Although this information is specific to the Lexington Library, most is applicable to the other libraries in the Minutemen region so if you think that a particular capability is worthwhile you might find that your library has it. Also, much of the functionality is through the Boston Public Library.
So, how can the Cary Library help you now, even though it’s closed because of Covid-19??
Christine Muir, Community Librarian at Cary Memorial Library, focused on many library resources that are available even while the library is closed in a recent presentation to the weekly meeting of the Lexington Computer and Technology Group (LCTG). We recorded this presentation; you can view the program and see all of the options available to you right now—all at no fee. You may find it useful to pause the program so you can take notes, as she covered a lot of material!
The link to the video is under Past Meetings on the LCTG (computer group)’s page: http://LCTG.toku.us
Look for the April 8, 2020 entry and click on “Watch Presentation” in the column on the right.
The LCTG meets (virtually nowadays) on Wednesday mornings and we have been recording most presentations for nearly 2 years. There may be other topics on this page of interest to you. Membership in the LCTG is free; see the group page for information about joining the group and our upcoming meetings.
Let me know if you have any questions, comments, suggestions; or good jokes.
A long-time technology expert and guide, John provides his helpful hints in this BOLLI Matters feature. In the comment box below, provide John with questions, comments, or suggestions future tech items to cover.
This is from the book Best of American-Traditional Regional Recipes. I have no recollection of where or how I got this. (I have increased the amount of shrimp and do not use the thyme.) It serves four hungry people.
2 Tbsp Olive oil
1 Onion minced
4 Tbsp Butter
¼ cup Flour
3 cups Chicken stock (or other stock)
1 cup Milk
1½ cup Shrimp, peeled, cooked
1½ cups Corn kernels (fresh, frozen canned)
½ tsp Minced thyme (optional)
½ cup Light cream
Heat olive oil in a large heavy saucepan. Add the onion and cook over low heat until softened ~10 minutes.
2. Meanwhile, melt the butter in a medium-sized saucepan. Make roux by adding the flour and stirring with a wire whisk until blended. Cook 1-2 minutes until it darkens. Pour in the stock and milk and stir to blend. Bring to boil over medium heat and cook 5-8 minutes stirring frequently. NOTE: could use bouillon cubes to make the stock, but they tend to be very salty. It is better to use a good boxed or canned stock.
3. Cut each shrimp into 2 or 3 pieces and add to the onion along with the corn (and thyme). Cook 2-3 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove the pan from the heat.
4. Add the sauce mixture to the shrimp and corn mixture and mix well. Remove 3 cups of the soup and puree in a blender or food processor. Return it to the rest of the soup in the pan and stir well. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
5. Add the cream and stir to blend. Heat the soup almost to boiling point, stirring frequently. Serve hot. Can add a full shrimp or two to the soup just before serving. Optionally, cut up some scallions for garnish on the top of the soup.
John has been contributing recipes and tech hints to BOLLI Matters since this blog first got underway–he says his cooking inspiration came from his mother (who cooked vegetables in boil-able packages). He is also a member of the Lunch & Learn or Distinguished Speaker Series committee and is always looking for suggestions for lunchtime speakers, so send ideas to
This piece from Donna was written before we started engaging in social distancing…to me, it seems just that much more poignant…
by Donna Johns
I hold my newborn granddaughter in my arms and do an inventory. Hair? Maybe red. Eyes? Probably brown because of brown eyed dominance. Nose? Tiny, so not a long nosed Swede. Complexion? Somewhat lighter than her sister. Mouth? Her mother’s cupid bow. Her hands? Oh my, her hands.
From her first photograph, those hands were compelling. Broad palms and large fingers wave through the air, as though she is trying to make sense of her new world by touch. She flings them over her head, stretches out her fingers, swoops her hand over her face, then straight out. She grasps your finger, then moves across her face, samples a thumb and then begins to explore again.
