The Emperor Of All PBS Documentaries

Besides being a parent to two healthy teenagers I am also a cancer mom. Cancer mom might not be the nicest way of describing it. But it does get the point across fast.

I'm Jacob's mom. He went through surgeries, chemotherapy and stem cell transplant with Jeremy and I at his side. He died at the age of two and a half from a type of childhood cancer that confounded his medical team with its voracity.

I can understand why cancer moms such as myself might not want to watch Cancer: Emperor of All Maladies on PBS. It could be too close for comfort. I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't want to watch.

It turns out that I did want to watch. I watch it and I'm rapt.

The Emperor of All Maladies is based on a book of the same title by Siddhartha Mukherjee. I didn't read the book. I'm a big reader, so initially it was surprising why I didn't. Watching the documentary made me remember something important about myself. Maybe you'll be able to relate to what I am saying.

When it comes to loaded topics like cancer, I like to get my information from people rather than the printed page. When Jacob was diagnosed and treated, the Internet was up and running albeit differently from today. Other cancer moms at the hospital and clinic would stay up at night looking things up. I didn't.

I didn't read books either. My one experience was with a resource guide given out by a children's brain tumor organization. Right after his surgery, I read about Jacob's tumor type in there. The neurosurgeon practically had to talk me down from the ledge. He told me that the information was outdated. He said that there were details in the book that didn't pertain to Jacob. I wouldn't read that book if I were you, he said.

I had plenty of questions, of course. They'd occur to me during oncology meetings, surgical consults and follow up appointments. They'd come up during blood transfusions, in the MRI suite and the recovery room. When I was at home I'd write the questions down and ask them when I saw a member of the medical team.

When I asked my questions, I was never brushed off, rushed or seen as silly. People took their time. They shared their knowledge. One of the things that Jeremy and I discovered was that, oftentimes, excellent doctors are also gifted teachers. Same with the nurses.

The compassion they showed, the empathy, their choice of words, their analogies, their drawings, their ability to explain and their willingness  to actually be present with us at our toughest moments is still something I think about daily.

The Emperor of All Maladies reminded me of this. The oncologists profiled were serving patients and families in every way. Yes, this is a documentary about cancer. It is just as much a documentary about people.

The doctors, researchers, historians, patients, writers - some of the people were one of these things, some were most of these things - were teachers that I could understand and relate to. Learning about cancer from these people made it something I could hear.

I read about a lot of things. It can be deeply satisfying to be scholarly and alone. Reading about cancer is an exception. Reading about cancer makes me a lonesome scholar. When it comes to cancer, I need inspiration, faces and conversation. The Emperor of All Maladies gave me that.

I hope I don't get cancer. I do some preventive things in an attempt to avoid cancer. I follow screening recommendations in hopes of catching any cancer at an early and optimally treatable phase.

I hope that no one else close to me gets cancer. But there are no quotas. There is no one in charge of cancer. Just because Jacob had cancer does not mean I'm finished with cancer.

The statistics are clear. One out of three women will be diagnosed with cancer. One out of two men will. It seems like a no brainer that some of the people I am close to will get cancer. I might get cancer.

Now that I've seen the Emperor of all Maladies, my perspective has shifted. I carried some assumptions now that I no longer have. For this reason, I anticipate having different, more nuanced and complicated questions than I would have before watching the documentary. That oncology meeting will have a smarter and more connected person in the passenger seat. Or the driver's seat, if I am the one with the cancer.

I've already written about the Emperor of All Maladies from the perspective of a cancer mom who likes a human connection when it comes to learning about cancer. But this isn't everything. There is more to be admired than just that.

The Emperor of All Maladies is a masterful documentary both apart from and intertwined with the subject matter. I expected it to engage my intellect, my cancer activism, and my concern. It accomplished these things. But it also connected with me as a creative person.

Rich imagery and lots of it. Vintage photographs and film clips that brought the history alive. Knowing when to be quick and knowing when to linger. Engaging with my aesthetic sense. Weaving it all together with beautiful music. A feast for the eyes and ears while never losing the gravitas or mission.

As a documentary it's right up there with the best of them. It's an education and a work of art rolled into one. No wonder it had my undivided attention.

