WEBVTT
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Get more Nothing Much Happens with bonus episodes, extra long stories,
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and ad-free listening, all while supporting the show you love.
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Subscribe now. Do you ever notice how most health advice
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tells you what to do, but not how to actually
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feel better in your body? The Align podcast with Erin
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Alexander is all about reconnecting with how your body is
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meant to move, breathe, and function. Drawing from two decades
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of experience working with top performers, athletes, and CEOs, Erin
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breaks down simple principles of posture, breath, and movement that
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help you feel stronger, calmer, and more aligned in everyday life.
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Listen to the Align podcast wherever you get your podcasts.
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Health and wellness is louder and more confusing than ever.
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Everywhere you turn, someone is selling certainty. One expert says,
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Carbs are the enemy, another says they're essential for your
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brain and hormones. One voice swears cold plunges will transform
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your health, and another warns they'll wreck your nervous system.
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One supplement is called life-changing, the next day someone says
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it could make you sick. It's overwhelming, and that's exactly
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why Heal Thyself exists. Hosted by Dr. Christian Gonzalez, Heal
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Thyself cuts through the noise, slows everything down, and offers
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clarity in a space flooded with contradictions. This is not
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a trend-based wellness or recycled talking points podcast. It's grounded,
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direct truth that blends real science with spiritual and emotional intelligence.
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Each episode features conversations with doctors, scientists, shamans, healers, and
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thought leaders across many disciplines, all with one goal, helping
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you understand what is actually true for you. Instead of
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obsessing over one piece of health and ignoring the rest,
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Heal Thyself takes an integrated approach connecting the body, mind,
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nervous system, trauma, energy, and consciousness. Listen to Heal Thyself
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with Dr. G wherever you get your podcasts. If you're
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looking for something a little more lively and outspoken, Took's
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Takes might be right up your alley. LaKendra Tukes shares bold,
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unfiltered takes on reality TV and real life with a
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mix of humor and honesty that's really engaging. Find Tukes
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Takes wherever you listen. Before we begin today's episode, I
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want you to know that I'm sharing something different with
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you tonight, and this isn't a sleep story. So it
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may not be the best choice if you are just
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settling in for bed. If you're ready to drift off,
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I'd recommend choosing another episode. There are over 400. And
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saving this one for a walk or a drive or
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a quiet afternoon. Because what you're about to hear is
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a chapter from my new audiobook, On the Street Where
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You Live, which comes out on July 28th. It's set
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in the village of Nothing Much. And you'll hear from
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some familiar friends, including the innkeeper and chef, the original
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baker and the bookstore keeper, and even Alphabet the dog.
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It's a story about a neighborhood and the people who
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call it home, where ordinary moments reveal the ways we're
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connected to one another. If you've ever found yourself slowing
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down to notice a porch light coming on at dusk,
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a neighbor tending to a garden, or the comfort of
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a familiar street, I think you'll feel right at home here.
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I'm especially excited because this story is brought to life
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by an incredible cast of voices, which I am just
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one among them. I can't wait for you to hear
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the whole neighborhood tell their stories. I hope you enjoy
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this excerpt from On the Street Where You Live. Introduction
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Welcome to the village of nothing much. The mist is
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still thick on the lake beside the inn as a
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screen door creaks open and an early riser carries a
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cup of coffee down to a bench by the water.
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Lights glow through windows on the second floor and the
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tables on the back porch are being laid with mugs
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and mismatched silverware for breakfast. Down the gravel drive and
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out onto the county road Cars wait as the school
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bus turns onto a side street, a test drive for
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the first day of school, just a few days off.
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Closer to town, the farmer's market stalls are being loaded
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with the last tomatoes and the first apples of the season.
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Pots of chrysanthemums, their blooms still closed up and their
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colors a mystery, are handed down from a truck bed
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and lined up along the booths. A whistle blows as
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a train rolls along the tracks on the edge of downtown.
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The oak tree on the corner is dropping acorns, and
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a squirrel runs through the branches and leaps onto the
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roof of the bicycle shop. Across the street, the florist's
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window is full of vases of peonies and pale pink
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roses and fresh green stalks of eucalyptus. At the next corner,
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the open sign is still swinging in the window of
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the bookshop, and a couple carts of paperbacks sit on
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the sidewalk, two for five dollars, while supplies last. Inside
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the register rings when its drawer, checked and restocked with change,
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is pushed into place. The morning air is fresh and cool,
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and at the record shop the door is propped open
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to let it in, and the sound of a lilting
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voice and guitar coming from the turntable spills out. The
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blue construction paper waves and yellow sunbeams that have decorated
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the front window of the stationery store are coming down,
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landing in a pile at the foot of a ladder
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open on the old wood floor. Beside them, freshly cut
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and ready for their turn, is a stack of oversized
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red maple leaves and orange pumpkins with curly green stems.
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The next block is the busiest in the village, with
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the cafe on one corner and the bakery on the opposite.
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The cafe does a brisk business, and the outdoor tables
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are mostly taken up with folks tucking into breakfast. and
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sipping from cups of coffee and tea. Steam rises from
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stacks of pancakes and plates of hash browns. The air
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smells savory and sweet. Friends talk and laugh as they eat,
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and at a table for one, a newspaper is shaken
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out and turned to the crossword puzzle. The bell over
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the door at the bakery rings again and again as
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customers pile in, hungry and eager to and step out
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a minute later with white paper sacks in hand and
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relieved smiles from ear to ear. Here the yeasty warm
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scent of bread and rolls and the sweet aroma of
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donuts and pastries are as thick as that mist on
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the lake. The window is smudged a bit on the outside,
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where villagers of all ages have pressed their fingers against
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the glass, leaning in to spy the pies and frosted
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cakes set out in the display. Farther down the street,
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at the entrance to the park, the news kiosk is
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opening up. The man who runs it pushes the counter
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window up and fiddles with the hook till it slips
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into the eye bolt and the eaves. He fans out
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stacks of magazines and newspapers, waiting them down with a
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few old cobblestones that came out of the road when
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it was repaved. Inside the park, joggers' feet crunch on
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the gravel and a few ducks doze beside the pond.
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A boy tries to tie his shoelace while his dog
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strains toward the ducks. her tail thumping against his shoulder. Finally,
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he gets her to sit, and finished with the knot,
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he tugs her off down another path. They race together
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through an open stretch of grass, which is starting to
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lose its deep green color as the summer comes to
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an end. On the sidewalk, at the far end of
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the park, a mail carrier stops to sort through her bag.
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In one arm, she stacks bills and mailers in the
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order of the houses on the next block. A hand-addressed
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envelope catches her eye, and she wonders what news it holds.
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Just behind her sits the library, already open and busy.
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The small meeting room has a reserve sign stuck on
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its door, as it does every Friday morning for the
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Murder Mystery Book Club's weekly discussion. A librarian finds a
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favorite book from childhood in a stack to re-shelve and
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remembers the feel of her bedroom rug underneath her while
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she reads it. At the next intersection, a woman pulls
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a piece of tape from a roll and attaches a
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flyer for the block party to a telephone pole. She
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gets distracted by the sheer number of nails and rusted
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staples that are already stuck into the wood. How many
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garage sales and found cats and guitar lessons have been
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announced on this little corner, she wonders. This small grid
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of streets, this neighborhood, is the center of our story.
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It's just a handful of roads crossing over each other
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as they go east toward the river and stop where
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the railroad tracks mark the outskirts of town. There are
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big houses and small ones, some very old and some newer,
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On the sidewalk, old tree roots have pushed up and
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buckled patches of concrete. In fact, the story begins right
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at this corner, just north of the park and beside
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the library, in the Victorian house with the stained glass.
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It's been painted and and repainted a dozen different ways
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over the century and a half since it was built.
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And it is probably due for another fresh coat. For now,
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it's a faded pink, with reddish tiles on the roof,
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and pale blue shutters and moldings. It sits turned in
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its seat, taking advantage of the corner lot, its front
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door lined up exactly with the junction of the streets.
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The yard is bounded by a low wrought iron fence
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that comes together at the corner in a latched gate.
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It's an excellent place to linger, that gate, and many do.
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They admire the neatly trimmed boxwoods and hydrangea shrubs, thick
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with pink and white blossoms. But it's not the flowers
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that stop so many in their tracks here. It's the scent.
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If the windows are open, and they are today, A
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delicious smell wafts through from the kitchen, tucked all the
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way in the back of the house. The smell is
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carried out by some miracle of architecture or northwesterly breezes
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and reminds passersby that this is the house of the baker.
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Part One Friday.
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Chapter One Cardamom and Sesame The Baker the man who
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lives in the house is still called the baker. For
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years it was his face you saw, sometimes dusted by
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a bit of flour, behind the counter of the bakery
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in downtown. He was the one who taught folks here
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to love dark ryes and pumpernickels with a small-town fervor
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that made him famous. His dinner rolls were on every
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Thanksgiving table, his hummingbird cakes everywhere, Featured at each birthday dinner.
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Everyone came in for his peach pies in late summer
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and stocked up on cinnamon rolls to get through New
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Year's Day. He was retired now, having sold the shop
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to a woman who'd been working for him and learning
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his secrets for years. She'd kept all the standbys, but
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bit by bit had been slipping in new flavors and
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new textures. Beside the classic pies and loaves were mille-fouilles
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dotted with bright, tart passion fruit seeds, strawberry meringues, and
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churros dipped in chocolate and rolled in crushed pistachios. Still,
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he was their baker. It was an honorific he'd earned,
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like doctor or professor, and after all, he was still baking.
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This morning he'd gotten up early, never having quite left
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behind the habit of those baker's hours. He stood at
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the window in his bedroom and drew back the thick curtain.
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The sky was just turning the lightest shade of pink
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on the horizon. Its light filled in the gaps among
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the trunks and branches, and while he watched, he could
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see it shifting, rising, so that after just a few minutes...
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he could make out the familiar grove of trees that
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separated his yard from the park. He liked to take
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this time, after years of rushing off to the bakery
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in the dark, to just stand and with no haste
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whatsoever watch the day begin. And once it had, well then,
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time for coffee. Even though it was late summer, his
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old house, shaded by all those tall trees, stayed cool
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most days. He felt the chill of the floorboards and
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stepped into his slippers, added a threadbare sweater to his pajamas,
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and headed down the broad staircase. It creaked in all
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the familiar ways that it had for decades, and he
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smiled at the sounds. When houses get old enough, they
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begin to have conversations with their occupants. Bumps in the attic,
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flickering lights, and squeaking hinges. It depends on the house,
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but this one always seemed friendly. Even when a door
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slammed on a breezy day, it felt like a gentle
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chiding from an auntie, a reminder to be careful with
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the house, and the house would be careful with him. So,
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he was careful. He paid attention when he hung a
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painting over the fireplace in the big front room that
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his nail was centered and the frame not too heavy.
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He paid attention when he wrapped Christmas lights around the
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spindles on the front porch in early December so that
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they didn't pull too tight against the thin rods or
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scratch their paint. And he paid attention in the mornings,
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like this one, when he slid the chain from the
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front door. Its old knob original to the house, could stick,
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usually just in cold weather but sometimes simply because it
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wanted to. So he turned it slowly until he felt
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the mechanism twisting smoothly and drew it open to the
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morning light. The paper was waiting, twisted in its bound spiral,
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where it had landed halfway up the walk after being
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lobbed over the gate by the sleepy-eyed paper girl sometime
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around dawn. the baker stooped to pick it up. As
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he rose and slipped it under one arm, he was
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struck by the smell of the late summer air. It
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was still thick with the scent of gardens, vegetables, and flowers.
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It smelled of damp soil and green things and sun-warmed wood,
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but all through the filter of a coming autumn chill.
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In another week or so, the balance would shift and
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the sense of spice and cool air and autumn would
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be filling his nose. Walking back up the front steps,
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00:16:45.159 --> 00:16:48.169
he thought of the flavors that shifted in line with
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the scents as the seasons changed. In the spring, he'd
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00:16:53.429 --> 00:16:58.299
made rhubarb crumble and strawberry jam donuts. In the full
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00:16:58.539 --> 00:17:02.659
flush of summer, He'd made chewy focaccias with olive oil
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00:17:02.799 --> 00:17:06.869
and flakes of sea salt, crackers flavored with thyme and
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00:17:06.970 --> 00:17:12.990
rosemary from the garden. Then there were fruit pies, blueberry, peach,
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00:17:13.450 --> 00:17:18.059
and cherry. With carrots from the farmer's market, he'd made
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00:17:18.119 --> 00:17:22.599
a carrot cake for a weekend barbecue. And lately, he'd
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00:17:22.619 --> 00:17:25.720
been making simple loaves of white and wheat bread for
250
00:17:25.779 --> 00:17:30.490
tomato sandwiches. he carried his paper through the long hall,
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00:17:30.950 --> 00:17:34.599
past the front room, the dining room, and library, with
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00:17:34.650 --> 00:17:39.039
its shelves mostly full of cookbooks, and all the way
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00:17:39.119 --> 00:17:42.059
to the back of the house, to his favorite place,
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00:17:42.880 --> 00:17:47.380
his kitchen. When he was still working, he would wait
255
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until he got into the bakery to have his coffee.
