Moving on from Cheese Ball

I used to make a locally renowned cheese ball at Christmastime. I would bring it to parties, and serve it Christmas Eve in my house with crackers of various kinds. Everyone looked forward to the cheese ball. One friend even begged me for the recipe and put one in each of her family members' stockings. I got the recipe from a friend of my mother's in the 1980's after I had tasted it at one of their arts council events and fallen in love with its creamy, tangy, walnut studded richness. Made with sharp cheddar, cream cheese, grated onion, garlic and mayonnaise, it was easy to put together with my stand mixer. It also kept well wrapped in the fridge, which was good because I always made a few. Christmas holiday lunches usually featured cheese ball and crackers in our house.

I realized that people had moved on from my cheese ball when I brought it to my friend Kim's annual season-opener Christmas party and nobody ate it. Amid the lighter fare of hummus, veggie trays, olives, and salmon, it lay untouched. That was a first. Then, three of my kids developed lactose intolerance in their teens and twenties. my cheese ball was permanently off the menu. 

How did I feel about this? The end of my cheese ball felt like the end of an era, to be honest. My kids were growing up and my world as I knew it was shifting, friend group-wise, focus-wise, and soon, location-wise when we moved to the nearby city. Yes, I was a bit wistful, but I moved on. You have to move on when every indication points in that direction, don't you? Holding on just leads to disappoinment and stagnation. I can't really stomach much super-rich food anymore anyway, and my cholesterol count insists upon it. I'm good with hummous and the like.

My cheese ball can actually serve as a metaphor for so many things in my life I have had to let go of, mainly ideas about myself and my role in my family, and in the world. My children are grown up and have independent lives of their own, but that's how it is meant to be. I could cry and lament, (and I did at first) but really, I've developed a love of my own company, and often my husband and I being 'just the two of us'. I still enjoy looking after my kids in my own way, but I try to just let them carry on with their lives, with little darts of love from me via text, birthday gifts, phone calls, and occasional visits. They know I'm here if they need me. I've also had to accept the fact that I am a creative person who lives by a slower-paced timeline that works for me. I used to try to wedge myself into roles I thought other people would accept and respect. That just made me kind of ill in the end. 

If you'll be so good as to indulge me, my cheeseball metaphor can even be extended to the wider world. There are so many things we humans hold on to tightly, even when circumstances demand change. I look around and see devastation from climate change, food insecurity, the toxic drug crisis, homelessness, and too much money in the hands of too few. We're going to have to let go of so many of our pre-conceived notions of personal comfort and wealth if anything is really going to change in our society. We have lived very comfortably in the Western world for many decades. We have come to expect that we can guzzle this planet's resources like Gatorade after a hot, sweaty run. Our governments are supposed to work for the people, not their own agendas. Yes, we need economic stability, but if it's at the expense of our environment and the poorest and most marginalized among us, we're bonkers to accept that. 

It's time to accept and push for the changes that are necessary to move on with sustainability and our health in mind. To go from a 'cheese ball' mentality to a 'hummus' mentality, if you will. I have every faith in our ability to adapt. We are very good at that when tested. 

'til next time, 

Rebecca