Can’t you just hear him, deep inside?
Yep! Tevye. Let’s listen…
A fiddler on the roof. Sounds crazy, no? But in our little village of Anatevka, you might say every one of us is a fiddler on the roof, trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune without breaking his neck. It isn’t easy. You may ask, why do we stay up there if it’s so dangerous? We stay because Anatevka is our home… And how do we keep our balance? That I can tell you In one word… Tradition!
Tradition… Tradition…
Because of our traditions, we’ve kept our balance for many, many years. Here in Anatevka we have traditions for everything… how to eat, how to sleep, even, how to wear clothes. For instance, we always keep our heads covered and always wear a little prayer shawl… This shows our constant devotion to God. You may ask, how did this tradition start? I’ll tell you – I don’t know. But it’s a tradition… Because of our traditions, everyone knows who [they are] and what God expects [them] to do.
You, dear reader, may well be wondering why this particular song is stuck in my head at this particular moment. It’s a good question! And there are several answers.
First, I’ve known all the words at least as long as I’ve known all the summer camp songs that live deep inside me.
Then, the Legendary Husband and I had date night.
We went to one of our neighborhood faves, complete with a great sidewalk patio, which has even more advantages just now than it used to.
There’s a new owner these days. I think his name is Sean. Much of the pub-y menu has stayed the same. One nice surprise, though, is a new emphasis on local, seasonal veg, delightfully fried in a dynamite batter.
There is, however, a challenge with the whole local food bit. Supply!
I was delighted, on date night, to discover that they did, indeed, have fried green tomatoes available.
Now, my friend Tevye had nothing on Southerners when he was singing about tradition on that roof so long ago. And, while I don’t consider myself technically a Southerner, I am more than fluent in Southern food.
So, imagine my surprise when my glorious plate of fried tomatoes arrived at the table… red!
Okay, maybe closer to pink… but decidedly un-green.
HERESY!!!
I was skeptical. But hungry.
And thrilled when I took my first taste!
On I munched, waxing poetic. Then, I had a new idea!
You guessed it! Half a slice of fried pink tomato into each of my shrimp tacos!!!
Divine does not begin to describe…
And, not a trace of tradition-shattering guilt!
You see, I’m all about able to choose!
Also, as you know, context.
And, I’ll even go a step farther.
I’m utterly sure that this is exactly the way the Mother-Father Creator of my understanding planned it!
So, as the sun waved goodbye over the sidewalk, and a hawk swooped by, I sent 47 choruses of the Hallelujah song to the kitchen, via the grinning new owner.
If you’re in the ‘hood, holler, and I’ll gladly take you on the Fried Pink Tomato Tour.
For now, though, my Insight painting has more Good Trouble to cause!
ps… just in case you’re looking for a bit of Good Trouble, too, CHECK THIS OUT. It’s a great next step!
pps… and that whole able to choose thing… I have, indeed, got you covered! (In several colors and lots of sizes!)