256
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He'd brew a pot and sip Cup after cup and
257
00:17:54.670 --> 00:17:58.069
the quiet hours before the open sign was flipped over
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00:17:58.190 --> 00:18:02.430
in the window. One day, after he sold the bakery,
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00:18:03.210 --> 00:18:06.700
he'd been poking through cupboards at home when he'd found
260
00:18:06.799 --> 00:18:11.259
an old stovetop percolator that probably hadn't been used since
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00:18:11.339 --> 00:18:16.720
the 70s. He'd nearly tossed it out, but something about
262
00:18:16.819 --> 00:18:21.099
being newly retired had made him think about second chances.
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00:18:22.410 --> 00:18:26.710
He polished up its stainless steel surface and even used
264
00:18:26.769 --> 00:18:30.109
a bit of mineral oil on the walnut handle, and
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00:18:30.150 --> 00:18:36.450
he realized it was actually quite beautiful. Someone somewhere had
266
00:18:36.549 --> 00:18:41.319
spent time designing this object, and it was handsome and
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00:18:41.519 --> 00:18:47.720
functional and made fantastic coffee. It soon became an integral
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00:18:47.779 --> 00:18:51.940
part of his morning. He set his paper on the table,
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00:18:52.480 --> 00:18:55.920
and stepped up to the sink to begin preparing his coffee.
270
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He filled the pot's reservoir with cold water from the tap,
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00:19:01.309 --> 00:19:06.349
settled its basket into place, and spooned in fresh grounds.
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00:19:07.789 --> 00:19:11.329
Lowering the lid, he set the percolator on the smallest
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00:19:11.410 --> 00:19:15.569
burner on the stove and turned the gas flame to medium.
274
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This kind of coffee making had to be watched over.
275
00:19:21.039 --> 00:19:24.960
You didn't set it and go. You waited until the
276
00:19:25.059 --> 00:19:28.079
water just started to bubble in the globe on the lid.
277
00:19:28.839 --> 00:19:31.990
And when it did, you turned the flame to low
278
00:19:32.210 --> 00:19:35.250
and let it brew for as many as ten minutes,
279
00:19:35.950 --> 00:19:39.710
never allowing the pot to boil, otherwise the coffee would
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00:19:39.730 --> 00:19:46.180
be bitter. He understood about things taking time. Of course
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00:19:46.200 --> 00:19:50.750
he did. He was a baker. He'd waited and watched
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00:19:51.259 --> 00:19:55.539
as thousands of loaves rose the right shade of golden brown.
283
00:19:56.539 --> 00:20:00.880
So he stood sentry at the stove and listened to
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00:20:00.900 --> 00:20:04.259
the coffee perk. He looked out through the bank of
285
00:20:04.359 --> 00:20:08.019
windows and saw that a slight breeze was moving through
286
00:20:08.039 --> 00:20:12.430
the yard. He watched the begonias sway in their pots,
287
00:20:12.910 --> 00:20:18.769
petals rippling like slow-moving water, leaves shifting, not enough to
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00:20:18.869 --> 00:20:23.390
flip and show their silver undersides. That usually meant rain
289
00:20:23.430 --> 00:20:27.890
was coming, but this was just enough to stir things up.
290
00:20:29.190 --> 00:20:32.720
When the coffee was ready, he pulled his favorite mug
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00:20:32.819 --> 00:20:35.599
down from the shelf and filled it to the brim.
292
00:20:36.440 --> 00:20:39.470
He lifted the cup to his nose and took long
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00:20:39.589 --> 00:20:44.279
inhalation of one of the very best scents in the world.
294
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The baker stood with his eyes closed, the steam rising
295
00:20:49.859 --> 00:20:54.039
against his face. He remembered being a child with his
296
00:20:54.140 --> 00:20:57.329
nose stuck in the coffee can. His mother had sent
297
00:20:57.390 --> 00:21:00.089
him into the pantry for a fresh can one morning,
298
00:21:00.809 --> 00:21:03.250
and when he hooked his finger into the tab and
299
00:21:03.369 --> 00:21:08.319
peeled the lid back, he couldn't believe how good it smelled.
300
00:21:09.220 --> 00:21:13.740
He stood taking in breath after breath until his mother
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00:21:13.799 --> 00:21:18.140
came looking for him. She laughed as she confiscated the
302
00:21:18.180 --> 00:21:21.640
grounds for the drip pot she had ready. All these
303
00:21:21.720 --> 00:21:26.460
years later, whenever he smelled fresh coffee, he went back
304
00:21:26.539 --> 00:21:30.740
to that moment, to the wonder he felt at smelling
305
00:21:30.880 --> 00:21:36.150
something so good for the first time. He carried his
306
00:21:36.230 --> 00:21:40.180
coffee around to the table and opened the newspaper. flattening
307
00:21:40.240 --> 00:21:44.170
it at the crease, but he didn't read. He was
308
00:21:44.230 --> 00:21:47.549
still thinking about the best scents in the world, about
309
00:21:47.569 --> 00:21:50.630
the breeze in the yard, and about his summer bakes
310
00:21:50.690 --> 00:21:55.250
with bright fruits and green herbs. He thought about what
311
00:21:55.509 --> 00:22:00.609
went with coffee, what smelled almost as good as fresh
312
00:22:00.710 --> 00:22:04.670
ground beans, and the flavors he liked best in the fall.
313
00:22:05.869 --> 00:22:08.880
He took a slow drink from the cup, and it
314
00:22:09.119 --> 00:22:12.240
all came together in his head like puzzle pieces locking
315
00:22:12.359 --> 00:22:19.339
into place. Cardamom buns. He often saved cardamom for cold weather,
316
00:22:19.900 --> 00:22:23.519
since it went so well with allspice and nutmeg that
317
00:22:23.559 --> 00:22:26.480
it found its way into lots of treats for the
318
00:22:26.549 --> 00:22:32.549
winter holidays. Now, not having tasted it in so many months,
319
00:22:33.390 --> 00:22:37.200
he had a sudden craving for it. He set down
320
00:22:37.259 --> 00:22:40.200
his mug and went straight to the spice cupboard to
321
00:22:40.309 --> 00:22:43.809
pull out the small glass jar filled with cardamom pods.
322
00:22:45.130 --> 00:22:48.509
He tipped a handful into his palm and poked around
323
00:22:48.769 --> 00:22:53.309
to inspect them. They were bright green, and they reminded
324
00:22:53.369 --> 00:22:57.539
him of pumpkin seeds reimagined as badly inflated parade balloons.
325
00:22:58.640 --> 00:23:01.259
He carried them over to the table and took another
326
00:23:01.299 --> 00:23:05.730
drink of his coffee. He remembered his mother scattering the
327
00:23:05.789 --> 00:23:09.569
pods between clean dish towels and running her hands over
328
00:23:09.589 --> 00:23:13.190
the cloth with the same movement he used to roll
329
00:23:13.250 --> 00:23:18.430
his Play-Doh out into thin ropes. The papery skins of
330
00:23:18.470 --> 00:23:21.990
the pods would crack open under her hands and the
331
00:23:22.069 --> 00:23:26.450
tiny gray-black seeds would tumble out. When he was very
332
00:23:26.519 --> 00:23:30.380
young and couldn't sleep, she would steep the cardamom seeds
333
00:23:30.440 --> 00:23:33.240
in milk with honey and cinnamon and and they would
334
00:23:33.279 --> 00:23:36.680
carry their cups to the window seat on the upstairs landing.
335
00:23:37.779 --> 00:23:41.160
He'd climb into her lap and lie back against her,
336
00:23:41.940 --> 00:23:44.400
and they'd look out the window and sip their drinks
337
00:23:44.819 --> 00:23:49.529
quietly together. When his cup was empty, she'd take it
338
00:23:49.589 --> 00:23:52.470
from his sleepy hand and set it on the sill
339
00:23:53.069 --> 00:23:57.049
and let him fall asleep against her chest. Later, he'd
340
00:23:57.089 --> 00:24:01.960
wake up tucked into his own bed, dreams of sailing
341
00:24:02.039 --> 00:24:08.279
on sweet, milky seas fading from his mind. So many
342
00:24:08.339 --> 00:24:13.480
memories of food, of drink, of cooking and baking, of
343
00:24:13.559 --> 00:24:17.619
how things smelled or tasted or grew in the garden,
344
00:24:18.279 --> 00:24:21.059
and they were all woven into the sweetness of his
345
00:24:21.220 --> 00:24:25.920
mother and her hands kneading dough, stirring a simmering pot,
346
00:24:26.599 --> 00:24:31.059
or pulling carrots from the vegetable patch. He looked at
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00:24:31.140 --> 00:24:34.880
his own hands, the dozen pods and their papery skin,
348
00:24:35.859 --> 00:24:37.900
and he went to get a couple of clean dish
349
00:24:37.940 --> 00:24:42.890
towels from the drawer to begin. The kitchen was flooded
350
00:24:42.970 --> 00:24:46.769
with daylight now, and even the sleepiest birds were up
351
00:24:47.009 --> 00:24:50.390
and singing. The baker opened the windows and let the
352
00:24:50.509 --> 00:24:54.289
fresh air in. He poured another cup of coffee from
353
00:24:54.349 --> 00:24:59.529
the pot, and began to assemble ingredients and tools. He
354
00:24:59.589 --> 00:25:03.430
liked this part, laying out the measuring cups and his scale,
355
00:25:04.099 --> 00:25:07.650
pulling down the mixing bowls and setting his giant canister
356
00:25:07.710 --> 00:25:11.200
of flour on the bench. He liked the part where
357
00:25:11.220 --> 00:25:14.660
he got his hands into the dough, too. But there
358
00:25:14.700 --> 00:25:19.640
was something about the preparation, the neat order of the kitchen,
359
00:25:20.420 --> 00:25:24.339
thinking through the steps, when he'd need to heat the oven...
360
00:25:25.079 --> 00:25:27.599
how long the buns would prove, and when to grind
361
00:25:27.640 --> 00:25:31.869
the spices. That had always made his mind feel orderly
362
00:25:32.380 --> 00:25:36.930
and the undertaking satisfying. He woke the yeast and watched
363
00:25:37.009 --> 00:25:41.210
it foam in its warm bath. He'd always wondered about
364
00:25:41.269 --> 00:25:45.809
the first baker to figure out yeast. Who found it?
