| Issue #40, January 12, 2007 |
Letters
BURNING ABOUT BAGELS
Dear Dan,
I am from New York and a few years ago my parents moved out to Riverhead, whereupon I discovered your paper while perusing the local news boxes. I have been entranced ever since and my father has taken it upon himself to send me a copy of your paper every month or so. Having grown up on Long Island, I spent a lot of time out in the Hamptons and love to read stories about the locals. Your sharp wit and sardonic humor covering political, environmental and social issues, as well as matters of lesser importance, never cease to entertain me. This morning while riding BART I found myself laughing out loud while reading your article ‘Weird Science?’ in the November 10 issue. However, although I appreciated the perspective and certainly respect your opinion, I felt impelled to respond.
I take umbrage at your representation of the San Francisco bagel and was extremely hurt that you have taken it upon yourself to malign what is considered to be by some ex-New Yorkers’ standards (i.e. mine) as a superior product. Twenty-two years ago when I moved out here, anyone who came to visit me from back east was instructed to bring bagels and corned beef. Since that time the bagel has come so far that I won’t even eat a bagel when I head back to Long Island on my annual pilgrimage, so rigid and unglamorous they now seem. Yes, I’ll grant you that the SF bagel is quite different, but that does not necessarily equate with worse. Okay, so you can’t use it as a paperweight the next day and it certainly won’t keep your door from slamming shut on windy afternoons, but is that really important? The bagels that I purchase are absolutely wonderful. When baked, their delightfully crunchy crust supports soft and tasty innards, which can be toasted to perfection if so desired. Nothing complements cream cheese, lox, tomato and onion more beautifully. I am almost never out. Believe it or not, these bagels come from Costco in South San Francisco. Are you snickering? Well, even if you are, I will be happy to put them to the test: the next time you are in San Francisco, I will lay it on the line and buy you a dozen. If you like them, I would appreciate a public retraction. If not, well, I tried and you got a bunch of bagels you can give to someone who doesn’t know the difference.
In closing, let me thank you for publishing such a wonderful paper. You are an extremely prolific writer and I have yet to read an article of yours that I did not thoroughly enjoy. I only wish I had a news box that I could stroll to once a week so I could read Dan’s Papers more often.
Sincerely.
Renee Sera
Via e-mail
I’d sure like to try this latest SF bagel. –DR
ESSAT REFLECTION ON THE EAST END
Dear Dan,
As I peer into the brilliant blue sky, I am nearly lulled into slumber by the constant drone of relentless surf pounding the defenseless shore. Though my eyes search in all directions, there is not a soul to be seen. Except for a squawking gray and white gull who glares suspiciously at me and continues in flight stopping for a fleeting moment to swoop a slippery, silver, swimming fish into its hungry mouth, I am alone. Gazing across the boundless expanse of ocean before my eyes, I find myself struggling to find pleasure during this tranquil moment. As a child, I remember walking along this same stretch of Dune Road in Westhampton and enjoying the freedom it so readily offered. It provided a safe haven from the real world, which at times seemed overwhelming and riddled with problems. The distinct odor of the churning sea along with the warmth of the unobstructed sun supplied a comforting sense of security. Growing up in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn during the 1960s, my childhood was not unique. It was a difficult period for everyone. John F. Kennedy was President and America faced serious challenges. Tension between the United States and the former Russian Empire were at their peak, as the Cold War escalated. The threat of nuclear warfare was growing and was no longer viewed as a remote possibility. America was on edge. Danger loomed and no one was immune to its destructive wrath. Along with the standard fire drills, I distinctly recall the safety drills that specifically prepared the class for life-threatening bomb attacks. I vividly remember the teacher demonstrating how to fold our arms over our heads and seek shelter under our desks. Needless to say, these were frightening times and especially harrowing for young children. Although actual warfare never erupted, the hostility and sharp conflict in diplomacy between the two nations left a scar on all those who lived through this period that can never be erased.
Sadly, despite the passing of four decades, America once again faces a serious threat that promises to be equally disturbing. Unfortunately, once again, a sense of fear has woven its way into the fabric of American life. Change is inevitable, we are told. That often-overused phrase has more meaning now than ever before. September 11, 2001 marked the day that America changed forever. As the threat of future terrorist attacks increases and apprehension becomes a part of our daily lives, we will continue to lose our sense of security and alter our lifestyles to compensate for it. As we journey into these uncharted waters, we have become a country in transition. We are all potential targets. Our enemy has no specific targets, just Americans. As American soldiers continue to spill their blood on the arid soil of Iraq, we are painfully reminded that these brave men and women are sacrificing their lives to protect our safety. A German philosopher once wrote, “History is something that never happened, written by a man that wasn’t there”. In many cases, I wish that were true.
Jason E. Hill
Ridge
Via e-mail
What the heck was this? –DR
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