She has my grandmother’s hands. Farm girl hands capable of hard work and loving touches. For years I watched Grammy Signe as she transformed flour, milk, yeast, sugar and cardamom into a recalcitrant dough. Patiently, those hands would work the dough, pressing her palms into the stickiness, flipping the edges, pressing her palms again until a smooth, satiny dough bloomed. Those hands lovingly shaped the braids and rolls. Those strong hands pulled heavy iron cooking sheets from the oven, laden with delectable sweet bread.
My grandmother’s hands were never idle. They dusted and swept and mopped and scrubbed and cooked and baked and tidied. Every night after dinner clean up, she would sit at the kitchen table and play solitaire as she smoked a Parliament cigarette. Even the solitaire game kept her hands busy as she flipped cards, made rows, set up her aces. Sometimes she won. Most of the time she didn’t. She would sigh, bundle the cards together and try again. In solitaire, as in most things, she was a patient optimist.
And now here are Signe’s hands, replicated in miniature, in her great great granddaughter. Who knows what adventures these hands will have, what order she will create out of chaos, what talents she will display? That is the blessing of a newborn life, open to any number of possibilities.
The baby’s hands wave in front of her face as her eyes begin to close. She manages to capture her thumb in the corner of her rosebud mouth. She sleeps, held in my arms. Her hands are still for now.
Sweet dreams, Rosalind.
Donna is also a teacher/librarian, writer of unpublished romance novels, and sometime director of community theater. She has two fantastic faux knees which set off the metal detectors at Fenway Park.
It’s been a long time since we were children, and for many of us, including myself, I look back on that part of my life during the early 1950’s with an unrequited longing and a micro-filtered recall of positive memories. So, from the vantage point of my current moment, it took a while to recall that our generation did face some very serious common nemeses.
Two related nemeses quickly came to mind: Communism and the threat of an atomic bomb. Communism was an abstract concept for me as a 6-year-old. I was unaware of it as a formidable menace. As for nuclear war, I do remember air raid sirens and bomb shelter drills in school at P.S. 197 In Brooklyn. I recognized even then, however, that hiding under my kindergarten table was not going to make any difference when the Bomb struck.
There was a third nemesis that I recall more personally, a threat posed by an invisible monstrosity that sought out children. It was a threat we all feared, and it must have been especially terrifying for our parents. It was an invisible menace that lurked amongst us like something out of the Steven King’s horror novel “It.” “It” was mostly dormant, patient, hidden, waiting for the right circumstances to strike. “It” had its preferences for warm weather, crowded spaces, and most especially, for defenseless children. “It” was an amorphous, pervasive, and alien creature that, if it could speak in a single voice, would likely malevolently growl, “Give me your children.”
Think summer camps, for example. When “It” struck, “It” could kill, but “It” was more likely to maim or cripple “Its” victims sadistically, as if “It” were engaged in a vengeful war with us and wanted to slowly suffocate children to death.
I remember being a kid with my parents at a summer bungalow colony in New Jersey. “It” struck one of the kids at summer camp. I don’t remember who, as he was not a particular friend of mine, but “It” showed no mercy. After “It” `struck and he died, we cowered in our bungalow, or my brother and I sheepishly played outside on our cabin’s front porch. We didn’t socialize with other kids or adults for several weeks. There was a foreboding silence amongst us, a cloud of fear that crippled our colony’s sense of community. Was there anything we could do? Would “It” strike again? Who might be “Its” next victims?
In 1952, an epidemic year, there were 58,000 new cases of “It” reported in the United States, and more than 3,000 died. It wasn’t until 1955, when I was an eight-year old kid, that I would anxiously look forward to a vaccination shot in my left arm.
Thank God for Jonas Salk. This time, it was American science beckoning to us “Give me your children”– and we did.
Marty Kafka is a retired psychiatrist whose passions include his wife Karen and their family, international travel, and jazz piano.
In addition, Marty has found a retirement career taking BOLLI classes, writing memoir, and being active in the Photography special interest group.
