Sun all day, Rain all night. A short guide to happiness and saving money, and something to eat, too.

Pamela Osborne

If you’ve been thinking that you have a constitutional right to happiness, you would be wrong about that. All the Constitution says is that if you are alive and free (and that is apparently enough for many, or no one would be crossing our borders), you do also have a right to take a shot at finding happiness. The actual pursuit of that is up to you, though.
But how do you get there? On a less elevated platform than that provided by the founding fathers I read, years ago, an interview with Mary Kay Ash, the founder of Mary Kay Cosmetics. Her company, based on Avon and Tupperware models, was very successful. But to be happy, she offered,, you need three things: 1) someone to love; 2) work you enjoy; and 3) something to look forward to.
Like a lot of advice — to lose weight, for example, eat less and exercise, that’s one I’ve heard a few times — this is deceptively and falsely simple. It’s pretty hard, really, to be lucky enough to enjoy your work day in/day out. And given divorce rates, it seems that someone to love can be a bit scarce on the ground, too, and so this category may need to be expanded to include whatever else you might be able to love. The last condition — something pleasing on the horizon— is, perhaps the one most able to be made to happen. Vacations on the high end, looking out the window or a good night’s sleep on the low.
What Mary Kay failed to mention is how very difficult it is to have all three of these things working for you at the same time. It’s tough. So best not to think about that too much, but instead just close our eyes and focus on what might be possible. Small small, that’s the ticket.
Based on what makes some days better for me, and on what is realistic, here’s a suggestion for a low key approach to adding an attainable, achievable something to look forward to to your life. If there’s one thing I don’t look forward to, it’s having to face an evening of standing at the sink and the stove at the end of a long day. Fast food and take-out fortunes have been made by people who figured out how to capitalize on this, to the detriment of neighborhood bank accounts everywhere. Much better to plan ahead, bothering in advance to fix something that’s good and ready to eat at the end of the day, so that all that’s needed is a quick heating up. Look at it as one step taken on the road to a happier few moments as shadows lengthen at the end of the afternoon. Works for me. Well, along with a toast to those who are with us, and to those who are not.
This recipe can be put together from items you may already have on hand. You might want to give it a try, it’s simple and good.
This stew, though served hot, is light, and fine for this still between-seasons time of year.
And, happily, you will find it to be easy and economical. If you are feeling pinched these days, you can leave out the fish and add more beans. In that case, you might want to add fish stock cubes instead of the vegetable stock cubes specified, for a bit of extra flavor. You can, of course, use fresh fish instead of frozen, but that defeats the convenience of having a pantry-available meal. Regardless, and by the way, this is more than good enough to serve to a table of friends, if you choose to do that, and no one, including the cook, will feel hard done by. Or, if it’s just you or a few at the table, make a potful, dip out what you need for a meal, and heat it in the microwave for a few minutes. Keep the rest for an easy tomorrow, it keeps well.
8-10 servings
2 or 3 TB olive oil. A neutral oil is fine. I use Berio.
2 TB unsalted butter
2 sticks celery, halved lengthwise and very finely sliced, just a bit more than paper thin
Some celery leaves from the center of the bunch, rinsed and dried
4 medium shallots, peeled and quartered, OR 1 medium onion—red or yellow—roughly chopped
4 or 5 garlic cloves (small to medium), peeled and very finely sliced. And no, it won’t taste too garlicky: it isn’t smashed or pressed, which intensifies that.
1 1/2 tsp. fennel seeds
A bunch of parsley, washed and dried. You will use the stems for the stew, the leaves for garnish. You want about 3/4 cup finely chopped parsley leaves. Medium chop the stems, 1/4” to 1/3” long.
1/2 c. dry white wine. I used what remained of a bottle; it may have been a bit more than half a cup, and had been sitting in the fridge for several weeks.
