Off the Cuff / My Other Journal

Life and Onions

Carl Sandburg said: "Life is like an onion: You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep."

No wonder I love onions. Maybe because I love life, weeping and all.

I bought several different kinds of onions today. I keep a few inside a bin in the refrigerator to use last. The others stay in a basket. They'll be used in two weeks, if not sooner.

Onion plants are hardy, being able to stand temperatures down to 20 degrees Fahrenheit. Life is hardy, too.

I never understood from where to attack an onion. Some say leave the root; cut the stem. Others say leave the stem; cut the root. So, I do both. I attack the onion from both ends, just the way I do with life, you might say. Is that why I weep?

One good advice for cholesterol watchers is to eat at least a half raw onion per day. This could make the HDL cholesterol (the good type) go up thirty percent. It is said that onions increase circulation, lower blood pressure, and prevent blood clotting.

On the other hand, it is easy to say, "Eat a raw onion," but it is difficult to eat one, and if you do--that's if you can, you better use a really strong mouthwash. I can just imagine me with a perfect cholesterol count and the whole world running away from me.

Scallions, Vidalias, and red onions can be tasty if chopped and added to salads. I like onions a little cooked, and I love onion breads and onion pies.

I used to swoon over French onion soup but the big glob of cheese scares me nowadays, and without the cheese, the soup loses its personality. I wonder why this soup is called French since it was made popular by Stanislaus I, a King of Poland. Maybe it is in the same vein with the fact that French attempt to make civilized anything their own. I like to pick on the French often, although I love the French friends I have, but I think they won't mind me since they are so civilized, or will they?

But I digress…as usual. (Bad habit of mine coming from all the free flow stuff I write.)

I guess onions are as old as mankind, if not older. It is known that Ancient Egyptians grew them. Maybe onions are as old as life.

Onions found their way to poetry. “Mine eyes smell onions: I shall weep anon.” And Shakespeare wrote that in All's Well that Ends Well. Life and onions should end well, also, whether we laugh or weep.

If it is life that makes us weep and we scapegoat the onions, it is because life self produces, is cannibalistic, and consumes energy. As to its origin, life is unsettled between scientists and scripture interpreters, and anything unsettled is unknown, thus something to cry about whether it comes in layers like an onion or is thrown at you as a whole.