How to cook when you have to: stay hungry, stay foolish.
The second project in TM CC manual is called "Organize your speech". This is not the project I am doing today. The name of today's project is "Organize the Mother of your speech" and the objectives are to build a platform that will let you deliver a number of speeches on a topic you are passionate about and the topic your audience can appreciate. The topic is "How to cook when you have to" and today I am going to define the problem that keeps bothering me for over 20 years.
Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, do you have to cook? I am not asking: "Can you cook"? I am not asking "Do you like cooking?" Do you have to cook? It's a simple yes or no question. And to help you answer this question I am going to give you two examples of two people who did not have to cook and two people who had to cook. That will help you assessing where you stand and at the end of my speech we will see if I found my audience.
First example. When I was 3 years old I did not have to cook. My parents were finishing college, and I would stay with my grandparents , who used to think I was the most interesting, important and handsome person on Earth. I did not have to cook. I did not have to watch my diet. I did not even need to entertain myself: my bubby, my grandmother was a full-blown entertainment center. Somehow she knew exactly what to make, how to make it and when. But it's not just that. The way she smiled - I was sure somebody loves me. The way she listened when I was talking. The way she used to sit me next to our Apple TV and say: "Stay hungry. Stay foolish" ... oh ... I'm sorry. It wasn't my bubby who said that. It was Steve Jobs. And he said it to a bunch of college kids at graduation. My bubby would never say such a mean thing. If you love someone you don't want them to stay hungry. If you respect someone you would never call them foolish. My bubby would call me 'sheiner punim' - shining face. She thought that I was smart and she would always meet me in the kitchen, and she would say: "eat something. what do you want? we have everything that you like". Unlike Steve Jobs, my bubby merited to live till ripe old age and now she's gone, but she still owns me. She owns me, just like some people own an Apple TV. She owns me because I owe her. She owns me because when I was 3 years old I did not have to cook.
Speaking of 'hungry and foolish', when I was 20 years old I did not have to cook. I did not have to do anything because I was the hungriest and smartest person on the face of the earth and I was living on the edge of perfection. Rules did not apply to me. Statistics had no meaning. I did not need food, money, career or a home. I don't even remember ever sleeping when I was 20. When I was 20 I dropped out of collage, defected the Israeli army and shaved my eyebrows as an act of artistic self-expression .( Speaking of hungry and foolish ) . When I was 20 i did not need to cook. I did not even need eyebrows.
But you can only live on the edge of perfection for so long. The edge of perfection is a very good place to be, and like with any good place, you need to take turns. Now it's my kids turn to live on the edge of perfection. And they have to eat. Every day. Now it's my wife's turn to live on the edge of perfection and she has to climb up the ladders of the big corporation. Every day. Also, while at 20 rules and statistics did not apply, at 40 I have to admit, some of them apply, a little. At least I have my eyebrows...
So now, I have to cook. Not because I can't afford take outs or restaurants. Not because there's a shortage of milk and cereal in the supermarket. I have to cook because of my bubby. Because I know what it means to be loved and respected. And if there would be one standard I would like to maintain for me and my family it's not the standard of organic food, healthy food, local food, gourmet food or exotic food. It's not about food. It's about feeling loved and respected. It's about someone telling you "eat something. what do you want? we have everything that you like"
Now, how about you? do you live on the edge of perfection? do statistics apply to you? Does someone take care of you Every Day? Or do you have to cook?
If you have to cook, please do me a special favor. Take a minute to write what hurts you the most in the kitchen. And I will try to address this the next time I speak about How to cook when you have to.
Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, do you have to cook? I am not asking: "Can you cook"? I am not asking "Do you like cooking?" Do you have to cook? It's a simple yes or no question. And to help you answer this question I am going to give you two examples of two people who did not have to cook and two people who had to cook. That will help you assessing where you stand and at the end of my speech we will see if I found my audience.
First example. When I was 3 years old I did not have to cook. My parents were finishing college, and I would stay with my grandparents , who used to think I was the most interesting, important and handsome person on Earth. I did not have to cook. I did not have to watch my diet. I did not even need to entertain myself: my bubby, my grandmother was a full-blown entertainment center. Somehow she knew exactly what to make, how to make it and when. But it's not just that. The way she smiled - I was sure somebody loves me. The way she listened when I was talking. The way she used to sit me next to our Apple TV and say: "Stay hungry. Stay foolish" ... oh ... I'm sorry. It wasn't my bubby who said that. It was Steve Jobs. And he said it to a bunch of college kids at graduation. My bubby would never say such a mean thing. If you love someone you don't want them to stay hungry. If you respect someone you would never call them foolish. My bubby would call me 'sheiner punim' - shining face. She thought that I was smart and she would always meet me in the kitchen, and she would say: "eat something. what do you want? we have everything that you like". Unlike Steve Jobs, my bubby merited to live till ripe old age and now she's gone, but she still owns me. She owns me, just like some people own an Apple TV. She owns me because I owe her. She owns me because when I was 3 years old I did not have to cook.
Speaking of 'hungry and foolish', when I was 20 years old I did not have to cook. I did not have to do anything because I was the hungriest and smartest person on the face of the earth and I was living on the edge of perfection. Rules did not apply to me. Statistics had no meaning. I did not need food, money, career or a home. I don't even remember ever sleeping when I was 20. When I was 20 I dropped out of collage, defected the Israeli army and shaved my eyebrows as an act of artistic self-expression .( Speaking of hungry and foolish ) . When I was 20 i did not need to cook. I did not even need eyebrows.
But you can only live on the edge of perfection for so long. The edge of perfection is a very good place to be, and like with any good place, you need to take turns. Now it's my kids turn to live on the edge of perfection. And they have to eat. Every day. Now it's my wife's turn to live on the edge of perfection and she has to climb up the ladders of the big corporation. Every day. Also, while at 20 rules and statistics did not apply, at 40 I have to admit, some of them apply, a little. At least I have my eyebrows...
So now, I have to cook. Not because I can't afford take outs or restaurants. Not because there's a shortage of milk and cereal in the supermarket. I have to cook because of my bubby. Because I know what it means to be loved and respected. And if there would be one standard I would like to maintain for me and my family it's not the standard of organic food, healthy food, local food, gourmet food or exotic food. It's not about food. It's about feeling loved and respected. It's about someone telling you "eat something. what do you want? we have everything that you like"
Now, how about you? do you live on the edge of perfection? do statistics apply to you? Does someone take care of you Every Day? Or do you have to cook?
If you have to cook, please do me a special favor. Take a minute to write what hurts you the most in the kitchen. And I will try to address this the next time I speak about How to cook when you have to.