2 28-oz.cans of peeled plum tomatoes. I use Cento, and you needn’t buy the more expensive San Marzanos. With my washed hands, I take the tomatoes out of the can one by one and put them in a bowl, having removed the stem end and any stringy bits hanging from it, and any overlooked pieces of skin. Check the remaining tomato liquid for random bits of skin, too, before adding it to the bowl. All of these are indigestible, basically, and removing them improves the end product. But if you don’t care about that, just dump in the can as is. The tomatoes will need to be broken up a bit as you stir, with a wooden or silicone spatula.
One 15.5-oz. can of small white beans, rinsed and drained; Roman, flageolet, navy. I buy Goya.
One 15.5-oz. can of larger white beans, rinsed and drained. Butter beans are good, cannellini would do, too. Again, Goya.
2 cubes of vegetable stock. Mince these into small pieces before adding, they’ll dissolve more quickly.
Two pounds of frozen fish, thawed, rinsed, and cut into largish pieces, as they will break apart when cooking. Use a flaky fish, not a meaty one. I used one package of cod, and one of bay scallops, both bought on sale, which were in my freezer. The scallops (and by the way, in the past bay scallops were considered a delicacy compared to sea scallops, and were much more expensive; the reverse is true now, go figure) were very good, but all cod would be fine, too. If you’re not using fish, rinse and drain another can of beans, add that, see if one additional can is enough. This is not a thick stew, it should be a somewhat thinner, soupyish one. Add another can if you think it might be a good idea. The beans will swell as they cook, and will thicken the broth a bit; so if you’re uncertain, be conservative. You can always add more beans later.
Lemon wedges to serve, with Maldon salt and freshly ground pepper, and hot pepper flakes or oil
Melt the oil and butter in a large pan (a six or seven-quart Dutch oven, for example) over low heat. Add the celery, shallots, fennel seeds, and chopped parsley stems, with a pinch of salt. Cook slowly, stirring frequently, until the shallots and celery are very soft, but not browned at all. When they are nearly soft, add the garlic slices, being careful not to let them burn, and cook to soften. Raise the heat to medium, add the wine and let it simmer for 3 or 4 minutes, and then add the tomatoes, beans, and chopped vegetable stock cubes, which will dissolve. Add a cup of water, if things look too thick. Bring to a boil, turn down the heat, and simmer for about half an hour, stirring periodically.
Add the fish pieces, nestled into the top of the stew. Reduce the heat to low. Cover the pot and let this cook for about ten minutes, no more, until the fish is opaque and flaking. If you are using bay scallops, add them later, cook only 3 to 4 minutes. Once the fish is cooked, you can stir it in.
This should be prepared several hours ahead, so that the beans have mellowed and the seeds have softened. If serving the same day, I leave the base on the stove, covered, and reheat it slowly at dinner time. In that case, don’t add the fish until the base is hot, shortly before you’re serving it. If you have leftovers, keep the casserole in the refrigerator, and dip out and reheat only what you will need at that time.
Wrap the chopped parsley and celery leaves in waxed paper, wrap that in a damp paper towel, and wrap that loosely in plastic wrap. This will keep for several days in the refrigerator, and should be sprinkled over the stew. Serve with lemon wedges, etc., as above, along with some good bread. If you aren’t serving this to a crowd, you will have some easy evenings ahead, with very little to clean up. Cheers!
Sun all day, Rain all night? A friend once told me he’d had a perfect childhood, and this evocative short description of it was the only one offered. So peaceful and simple, and a guide.
Pamela Osborne lives in Salisbury.
“I’m not a great activist,” said filmmaker Oren Rudavsky, humbly. “I do my work in my own quiet way, and I hope that it speaks to people.”
Rudavsky’s film “Elie Wiesel: Soul on Fire,” screens at The Moviehouse in Millerton on Saturday, Jan. 18, followed by a post-film conversation with Rudavsky and moderator Ileene Smith.