365
00:25:46.630 --> 00:25:49.500
What was it like to discover how to use it
366
00:25:50.079 --> 00:25:53.559
and to produce a light, airy bread for the very
367
00:25:53.700 --> 00:25:58.309
first time? he thought that for all our modern genius,
368
00:25:59.069 --> 00:26:02.490
there was likely ten times as much lost wisdom from
369
00:26:02.589 --> 00:26:07.519
our enterprising ancestors. Wouldn't it be incredible if he could
370
00:26:07.579 --> 00:26:11.720
spend a year as a time-traveling apprentice to learn the
371
00:26:11.880 --> 00:26:16.119
secrets of the bread bakers in Pompeii, the sweet-steamed bun
372
00:26:16.160 --> 00:26:21.660
makers in northern China, the Ethiopian fermenters making teff into injera,
373
00:26:22.440 --> 00:26:28.759
And on and on his daydreaming mind went. Tortillas, fry bread,
374
00:26:29.440 --> 00:26:33.569
babkas and punchkis, and, he thought, as he came back
375
00:26:33.630 --> 00:26:39.829
from all that dreaming, Swedish cardamom buns. This was why
376
00:26:39.890 --> 00:26:44.549
his library shelves were crammed with so many books. Why
377
00:26:44.609 --> 00:26:49.470
he still baked most days. There was still so much
378
00:26:49.589 --> 00:26:54.849
to learn. He began to work the dough, mixing together
379
00:26:54.869 --> 00:26:58.130
the dry parts with the wet along with the living yeast,
380
00:26:58.789 --> 00:27:02.279
and laid it all out to rise. He made a
381
00:27:02.339 --> 00:27:05.539
sort of paste with the ground cardamom and sugar and
382
00:27:05.640 --> 00:27:10.400
set it aside. His stomach was growling now, and he
383
00:27:10.460 --> 00:27:12.900
had a bit of time to wait before he could
384
00:27:12.980 --> 00:27:16.599
proceed with the next step. So he opened his bread
385
00:27:16.640 --> 00:27:20.289
box to see what he might find. There were bagels
386
00:27:20.349 --> 00:27:22.859
made the day before that were a bit hard now,
387
00:27:23.559 --> 00:27:26.500
a half loaf of wheat bread topped with sesame seeds,
388
00:27:27.259 --> 00:27:29.500
and a couple of pita breads he'd made to go
389
00:27:29.539 --> 00:27:32.559
with last night's dinner. He reached in for them and
390
00:27:32.700 --> 00:27:38.210
happily found that they were still soft. From the fridge
391
00:27:38.309 --> 00:27:41.130
he took a plate of lemony hummus, and in the
392
00:27:41.210 --> 00:27:43.950
bowl on the counter he found a ripe tomato and
393
00:27:43.990 --> 00:27:47.990
a cucumber. He carried the kitchen scissors through the back hall,
394
00:27:48.599 --> 00:27:51.579
where jackets hung on hooks and muddy garden boots poked
395
00:27:51.660 --> 00:27:54.799
out from under a bench, and out the back door
396
00:27:55.200 --> 00:27:59.299
to the tiny herb garden beside the shed. He crouched
397
00:27:59.440 --> 00:28:02.940
down to cut a generous handful of curly parsley and
398
00:28:02.980 --> 00:28:06.430
a stalk or two of dill. The sunlight on his
399
00:28:06.509 --> 00:28:13.029
back warmed him through. The day was getting hotter. Inside,
400
00:28:13.539 --> 00:28:16.369
He diced the vegetables and herbs and added them to
401
00:28:16.420 --> 00:28:20.170
a bowl with green fruity olive oil, a squeeze of
402
00:28:20.269 --> 00:28:24.789
lemon juice, a pinch of salt, and a good grinding
403
00:28:24.849 --> 00:28:28.210
of fresh pepper. He brushed the bread with a bit
404
00:28:28.250 --> 00:28:31.289
of oil and warmed it in a cast-iron skillet on
405
00:28:31.329 --> 00:28:35.099
the range. Then he carried it to the table, along
406
00:28:35.130 --> 00:28:37.960
with the hummus and a cool glass of water he'd
407
00:28:38.039 --> 00:28:43.059
dropped a couple slices of cucumber into. The bread broke easily.
408
00:28:43.710 --> 00:28:46.799
and there was a small pocket inside that he stuffed
409
00:28:46.859 --> 00:28:50.720
with hummus and salad, and each bite had a bit
410
00:28:50.900 --> 00:28:57.960
of tartness, fresh green flavor, and warm, wholesome bread. Now
411
00:28:58.039 --> 00:29:01.680
he did read the paper, turning the pages slowly, and
412
00:29:01.809 --> 00:29:04.690
after he'd pushed his plate away, he spent a few
413
00:29:04.769 --> 00:29:09.589
minutes working the crossword puzzle. He heard a low jingling
414
00:29:09.650 --> 00:29:12.970
and smiled over his shoulder at his lazy black cat,
415
00:29:13.430 --> 00:29:17.349
who was strutting along the floorboards toward his slippered feet.
416
00:29:18.690 --> 00:29:23.440
Watching her wind her way, delicate ankles crossing one over
417
00:29:23.480 --> 00:29:28.779
the other, soft round body and tail switching with each step.
418
00:29:29.759 --> 00:29:33.109
He knew why they called the platform that models strode
419
00:29:33.180 --> 00:29:37.670
back and forth on a catwalk. We should all carry
420
00:29:37.730 --> 00:29:39.950
ourselves with that much confidence and swiftness.
421
00:29:40.450 --> 00:29:40.910
He thought.
422
00:29:42.170 --> 00:29:45.220
She stopped at his side and let him reach down
423
00:29:45.279 --> 00:29:49.380
to scratch her forehead. Then she stepped through his grip,
424
00:29:50.000 --> 00:29:53.380
rounding her back into his palm and twisting around to
425
00:29:53.420 --> 00:29:57.460
do it all over again. Eventually she looked up at
426
00:29:57.500 --> 00:30:00.700
him and he leaned back in his chair and she
427
00:30:00.799 --> 00:30:04.660
jumped to land in his lap. He propped his feet
428
00:30:04.740 --> 00:30:07.559
up on the trestle beneath the table so that she
429
00:30:07.599 --> 00:30:10.500
could lay stretched out on his legs and look out
430
00:30:10.539 --> 00:30:15.809
the window. This was their morning routine. He got up early.
431
00:30:16.750 --> 00:30:21.309
She slept late. They met for coffee. He'd found her
432
00:30:21.349 --> 00:30:26.230
years ago. Or she'd found him. It depends on how
433
00:30:26.250 --> 00:30:29.650
you look at it. He remembers the warm spring day
434
00:30:30.359 --> 00:30:32.619
He'd been working on a new recipe at the shop,
435
00:30:33.180 --> 00:30:37.420
a savory pastry rolled in black sesame seeds, and he'd
436
00:30:37.599 --> 00:30:40.569
just slid a tray of them into the oven when
437
00:30:40.589 --> 00:30:43.609
he looked out the window to where his car was parked.
438
00:30:43.289 --> 00:30:43.829
In the alley.
439
00:30:45.329 --> 00:30:48.029
He'd had to fish his glasses out of his pocket,
440
00:30:48.609 --> 00:30:52.289
smudging them with his flowery fingers to make out what
441
00:30:52.369 --> 00:30:57.009
was covering the hood of his car. A black smear
442
00:30:57.289 --> 00:31:01.619
against the white panel The glasses didn't much help, so
443
00:31:01.660 --> 00:31:04.359
he pushed through the back door and made his way
444
00:31:04.420 --> 00:31:09.049
to the car. The spring sun was shining, and there
445
00:31:09.119 --> 00:31:13.529
on the warm hood was a big dozing kitty. Her
446
00:31:13.650 --> 00:31:17.309
fur was shiny and black, and she opened one green
447
00:31:17.569 --> 00:31:20.769
eye to look at him as he stood, hands on hips,
448
00:31:21.349 --> 00:31:25.750
laughing down at her. After a moment, she closed the
449
00:31:25.869 --> 00:31:30.640
open eye and went straight back to sleep. He knew
450
00:31:30.740 --> 00:31:34.339
right then. He named her silently in his head before
451
00:31:34.380 --> 00:31:38.549
he'd even turned back to the shop. He told his
452
00:31:38.609 --> 00:31:42.029
apprentice baker that she was probably a neighborhood cat who
453
00:31:42.069 --> 00:31:44.769
would be gone in another hour and they'd never see
454
00:31:44.809 --> 00:31:50.390
her again. But inside, he knew. He didn't look when
455
00:31:50.410 --> 00:31:52.569
he came out of the back door at closing time.
456
00:31:53.269 --> 00:31:55.630
He kept his eyes on the lock as he turned
457
00:31:55.670 --> 00:31:59.970
the key, saying to himself, that if she wasn't there
458
00:32:00.190 --> 00:32:02.630
it just meant she was home with her people and
459
00:32:02.710 --> 00:32:06.670
that was a good thing. But when he turned toward
460
00:32:06.710 --> 00:32:10.890
his car and found her sitting upright and awake on
461
00:32:10.930 --> 00:32:15.569
the hood, serenely bathing her face with one graceful paw,
462
00:32:16.630 --> 00:32:20.799
he smiled with relief. He reached out and stroked her
463
00:32:20.859 --> 00:32:25.740
head and she barely looked up, still busy cleaning away.
464
00:32:26.900 --> 00:32:29.380
Then he opened the door of the car, and as
465
00:32:29.559 --> 00:32:33.200
soon as he sat down in it, she jumped nimbly
466
00:32:33.480 --> 00:32:36.190
onto his lap and waited for him to close the
467
00:32:36.210 --> 00:32:41.069
door and take her home. It doesn't happen a lot,
468
00:32:41.829 --> 00:32:45.170
but every once in a while you meet someone, and
469
00:32:45.230 --> 00:32:50.539
instead of meeting, it feels like finding. You skip over
470
00:32:50.579 --> 00:32:52.759
the part where you get to know each other because
471
00:32:52.900 --> 00:32:57.599
somehow you already know. You were born with the knowing
472
00:32:57.640 --> 00:33:01.240
of them planted deep inside you, and you'd just been
473
00:33:01.440 --> 00:33:05.549
waiting for them to show up. For the baker, that
474
00:33:05.589 --> 00:33:08.910
had happened twice, or maybe three times in his life.
475
00:33:09.930 --> 00:33:12.529
Once it had been a friend, once it was the
476
00:33:12.630 --> 00:33:16.450
love of his life, and then it was Sesame the cat.
477
00:33:17.329 --> 00:33:20.079
He called her that as they drove home, thinking of
478
00:33:20.119 --> 00:33:23.920
the shiny black seed still rattling around in his apron pocket.
479
00:33:24.650 --> 00:33:27.329
and she nuzzled the top of her head against his
480
00:33:27.450 --> 00:33:30.809
chin as if he'd called her name in class, and
481
00:33:30.910 --> 00:33:37.009
she was responding, present. From that day, she'd slept on
482
00:33:37.049 --> 00:33:41.400
his bed, eaten crumbs from his plate, and sat on
483
00:33:41.440 --> 00:33:44.880
the top of the piano when he played. His customers
484
00:33:44.940 --> 00:33:48.099
at the bakery took home boxes of sesame twists to
485
00:33:48.140 --> 00:33:51.779
have with their curry dinners, and his neighbors waved through
486
00:33:51.799 --> 00:33:56.109
the windows at her when she sat, tail twitching, beside
487
00:33:56.150 --> 00:34:00.849
the philodendron. She loved to circle through the house each day,
488
00:34:01.410 --> 00:34:06.609
chasing sunbeams and birds. She clicked her teeth threateningly at them,
489
00:34:07.430 --> 00:34:09.960
and the baker would pet her and assure her she
490
00:34:10.019 --> 00:34:13.380
was still a great huntress, even though she never left
491
00:34:13.420 --> 00:34:18.019
the house. The baker set down his pencil. He could
492
00:34:18.079 --> 00:34:21.659
come back to the crossword puzzle later. That doe was
493
00:34:21.739 --> 00:34:26.250
calling him. He didn't set timers anymore, didn't seem to
494
00:34:26.289 --> 00:34:29.630
need to. At some point, a little bell would go
495
00:34:29.750 --> 00:34:33.110
off in his mind, and he'd know it was time
496
00:34:33.210 --> 00:34:37.199
for the next step. He shifted Sesame from his lap
497
00:34:37.659 --> 00:34:40.059
and set her down by her bowls on the far
498
00:34:40.219 --> 00:34:43.559
end of the kitchen. He'd read somewhere that cats like
499
00:34:43.599 --> 00:34:46.599
to look at their own reflections, so in her little
500
00:34:46.659 --> 00:34:49.230
corner where he'd laid a mat for her food and
501
00:34:49.289 --> 00:34:52.969
water dishes, he'd hung a tiny mirror at just her height.
502
00:34:54.000 --> 00:34:57.360
After she ate, he'd often catch her bathing her face
503
00:34:57.400 --> 00:35:01.000
with her paw, stopping to gaze at her own bright
504
00:35:01.099 --> 00:35:06.110
green eyes. He stepped back up to his counter and
505
00:35:06.170 --> 00:35:09.510
was pleased to see that his dough had risen. He
506
00:35:09.590 --> 00:35:12.610
scattered flour on the butcher block and tipped the soft
507
00:35:12.690 --> 00:35:17.199
dough out of the bowl. He lightly floured his rolling
508
00:35:17.280 --> 00:35:20.400
pin and began to flatten and stretch the dough into
509
00:35:20.440 --> 00:35:25.750
a rectangle. His movements were sure, Confident, made without having
510
00:35:25.809 --> 00:35:29.070
to think. There was a word for this, he thought.
