“Not My Jam”
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Last year I explored my #2 bucket list item (#1 is grandchildren, but I have no say in that) and travelled to the wonderworld known to the rest of world as New Zealand. When I was a child, I occupied my time in the dentist office waiting room, devouring the children’s “Highlights” magazine’s educational articles of unique and mysterious locations far away from the tiny towns of northern Wisconsin. Add to that, my father’s own wandering spirit that he instilled in us as a family, and I was hooked!
While I could chatter on longer than most would be interested, I am unable to effectively encompass the beauty, majesty, and flavor of that two island country. Instead, I can simply state it is a world of its own with its own language of how to live in harmony with nature and with others. Along with their unspoken language and their accent that might seem at times a new language altogether, they have expressions that are uniquely their own. There is one in particular I have absorbed within me, in words and feelings, and enjoy: “gu-DON-u.” What they are actually saying is “good on you.”
One declares “guDONu” while listening to a friend explain how they climbed to the top of Mount Maunganui
or rappelled through a waterfalls into the wild Waitomo caves.
They’d say it if you’re explaining that you figured out how to drive on the British side of the road with only the occasional slip up when turning right (hug the LEFT shoulder to accomplish this, not the right), or that you finally found the Southern Cross constellation in the sky (not at all as big as I had expected).
“GuDONu” an expression of support or respect while also not necessarily agreeing with you. You could opine on the economy, religion, politics or even tastes in clothing or movies. If you hear “guDONu,” it may be they want you to know they respect you and are listening, but might not agree. There’s no personal attacks, no condemnation and no utterance of the end of the world as we know it. They are listening and there’s respect. I like it, so I stole it for myself.
I most often enjoy expressing “guDONu” when I hear wonderful achievements such as one of my students being selected into West Point or another student proudly placing first in their class’s oratorical speech we worked on together and now she’s competing at the city and state level.
It’s actually fun to say. Try it. “GuDONu.”
For me, when I do, just a little of my consciousness is transported back to that mystical land of the kiwis and my soul is enriched once again.
But wait. The title of this post is “not my jam” not “guDONu.” That’s because I’ve discovered another new favorite. This time I met the originator of the expression and I’m committed to do my part to infect the world with a new viral-worthy expression. Why not?! It’s significantly more interesting than some of the latest fad expressions (for further confusion see definitions for cap, rizz, IYKYK, and beat).
I met a talented quilter and young lady named April who lives in the lakes district of Minnesota in the cozy town of Paynesville where there are Saturday morning farmers markets just off Main Street and quilt shoppes (yes, spelled “ye olde” English way). My mother is a master quilter herself and prefers a quilting style called English Paper Piecing. We met April in the shop in Paynesville and fell into a long discussion about quilts and styles. I was commenting on how much I enjoy my mother’s work and other vintage patterns over the modern avant-garde styles.
She agreed with a simple response, “not my jam.”
It was perfect! Light years above the thinly veiled snub of “you-do-you” I often hear as some suggest and debate and disagree over various topics. “Not my jam” is personal, clever, unique. It’s as homespun as vintage quilts and homemade jam. What a perfect example of individual taste that simultaneously also expresses talent and suggests a sense of expert knowingness of an individual qualified to comment. After all, “not my jam,” implies a known subtlety of jam, the various blended flavors, the choice of tartness or sweetness and the consistency (after all, does anyone other than an expert really know the difference between jam and preserves?).
My favorite jam is strawberry rhubarb. The strawberry half is classic! Lovely mushy chunks of cooked down strawberries can be slathered onto your favorite bread with the sweetness of summer. The rhubarb half tingles my tongue with the surprise of tartness and takes me home to the north where winters are longer and colder than middle Georgia where this vegetable-treated-like-fruit fails to grow. Last year, I spent most of the summer on what used to be my grandfather’s farm which now is an organic farm run by my aunt’s family. I was helping out by making jams, jellies, and breads for the weekly farmers markets. My Aunt Bev taught me how to make strawberry rhubarb jam and now there’s no going back. (For an additional reading about Aunt Bev and her legendary jelly spoon, see my other post, “Reflections on a Jelly Spoon”, 2023).
However, you might think, “not my jam.” In fact, much to my shock, strawberry rhubarb jam is not their best seller. I guess everyone has a right to their own best choice, and it doesn’t have to be mine. There’s chokecherry (better have plenty of sugar), apple, peach, and summer berries. There’s savory jams like pepper-jack and jalepeño. I have no idea what they taste like and there’s no need to before I quickly decline any offer with a “not my jam.”
On my recent trip in Michigan, I travelled through an Amish community and through acres and acres of cherry orchards. Michigan is the largest producer of tart cherries in the nation with over 90,000 tons of cherries grown in a single year’s harvest. I stopped at an Amish roadside stand operated by 3 Amish teenagers, who clearly were not worried about current fashion, to see what might be available for me to wander through. The craftsmanship of the items at that stand was premier and the prices were inviting. I picked up some homemade sourdough bread, canned peaches, chocolate chip cookies and cherry preserves. My supper that evening was a feast of hand-crafted goodness, but I gotta say “not my jam” to the cherry preserves, although I certainly didn’t have any problem finishing the deliciousness.
I’ve never been a fan of jellies over jams. The fruit pulp has been filtered out and all that remains is a gelatinous blob of sugar with some fruit flavor. There are too many imitations of real jelly at roadside cafes that the experience is spoiled for me. I essentially stare at the sticky mass on my bread, and now I can add, “not my jam.”
In a similar fashion, I’m not a fan of marmalades. Britain, more specifically, Scotland, takes credit as the originators of orange marmalade. It was a special treat for my dad and perhaps because he spent three years at Lakenheath Air Force Base in England during the 1950s. I find marmalade a bit too exotic for my tastes. The orange marmalade I’ve eaten actually had parts of the peel in it. Hmmm. You can imagine thoughts: “not my jam.”
I love the variety of jams and I’m often game to try a new flavor. Raspberry jam is a close runner-up to strawberry rhubarb. It holds the similar balance of sweet and tangy like my favorite. It seems like every festival or holiday fair sell jams for me to try. I’ve seen an entire wall filled with jars of jams and not a single one was a repeated flavor. That may be a bit too-diabetic much, but the point is well made: “not my jam” fits to express “to each his own,” and it’s up to you to discover yours.
While we can wax philosophical about all areas in life that might fit this expression, I’m curious and would love to know, what is your favorite jam (go ahead, wander into the comments section of this post). What do you relish and which are some you’d be happy to relay, “not my jam”?
Let me know. And the next time someone is expressing an affinity for a flavor, a subject, a style of art/home/movie/whatever that might not be “your cup of tea”, keep the trend-train rolling and consider the reply, “not my jam.”
God’s blessings, and good wanderings.