A proper gumbo has to be thick, spicy, and loaded with shrimp, sausage, a particular assortment of sautéed vegetables, and it must include okra. An article in the Wall Street Journal reviewed four of the best gumbo joints in Louisiana. I tried placing an online order at the top three listed, but their sites were either not user friendly or indicated that they were “out of stock–leave your request and we’ll call ya when we make more to ship.” This was Mardi Gras time, and gumbo was in high demand down there.
I resorted to the telephone and called the top restaurant. The WSJ food editor said they made “the best gumbo in the world.” I strategized and called after the noon rush and spoke to Charlene. She had a soft, smooth, southern voice and was unbelievably friendly.
I told her about having difficulty ordering online and said I wanted to place my order by telephone. She checked with the chef owner and told me about what they could ship. I asked about what was in their gumbo–shrimp or crawfish? Do you use butter in the roux? Do you put okra in? What kind of sausage?
“Whoa, there, northern boy.” (The Boston accent had tipped her off.) “How do you know so much about gumbo?”
“Well, Charlene, I happen to make my own gumbo, and it’s terrific,” I said. “I like to cook, sort of a hobby.”
“You make gumbo up there? Do you have a recipe?”
I couldn’t resist putting her on…“Why, yes. It’s an old secret family one, and I use lots of butter, shrimp, and okra.”
“Well, by golly, for a Yankee, you do know your gumbo.”
We completed the order, and I gave her my AmEx info. As soon as a new batch was made and put in quart containers, it would be packed and shipped overnight in a foam cold pack.
All went well.
The “imported” gumbo from Baton Rouge, Louisiana was truly wonderful and almost as delicious as my own thick and spicy version (never the same twice).
More importantly, I made a new friend, sharing recipe secrets and “breaking bread” in a real sense. I hope Charlene feels the same.
So, here’s Barry’s Gumbo—which I started from a basic recipe found on the internet and modified to perfection. Substitute items depending on your own tastes and what you have available.
Stuff to Get Ready
4 tbsp butter
¼ cup flour
2 onions, diced
2-3 peppers, red, yellow, green, etc. diced, 1/4 to 1/2 inch pieces
3 celery rib (skinned), 1/4 inch pieces
1/2 cup chopped okra (more or less) in ½ inch pieces
3-4 garlic cloves, chopped (more or less, depending on what your crowd likes)
1 pound Cajun sausage (I try to get spicy turkey) cut into ½ inch pieces
1 large 12-15 oz can diced fire roasted tomatoes
1 jar spicy chunky salsa
1 teaspoon Cajun seasoning–if you want more, add when simmering to taste
4 cups chicken broth (I make from concentrate, Knoors)
1 pound real good med-large shrimp…shelled, cleaned. Leave tails on.
Bunch of scallions…cut up 3-4 to sprinkle on top if people want
Teaspoon of red pepper flakes (test, add more while simmering to taste)
¼ cup brown rice
White jasmine or basmati rice to serve with gumbo. Have ready, or just microwave some in those small containers.
In skillet, brown the sausage pieces. Set aside.
In large pot, medium heat, melt butter and add flour. STIR, STIR, STIR while mixing in flour until mixture (ROUX) darkens…5-10 minutes of STIRRING
Put all vegs in the ROUX and cook, stirring, for 5-10 minutes.
Add in broth, tomatoes, salsa. Bring to boil then to a SIMMER…stirring in cajan spices, the red pepper flakes, brown rice(optional, help to thicken as you like) some salt if you want..go easy on salt, pepper until you check it.
45-60 minutes of simmering. Check to see if vegs soft. NOT MUSHY.
then add in shrimp, sausage..stirring after about 5-10 minutes shrimp will get pink. Can also use cooked/cleaned shrimp but only leave to heat for 1-2 minutes, no need to cook.
DONE!! Serve over the white rice, sprinkle with scallion pieces and your favorite beer/wine.
Barry says that he and his wife Liz began taking courses at BOLLI “almost from the beginning while winding down my career in the computer field as GM of ADP. Love taking subjects that I’ve not had exposure to before. Being snowbirds, we’re delighted that spring semester has five-week offerings. BOLLI has been and remains an important part of our life.”
A blog devoted to the interests of BOLLI members and potential members