511
00:35:29.989 --> 00:35:35.639
What did they call it? Ah, flow. Years ago, when
512
00:35:35.679 --> 00:35:38.719
he was still at the bakery, he'd heard an expert
513
00:35:38.760 --> 00:35:43.179
on the radio describing an experience of energized focus, of
514
00:35:43.280 --> 00:35:48.309
being so completely absorbed in an activity that one lost
515
00:35:48.630 --> 00:35:52.519
all track of time. The man said that ice skaters
516
00:35:52.579 --> 00:35:56.500
and baristas and chess players knew this state well, that
517
00:35:56.539 --> 00:35:59.300
they slipped into it when the challenge they faced was
518
00:35:59.360 --> 00:36:04.199
in balance with their skills. It wasn't mindless work. It
519
00:36:04.260 --> 00:36:09.239
was often complicated. But the individuals could navigate it expertly
520
00:36:09.380 --> 00:36:14.539
after years of practice. He'd been shaping sourdough as he
521
00:36:14.619 --> 00:36:18.679
listened and laughed out loud, watching his hands tack the
522
00:36:18.840 --> 00:36:21.179
edge of the raw loaf to the board and pull
523
00:36:21.219 --> 00:36:24.920
it to create tension, twisting the lump of starter and
524
00:36:25.000 --> 00:36:30.210
flour into what would blossom in the oven into a beautiful, crisp,
525
00:36:30.869 --> 00:36:35.730
golden-brown work of art. He'd do this a hundred times
526
00:36:35.809 --> 00:36:39.570
in a row, and each twist and fold and quick
527
00:36:39.679 --> 00:36:45.219
slash with the knife was smooth and exact. The repetition
528
00:36:45.260 --> 00:36:49.880
didn't bother him. In fact, he enjoyed it. Doing the
529
00:36:50.079 --> 00:36:54.090
actual work of mixing, kneading, and shaping was what made
530
00:36:54.190 --> 00:36:58.070
him a baker. He'd had a few apprentices over the
531
00:36:58.110 --> 00:37:01.630
years who clearly didn't love to do that work. He'd
532
00:37:01.690 --> 00:37:05.010
kindly send them on their way, telling them that it
533
00:37:05.130 --> 00:37:09.800
wasn't meant to be. Now, as he spread the cardamom
534
00:37:09.880 --> 00:37:12.909
mixture over the sheet of pastry and began to fold it,
535
00:37:13.519 --> 00:37:16.980
to roll it again, to slice it into long ribbons,
536
00:37:17.820 --> 00:37:21.849
he felt himself slip into that smooth state of enjoyable
537
00:37:21.969 --> 00:37:27.869
moment-to-moment engagement. The shaping was quite tricky, with those ribbons
538
00:37:27.929 --> 00:37:32.219
being twisted and wrapped around themselves in a very particular way,
539
00:37:32.940 --> 00:37:36.500
but his hands knew how, and he let them work.
540
00:37:37.860 --> 00:37:42.230
Soon the tray was full. each bun glazed and shining
541
00:37:42.369 --> 00:37:45.989
with a dusting of sugar mixed with more ground cardamom.
542
00:37:47.010 --> 00:37:49.869
He let them sit to rise a bit more as
543
00:37:49.909 --> 00:37:53.309
he heated the oven and carried his bowls and spoons
544
00:37:53.389 --> 00:37:57.110
to the sink. He filled it with warm, soapy water
545
00:37:57.170 --> 00:38:02.369
and began to wash up. The scent of the cardamom
546
00:38:02.429 --> 00:38:04.929
was in the air. He could smell it on his
547
00:38:05.030 --> 00:38:09.530
hands and clothes, and again he thought of his mother.
548
00:38:10.809 --> 00:38:14.929
Mondays were her baking days. She'd always meant to keep
549
00:38:15.010 --> 00:38:18.360
house in an orderly way, and each week planned to
550
00:38:18.429 --> 00:38:23.219
bake on Monday, to wash on Tuesday, to clean on Wednesday,
551
00:38:23.699 --> 00:38:28.480
to weed on Thursday, and so on. But any number
552
00:38:28.519 --> 00:38:33.380
of happenings or newly discovered projects might distract her. She
553
00:38:33.440 --> 00:38:37.579
might suddenly take up bird-watching, and they'd spend afternoons in
554
00:38:37.619 --> 00:38:41.840
the park with their binoculars pressed to their eyes, whispering
555
00:38:41.929 --> 00:38:46.989
to each other about vesper sparrows, scarlet tanagers, and black-throated
556
00:38:47.090 --> 00:38:51.670
green warblers. Then the next week, she might have found
557
00:38:51.730 --> 00:38:54.889
a box of old photographs in a dresser drawer, and
558
00:38:54.929 --> 00:39:00.389
they'd become genealogists, tracing faces from one snapshot to another
559
00:39:00.929 --> 00:39:04.090
and drawing out family trees on giant sheets of paper.
560
00:39:05.130 --> 00:39:09.389
But no matter what, she always started the week with baking.
561
00:39:10.380 --> 00:39:13.880
She had her priorities, after all, and when he would
562
00:39:13.940 --> 00:39:17.360
come home from school, on the counter would be loaves
563
00:39:17.440 --> 00:39:23.070
of bread baked in tins for sandwiches, hand pies and cookies,
564
00:39:23.570 --> 00:39:28.630
cakes and scones, and cardamom buns. She'd been the one
565
00:39:28.690 --> 00:39:31.809
to patiently show him how to twist the pastry, her
566
00:39:31.969 --> 00:39:35.630
own hands moving so deftly as she looped the ribbons
567
00:39:35.730 --> 00:39:40.510
and arranged them on a baking tray. He turned back
568
00:39:40.610 --> 00:39:44.250
to his tray, his buns now risen again and ready
569
00:39:44.309 --> 00:39:47.829
for the oven. The air was hot on his face
570
00:39:47.949 --> 00:39:51.099
as he opened the door and slid them in the
571
00:39:51.159 --> 00:39:55.059
timer in his mind ticked on, and he began to
572
00:39:55.159 --> 00:39:57.940
root around in his cupboards to find a container to
573
00:39:58.039 --> 00:40:02.440
fit some of those buns into. He was a hardy eater,
574
00:40:03.099 --> 00:40:05.300
but even he could never keep up with the amount
575
00:40:05.340 --> 00:40:08.469
of baked goods he produced, and his neighbors were used
576
00:40:08.510 --> 00:40:12.550
to stepping out onto their front porches to find regular deliveries.
577
00:40:13.630 --> 00:40:16.849
The wise ones would bring back the empty containers to
578
00:40:16.929 --> 00:40:21.849
ensure the cycle continued. He found a cookie tin pushed
579
00:40:21.989 --> 00:40:25.409
to the back of a high shelf. Its lid showed
580
00:40:25.469 --> 00:40:29.210
a snowy scene of skaters on a frozen lake, a
581
00:40:29.349 --> 00:40:33.079
courier and Ives print. And though the first snow was
582
00:40:33.119 --> 00:40:37.440
still months away, he figured his neighbors wouldn't mind how
583
00:40:37.500 --> 00:40:41.679
the treats got into their hands. He peeked into the oven.
584
00:40:42.420 --> 00:40:45.840
The buttery dough was turning a light golden brown. The
585
00:40:45.960 --> 00:40:52.860
buns looked deliciously sticky and smelled absolutely divine. Six minutes,
586
00:40:53.360 --> 00:40:57.210
maybe seven, he said to Sesame. She flicked her tail
587
00:40:57.289 --> 00:41:01.190
in agreement. He lined the Christmas tin with baking paper
588
00:41:01.289 --> 00:41:03.789
and took a clean dish towel from a drawer to
589
00:41:03.849 --> 00:41:07.809
dry the dishes. Every now and then he'd take a
590
00:41:07.929 --> 00:41:11.730
deep breath. Just as he was setting a mixing bowl
591
00:41:11.789 --> 00:41:15.809
onto a shelf, he knew it was time. As the
592
00:41:15.849 --> 00:41:19.610
buns came out, he inspected them with his expert eye.
593
00:41:20.389 --> 00:41:23.440
They were a lovely color, and while the ribbons of
594
00:41:23.519 --> 00:41:28.920
dough had become crispy, their bases sat in caramelized pools
595
00:41:29.000 --> 00:41:34.380
of sweetness that would harden into a candy-like brittle. That
596
00:41:34.460 --> 00:41:38.860
variation in textures, the sweetness with the strong spicy flavor
597
00:41:38.920 --> 00:41:42.320
of the cardamom, that's what made these a step up
598
00:41:42.420 --> 00:41:47.789
from regular cinnamon buns or Danish pastries. They were sophisticated,
599
00:41:48.429 --> 00:41:52.010
maybe a little complicated. He thought of that line about
600
00:41:52.050 --> 00:41:56.150
how every disguise is a self-portrait and chuckled to himself
601
00:41:56.329 --> 00:42:00.829
in the warm kitchen. When the buns were cool, he
602
00:42:00.909 --> 00:42:03.630
laid a dozen of them into the tin and sealed
603
00:42:03.670 --> 00:42:06.780
it up. He used to write notes with his deliveries.
604
00:42:07.539 --> 00:42:10.440
It felt odd to just leave boxes of baked goods
605
00:42:10.539 --> 00:42:15.360
without any explanation on his neighbor's steps. But after a while,
606
00:42:16.119 --> 00:42:21.199
The explanations just seemed extraneous. They knew who had made them,
607
00:42:21.880 --> 00:42:25.010
and they knew they wouldn't be getting a recipe, so
608
00:42:25.050 --> 00:42:29.070
they didn't ask. He carried the tin out the front
609
00:42:29.110 --> 00:42:32.469
door and down the steps to the gate. The sun
610
00:42:32.570 --> 00:42:35.570
was high now, and he shaded his eyes with his
611
00:42:35.630 --> 00:42:38.829
hand as he looked up and down the block wondering
612
00:42:38.949 --> 00:42:43.219
which house to visit today. After all these years, He
613
00:42:43.380 --> 00:42:46.699
knew the tastes and preferences of most of these folks,
614
00:42:47.480 --> 00:42:50.239
and he tried to spread the love around so no
615
00:42:50.320 --> 00:42:54.199
one felt left out. Across the street was the man
616
00:42:54.280 --> 00:42:58.139
with the garden full of dinner plate dahlias, his cape
617
00:42:58.199 --> 00:43:01.800
cod covered in creeping ivy and clematis that bloomed a
618
00:43:01.929 --> 00:43:07.090
bright bluish-purple each spring. Next door at the Craftsman, with
619
00:43:07.150 --> 00:43:11.010
its low-pitched gable roof, was the woman who owned the bookstore.
620
00:43:12.079 --> 00:43:15.159
A few days before, she'd left him a copy of
621
00:43:15.219 --> 00:43:18.559
a new book by one of his favorite authors, wrapped
622
00:43:18.619 --> 00:43:23.289
in brown paper in his mailbox. He turned toward her house,
623
00:43:23.949 --> 00:43:27.969
thinking it was time to repay the favor. Her yard
624
00:43:28.050 --> 00:43:32.289
was a bit overgrown, with seagrasses swaying around the porch.
625
00:43:33.289 --> 00:43:36.869
She had a collection of birdhouses dangling from the branches
626
00:43:36.989 --> 00:43:40.090
of her catalpa tree, and as he climbed her steps-
627
00:43:40.809 --> 00:43:43.929
He smiled at the worn doormat with a stack of
628
00:43:44.050 --> 00:43:49.289
books stenciled on it. He had his baking, his precise techniques,
629
00:43:49.849 --> 00:43:55.880
and synchronized internal clock. She had her books, her cluttered yard,
630
00:43:56.360 --> 00:44:00.639
her shop with maps and pictures and postcards tacked all
631
00:44:00.719 --> 00:44:06.760
over the walls. Different, but the same. He set down
632
00:44:06.840 --> 00:44:10.030
the tin, hoping that when she came home to it,
633
00:44:10.659 --> 00:44:14.300
It would make her smile and went back home to
634
00:44:14.440 --> 00:44:16.079
finish his crossword puzzle.
635
00:44:19.219 --> 00:44:22.139
Thanks for listening. If you'd like to spend more time
636
00:44:22.179 --> 00:44:25.170
with these neighbors, On the Street Where You Live is
637
00:44:25.210 --> 00:44:30.670
available wherever audiobooks are sold, beginning July 28th. I hope
638
00:44:30.690 --> 00:44:32.670
you'll join us for the rest of the story.
1
00:00:01.110 --> 00:00:05.790
Get more Nothing Much Happens with bonus episodes, extra long stories,
2
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and ad-free listening, all while supporting the show you love.
