As I explore more and more the natural remedies God has provided through food, I'm amazed and awed and encouraged that He has not left those who do not share the wealth of America without means. In fact, the more I experience food choices typically not part of the American diet, I become more aware and alarmed that it is America's very wealth that is impoverishing so many men, women, children healthwise. It's unavoidable that obesity is epidemic in our wealthy nation, and sugar and red meat are two major culprits, with caffeine a close third.
In the old, "old" days, sugar was a once-in-awhile treat that happened at Christmas or on extra, estra special occasions. Remember how Little House On The Priaire's Laura Ingalls Wilder told of drizzling maple syrup on snow for a treat? Hardly a Milky Way!
At 64 years old, that time was beyond my years, but it was in the time of my grandmother and perhaps my mother's early years. No wonder there weren't dentists' offices in every neighborhood back then. And what was an orthodontist? Of course, teeth weren't always the best cared for, but you never saw faces with teeth so Mount Tabor dazzling white that they looked ridiculous on an otherwise normal human face, either.
By my time, in the post-war boom, my parents added a tablespoon of Karo syrup and baby oatmeal to every bottle, just in case I might starve. By post WWII loving parents, I was set up for sugar cravings from the get-go. Little did they know that that was not a good option. Pop was 6 cents a bottle, and we got it once or twice a week. No such thing as the super-sizes we have now. Candy was 5 cents, but there was no such thing as a Kingsize Three Musketeers or Snickers back then, and we only got that once a week if that's how we chose to spend our 25 cent a week allowance. Nevertheless, it was opulent compared to my grandmother's day. Today, we've slid down the slippery slope to sheer decadence, by any standard. (I rarely agree with Mayor Bloomberg of New York on anything, but on his downsizing pop crusade I do agree, though I don't think he can stop the addiction. Still, it wouldn't hurt to try to slow people down.)
I could write on and on about Ribeye's and other red meats that every real man loves to eat, cooked on the grill, of course, the worst possible way to rev up the carcinogenic potential in these favs. Then there's GMO chicken, turkey, and everything else we feast upon, as surely as Daniel of the Lion's Den's king in the Old Testament gorged himself and his guests on. Why, he had nothing compared to our everyday, or at least every weekend, banquets.
And caffeine! Lines at Starbucks, with a kick that causes most any heart to race, are long in the early a.m., and often again after work. Free refills at McDonald's and most breakfast haunts are not too far behind, though nothing compares to Starbucks in terms of caffeine jolts, oh, except for the super caffeine boosters like Red Bull on most every checkout counter in convenience stores. At home, most mornings before I knew better, I drank several mugs of stout black coffee from my own home coffeemaker, thinking if I drank I wouldn't eat so much. Little did I know I was setting myself up for an inflammatory disease, in my case, breast cancer. Sure, many things cause cancer, but some things help it along, and caffeine is one!
Sugar, red meat, and caffeine are three major carcinogens in that they are highly, highly acid foods, and cancer thrives in an acidic environment, I've now learned the hard way. You don't find this in countries that aren't so rich they are poor. We might look fat and sassy in our shiny, well-insured SUV's and designer everything, but in reality, we are at least as poor if not more poor than those in countries without our "delicacies." Countries where millet, quinoa, and various beans are a staple part of the diet. In those countries, though, these things aren't marked up so high that ordinary folks probably can't or won't afford them in fashionable suburbs where Whole Foods is the going place to grocery shop.
All that glitters is not true gold, that's for sure. I learned that about the glittery appeal of birth control touted as every man and woman's dream solution to happy sex lives in the Sixties. And now I'm learning it about the glittery appeal of the American diet. Both false solutions are wrecking American lives, family life and personal health alike. In spades!
Or wealth really is our greatest poverty, and the devil must laugh to see us fall for into his sneaky trap. If we really do fall off the fiscal cliff, hopefully, at least we won't eat and drink ourselves to death. Maybe we won't have the means. May God bless America!
Merry Christmas, and praise Him that He has come into our world to save us from ourselves.
In the old, "old" days, sugar was a once-in-awhile treat that happened at Christmas or on extra, estra special occasions. Remember how Little House On The Priaire's Laura Ingalls Wilder told of drizzling maple syrup on snow for a treat? Hardly a Milky Way!
At 64 years old, that time was beyond my years, but it was in the time of my grandmother and perhaps my mother's early years. No wonder there weren't dentists' offices in every neighborhood back then. And what was an orthodontist? Of course, teeth weren't always the best cared for, but you never saw faces with teeth so Mount Tabor dazzling white that they looked ridiculous on an otherwise normal human face, either.
By my time, in the post-war boom, my parents added a tablespoon of Karo syrup and baby oatmeal to every bottle, just in case I might starve. By post WWII loving parents, I was set up for sugar cravings from the get-go. Little did they know that that was not a good option. Pop was 6 cents a bottle, and we got it once or twice a week. No such thing as the super-sizes we have now. Candy was 5 cents, but there was no such thing as a Kingsize Three Musketeers or Snickers back then, and we only got that once a week if that's how we chose to spend our 25 cent a week allowance. Nevertheless, it was opulent compared to my grandmother's day. Today, we've slid down the slippery slope to sheer decadence, by any standard. (I rarely agree with Mayor Bloomberg of New York on anything, but on his downsizing pop crusade I do agree, though I don't think he can stop the addiction. Still, it wouldn't hurt to try to slow people down.)
I could write on and on about Ribeye's and other red meats that every real man loves to eat, cooked on the grill, of course, the worst possible way to rev up the carcinogenic potential in these favs. Then there's GMO chicken, turkey, and everything else we feast upon, as surely as Daniel of the Lion's Den's king in the Old Testament gorged himself and his guests on. Why, he had nothing compared to our everyday, or at least every weekend, banquets.
And caffeine! Lines at Starbucks, with a kick that causes most any heart to race, are long in the early a.m., and often again after work. Free refills at McDonald's and most breakfast haunts are not too far behind, though nothing compares to Starbucks in terms of caffeine jolts, oh, except for the super caffeine boosters like Red Bull on most every checkout counter in convenience stores. At home, most mornings before I knew better, I drank several mugs of stout black coffee from my own home coffeemaker, thinking if I drank I wouldn't eat so much. Little did I know I was setting myself up for an inflammatory disease, in my case, breast cancer. Sure, many things cause cancer, but some things help it along, and caffeine is one!
Sugar, red meat, and caffeine are three major carcinogens in that they are highly, highly acid foods, and cancer thrives in an acidic environment, I've now learned the hard way. You don't find this in countries that aren't so rich they are poor. We might look fat and sassy in our shiny, well-insured SUV's and designer everything, but in reality, we are at least as poor if not more poor than those in countries without our "delicacies." Countries where millet, quinoa, and various beans are a staple part of the diet. In those countries, though, these things aren't marked up so high that ordinary folks probably can't or won't afford them in fashionable suburbs where Whole Foods is the going place to grocery shop.
All that glitters is not true gold, that's for sure. I learned that about the glittery appeal of birth control touted as every man and woman's dream solution to happy sex lives in the Sixties. And now I'm learning it about the glittery appeal of the American diet. Both false solutions are wrecking American lives, family life and personal health alike. In spades!
Or wealth really is our greatest poverty, and the devil must laugh to see us fall for into his sneaky trap. If we really do fall off the fiscal cliff, hopefully, at least we won't eat and drink ourselves to death. Maybe we won't have the means. May God bless America!
Merry Christmas, and praise Him that He has come into our world to save us from ourselves.
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