Coffee Grinds Everywhere

While living in Ireland in 1998, Catherine was surprised to find herself one summer working as a waitress in a little café in the popular destination town of Kinvara. Nestled in a crook of Galway Bay in the West of Ireland, Kinvara is a place of megalithic tombs, holy wells, a 14th century castle, ancient cairns, Irish music, and weekly set-dancing. Out of her experience, Catherine wrote the book “God is in Rosaleen’s Restaurant.” This blog comes from her book.

3

Artwork by Roseleen Tanham, http://kava.ie/rosaleen-tanham/

“How do you like your steak?” I’d ask.

As a vegetarian for more than twenty years, I found this question ludicrous. I like my steak on the cow where it belongs. Most people like theirs well-done.

Every job always has something that’s hard to swallow.

Jennys spiral

Back home in the US waitresses fear chefs. There is a tension between them that literally can become palatable. I remember a friend telling me how she dreaded returning anything to the kitchen, especially after the chef threw a potato at her.

At Rosaleen’s Restaurant, however, comradeship existed between us. Any tensions disappeared as we focused together in the preparation of steak, lamb, fish, and vegetable. At times, three of us fluttered around a single serving: the chef, pouring sauce and garnishing the plate, her assistant placing doilies on dishes and slicing bread, and me waiting to whisk the plate to the customer so to deliver the meal hot.

This shared longing to serve our best was perhaps what the customer tasted most.

Tea cup

“How do you like to polish your silver?” Mona, the dishwasher, asked me one night. “Do you like the silver wet or dry?”

I laughed out loud. I had no idea! I had never polished silver in my life. Never in my life thought about polishing silver. Never planned, aspired, or longed to polish silver. Yet, polishing silver was part of my job and I was supposed to know how to do it.

How often life turns us around and expects us to know how to do something. How to watch a child die, how to care for an elderly parent, how to fight cancer.

“I suppose I like my silver wet,” I said.

Cup

At the end of the night the toilets were swept, mirrors wiped, and trash bins emptied. The ladies’ and gents’ toilets look exactly alike, but I prickled all over while standing inside the gents’. Ready to bolt, I couldn’t wait to finish with the chore. Years of conditioning, years of identifying with one gender and separating from the other, screamed inside me with just one simple act.

Jennys spiral

One night I noticed fingerprints on the glass case that holds deserts: Banoffi pie, apple crumble, profiteroles with butterscotch sauce, Bailey’s cheesecake. I remembered two customers peering in, sampling with their mind’s eye, leaning into the case as if to swallow all the deserts whole.

I quickly wiped the fingerprints away, but my haste only smeared the glass with an uglier film. How often we think we’re cleaning something up, only to make it more of a mess.

Tea cup

Five days before I started to work at Rosaleen’s Restaurant, I had a dream. So many customers entered the restaurant that I couldn’t serve them fast enough. They were helping themselves, making their own cappuccinos and lattes, leaving coffee grinds everywhere, moving the counter askew, spilling foamed milk. Then an overweight lady entered. She sat on a chair and it broke beneath her. Splayed wood and rolled flesh lay in a heap on the floor.

Our fears are always more frightening than our reality.

Cup

“Thank you, that’s lovely,” the woman said when I handed back her five-pence change. The Irish often say money is lovely. Not in general conversation, but when it is exchanged. This always struck me as odd. Flowers, children, and kittens are lovely, not twenty euro notes or VISA cards.

But perhaps it’s really the exchange that they find lovely. Perhaps it’s the support for one another’s services and talents and the acknowledgement of our interdependence that is so lovely.

Jennys spiral

Catherine Makes Gnocchi

Catherine still finds herself in the kitchen 20 years later, only in Italy making gnocchi along with the village women.

Free and Wild Creatures Abound

Readers of A Free and Wild Creature have been sending me photos of themselves with my book. You too can become an Official Free and Wild Creature! It’s very easy, just send me a photo of yourself with the book or post your Official Free and Wild Creature photo to the Love And Will Facebook page. Here’s a few to inspire you…

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Thank you everyone!