Rudavsky, who lives in New York City and has a home in Lakeville, has been screening films at The Moviehouse for nearly three decades. “I was the first independent filmmaker to show a film there back in 1997 or ’98,” he recalled, with “A Life Apart: Hasidism in America.” “I think I’ve shown four or five films there over the years.”
Best known for his searing 1958 memoir, “Night,” Elie Wiesel forever altered how the Holocaust would be written about and remembered. A teenage survivor of Auschwitz and Buchenwald, the Romanian-born author became an international spokesperson for memory, conscience and moral responsibility. Yet Rudavsky’s documentary looks beyond Wiesel’s public role, revealing a man who was, in the director’s words, “intensely private and profoundly public.”
Rudavsky’s connection to Wiesel is also personal. “I grew up in Boston,” he said, “and Elie started teaching there in ’77 or ’78, and my mother took a class with him.” His father was a Reform rabbi, and the family’s shelves were filled with Jewish books, including Wiesel’s, such as “Night,” “Jews of Silence,” and the volume that would later lend its name to the film: “Souls on Fire.”
“His mystical storytelling is where he’s at his best,” Rudavsky said of the book. “So eloquent and beautiful — you could pick up any page and be transported into this other world, this other realm. ‘Night’ does that too, in a horrifying way, but it achieves that same sort of consciousness change.”
Wiesel, who died in 2016 at the age of 87, would go on to establish what is now the Elie Wiesel Center for Jewish Studies at Boston University, an institution devoted to ethical inquiry, dialogue and human rights, principles that shaped both his teaching and his writing.
“One of the things that is most striking to me in living with Elie Wiesel’s work for the past four years,” said Rudavsky, “is how civilized, cultured, eloquent, soft-spoken and gentle a person he was, how loving in general a person he was.” That gentleness and quiet insistence on civility becomes one of the film’s most moving revelations.
The documentary does not present Wiesel as a saint or a monument. It lingers instead on the human questions. “How do you overcome trauma?” Rudavsky asked. “How do you live with it? Do you ever overcome it? I don’t think Elie did overcome it, but I think he learned to live with it and learned to enjoy life — sleeplessly perhaps — but he enjoyed the world.”
To evoke the inner life of memory, the film incorporates hand-painted animation by Joel Orloff, inspired in part by the illustrator Mark Podwal, who collaborated with Wiesel on several projects. “A few of the animations are inspired by his brilliant work,” Rudavsky said. “Everything else is from Joel Orloff’s imagination.”

The technique they employed in the film was influenced by South African artist William Kentridge, whose charcoal drawings evolve through erasure and reworking. “We wanted to evoke memory through the animation,” Rudavsky explained. “Joel painted on glass, smudged it, poured water onto it.” The result is a haunting, fluid visual language, neither literal nor ornamental.
“At first, I wasn’t sure I was going to use animation,” Rudavsky explained. “But when I read portions of Elie’s autobiography, he intersperses these dreams about his family, his father, and I thought, ‘This just cries out for animation.’” The effect is striking: a fusion of conscious and subconscious, past and present.
Marion Wiesel, Elie’s wife, translator, and closest collaborator, passed away in February of last year. She was able to see the film at a screening at Lincoln Center. “She said to me, ‘I love the film, but it caused me pain because it made me fall in love with Elie all over again,’” Rudavsky recalled. “Which was heartbreaking — but for a filmmaker, what more can you really ask for?”
Marion, he added, was a remarkable figure in her own right, deeply involved in civil rights activism. A member of the NAACP in the 1950s, she encouraged Elie to look beyond the Jewish world he mostly traveled in and toward a broader global perspective.
That outward gaze was central to Wiesel’s public life. The film revisits moments when he spoke directly to political power, including his famous confrontation with President Ronald Reagan over a planned visit to a cemetery in Bitburg, Germany, where SS members were buried. “Elie lost the battle but won the war,” Rudavsky said. “Because how he spoke up was much more lasting than whatever Reagan did.” He adds that what mattered most was the tone: “It was a civil dialogue. A gentle dialogue.”
