This past week my mother took an impromptu trip to England. She accompanied my sister for a quick visit to assist her with some family interests. They departed Saturday, took the red eye and arrived overnight.

While walking our dogs the following morning, I received a distorted phone call. It was my mom telling me muddled details of their arrival, lodging and the weather conditions for the village in which they were staying. She said there was no Wi-Fi, gusting wind, and it was about 25 degrees cooler than Mississippi. Giving the current “climate” stateside, it sounded like paradise to me.

After the call abruptly dropped, my attention shifted back to my lot in life. At that moment, it was being walked by a 130 pound newfie-poo named Oliver. Better known as “Ollie” and on occasion “Rufus” by his friends.

It has come to my attention that Ollie has friends that we don’t necessarily know. He spends a lot of his pastime in our front yard initiating his version of conversation with passersby and those that attend church service across from our house. Certain not to be left out of fellowship on or across from his block, he makes his presence well known with a boisterous bark and desperate whimper.
He receives regular visits and has a different relationship with each person that answers his call.

One friend in particular brings him a treat every Sunday. He anticipates said treat and calls to her when she is exiting the church. Never mind the fact that she may be mid-conversation with another human, Ollie has more pressing business and sees to it that business is conducted.

Ollie doesn’t seem to be bothered by the worldly issues that most of us are tethered to. He has an impetuous spirit that takes no pause for trivial situations. Like me, he seems more than OK with my mother’s description of no Wi-Fi, gusting winds, and 25 degree cooler temperatures. Granted, his thick fluffy coat has an influence on his prejudice for Mississippi summers. He is a complex dog with a hope filled life – a formula that hasn’t failed him yet.

This past Sunday was one of the hotter days we’ve had thus far. So our retreat back to the air conditioning was swift and Ollie settled in for a nap. While debating a nap for myself, I paused to think about how good my day would be. I love Sunday afternoons around our house because that’s when we really do our cooking. Our kitchen becomes a meditative space of slicing, sizzling, aromas and flavors. A calm washes over me as I’m doing what I love. I’m doing what is innate.

Cooking is a dance performed to the music of hope. That word alone is the liminal space for the sentiments we speak at meal time. We say, “I hope it’s good,” or, “I hope you got enough,” or, “I hope we can do this again.” Food returns us to a primal camaraderie that is familiar to us all. Then, in those Sunday kitchen moments, hope no longer hangs in the balance and is replaced with words of happiness. “I’m so happy you liked it,” and “I’m so happy you came.”

While those kitchen moments may seem utopian, my life is not always trees of green and skies of blue. I try my best not to read too much on social media, but I can still be a glutton for dopamine scrolling in my weaker moments. On a few different news pages I have seen our present day “climate” referred to as living in a hopeless world. That is quite an indictment. The doom is broadcast upon us as if Dante, the poet, wrote it himself. The headlines may as well read “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” If we’re not mindful, the talking heads can make it seem easier to feel bad than good.

But maybe rather than abandon hope, we should at times abandon Wi-Fi and follow the likes of Ollie into paradise. Just imagine… long walks, even longer naps, receiving treats upon request, and befriending all passersby. I think I can faintly hear Louis Armstrong singing as I write this.

It’s inspiring what can come of those moments when we return to what we’re fashioned to do. We’re not as complex as we think we are. I talk a lot about the power of food, laughter, cooking, planting, dancing, singing, and all the purest of principles that make up the human condition. Life can be paradisiacal when you take the time to live it. Just ask Ollie.

I’m proud of my mom for her spur of the moment trip. Things like that take a certain amount of courage. She returned on Friday and we plan to all go out Saturday and celebrate my sister’s birthday. There will be food, laughter, and maybe singing. We will swelter from the heat but we will be far from the Wi-Fi.

In regard to Ollie, he will be home getting a good night’s rest. For him Sunday awaits, and it will be business as usual. Play me off Louis.

Clay Bowen is a Columbus native who cooked professionally as a chef in fine dining for 12 years and appeared on the third season of Top Chef. He is also a licensed landscape horticulturist and is currently the general manager of a local landscaping company. Bowen writes in his free time and is working on a book about his experiences and travel.

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