3
00:00:09.800 --> 00:00:15.599
Subscribe now. Do you ever notice how most health advice
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tells you what to do, but not how to actually
5
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feel better in your body? The Align podcast with Erin
6
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Alexander is all about reconnecting with how your body is
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meant to move, breathe, and function. Drawing from two decades
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of experience working with top performers, athletes, and CEOs, Erin
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breaks down simple principles of posture, breath, and movement that
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help you feel stronger, calmer, and more aligned in everyday life.
11
00:00:43.939 --> 00:00:47.479
Listen to the Align podcast wherever you get your podcasts.
12
00:00:49.810 --> 00:00:53.549
Health and wellness is louder and more confusing than ever.
13
00:00:54.509 --> 00:00:58.670
Everywhere you turn, someone is selling certainty. One expert says,
14
00:00:59.200 --> 00:01:02.520
Carbs are the enemy, another says they're essential for your
15
00:01:02.560 --> 00:01:07.219
brain and hormones. One voice swears cold plunges will transform
16
00:01:07.239 --> 00:01:10.700
your health, and another warns they'll wreck your nervous system.
17
00:01:11.439 --> 00:01:14.810
One supplement is called life-changing, the next day someone says
18
00:01:14.829 --> 00:01:18.849
it could make you sick. It's overwhelming, and that's exactly
19
00:01:18.890 --> 00:01:24.730
why Heal Thyself exists. Hosted by Dr. Christian Gonzalez, Heal
20
00:01:24.769 --> 00:01:28.930
Thyself cuts through the noise, slows everything down, and offers
21
00:01:28.969 --> 00:01:33.269
clarity in a space flooded with contradictions. This is not
22
00:01:33.370 --> 00:01:38.769
a trend-based wellness or recycled talking points podcast. It's grounded,
23
00:01:38.989 --> 00:01:43.950
direct truth that blends real science with spiritual and emotional intelligence.
24
00:01:44.939 --> 00:01:50.540
Each episode features conversations with doctors, scientists, shamans, healers, and
25
00:01:50.579 --> 00:01:54.739
thought leaders across many disciplines, all with one goal, helping
26
00:01:54.780 --> 00:01:58.599
you understand what is actually true for you. Instead of
27
00:01:58.680 --> 00:02:02.049
obsessing over one piece of health and ignoring the rest,
28
00:02:02.829 --> 00:02:07.329
Heal Thyself takes an integrated approach connecting the body, mind,
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00:02:07.689 --> 00:02:13.319
nervous system, trauma, energy, and consciousness. Listen to Heal Thyself
30
00:02:13.479 --> 00:02:18.360
with Dr. G wherever you get your podcasts. If you're
31
00:02:18.379 --> 00:02:22.419
looking for something a little more lively and outspoken, Took's
32
00:02:22.719 --> 00:02:26.800
Takes might be right up your alley. LaKendra Tukes shares bold,
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00:02:27.159 --> 00:02:30.680
unfiltered takes on reality TV and real life with a
34
00:02:30.699 --> 00:02:35.020
mix of humor and honesty that's really engaging. Find Tukes
35
00:02:35.099 --> 00:02:41.889
Takes wherever you listen. Before we begin today's episode, I
36
00:02:41.930 --> 00:02:45.610
want you to know that I'm sharing something different with
37
00:02:45.650 --> 00:02:49.740
you tonight, and this isn't a sleep story. So it
38
00:02:49.879 --> 00:02:52.439
may not be the best choice if you are just
39
00:02:52.460 --> 00:02:55.530
settling in for bed. If you're ready to drift off,
40
00:02:55.810 --> 00:03:00.949
I'd recommend choosing another episode. There are over 400. And
41
00:03:01.009 --> 00:03:03.909
saving this one for a walk or a drive or
42
00:03:03.949 --> 00:03:07.590
a quiet afternoon. Because what you're about to hear is
43
00:03:07.629 --> 00:03:11.770
a chapter from my new audiobook, On the Street Where
44
00:03:11.810 --> 00:03:16.150
You Live, which comes out on July 28th. It's set
45
00:03:16.530 --> 00:03:20.310
in the village of Nothing Much. And you'll hear from
46
00:03:20.469 --> 00:03:26.020
some familiar friends, including the innkeeper and chef, the original
47
00:03:26.060 --> 00:03:29.960
baker and the bookstore keeper, and even Alphabet the dog.
48
00:03:31.180 --> 00:03:33.580
It's a story about a neighborhood and the people who
49
00:03:33.620 --> 00:03:37.750
call it home, where ordinary moments reveal the ways we're
50
00:03:37.759 --> 00:03:42.530
connected to one another. If you've ever found yourself slowing
51
00:03:42.590 --> 00:03:46.389
down to notice a porch light coming on at dusk,
52
00:03:47.330 --> 00:03:50.729
a neighbor tending to a garden, or the comfort of
53
00:03:50.770 --> 00:03:54.189
a familiar street, I think you'll feel right at home here.
54
00:03:54.870 --> 00:03:58.689
I'm especially excited because this story is brought to life
55
00:03:59.069 --> 00:04:02.569
by an incredible cast of voices, which I am just
56
00:04:02.889 --> 00:04:05.650
one among them. I can't wait for you to hear
57
00:04:05.710 --> 00:04:10.669
the whole neighborhood tell their stories. I hope you enjoy
58
00:04:10.710 --> 00:04:17.699
this excerpt from On the Street Where You Live. Introduction
59
00:04:18.649 --> 00:04:24.250
Welcome to the village of nothing much. The mist is
60
00:04:24.310 --> 00:04:27.220
still thick on the lake beside the inn as a
61
00:04:27.259 --> 00:04:30.779
screen door creaks open and an early riser carries a
62
00:04:30.800 --> 00:04:33.379
cup of coffee down to a bench by the water.
63
00:04:34.779 --> 00:04:38.310
Lights glow through windows on the second floor and the
64
00:04:38.350 --> 00:04:40.829
tables on the back porch are being laid with mugs
65
00:04:41.089 --> 00:04:45.730
and mismatched silverware for breakfast. Down the gravel drive and
66
00:04:45.930 --> 00:04:48.810
out onto the county road Cars wait as the school
67
00:04:48.850 --> 00:04:51.930
bus turns onto a side street, a test drive for
68
00:04:51.949 --> 00:04:54.129
the first day of school, just a few days off.
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Closer to town, the farmer's market stalls are being loaded
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with the last tomatoes and the first apples of the season.
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Pots of chrysanthemums, their blooms still closed up and their
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colors a mystery, are handed down from a truck bed
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and lined up along the booths. A whistle blows as
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a train rolls along the tracks on the edge of downtown.
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The oak tree on the corner is dropping acorns, and
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a squirrel runs through the branches and leaps onto the
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roof of the bicycle shop. Across the street, the florist's
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window is full of vases of peonies and pale pink
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roses and fresh green stalks of eucalyptus. At the next corner,
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the open sign is still swinging in the window of
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the bookshop, and a couple carts of paperbacks sit on
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the sidewalk, two for five dollars, while supplies last. Inside
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the register rings when its drawer, checked and restocked with change,
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is pushed into place. The morning air is fresh and cool,
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and at the record shop the door is propped open
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to let it in, and the sound of a lilting
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voice and guitar coming from the turntable spills out. The
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blue construction paper waves and yellow sunbeams that have decorated
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the front window of the stationery store are coming down,
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landing in a pile at the foot of a ladder
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open on the old wood floor. Beside them, freshly cut
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and ready for their turn, is a stack of oversized
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red maple leaves and orange pumpkins with curly green stems.
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The next block is the busiest in the village, with
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the cafe on one corner and the bakery on the opposite.
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The cafe does a brisk business, and the outdoor tables
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are mostly taken up with folks tucking into breakfast. and
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sipping from cups of coffee and tea. Steam rises from
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stacks of pancakes and plates of hash browns. The air
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smells savory and sweet. Friends talk and laugh as they eat,
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and at a table for one, a newspaper is shaken
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out and turned to the crossword puzzle. The bell over
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the door at the bakery rings again and again as
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customers pile in, hungry and eager to and step out
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a minute later with white paper sacks in hand and
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relieved smiles from ear to ear. Here the yeasty warm
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scent of bread and rolls and the sweet aroma of
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donuts and pastries are as thick as that mist on
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the lake. The window is smudged a bit on the outside,
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where villagers of all ages have pressed their fingers against
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the glass, leaning in to spy the pies and frosted
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cakes set out in the display. Farther down the street,
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at the entrance to the park, the news kiosk is
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opening up. The man who runs it pushes the counter
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window up and fiddles with the hook till it slips
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into the eye bolt and the eaves. He fans out
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stacks of magazines and newspapers, waiting them down with a
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few old cobblestones that came out of the road when
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it was repaved. Inside the park, joggers' feet crunch on
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the gravel and a few ducks doze beside the pond.
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A boy tries to tie his shoelace while his dog
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strains toward the ducks. her tail thumping against his shoulder. Finally,
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he gets her to sit, and finished with the knot,
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he tugs her off down another path. They race together
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through an open stretch of grass, which is starting to
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lose its deep green color as the summer comes to
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an end. On the sidewalk, at the far end of
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the park, a mail carrier stops to sort through her bag.
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In one arm, she stacks bills and mailers in the
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order of the houses on the next block. A hand-addressed
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envelope catches her eye, and she wonders what news it holds.
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Just behind her sits the library, already open and busy.
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The small meeting room has a reserve sign stuck on
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its door, as it does every Friday morning for the
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Murder Mystery Book Club's weekly discussion. A librarian finds a
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favorite book from childhood in a stack to re-shelve and
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remembers the feel of her bedroom rug underneath her while
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she reads it. At the next intersection, a woman pulls
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a piece of tape from a roll and attaches a
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flyer for the block party to a telephone pole. She
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gets distracted by the sheer number of nails and rusted
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staples that are already stuck into the wood. How many
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garage sales and found cats and guitar lessons have been
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announced on this little corner, she wonders. This small grid
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of streets, this neighborhood, is the center of our story.
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It's just a handful of roads crossing over each other
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as they go east toward the river and stop where
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the railroad tracks mark the outskirts of town. There are
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big houses and small ones, some very old and some newer,
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On the sidewalk, old tree roots have pushed up and
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buckled patches of concrete. In fact, the story begins right
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at this corner, just north of the park and beside
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the library, in the Victorian house with the stained glass.
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It's been painted and and repainted a dozen different ways
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over the century and a half since it was built.
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And it is probably due for another fresh coat. For now,
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it's a faded pink, with reddish tiles on the roof,
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and pale blue shutters and moldings. It sits turned in
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its seat, taking advantage of the corner lot, its front
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door lined up exactly with the junction of the streets.
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The yard is bounded by a low wrought iron fence
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that comes together at the corner in a latched gate.
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It's an excellent place to linger, that gate, and many do.
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They admire the neatly trimmed boxwoods and hydrangea shrubs, thick
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with pink and white blossoms. But it's not the flowers
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that stop so many in their tracks here. It's the scent.
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If the windows are open, and they are today, A
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delicious smell wafts through from the kitchen, tucked all the
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way in the back of the house. The smell is
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carried out by some miracle of architecture or northwesterly breezes
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and reminds passersby that this is the house of the baker.
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Part One Friday.
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Chapter One Cardamom and Sesame The Baker the man who
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lives in the house is still called the baker. For
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years it was his face you saw, sometimes dusted by
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a bit of flour, behind the counter of the bakery
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in downtown. He was the one who taught folks here
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to love dark ryes and pumpernickels with a small-town fervor
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that made him famous. His dinner rolls were on every
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Thanksgiving table, his hummingbird cakes everywhere, Featured at each birthday dinner.
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Everyone came in for his peach pies in late summer
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and stocked up on cinnamon rolls to get through New
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Year's Day. He was retired now, having sold the shop
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to a woman who'd been working for him and learning
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his secrets for years. She'd kept all the standbys, but
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bit by bit had been slipping in new flavors and
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new textures. Beside the classic pies and loaves were mille-fouilles
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dotted with bright, tart passion fruit seeds, strawberry meringues, and
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churros dipped in chocolate and rolled in crushed pistachios. Still,
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he was their baker. It was an honorific he'd earned,
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like doctor or professor, and after all, he was still baking.
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This morning he'd gotten up early, never having quite left
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behind the habit of those baker's hours. He stood at
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the window in his bedroom and drew back the thick curtain.
