate the pork and chicken, patting together masa and assembling each individual tamale by hand. They would cook for hours, the smell of smoky peppers and sweet masa filling the entire house. The enduring process of watching them come together and steam in the big, metal pot was always worth the wait.

Tamale-making is an art. Originating back to 8,000 B.C., tamales have been an important part of Mexican culinary cuisine and national identity. Passed on from each generation, traditional Mexican recipes hold a beautiful meaning and connection to a vibrant culture.

Bella fills tamales in her kitchen in Bellingham, Wash. on October 24, 2021. Photo by Sawyer Moss

Traditional meals connect me to the culture that I have grown so distant from.

“Having those traditional kinds of meals plays an important role in our lives because it helps us remember the past,” my dad said as we reminisced about Abuela’s cooking and how much we miss her. “Those things that come and go, and meals, especially traditional meals, can help us remember those moments.”

There was always something cooking on the stove. You could peek around the kitchen counter and see Abuela’s petite figure, dark hair and delicate hands creating something that was bound to be delicious.

However, she never wrote any of her recipes down. The occasional scribble on the back of a receipt could be found around the house, but after her passing, no complete recipes were uncovered.

Meredith E. Abarca’s book, “Voices in the Kitchen,” mentions a cultural norm for Mexican women to not keep record of their recipes. She describes it as a sensory way of knowing the right taste and flavors of a recipe; a Sazón. Cooking without measurements or written instructions is common in a Mexican kitchen.

It could be because traditional recipes live through people. They are taught and remade year after year, generation after generation.

For me, remaking my Abuela’s tamale recipe is complex; all I know is based on foggy memories, taste and smell.

It is more than just adding the right ingredients.

I can try my best to replicate her food, but I would do anything to just enjoy the taste of a meal made by her again.

Bella’s tamale notes written out by memory. After talking to family members, she was able to piece together a recipe tasting close to her Abuela’s. Photo by Sawyer Moss

Traditional meals hold special meaning in my life, especially during the holidays. They hold even more meaning now that my grandparents have passed. Though they are gone, my Abuelos leave a beautiful legacy within their children and grandchildren. Not only is our existence in their favor, but the heart of our culture and family ties connect us to one another.

My last visit in July was a very different experience. There was no wafting smell of beans and rice as I walked through the door. There was no hum of the frying pan, no heat of the stove and no plate of food waiting for me on the table. Instead of waking up to a breakfast of huevos rancheros or chilaquiles, my dad and I stopped by the local Del Taco.

The memories outlive even the tastiest homemade tamale. Gathering around the table brings us together.

“It gives us a place to be a family,” my dad said. “That’s important not only to me but in our heritage as well.” He told me that in Mexican culture, food reflects the connection between people, especially between those who are family.

I remember arriving to Yucaipa late one night during the Holidays, my dad and I exhausted from travel. My Abuela stayed up for us. She answered the door and greeted us by saying, “Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?”

https://sarahstankorb.medium.com/?source=post_page-----532e515e16b4-----------------------------------

Sarah Stankorb

https://gen.medium.com/in-drama-queens-podcast-one-tree-hill-stars-rehash-the-making-of-the-show-the-good-bad-and-532e515e16b4?source=post_page-----532e515e16b4-----------------------------------

Dec 16·6 min read

Photo courtesy of Drama Queens

I’m of an age that for me, first-run WB shows — *One Tree Hill, Gilmore Girls — *felt like guilty pleasures, not only for…

Essential prep for the beginning and end of the new year

https://medium.com/@amberthealchemist?source=post_page-----e55199ddf7b4-----------------------------------

Amber the Alchemist

https://zora.medium.com/how-to-ground-your-mind-body-spirit-and-emotions-e55199ddf7b4?source=post_page-----e55199ddf7b4-----------------------------------

Dec 17·8 min read

Some folks use notebooks to review the old year and plan for the new year. Do you? Image: Getty

You don’t need a crystal ball to tell you that the past two years have been a whirlwind, to say the least. No matter how hard some people have tried to separate themselves from the Collective, the pandemic — along with political…

https://pwross.medium.com/?source=post_page-----db40275a5418-----------------------------------

Pete Ross

https://index.medium.com/entry-level-jobs-are-everything-wrong-with-the-21st-century-db40275a5418?source=post_page-----db40275a5418-----------------------------------

Dec 13·4 min read

Photo: Adrian Sulyok/Unsplash

As a 41-year-old, I’ve seen the working world make a sizeable transition from when I was a kid to the point we’re at now. When I started working, it was all about “getting your foot in the door” with an entry-level job and working your way up. The pay wasn’t great (it wasn’t…

https://medium.com/@lindacastrilli?source=post_page-----942da44c924-----------------------------------

Linda Castrilli

https://index.medium.com/i-took-an-extended-break-from-the-rat-race-here-are-lessons-learned-that-i-never-want-to-lose-942da44c924?source=post_page-----942da44c924-----------------------------------

Dec 16·6 min read

Photo: GettyImages

In the spring of 2021, I left the corporate job I had been in for the prior seventeen years.