Under the Napkin Tent

While living in Ireland in 1998, Catherine was surprised to find herself one summer working as a waitress in a little café in the popular destination town of Kinvara. Nestled in a crook of Galway Bay in the West of Ireland, Kinvara is a place of megalithic tombs, holy wells, a 14th century castle, ancient cairns, Irish music, and weekly set-dancing. Out of her experience, Catherine wrote the book “God is in Rosaleen’s Restaurant.” This blog comes from her book.

12

Artwork by Roseleen Tanham, http://kava.ie/rosaleen-tanham/

I found it curious who ate what and how much. The Burren lamb bones gnawed clean of meat. The barbecued chicken wings, once garnished on a bed of lettuce, reduced to tiny sticks. Baked cod picked apart and left under a napkin tent.

Was it the food, its taste and appearance, that mattered or the hunger, its degree and duration? Was it the conversation shared or the person listening? When we are given the food of life, what and how much do we eat?

Jennys spiral

Continue reading

Where lemons are sliced thin…

While living in Ireland in 1998, Catherine was surprised to find herself one summer working as a waitress in a little café in the popular destination town of Kinvara. Nestled in a crook of Galway Bay in the West of Ireland, Kinvara is a place of megalithic tombs, holy wells, a 14th century castle, ancient cairns, Irish music, and weekly set-dancing. Out of her experience, Catherine wrote the book “God is in Rosaleen’s Restaurant.” This blog comes from her book.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Artwork by Roseleen Tanham, owner of Roseleen’s Restaurant (http://kava.ie/rosaleen-tanham/)

I realised the first day that my challenge was to stay centered. During the five-hour shift I found myself scattered between Table 3 wanting more bread; the blinds needing to be pulled; the empty roll of toilet paper in the ladies’ room; Table 6’s demand for a receipt; and the three hungry people who just walked through the door.

Where was I? How quickly I no longer existed, no longer felt my own thirst and tired feet.

Jennys spiral Continue reading

God likes small places…

Line Drawing of Restaurant by Jenny Beale

Roseleen’s Restaurant’s entrance, by Jenny Beale

Twenty years ago I published God is in Roseleen’s Restaurant, a small book of reflective meditations about my time working as a waitress in Ireland. Can two decades go by just like that? Twenty years ago I was 44 years old, living in a round wooden house in Kinvara, a small village on the West Coast of Ireland. I had just met and fallen in love with my Dutch husband. We would marry in May the next year and have our wedding feast at Roseleen’s.

When I got the job as a waitress, I was an unemployed technical writer with little knowledge of either psychosynthesis or Assagioli. But (as always) I was searching… Continue reading

Imagine All the Healing

Finally I was able to let go of fear and found courage and trust. Marije Smits

“Finally I was able to let go of fear and found courage and trust.” (Marije Smits)

When Susan arrived for her first counseling session, I was struck by her almost fairy-like beauty. With dark hair, creamy fair skin, and crystal green eyes, she reminded me of Snow White. At the time of our meeting, Susan was a 28-year-old PhD student studying philosophy and ethics. Not long before, she had discovered a mole while taking a shower. Susan had been going to tanning salons since she was 20. By the time she was 23, she was addicted to looking and feeling “sun-kissed”. By then she was working at the tanning salon to help pay for her own treatments. For nearly two years, she was tanning every other day.

The mole turned out to be diagnosed as malignant melanoma, the deadliest form of skin cancer. “I didn’t even know what ‘melanoma’ meant,” she admitted to me. “When I found out the results, I was all alone at home and started to panic. I thought I was going to die.”

Continue reading

Two Newspapers to China

tiananmen_1989_pays_reutersIn 1989, ten days before the Tiananmen Square massacre, my friend Julie and I sat in the China Travel Services office in Hong Kong and debated whether we should travel to Beijing. The U.S. embassy was warning that our safety could not be guaranteed. Should we go anyway? Grappling with our indecision, Julie asked the stone-faced woman behind the counter, “Is it safe?”

The woman stared hard at us and then looked away. “It is China.”

Continue reading