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The sky was just turning the lightest shade of pink
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on the horizon. Its light filled in the gaps among
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the trunks and branches, and while he watched, he could
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see it shifting, rising, so that after just a few minutes...
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he could make out the familiar grove of trees that
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separated his yard from the park. He liked to take
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this time, after years of rushing off to the bakery
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in the dark, to just stand and with no haste
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whatsoever watch the day begin. And once it had, well then,
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time for coffee. Even though it was late summer, his
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old house, shaded by all those tall trees, stayed cool
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most days. He felt the chill of the floorboards and
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stepped into his slippers, added a threadbare sweater to his pajamas,
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and headed down the broad staircase. It creaked in all
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the familiar ways that it had for decades, and he
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smiled at the sounds. When houses get old enough, they
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begin to have conversations with their occupants. Bumps in the attic,
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flickering lights, and squeaking hinges. It depends on the house,
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but this one always seemed friendly. Even when a door
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slammed on a breezy day, it felt like a gentle
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chiding from an auntie, a reminder to be careful with
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the house, and the house would be careful with him. So,
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he was careful. He paid attention when he hung a
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painting over the fireplace in the big front room that
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his nail was centered and the frame not too heavy.
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He paid attention when he wrapped Christmas lights around the
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spindles on the front porch in early December so that
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they didn't pull too tight against the thin rods or
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scratch their paint. And he paid attention in the mornings,
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like this one, when he slid the chain from the
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front door. Its old knob original to the house, could stick,
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usually just in cold weather but sometimes simply because it
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wanted to. So he turned it slowly until he felt
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the mechanism twisting smoothly and drew it open to the
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morning light. The paper was waiting, twisted in its bound spiral,
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where it had landed halfway up the walk after being
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lobbed over the gate by the sleepy-eyed paper girl sometime
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around dawn. the baker stooped to pick it up. As
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he rose and slipped it under one arm, he was
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struck by the smell of the late summer air. It
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was still thick with the scent of gardens, vegetables, and flowers.
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It smelled of damp soil and green things and sun-warmed wood,
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but all through the filter of a coming autumn chill.
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In another week or so, the balance would shift and
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the sense of spice and cool air and autumn would
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be filling his nose. Walking back up the front steps,
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he thought of the flavors that shifted in line with
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the scents as the seasons changed. In the spring, he'd
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made rhubarb crumble and strawberry jam donuts. In the full
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flush of summer, He'd made chewy focaccias with olive oil
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and flakes of sea salt, crackers flavored with thyme and
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rosemary from the garden. Then there were fruit pies, blueberry, peach,
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and cherry. With carrots from the farmer's market, he'd made
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a carrot cake for a weekend barbecue. And lately, he'd
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been making simple loaves of white and wheat bread for
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tomato sandwiches. he carried his paper through the long hall,
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past the front room, the dining room, and library, with
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its shelves mostly full of cookbooks, and all the way
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to the back of the house, to his favorite place,
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his kitchen. When he was still working, he would wait
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until he got into the bakery to have his coffee.
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He'd brew a pot and sip Cup after cup and
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the quiet hours before the open sign was flipped over
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in the window. One day, after he sold the bakery,
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he'd been poking through cupboards at home when he'd found
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an old stovetop percolator that probably hadn't been used since
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the 70s. He'd nearly tossed it out, but something about
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being newly retired had made him think about second chances.
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He polished up its stainless steel surface and even used
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a bit of mineral oil on the walnut handle, and
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he realized it was actually quite beautiful. Someone somewhere had
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spent time designing this object, and it was handsome and
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functional and made fantastic coffee. It soon became an integral
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part of his morning. He set his paper on the table,
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and stepped up to the sink to begin preparing his coffee.
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He filled the pot's reservoir with cold water from the tap,
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settled its basket into place, and spooned in fresh grounds.
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Lowering the lid, he set the percolator on the smallest
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burner on the stove and turned the gas flame to medium.
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This kind of coffee making had to be watched over.
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You didn't set it and go. You waited until the
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water just started to bubble in the globe on the lid.
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And when it did, you turned the flame to low
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and let it brew for as many as ten minutes,
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never allowing the pot to boil, otherwise the coffee would
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be bitter. He understood about things taking time. Of course
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he did. He was a baker. He'd waited and watched
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as thousands of loaves rose the right shade of golden brown.
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So he stood sentry at the stove and listened to
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the coffee perk. He looked out through the bank of
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windows and saw that a slight breeze was moving through
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the yard. He watched the begonias sway in their pots,
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petals rippling like slow-moving water, leaves shifting, not enough to
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flip and show their silver undersides. That usually meant rain
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was coming, but this was just enough to stir things up.
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When the coffee was ready, he pulled his favorite mug
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down from the shelf and filled it to the brim.
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He lifted the cup to his nose and took long
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inhalation of one of the very best scents in the world.
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The baker stood with his eyes closed, the steam rising
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against his face. He remembered being a child with his
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nose stuck in the coffee can. His mother had sent
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him into the pantry for a fresh can one morning,
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and when he hooked his finger into the tab and
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peeled the lid back, he couldn't believe how good it smelled.
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He stood taking in breath after breath until his mother
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came looking for him. She laughed as she confiscated the
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grounds for the drip pot she had ready. All these
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years later, whenever he smelled fresh coffee, he went back
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00:21:26.539 --> 00:21:30.740
to that moment, to the wonder he felt at smelling
305
00:21:30.880 --> 00:21:36.150
something so good for the first time. He carried his
306
00:21:36.230 --> 00:21:40.180
coffee around to the table and opened the newspaper. flattening
307
00:21:40.240 --> 00:21:44.170
it at the crease, but he didn't read. He was
308
00:21:44.230 --> 00:21:47.549
still thinking about the best scents in the world, about
309
00:21:47.569 --> 00:21:50.630
the breeze in the yard, and about his summer bakes
310
00:21:50.690 --> 00:21:55.250
with bright fruits and green herbs. He thought about what
311
00:21:55.509 --> 00:22:00.609
went with coffee, what smelled almost as good as fresh
312
00:22:00.710 --> 00:22:04.670
ground beans, and the flavors he liked best in the fall.
313
00:22:05.869 --> 00:22:08.880
He took a slow drink from the cup, and it
314
00:22:09.119 --> 00:22:12.240
all came together in his head like puzzle pieces locking
315
00:22:12.359 --> 00:22:19.339
into place. Cardamom buns. He often saved cardamom for cold weather,
316
00:22:19.900 --> 00:22:23.519
since it went so well with allspice and nutmeg that
317
00:22:23.559 --> 00:22:26.480
it found its way into lots of treats for the
318
00:22:26.549 --> 00:22:32.549
winter holidays. Now, not having tasted it in so many months,
319
00:22:33.390 --> 00:22:37.200
he had a sudden craving for it. He set down
320
00:22:37.259 --> 00:22:40.200
his mug and went straight to the spice cupboard to
321
00:22:40.309 --> 00:22:43.809
pull out the small glass jar filled with cardamom pods.
322
00:22:45.130 --> 00:22:48.509
He tipped a handful into his palm and poked around
323
00:22:48.769 --> 00:22:53.309
to inspect them. They were bright green, and they reminded
324
00:22:53.369 --> 00:22:57.539
him of pumpkin seeds reimagined as badly inflated parade balloons.
325
00:22:58.640 --> 00:23:01.259
He carried them over to the table and took another
326
00:23:01.299 --> 00:23:05.730
drink of his coffee. He remembered his mother scattering the
327
00:23:05.789 --> 00:23:09.569
pods between clean dish towels and running her hands over
328
00:23:09.589 --> 00:23:13.190
the cloth with the same movement he used to roll
329
00:23:13.250 --> 00:23:18.430
his Play-Doh out into thin ropes. The papery skins of
330
00:23:18.470 --> 00:23:21.990
the pods would crack open under her hands and the
331
00:23:22.069 --> 00:23:26.450
tiny gray-black seeds would tumble out. When he was very
332
00:23:26.519 --> 00:23:30.380
young and couldn't sleep, she would steep the cardamom seeds
333
00:23:30.440 --> 00:23:33.240
in milk with honey and cinnamon and and they would
334
00:23:33.279 --> 00:23:36.680
carry their cups to the window seat on the upstairs landing.
335
00:23:37.779 --> 00:23:41.160
He'd climb into her lap and lie back against her,
336
00:23:41.940 --> 00:23:44.400
and they'd look out the window and sip their drinks
337
00:23:44.819 --> 00:23:49.529
quietly together. When his cup was empty, she'd take it
338
00:23:49.589 --> 00:23:52.470
from his sleepy hand and set it on the sill
339
00:23:53.069 --> 00:23:57.049
and let him fall asleep against her chest. Later, he'd
340
00:23:57.089 --> 00:24:01.960
wake up tucked into his own bed, dreams of sailing
341
00:24:02.039 --> 00:24:08.279
on sweet, milky seas fading from his mind. So many
342
00:24:08.339 --> 00:24:13.480
memories of food, of drink, of cooking and baking, of
343
00:24:13.559 --> 00:24:17.619
how things smelled or tasted or grew in the garden,
344
00:24:18.279 --> 00:24:21.059
and they were all woven into the sweetness of his
345
00:24:21.220 --> 00:24:25.920
mother and her hands kneading dough, stirring a simmering pot,
346
00:24:26.599 --> 00:24:31.059
or pulling carrots from the vegetable patch. He looked at
347
00:24:31.140 --> 00:24:34.880
his own hands, the dozen pods and their papery skin,
348
00:24:35.859 --> 00:24:37.900
and he went to get a couple of clean dish
349
00:24:37.940 --> 00:24:42.890
towels from the drawer to begin. The kitchen was flooded
350
00:24:42.970 --> 00:24:46.769
with daylight now, and even the sleepiest birds were up
351
00:24:47.009 --> 00:24:50.390
and singing. The baker opened the windows and let the
352
00:24:50.509 --> 00:24:54.289
fresh air in. He poured another cup of coffee from
353
00:24:54.349 --> 00:24:59.529
the pot, and began to assemble ingredients and tools. He
354
00:24:59.589 --> 00:25:03.430
liked this part, laying out the measuring cups and his scale,
355
00:25:04.099 --> 00:25:07.650
pulling down the mixing bowls and setting his giant canister
356
00:25:07.710 --> 00:25:11.200
of flour on the bench. He liked the part where
357
00:25:11.220 --> 00:25:14.660
he got his hands into the dough, too. But there
358
00:25:14.700 --> 00:25:19.640
was something about the preparation, the neat order of the kitchen,
359
00:25:20.420 --> 00:25:24.339
thinking through the steps, when he'd need to heat the oven...
360
00:25:25.079 --> 00:25:27.599
how long the buns would prove, and when to grind
361
00:25:27.640 --> 00:25:31.869
the spices. That had always made his mind feel orderly
362
00:25:32.380 --> 00:25:36.930
and the undertaking satisfying. He woke the yeast and watched
363
00:25:37.009 --> 00:25:41.210
it foam in its warm bath. He'd always wondered about
364
00:25:41.269 --> 00:25:45.809
the first baker to figure out yeast. Who found it?