It was the first time since graduating college — and we’re talking early 1990s here — that I had been unemployed. Back then, OJ Simpson wasn’t yet on trial for murder and Prince…

https://scottcdunn.medium.com/?source=post_page-----85498e3e5b25-----------------------------------

ScottCDunn

https://medium.com/creators-hub/id-like-to-be-free-of-it-now-85498e3e5b25?source=post_page-----85498e3e5b25-----------------------------------

Dec 16·5 min read

Photo: Matthieu Spohn/Getty Images

Addictions are usually addictions to consumption. I’m no stranger to addiction. I’ve tried pot, booze, people, sex, food, caffeine, histrionics, TV, and news scrolling. I’ve tasted many things to alter my mood and every one of them came up empty. In the end, it’s still up to me to be happy. No matter how I try to alter my…

We did do a few small things. My main effort was to make a wreath; we didn’t have any pines at the old farmhouse property, so we wandered a nearby state forest to cut some inconspicuous branches. I tied them to a wreath form, wrapped it with a velvet bow, and put it on our front door. We didn’t do gifts for each other, and only bought a few for close family. We saw people separately, for short visits, a few days before Christmas. Christmas Day we spent alone. I was still reeling from my first miscarriage and we struggled to find something on television that wasn’t a celebration of kids or family. I think we gave up, and went to bed early.

This year I realize how much I missed all of it — even the things I used to gripe about, like waiting in line at a crowded co-op to buy apples or staying up until midnight to bake pies. We do things for holidays that take more effort and time than we’d normally consider reasonable — elaborate meals, decorations that get unpacked and hung for only a few weeks, gifts painstakingly wrapped and ribbon-ed. I’ve come to realize that we do it because we secretly love these things, but we need an excuse to do them. We need a holiday to inspire us to make the effort that special things require.

This year I am doing more. While there aren’t any big gatherings in our future, I’ve revived some of the old traditions. I bought and mailed cards — more than I’ve ever sent before. We got presents for each other. I ordered a gingerbread house kit in the mail. And, for the first time, we got a tree.

We’ve never had a tree before, not even a fake one. We tried once years ago with a little potted one, but our then-spry cats refused to leave it alone and we had to lock it away in a guest bedroom.

This year we walked across the brook and into a meadow with a hacksaw, and worked together to cut a fresh tree from our property. It’s a sizable pine — taller than me, and wide with dense branches. We dragged it back up through the big field and put it in the flatbed. “Do you think the animals will mess with it?” I said. “Maybe,” Cody said. “But let’s try anyway.”

So the tree sits in the living room now. Miraculously, the animals leave it alone. Our ornaments are still all in storage, but I did buy lights. I went traditional and got candy colored ones — like we had on the tree when I was a kid. The other night I walked Gracie down by the lake and looked up to see them glowing through our living room windows. It looked like any other year, at Christmas.

I dropped most of my cards in the mail last week, and a few more this week. Coming back from the mailbox the other day, I spied a large box at the end of the driveway. “Are you expecting anything?” I asked — we’re careful not to ruin the surprise of presents ordered by mail.

“My parents said they were sending something,” Cody said. “But it’s not a Christmas present. They said we should open it now.”

Inside were two boxes of dozens of Christmas ornaments, from their own collection. “They’re for our tree. So we can decorate it this year.”

So now our tree sits in the living room, glowing with its colorful fairy lights, flush with borrowed ornaments from so many past Christmases. I turn the lights on every day in the morning, and off at night. As I work at my desk throughout the day, I look over at it, this unmistakable symbol of winter, of Christmas, of the end of the year.

It was a special gift, made that way through thought, and care, and effort. Like all the best holiday traditions.

Story by Bella Coronado

Esperanza Coronado didn’t cook because she had to, or because it was a hobby; cooking was her love language, how she communicated joy.

On the rare occasion when my Abuela’s four sons, three daughter-in-laws and 12 grandchildren gathered together, we came around her food. She valued the way food brings people together, because it brought warmth that could be felt in every room; it was felt through conversations between family members around the table.

Her cooking left an impression. From birthdays to family gatherings, if anyone came through my Abuela’s front door, they would instantly know they were about to be fed well.