Moderating the post-screening discussion will be Ileene Smith, editor at large for Farrar, Straus and Giroux and editorial director of Jewish Lives, the prizewinning biography series published by Yale University Press. Smith worked closely with both Elie and Marion Wiesel on many books, including the new translation of “Night.” In 1986, she accompanied the Wiesels to Oslo when Elie received the Nobel Peace Prize. Her husband, Howard Sobel, served for many years on the board of the Elie Wiesel Foundation for Humanity.
Wiesel believed that memory was not passive; it was a moral act. Asked about the moral obligation to bear witness, Rudavsky said, “It’s an endless moral obligation. And we all take on what we can, which is always too little.”
And what would Rudavsky ask Wiesel now if he were still here to bear witness?
“People ask, post–Oct. 7, what would Elie have said? And I can’t speak for him but I know he would have spoken up from where he comes from. Some would have disagreed with him. But in the U.S. today, when immigrants are being shipped off to places unknown, when people trying to defend them are facing violence, even death, we all need to try to do whatever little bit there is to do.”
Even within disagreement, Wiesel believed in dialogue. Rudavsky, speaking about his relationship with Wiesel’s son, Elisha, said: “We have different political perspectives, but we’re united in saying we’ll keep talking, we’ll keep working together. It’s such a divisive time where people don’t talk to each other — they yell at each other and kill each other. That’s something Elie Wiesel certainly would have spoken up about.”
Because for Wiesel, bearing witness was not only about preserving the past. It was about refusing indifference in the present.
For tickets, visit: themoviehouse.net
Marietta Whittlesey
When writer and therapist Marietta Whittlesey moved to Salisbury in 1979, she had already published two nonfiction books and assumed she would eventually become a fiction writer like her mother, whose screenplays and short stories were widely published in the 1940s.
“But one day, after struggling to freelance magazine articles and propose new books, it occurred to me that I might not be the next Edith Wharton who could support myself as a fiction writer, and there were a lot of things I wanted to do in life, all of which cost money.” Those things included resuming competitive horseback riding.
Over time, through a career that has spanned writing, emergency medical service and clinical psychology, Whittlesey has built a psychotherapy practice in the Northwest Corner focused on evidence-based treatment for trauma, chronic pain and performance anxiety. Drawing on specialized training in EMDR, a trauma-focused therapy, and clinical hypnosis, she works with clients whose symptoms have often not responded to traditional talk therapy.
Whittlesey grew up in New York City and attended Chapin, an all-girls school widely regarded as one of the best in the country. “I hated it — 12 years of total lack of agency left a mark — but I got a great classical education. Recently, I visited for the first time in more than 30 years and found a delightfully changed school — one I wish I could attend right now,” she laughed.
She studied psychology as an undergraduate at New York University, where she worked in the lab of Dr. Jay Weiss, a MacArthur Fellowship recipient at Rockefeller University and later at the New York State Psychiatric Institute.
After moving to Salisbury, Whittlesey joined the Salisbury Volunteer Ambulance as an EMT and found work writing radio and television spots at the University of Connecticut Health Center in Farmington. That led to a 30-year freelance career writing continuing medical education programs for physicians, often ghostwriting first drafts of journal articles.
“I learned a lot of medicine that way and learned how to speak and write like a doctor, which is essential.” At the same time, she continued to write and co-author nonfiction books. “But after a couple of decades, the 80-hour workweeks and the insane pressure got to me.”

She enrolled in a master’s program in psychology at Capella University, one of the first accredited online universities. “This worked perfectly for me because I could continue to earn a living as a writer during the day.”
After graduating with a Master of Science in clinical psychology, she decided not to pursue a doctorate.
“I am a good autodidact, and I decided I’d rather learn clinical techniques like EMDR and hypnotherapy than do another round of stats and write a dissertation.”
EMDR, or Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing, is a form of psychotherapy most commonly used to help people process and heal from trauma and other distressing life experiences.