365
00:25:46.630 --> 00:25:49.500
What was it like to discover how to use it
366
00:25:50.079 --> 00:25:53.559
and to produce a light, airy bread for the very
367
00:25:53.700 --> 00:25:58.309
first time? he thought that for all our modern genius,
368
00:25:59.069 --> 00:26:02.490
there was likely ten times as much lost wisdom from
369
00:26:02.589 --> 00:26:07.519
our enterprising ancestors. Wouldn't it be incredible if he could
370
00:26:07.579 --> 00:26:11.720
spend a year as a time-traveling apprentice to learn the
371
00:26:11.880 --> 00:26:16.119
secrets of the bread bakers in Pompeii, the sweet-steamed bun
372
00:26:16.160 --> 00:26:21.660
makers in northern China, the Ethiopian fermenters making teff into injera,
373
00:26:22.440 --> 00:26:28.759
And on and on his daydreaming mind went. Tortillas, fry bread,
374
00:26:29.440 --> 00:26:33.569
babkas and punchkis, and, he thought, as he came back
375
00:26:33.630 --> 00:26:39.829
from all that dreaming, Swedish cardamom buns. This was why
376
00:26:39.890 --> 00:26:44.549
his library shelves were crammed with so many books. Why
377
00:26:44.609 --> 00:26:49.470
he still baked most days. There was still so much
378
00:26:49.589 --> 00:26:54.849
to learn. He began to work the dough, mixing together
379
00:26:54.869 --> 00:26:58.130
the dry parts with the wet along with the living yeast,
380
00:26:58.789 --> 00:27:02.279
and laid it all out to rise. He made a
381
00:27:02.339 --> 00:27:05.539
sort of paste with the ground cardamom and sugar and
382
00:27:05.640 --> 00:27:10.400
set it aside. His stomach was growling now, and he
383
00:27:10.460 --> 00:27:12.900
had a bit of time to wait before he could
384
00:27:12.980 --> 00:27:16.599
proceed with the next step. So he opened his bread
385
00:27:16.640 --> 00:27:20.289
box to see what he might find. There were bagels
386
00:27:20.349 --> 00:27:22.859
made the day before that were a bit hard now,
387
00:27:23.559 --> 00:27:26.500
a half loaf of wheat bread topped with sesame seeds,
388
00:27:27.259 --> 00:27:29.500
and a couple of pita breads he'd made to go
389
00:27:29.539 --> 00:27:32.559
with last night's dinner. He reached in for them and
390
00:27:32.700 --> 00:27:38.210
happily found that they were still soft. From the fridge
391
00:27:38.309 --> 00:27:41.130
he took a plate of lemony hummus, and in the
392
00:27:41.210 --> 00:27:43.950
bowl on the counter he found a ripe tomato and
393
00:27:43.990 --> 00:27:47.990
a cucumber. He carried the kitchen scissors through the back hall,
394
00:27:48.599 --> 00:27:51.579
where jackets hung on hooks and muddy garden boots poked
395
00:27:51.660 --> 00:27:54.799
out from under a bench, and out the back door
396
00:27:55.200 --> 00:27:59.299
to the tiny herb garden beside the shed. He crouched
397
00:27:59.440 --> 00:28:02.940
down to cut a generous handful of curly parsley and
398
00:28:02.980 --> 00:28:06.430
a stalk or two of dill. The sunlight on his
399
00:28:06.509 --> 00:28:13.029
back warmed him through. The day was getting hotter. Inside,
400
00:28:13.539 --> 00:28:16.369
He diced the vegetables and herbs and added them to
401
00:28:16.420 --> 00:28:20.170
a bowl with green fruity olive oil, a squeeze of
402
00:28:20.269 --> 00:28:24.789
lemon juice, a pinch of salt, and a good grinding
403
00:28:24.849 --> 00:28:28.210
of fresh pepper. He brushed the bread with a bit
404
00:28:28.250 --> 00:28:31.289
of oil and warmed it in a cast-iron skillet on
405
00:28:31.329 --> 00:28:35.099
the range. Then he carried it to the table, along
406
00:28:35.130 --> 00:28:37.960
with the hummus and a cool glass of water he'd
407
00:28:38.039 --> 00:28:43.059
dropped a couple slices of cucumber into. The bread broke easily.
408
00:28:43.710 --> 00:28:46.799
and there was a small pocket inside that he stuffed
409
00:28:46.859 --> 00:28:50.720
with hummus and salad, and each bite had a bit
410
00:28:50.900 --> 00:28:57.960
of tartness, fresh green flavor, and warm, wholesome bread. Now
411
00:28:58.039 --> 00:29:01.680
he did read the paper, turning the pages slowly, and
412
00:29:01.809 --> 00:29:04.690
after he'd pushed his plate away, he spent a few
413
00:29:04.769 --> 00:29:09.589
minutes working the crossword puzzle. He heard a low jingling
414
00:29:09.650 --> 00:29:12.970
and smiled over his shoulder at his lazy black cat,
415
00:29:13.430 --> 00:29:17.349
who was strutting along the floorboards toward his slippered feet.
416
00:29:18.690 --> 00:29:23.440
Watching her wind her way, delicate ankles crossing one over
417
00:29:23.480 --> 00:29:28.779
the other, soft round body and tail switching with each step.
418
00:29:29.759 --> 00:29:33.109
He knew why they called the platform that models strode
419
00:29:33.180 --> 00:29:37.670
back and forth on a catwalk. We should all carry
420
00:29:37.730 --> 00:29:39.950
ourselves with that much confidence and swiftness.
421
00:29:40.450 --> 00:29:40.910
He thought.
422
00:29:42.170 --> 00:29:45.220
She stopped at his side and let him reach down
423
00:29:45.279 --> 00:29:49.380
to scratch her forehead. Then she stepped through his grip,
424
00:29:50.000 --> 00:29:53.380
rounding her back into his palm and twisting around to
425
00:29:53.420 --> 00:29:57.460
do it all over again. Eventually she looked up at
426
00:29:57.500 --> 00:30:00.700
him and he leaned back in his chair and she
427
00:30:00.799 --> 00:30:04.660
jumped to land in his lap. He propped his feet
428
00:30:04.740 --> 00:30:07.559
up on the trestle beneath the table so that she
429
00:30:07.599 --> 00:30:10.500
could lay stretched out on his legs and look out
430
00:30:10.539 --> 00:30:15.809
the window. This was their morning routine. He got up early.
431
00:30:16.750 --> 00:30:21.309
She slept late. They met for coffee. He'd found her
432
00:30:21.349 --> 00:30:26.230
years ago. Or she'd found him. It depends on how
433
00:30:26.250 --> 00:30:29.650
you look at it. He remembers the warm spring day
434
00:30:30.359 --> 00:30:32.619
He'd been working on a new recipe at the shop,
435
00:30:33.180 --> 00:30:37.420
a savory pastry rolled in black sesame seeds, and he'd
436
00:30:37.599 --> 00:30:40.569
just slid a tray of them into the oven when
437
00:30:40.589 --> 00:30:43.609
he looked out the window to where his car was parked.
438
00:30:43.289 --> 00:30:43.829
In the alley.
439
00:30:45.329 --> 00:30:48.029
He'd had to fish his glasses out of his pocket,
440
00:30:48.609 --> 00:30:52.289
smudging them with his flowery fingers to make out what
441
00:30:52.369 --> 00:30:57.009
was covering the hood of his car. A black smear
442
00:30:57.289 --> 00:31:01.619
against the white panel The glasses didn't much help, so
443
00:31:01.660 --> 00:31:04.359
he pushed through the back door and made his way
444
00:31:04.420 --> 00:31:09.049
to the car. The spring sun was shining, and there
445
00:31:09.119 --> 00:31:13.529
on the warm hood was a big dozing kitty. Her
446
00:31:13.650 --> 00:31:17.309
fur was shiny and black, and she opened one green
447
00:31:17.569 --> 00:31:20.769
eye to look at him as he stood, hands on hips,
448
00:31:21.349 --> 00:31:25.750
laughing down at her. After a moment, she closed the
449
00:31:25.869 --> 00:31:30.640
open eye and went straight back to sleep. He knew
450
00:31:30.740 --> 00:31:34.339
right then. He named her silently in his head before
451
00:31:34.380 --> 00:31:38.549
he'd even turned back to the shop. He told his
452
00:31:38.609 --> 00:31:42.029
apprentice baker that she was probably a neighborhood cat who
453
00:31:42.069 --> 00:31:44.769
would be gone in another hour and they'd never see
454
00:31:44.809 --> 00:31:50.390
her again. But inside, he knew. He didn't look when
455
00:31:50.410 --> 00:31:52.569
he came out of the back door at closing time.
456
00:31:53.269 --> 00:31:55.630
He kept his eyes on the lock as he turned
457
00:31:55.670 --> 00:31:59.970
the key, saying to himself, that if she wasn't there
458
00:32:00.190 --> 00:32:02.630
it just meant she was home with her people and
459
00:32:02.710 --> 00:32:06.670
that was a good thing. But when he turned toward
460
00:32:06.710 --> 00:32:10.890
his car and found her sitting upright and awake on
461
00:32:10.930 --> 00:32:15.569
the hood, serenely bathing her face with one graceful paw,
462
00:32:16.630 --> 00:32:20.799
he smiled with relief. He reached out and stroked her
463
00:32:20.859 --> 00:32:25.740
head and she barely looked up, still busy cleaning away.
464
00:32:26.900 --> 00:32:29.380
Then he opened the door of the car, and as
465
00:32:29.559 --> 00:32:33.200
soon as he sat down in it, she jumped nimbly
466
00:32:33.480 --> 00:32:36.190
onto his lap and waited for him to close the
467
00:32:36.210 --> 00:32:41.069
door and take her home. It doesn't happen a lot,
468
00:32:41.829 --> 00:32:45.170
but every once in a while you meet someone, and
469
00:32:45.230 --> 00:32:50.539
instead of meeting, it feels like finding. You skip over
470
00:32:50.579 --> 00:32:52.759
the part where you get to know each other because
471
00:32:52.900 --> 00:32:57.599
somehow you already know. You were born with the knowing
472
00:32:57.640 --> 00:33:01.240
of them planted deep inside you, and you'd just been
473
00:33:01.440 --> 00:33:05.549
waiting for them to show up. For the baker, that
474
00:33:05.589 --> 00:33:08.910
had happened twice, or maybe three times in his life.
475
00:33:09.930 --> 00:33:12.529
Once it had been a friend, once it was the
476
00:33:12.630 --> 00:33:16.450
love of his life, and then it was Sesame the cat.
477
00:33:17.329 --> 00:33:20.079
He called her that as they drove home, thinking of
478
00:33:20.119 --> 00:33:23.920
the shiny black seed still rattling around in his apron pocket.
479
00:33:24.650 --> 00:33:27.329
and she nuzzled the top of her head against his
480
00:33:27.450 --> 00:33:30.809
chin as if he'd called her name in class, and
481
00:33:30.910 --> 00:33:37.009
she was responding, present. From that day, she'd slept on
482
00:33:37.049 --> 00:33:41.400
his bed, eaten crumbs from his plate, and sat on
483
00:33:41.440 --> 00:33:44.880
the top of the piano when he played. His customers
484
00:33:44.940 --> 00:33:48.099
at the bakery took home boxes of sesame twists to
485
00:33:48.140 --> 00:33:51.779
have with their curry dinners, and his neighbors waved through
486
00:33:51.799 --> 00:33:56.109
the windows at her when she sat, tail twitching, beside
487
00:33:56.150 --> 00:34:00.849
the philodendron. She loved to circle through the house each day,
488
00:34:01.410 --> 00:34:06.609
chasing sunbeams and birds. She clicked her teeth threateningly at them,
489
00:34:07.430 --> 00:34:09.960
and the baker would pet her and assure her she
490
00:34:10.019 --> 00:34:13.380
was still a great huntress, even though she never left
491
00:34:13.420 --> 00:34:18.019
the house. The baker set down his pencil. He could
492
00:34:18.079 --> 00:34:21.659
come back to the crossword puzzle later. That doe was
493
00:34:21.739 --> 00:34:26.250
calling him. He didn't set timers anymore, didn't seem to
494
00:34:26.289 --> 00:34:29.630
need to. At some point, a little bell would go
495
00:34:29.750 --> 00:34:33.110
off in his mind, and he'd know it was time
496
00:34:33.210 --> 00:34:37.199
for the next step. He shifted Sesame from his lap
497
00:34:37.659 --> 00:34:40.059
and set her down by her bowls on the far
498
00:34:40.219 --> 00:34:43.559
end of the kitchen. He'd read somewhere that cats like
499
00:34:43.599 --> 00:34:46.599
to look at their own reflections, so in her little
500
00:34:46.659 --> 00:34:49.230
corner where he'd laid a mat for her food and
501
00:34:49.289 --> 00:34:52.969
water dishes, he'd hung a tiny mirror at just her height.
502
00:34:54.000 --> 00:34:57.360
After she ate, he'd often catch her bathing her face
503
00:34:57.400 --> 00:35:01.000
with her paw, stopping to gaze at her own bright
504
00:35:01.099 --> 00:35:06.110
green eyes. He stepped back up to his counter and
505
00:35:06.170 --> 00:35:09.510
was pleased to see that his dough had risen. He
506
00:35:09.590 --> 00:35:12.610
scattered flour on the butcher block and tipped the soft
507
00:35:12.690 --> 00:35:17.199
dough out of the bowl. He lightly floured his rolling
508
00:35:17.280 --> 00:35:20.400
pin and began to flatten and stretch the dough into
509
00:35:20.440 --> 00:35:25.750
a rectangle. His movements were sure, Confident, made without having
510
00:35:25.809 --> 00:35:29.070
to think. There was a word for this, he thought.