Read or watch The Emperor Of All Maladies.

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Tater Tot Nachos

I was sitting on my couch, sipping some afternoon coffee and going through my email. More specifically, it was the designated time of day I have begun to call Email Time.

Until a couple of months ago, I would check email indiscriminately over the course the day. I was checking email, reading it, deleting it and answering it constantly. Then I developed a different relationship with email. I read about this new approach in an article. Ironically, the article appeared in an email about not checking you email all the time. I read it while I was still checking my email all the time.

Now what I do is I very briefly scan my email, no more than a couple of times a day. If there is an email that is very time-sensitive or extremely important, I deal with it immediately. Otherwise, I have a specific time when I devote some time to reading, deleting, answering and sending emails. One of my favorite activities is putting interesting blog posts I subscribe to in my Blogs to Read Later folder. This is email time.

So I am having a very typical late afternoon email time, and I notice something in there about Tater Tot Nachos. Naturally, an email like this doesn’t come in every day. So I open it up. I immediately put it in the email box titled Recipes.

I don’t call Jeremy at work frequently. Texting is something I do all the time while he is working. Fortunately, Jeremy was available when I phoned. I told him about the Tater Tot Nachos.

Frankly, I expected a little more of a reaction from Jeremy, because I was pretty excited about the idea of making this recipe. He was pretty positive, just not over the moon the way I was.

We were on the same page when it came to my idea to invite some people over for the Mad Men Premiere and serve the Tater Tot Nachos. He started thinking about the kind of cocktail he might like to serve. He became more enthusiastic once we started talking about that.

We finished talking for the time being, and I set about sending a very succinct email inviting a couple of people over. The person who wrote the article about managing email would have approved of how little time I spent composing the email. I mentioned the Tater Tot Nachos.

The people responded very quickly that they would love to come over. Either I happened to send the email during that person’s email time, or they are still in the habit of just being extremely real-time about email.

Hannah came home from school and I told her we would be having a viewing party on Sunday and serving Tater Tot Nachos. I showed her the picture of them that came with the email. She did this little cheer that she likes to do when she’s very excited about something. Now we’re talking!  I thought. She seemed to understand just how great this was going to be.

She asked me to make them for dinner that evening, and I refused to do so. She began to act like she was having a major craving for Tater Tot Nachos and suffering unduly because of it. I ignored Hannah, finished my email time and got up to make the dinner I planned for that evening.

The much-awaited night of the Mad Men premiere was soon upon us. In addition to the Tater Tot Nachos, we served guacamole and chips, cheese and crackers and Jeremy’s homemade Key Lime Pie. As promised, Jeremy also made us a mixed drink. I am not focusing on the drink at this time. This blog post is called Tater Tot Nachos, not The El Pepino Cocktail. Everything was delicious.

While I was preparing the Tater Tot Nachos, I began to feel nostalgic for my childhood, when my mother might prepare hamburgers for dinner, and you might have Tater Tots on the side, even though it wasn’t a special occasion.

Hannah wondered why kids weren’t all obese at the time, and I said that I think its because you were made to go outside and play. You were not allowed in the house between certain hours of the day. It was the same thing at everyone else’s house. There was a simple directive for everyone. Go outside and play.

Nobody was setting up play dates for you either. You weren’t picky about who you played with back in the day. You just played with whoever was outside. Then when it was dinnertime you were famished and washed that dinner down with a nice big glass of Kool-Aid.

The bag of Tater Tots I used in the recipe are made by Ore Ida. On the bag it said, since 1952, which I initially found alarming until I realized that the Ore Ida people meant that they’ve been making Tater Tots since 1952 in general, not claiming that the ones in this bag have been in there that long.

My own experience of eating the Tater Tot Nachos was surprising. I found it to be every bit as delicious as anticipated but more sophisticated than I would have predicted.

People really seemed to go for it. One of our guests asked for a second helping, which speaks for itself.

The only person who didn’t try it was Noah. He found it odd that we had “apparently invited people over to watch Mad Men,” but were instead sitting around eating and drinking together in a darkened living room. Someone explained that this was the social hour before the show goes on. Then we watched the show, which of course, was extremely awesome and even Noah forgot that he doesn’t like it and watched the ending.

