Lightly Roasted

Road to wellness paved with, you guessed it, good intentions

By Kathy Eliscu

Kathy Eliscu is a nurse and freelance writer who lives in Westbrook. She credits her way of looking at the light side of life to her mother, the late Marge Eliscu, whose “Coffee Break” humor column ran for two decades in the Maine Sunday Telegram.

This highly scientific article deals with the unique interplay of factors in reaching optimal health. Or, ahem “wellness.”

Personally, I find the whole topic disturbing, especially when I’m trying to enjoy my brownie sundae. Last weekend, I got a whole new perspective. It happened somewhere between that new commercial (a bone density/anti-cancer drug that appears to turn dozens of perfectly normal human females into zombies wrapped in towels) and making plans for a long holiday weekend.

Usually, every fall, plump tomatoes and crisp peppers patiently wait on our counter, fi- nally shriveling beyond recognition, as my husband Ted and I settle into a winter routine of TV and snacks. Not this year. I was determined we’d go hiking. Kayaking. Walking beaches. Biking. Maybe fishing. I had visions of grilling fish and veggies, with seasoning, just like in the magazines.

An invitation from my grown daughter Cassie interrupted this fantasy. They were driving to New York City for my granddaughter Emma’s 9th birthday, a tea party at some huge indoor corporate doll place.

Ohhh! Then my son Will, at college in New York, called to say he needed “a few things I forgot to pack, Mom.” Like half his room, the necessities mixed in with trash and apple cores. He promised to clean up next time home. Yeah, right. And Ted’s mom in New York? Turning 94 that very weekend.

We discussed going to New York during a particularly unkind game of Trivial Pursuit. (It’s so mean that Ted knows so much). As we weighed options, I snuck off and weighed myself.

“We’re staying home!” I screamed, “Yard work! Exercise! Garden vegetables!” It was a pivotal moment. “Ted quick. Outdoor gear into the car trunk so we’re ready all weekend long.”

I ran upstairs, called all family members and told them we were staying in Maine, taking care of business and ourselves.

“OK,” Cassie said, “but you can still change your mind. Did you know they provide mini-highchairs for the dollies at the tea party?”

Mini-highchairs? Oh, now that’s not fair. Downstairs, Ted hovered over maps of mountain trails. Rekindling my resolve, I opened our vegetarian cookbook brand new, never cracked in fi e years. I finished off the last of the frozen Girl Scout cookies (make way for the next campaign a great cause, don’t you think?) as I studied recipes. “Going to the store for herbs!” I announced.

I admit I had some tears en route, thinking about parties and people we’d miss. It hadn’t been any easier that Ted was completely flexible about the weekend. What a creep. But strength replaced sadness, as I marched into the grocery store. Ahhh, the victory of healthful living over sloth and silliness.

And all would have been just fi ne if I hadn’t run into my friend Denise at the store. It’s all a blur now, but I remember her saying, “Tea party?? AMERICAN GIRL? We did that last year!!!...the most fantastic, fab- ”, and I remember dropping, then picking up, my just-purchased herbs ... You know what I think is amazing about the complexity of wellness? It’s such a personal journey. Without rules.

One should never underestimate the benefit of briskly walking from Grand Central Station to Fifth Avenue and 49th Street, balancing bags of presents and a slice of pizza. Or reaching for a tiny scone, a sip of tea and a child’s kiss.