511
00:35:29.989 --> 00:35:35.639
What did they call it? Ah, flow. Years ago, when
512
00:35:35.679 --> 00:35:38.719
he was still at the bakery, he'd heard an expert
513
00:35:38.760 --> 00:35:43.179
on the radio describing an experience of energized focus, of
514
00:35:43.280 --> 00:35:48.309
being so completely absorbed in an activity that one lost
515
00:35:48.630 --> 00:35:52.519
all track of time. The man said that ice skaters
516
00:35:52.579 --> 00:35:56.500
and baristas and chess players knew this state well, that
517
00:35:56.539 --> 00:35:59.300
they slipped into it when the challenge they faced was
518
00:35:59.360 --> 00:36:04.199
in balance with their skills. It wasn't mindless work. It
519
00:36:04.260 --> 00:36:09.239
was often complicated. But the individuals could navigate it expertly
520
00:36:09.380 --> 00:36:14.539
after years of practice. He'd been shaping sourdough as he
521
00:36:14.619 --> 00:36:18.679
listened and laughed out loud, watching his hands tack the
522
00:36:18.840 --> 00:36:21.179
edge of the raw loaf to the board and pull
523
00:36:21.219 --> 00:36:24.920
it to create tension, twisting the lump of starter and
524
00:36:25.000 --> 00:36:30.210
flour into what would blossom in the oven into a beautiful, crisp,
525
00:36:30.869 --> 00:36:35.730
golden-brown work of art. He'd do this a hundred times
526
00:36:35.809 --> 00:36:39.570
in a row, and each twist and fold and quick
527
00:36:39.679 --> 00:36:45.219
slash with the knife was smooth and exact. The repetition
528
00:36:45.260 --> 00:36:49.880
didn't bother him. In fact, he enjoyed it. Doing the
529
00:36:50.079 --> 00:36:54.090
actual work of mixing, kneading, and shaping was what made
530
00:36:54.190 --> 00:36:58.070
him a baker. He'd had a few apprentices over the
531
00:36:58.110 --> 00:37:01.630
years who clearly didn't love to do that work. He'd
532
00:37:01.690 --> 00:37:05.010
kindly send them on their way, telling them that it
533
00:37:05.130 --> 00:37:09.800
wasn't meant to be. Now, as he spread the cardamom
534
00:37:09.880 --> 00:37:12.909
mixture over the sheet of pastry and began to fold it,
535
00:37:13.519 --> 00:37:16.980
to roll it again, to slice it into long ribbons,
536
00:37:17.820 --> 00:37:21.849
he felt himself slip into that smooth state of enjoyable
537
00:37:21.969 --> 00:37:27.869
moment-to-moment engagement. The shaping was quite tricky, with those ribbons
538
00:37:27.929 --> 00:37:32.219
being twisted and wrapped around themselves in a very particular way,
539
00:37:32.940 --> 00:37:36.500
but his hands knew how, and he let them work.
540
00:37:37.860 --> 00:37:42.230
Soon the tray was full. each bun glazed and shining
541
00:37:42.369 --> 00:37:45.989
with a dusting of sugar mixed with more ground cardamom.
542
00:37:47.010 --> 00:37:49.869
He let them sit to rise a bit more as
543
00:37:49.909 --> 00:37:53.309
he heated the oven and carried his bowls and spoons
544
00:37:53.389 --> 00:37:57.110
to the sink. He filled it with warm, soapy water
545
00:37:57.170 --> 00:38:02.369
and began to wash up. The scent of the cardamom
546
00:38:02.429 --> 00:38:04.929
was in the air. He could smell it on his
547
00:38:05.030 --> 00:38:09.530
hands and clothes, and again he thought of his mother.
548
00:38:10.809 --> 00:38:14.929
Mondays were her baking days. She'd always meant to keep
549
00:38:15.010 --> 00:38:18.360
house in an orderly way, and each week planned to
550
00:38:18.429 --> 00:38:23.219
bake on Monday, to wash on Tuesday, to clean on Wednesday,
551
00:38:23.699 --> 00:38:28.480
to weed on Thursday, and so on. But any number
552
00:38:28.519 --> 00:38:33.380
of happenings or newly discovered projects might distract her. She
553
00:38:33.440 --> 00:38:37.579
might suddenly take up bird-watching, and they'd spend afternoons in
554
00:38:37.619 --> 00:38:41.840
the park with their binoculars pressed to their eyes, whispering
555
00:38:41.929 --> 00:38:46.989
to each other about vesper sparrows, scarlet tanagers, and black-throated
556
00:38:47.090 --> 00:38:51.670
green warblers. Then the next week, she might have found
557
00:38:51.730 --> 00:38:54.889
a box of old photographs in a dresser drawer, and
558
00:38:54.929 --> 00:39:00.389
they'd become genealogists, tracing faces from one snapshot to another
559
00:39:00.929 --> 00:39:04.090
and drawing out family trees on giant sheets of paper.
560
00:39:05.130 --> 00:39:09.389
But no matter what, she always started the week with baking.
561
00:39:10.380 --> 00:39:13.880
She had her priorities, after all, and when he would
562
00:39:13.940 --> 00:39:17.360
come home from school, on the counter would be loaves
563
00:39:17.440 --> 00:39:23.070
of bread baked in tins for sandwiches, hand pies and cookies,
564
00:39:23.570 --> 00:39:28.630
cakes and scones, and cardamom buns. She'd been the one
565
00:39:28.690 --> 00:39:31.809
to patiently show him how to twist the pastry, her
566
00:39:31.969 --> 00:39:35.630
own hands moving so deftly as she looped the ribbons
567
00:39:35.730 --> 00:39:40.510
and arranged them on a baking tray. He turned back
568
00:39:40.610 --> 00:39:44.250
to his tray, his buns now risen again and ready
569
00:39:44.309 --> 00:39:47.829
for the oven. The air was hot on his face
570
00:39:47.949 --> 00:39:51.099
as he opened the door and slid them in the
571
00:39:51.159 --> 00:39:55.059
timer in his mind ticked on, and he began to
572
00:39:55.159 --> 00:39:57.940
root around in his cupboards to find a container to
573
00:39:58.039 --> 00:40:02.440
fit some of those buns into. He was a hardy eater,
574
00:40:03.099 --> 00:40:05.300
but even he could never keep up with the amount
575
00:40:05.340 --> 00:40:08.469
of baked goods he produced, and his neighbors were used
576
00:40:08.510 --> 00:40:12.550
to stepping out onto their front porches to find regular deliveries.
577
00:40:13.630 --> 00:40:16.849
The wise ones would bring back the empty containers to
578
00:40:16.929 --> 00:40:21.849
ensure the cycle continued. He found a cookie tin pushed
579
00:40:21.989 --> 00:40:25.409
to the back of a high shelf. Its lid showed
580
00:40:25.469 --> 00:40:29.210
a snowy scene of skaters on a frozen lake, a
581
00:40:29.349 --> 00:40:33.079
courier and Ives print. And though the first snow was
582
00:40:33.119 --> 00:40:37.440
still months away, he figured his neighbors wouldn't mind how
583
00:40:37.500 --> 00:40:41.679
the treats got into their hands. He peeked into the oven.
584
00:40:42.420 --> 00:40:45.840
The buttery dough was turning a light golden brown. The
585
00:40:45.960 --> 00:40:52.860
buns looked deliciously sticky and smelled absolutely divine. Six minutes,
586
00:40:53.360 --> 00:40:57.210
maybe seven, he said to Sesame. She flicked her tail
587
00:40:57.289 --> 00:41:01.190
in agreement. He lined the Christmas tin with baking paper
588
00:41:01.289 --> 00:41:03.789
and took a clean dish towel from a drawer to
589
00:41:03.849 --> 00:41:07.809
dry the dishes. Every now and then he'd take a
590
00:41:07.929 --> 00:41:11.730
deep breath. Just as he was setting a mixing bowl
591
00:41:11.789 --> 00:41:15.809
onto a shelf, he knew it was time. As the
592
00:41:15.849 --> 00:41:19.610
buns came out, he inspected them with his expert eye.
593
00:41:20.389 --> 00:41:23.440
They were a lovely color, and while the ribbons of
594
00:41:23.519 --> 00:41:28.920
dough had become crispy, their bases sat in caramelized pools
595
00:41:29.000 --> 00:41:34.380
of sweetness that would harden into a candy-like brittle. That
596
00:41:34.460 --> 00:41:38.860
variation in textures, the sweetness with the strong spicy flavor
597
00:41:38.920 --> 00:41:42.320
of the cardamom, that's what made these a step up
598
00:41:42.420 --> 00:41:47.789
from regular cinnamon buns or Danish pastries. They were sophisticated,
599
00:41:48.429 --> 00:41:52.010
maybe a little complicated. He thought of that line about
600
00:41:52.050 --> 00:41:56.150
how every disguise is a self-portrait and chuckled to himself
601
00:41:56.329 --> 00:42:00.829
in the warm kitchen. When the buns were cool, he
602
00:42:00.909 --> 00:42:03.630
laid a dozen of them into the tin and sealed
603
00:42:03.670 --> 00:42:06.780
it up. He used to write notes with his deliveries.
604
00:42:07.539 --> 00:42:10.440
It felt odd to just leave boxes of baked goods
605
00:42:10.539 --> 00:42:15.360
without any explanation on his neighbor's steps. But after a while,
606
00:42:16.119 --> 00:42:21.199
The explanations just seemed extraneous. They knew who had made them,
607
00:42:21.880 --> 00:42:25.010
and they knew they wouldn't be getting a recipe, so
608
00:42:25.050 --> 00:42:29.070
they didn't ask. He carried the tin out the front
609
00:42:29.110 --> 00:42:32.469
door and down the steps to the gate. The sun
610
00:42:32.570 --> 00:42:35.570
was high now, and he shaded his eyes with his
611
00:42:35.630 --> 00:42:38.829
hand as he looked up and down the block wondering
612
00:42:38.949 --> 00:42:43.219
which house to visit today. After all these years, He
613
00:42:43.380 --> 00:42:46.699
knew the tastes and preferences of most of these folks,
614
00:42:47.480 --> 00:42:50.239
and he tried to spread the love around so no
615
00:42:50.320 --> 00:42:54.199
one felt left out. Across the street was the man
616
00:42:54.280 --> 00:42:58.139
with the garden full of dinner plate dahlias, his cape
617
00:42:58.199 --> 00:43:01.800
cod covered in creeping ivy and clematis that bloomed a
618
00:43:01.929 --> 00:43:07.090
bright bluish-purple each spring. Next door at the Craftsman, with
619
00:43:07.150 --> 00:43:11.010
its low-pitched gable roof, was the woman who owned the bookstore.
620
00:43:12.079 --> 00:43:15.159
A few days before, she'd left him a copy of
621
00:43:15.219 --> 00:43:18.559
a new book by one of his favorite authors, wrapped
622
00:43:18.619 --> 00:43:23.289
in brown paper in his mailbox. He turned toward her house,
623
00:43:23.949 --> 00:43:27.969
thinking it was time to repay the favor. Her yard
624
00:43:28.050 --> 00:43:32.289
was a bit overgrown, with seagrasses swaying around the porch.
625
00:43:33.289 --> 00:43:36.869
She had a collection of birdhouses dangling from the branches
626
00:43:36.989 --> 00:43:40.090
of her catalpa tree, and as he climbed her steps-
627
00:43:40.809 --> 00:43:43.929
He smiled at the worn doormat with a stack of
628
00:43:44.050 --> 00:43:49.289
books stenciled on it. He had his baking, his precise techniques,
629
00:43:49.849 --> 00:43:55.880
and synchronized internal clock. She had her books, her cluttered yard,
630
00:43:56.360 --> 00:44:00.639
her shop with maps and pictures and postcards tacked all
631
00:44:00.719 --> 00:44:06.760
over the walls. Different, but the same. He set down
632
00:44:06.840 --> 00:44:10.030
the tin, hoping that when she came home to it,
633
00:44:10.659 --> 00:44:14.300
It would make her smile and went back home to
634
00:44:14.440 --> 00:44:16.079
finish his crossword puzzle.
635
00:44:19.219 --> 00:44:22.139
Thanks for listening. If you'd like to spend more time
636
00:44:22.179 --> 00:44:25.170
with these neighbors, On the Street Where You Live is
637
00:44:25.210 --> 00:44:30.670
available wherever audiobooks are sold, beginning July 28th. I hope
638
00:44:30.690 --> 00:44:32.670
you'll join us for the rest of the story.