My Abuela was more than just the food she made, you could tell because she put her whole heart into making sure everyone enjoyed a good meal. It is one thing to make food, but cooking a meal to be shared between your family is a way of expressing love in the most sincere way.

Folded tamales rest on a plate before being cooked in a giant steaming pot. Photo by Sawyer Moss

Growing up, I remember the package of tamales that would magically appear on our doorstep during the holidays. Traveling 976 miles from Yucaipa, California, the tamales would last for months in our freezer. Their flavor was rich and spicy, wrapped up in chewy masa and corn husk envelopes.

My Abuelos immigrated to southern California in the 1960s. My Abuelo worked in the Coachella and San Joaquin Valley. He later became the foreman of two egg poultry farms. My Abuela often stayed home cooking and caring for their four sons and occasionally helping on the farm.

I grew up visiting my family in Yucaipa during summers and sometimes around the holidays. All of my fondest memories with my family involve food.

I have many memories of eating in my Abuela’s tiny kitchen, my Aubuelo somewhere out back tending to his goats, the black and white desert scenes of an old Western film playing on the TV.

When I was 15 she showed me how to make tamales.

My Abuela was known for her tamale recipe. My dad told me that it wasn’t Christmas unless she made them.

She would marinate the pork and chicken, patting together masa and assembling each individual tamale by hand. They would cook for hours, the smell of smoky peppers and sweet masa filling the entire house. The enduring process of watching them come together and steam in the big, metal pot was always worth the wait.

Tamale-making is an art. Originating back to 8,000 B.C., tamales have been an important part of Mexican culinary cuisine and national identity. Passed on from each generation, traditional Mexican recipes hold a beautiful meaning and connection to a vibrant culture.

Bella fills tamales in her kitchen in Bellingham, Wash. on October 24, 2021. Photo by Sawyer Moss

Traditional meals connect me to the culture that I have grown so distant from.

“Having those traditional kinds of meals plays an important role in our lives because it helps us remember the past,” my dad said as we reminisced about Abuela’s cooking and how much we miss her. “Those things that come and go, and meals, especially traditional meals, can help us remember those moments.”

There was always something cooking on the stove. You could peek around the kitchen counter and see Abuela’s petite figure, dark hair and delicate hands creating something that was bound to be delicious.

However, she never wrote any of her recipes down. The occasional scribble on the back of a receipt could be found around the house, but after her passing, no complete recipes were uncovered.

Meredith E. Abarca’s book, “Voices in the Kitchen,” mentions a cultural norm for Mexican women to not keep record of their recipes. She describes it as a sensory way of knowing the right taste and flavors of a recipe; a Sazón. Cooking without measurements or written instructions is common in a Mexican kitchen.

It could be because traditional recipes live through people. They are taught and remade year after year, generation after generation.

For me, remaking my Abuela’s tamale recipe is complex; all I know is based on foggy memories, taste and smell.

It is more than just adding the right ingredients.

I can try my best to replicate her food, but I would do anything to just enjoy the taste of a meal made by her again.

Bella’s tamale notes written out by memory. After talking to family members, she was able to piece together a recipe tasting close to her Abuela’s. Photo by Sawyer Moss

Traditional meals hold special meaning in my life, especially during the holidays. They hold even more meaning now that my grandparents have passed. Though they are gone, my Abuelos leave a beautiful legacy within their children and grandchildren. Not only is our existence in their favor, but the heart of our culture and family ties connect us to one another.

My last visit in July was a very different experience. There was no wafting smell of beans and rice as I walked through the door. There was no hum of the frying pan, no heat of the stove and no plate of food waiting for me on the table. Instead of waking up to a breakfast of huevos rancheros or chilaquiles, my dad and I stopped by the local Del Taco.

The memories outlive even the tastiest homemade tamale. Gathering around the table brings us together.

“It gives us a place to be a family,” my dad said. “That’s important not only to me but in our heritage as well.” He told me that in Mexican culture, food reflects the connection between people, especially between those who are family.

I remember arriving to Yucaipa late one night during the Holidays, my dad and I exhausted from travel. My Abuela stayed up for us. She answered the door and greeted us by saying, “Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?”

Essential prep for the beginning and end of the new year

https://medium.com/@amberthealchemist?source=post_page-----e55199ddf7b4-----------------------------------

Amber the Alchemist

https://zora.medium.com/how-to-ground-your-mind-body-spirit-and-emotions-e55199ddf7b4?source=post_page-----e55199ddf7b4-----------------------------------

6 days ago·8 min read

Some folks use notebooks to review the old year and plan for the new year. Do you? Image: Getty

You don’t need a crystal ball to tell you that the past two years have been a whirlwind, to say the least. No matter how hard some people have tried to separate themselves from the Collective, the pandemic — along with political…