It turns out that I adapted the recipe from the original.  Here is my version:

Tater Tot Nachos – serves 6

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
2. Spread one bag of Tater Tots on a baking sheet in an even layer. Bake until golden, 10-12 minutes.
3. Remove the Tater Tots from the oven and sprinkle 1 cup grated cheddar cheese and 1.5 cups of grated Monterey Jack cheese on top. Return to the oven and bake until melted.
4. Top with salsa, chopped cilantro and scallions.

Note about salsa: I used the chunky kind from the refrigerator section of the market, not the jarred variety. I suggest using this, or making your own fresh salsa.

Nutrition information per serving: Don’t ask.

Weight Watchers Points Plus Value per serving: Don’t ask.

If you would like to really go crazy, here is the original recipe.

Resurrection

It's everywhere. Advertising for a new TV show called Resurrection.

I like to watch TV. The commercials for Resurrection are on high rotation. I see bus advertising and posters for it too. But it's the television commercials that pull me in.

There's carefully orchestrated music, an evocative logo and tasteful production. But I'll cut to the chase: An older couple is reunited with their son Jacob, who died 32 years ago. Our son died 15 years ago. His name is Jacob too.

There's been a bit of discussion with other parents whose kids died. A Facebook friend started it. I think the idea for the show is mean. I say that I wish a nice man could bring back my Jacob. I tell all the other bereaved parents that I won't be watching the show. It wouldn't be the first time I've staged a one-person boycott.

Then a few days before the show's premiere, I changed my mind.

The closest thing to an explanation is this. The show seems manipulative, but it’s not every day that a deceased child makes his way to prime time. The idea proves irresistible.

There was a bit of what I'd describe as internal fanfare as I gather my favorite TV night accompaniments. A nice glass of wine, some freshly baked cookies.

I had two different predictions for Resurrection. Most likely it would be so badly done, so hideously insensitive, so insultingly off base, that I would be seething after watching and then I'd need a corrective experience. In case this happened, I told Jeremy I wanted to watch Girls right after Resurrection.

I considered another possibility. In spite of the build up, I'd end up adoring the show, falling in love with the dead boy Jacob and Sunday night at 9:00 becomes Me Time.

Neither one of these things happen.

What happens is that I watch in awe of Frances Fisher and Kurtwood Smith, the actors who play Jacob's parents. Their acting is superb. The complicated string of emotions they are able to convey feels spot on. I wasn't expecting the subtlety.

I identified with the mom. While everyone else is concerned with the details and struggling with the impossible, the mom moves immediately into nurturing the boy. She's a mother, not a detective. This is the bright spot for me.

The really surprising thing was how otherwise flat the show feels. There's something dull and monochromatic, in spite of the obvious suspense. My mind wandered to other things while watching.

I compared the TV Jacob with my Jacob. The obvious difference was that the TV Jacob was eight when he died and mine was two and a half. TV Jacob seems almost exotic in a way that is probably particular only to me. Except for the fact that he is dead, TV Jacob is classic and all American in ways that do not resemble any of my children.

Soon after my Jacob was born, I brought him with me to see Dr. Panter, my OB/GYN.

That's a very pretty baby, he said, but he's got just enough character to make him interesting. The show stirs up this nice memory. My children and I are an excellent match. They all have character.

It was impossible not to imagine what would happen if Omar Epps showed up at our door with our Jacob. It's heartbreaking to contemplate. For the most part my mind would go there for a moment, but not stay.

An odd thought popped into my head. I imagined calling our medical team soon after Jacob's return. The chemotherapy might have worked after all, I imagine saying.

Resurrection is utterly humorless.

Continuing to imagine Jacob returning would seem like waiting for unicorns or something supernatural. I've become accustomed to what is second best, keeping him with me through my memory and in my heart. In that way, it doesn't require a resurrection. It's not ideal, but it's what I am used to.

In the end, our particular story with my Jacob is so specific, so full of detail, so much more alive, that I found little to identify with in Resurrection. The show isn't great but it isn't terrible either. But seeing as though Sunday is already a big TV night for our family, we probably won't be viewing it again. Mad Men is coming and we'd rather watch that.