After completing a 3,000-hour internship at the former Community Mental Health Affiliates in Lakeville, she opened a private practice in Lakeville. She now works from an office near Sharon Hospital, where she has a general psychotherapy practice. She has a particular interest in treating disorders of appearance, ranging from body dysmorphic disorder to alopecia areata and severe scarring.
Whittlesey is certified by the EMDR International Association in eye movement desensitization and reprocessing.
The therapy follows a specific protocol using bilateral stimulation — through eye movements, pulsars or audio — to help process traumatic memories associated with PTSD.
“So many people have never heard of EMDR, yet it is such a powerful clinical tool — not just for treating trauma, for which it was originally employed, but now with protocols for eating disorders, phobias, anxiety and many other issues. It is considered one of the top evidence-based treatments for trauma by the World Health Organization, the American Psychiatric Association and the Department of Veterans Affairs.”
Whittlesey treats many clients with chronic pain, often stemming from medically unexplained symptoms. Unlike traditional talk therapy — which has an important place, she said — EMDR can sometimes help patients feel significantly better even after a single session.
Rarely are more than six to 10 sessions needed to process traumas such as car accidents, violence or childhood neglect that can lead to a diagnosis of complex PTSD.
“Clinical hypnosis is also very helpful in treating chronic pain, as well as anxiety and addictions. I like to teach people self-hypnosis to use on their own. It has been an extremely useful tool for me throughout my life as a writer with deadlines and as a rider facing a jump course.”
Whittlesey has also launched a performance coaching business, Partners in Performance, where she helps clients overcome performance anxiety. Recent clients have included a golfer with “the yips,” a rider recovering from a bad fall, a teacher accepting an award and a woman studying for a dental hygienist exam.
Asked about future plans, Whittlesey’s eyes lit up as she described upcoming training in Deep Brain Reorienting, a new treatment with some similarities to EMDR.
Whittlesey has a profile on Psychology Today and can be reached at 860-397-5296 or mwlpcllc@gmail.com.
Elena Spellman is a recent Northwest Corner transplant. She is a Russian native and grew up in the Midwest. In addition to writing, she teaches ESL and Russian.
Artist Peter Gerakaris in his studio in Cornwall.
Opening Jan. 17 at the Cornwall Library, Peter Gerakaris’ show “Oculus Serenade” takes its cue from a favorite John Steinbeck line of the artist’s: “It is advisable to look from the tide pool to the stars and then back to the tide pool again.” That oscillation between the intimate and the infinite animates Gerakaris’ vivid tondo (round) paintings, works on paper and mosaic forms, each a kind of luminous portal into the interconnectedness of life.
Gerakaris describes his compositions as “merging microscopic and macroscopic perspectives” by layering endangered botanicals, exotic birds, aquatic life and topographical forms into kaleidoscopic, reverberating worlds. Drawing on his firsthand experiences trekking through semitropical jungles, diving coral reefs and hiking along the Housatonic, Gerakaris composes images that feel both transportive and deeply rooted in observation. A musician as well as a visual artist, he describes his use of color as vibrational — each work humming with what curator Simon Watson has likened to “visual jazz.”

At the heart of the exhibition is a four-foot-diameter hand-painted “Orchid Oculus Tondo,” surrounded by four hand-embellished prints and a shimmering cut-glass mosaic. The central painting conjures a dreamlike cosmos where endangered St. Lucian parrots glide through oversized tropical orchids and foliage. Built through a “call-and-response process” that allows drips, spills and chance encounters to remain visible, the work is alive with motion and improvisation. In the depths of winter, “Oculus Serenade” offers a kind of visual warmth, a reminder of the beauty, fragility and music of the natural world.
“Oculus Serenade: Artwork by Peter D. Gerakaris” runs Jan. 17 through Feb. 28 at the Cornwall Library. An artist’s reception will be held Saturday, Jan. 17, from 4 to 6 p.m. Registration is requested at cornwalllibrary.org/events/.