Putting together some pieces the media won’t.
Finish reading: https://open.substack.com/pub/coffeeandcovid/p/memento-mori-tuesday-april-22-2025?
Unreasonable Hospitality
Restaurateur Will Guidara’s life changed when he decided to serve a two-dollar hot dog in his fancy four-star restaurant, creating a personalized experience for some out-of-town customers craving authentic New York City street food. The move earned such a positive reaction that Guidara began pursuing this kind of “unreasonable hospitality” full-time, seeking out ways to create extraordinary experiences and give people more than they could ever possibly expect. In this funny and heartwarming talk, he shares three steps to crafting truly memorable moments centered in human connection – no matter what business you’re in.
Click to view the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwcyXcOpWVs
Quote of the Day
“The thing always happens that you really believe in – and the belief in a thing makes it happen.” – Frank Lloyd Wright, Architect (1867-1959)
Morgan and Shawshank Redemption
During the filming of a key scene in “The Shawshank Redemption” (1994), Morgan Freeman spent an unbroken nine hours throwing a baseball as Ellis Boyd “Red” Redding. It wasn’t staged for action or athleticism. It was a quiet, emotional moment, Red chatting with Andy Dufresne in the prison yard, a symbol of their deepening friendship. But the scene demanded dozens of takes from multiple angles, and Freeman, known for his calm presence, kept tossing the ball again and again. The crew didn’t realize what it was costing him.
The next day, Freeman walked onto set with his arm in a sling. It was only then that everyone learned he had seriously injured his shoulder and had not told anyone. Director Frank Darabont recalled, “Morgan never said a word. Only the next day, he showed up with his arm in a sling.” The silence did not come from pride. It came from a place of deep commitment to the story, the moment, and the team around him. He knew stopping production would affect the schedule and cost the production dearly. So, he kept throwing.
Freeman, who was 56 during the filming of “The Shawshank Redemption” in 1993, had already built a reputation as one of Hollywood’s most respected actors. His performances in “Driving Miss Daisy” (1989), “Glory” (1989), and “Lean on Me” (1989) had shown audiences his range and sensitivity. What unfolded during that baseball scene offered the crew a firsthand glimpse at something beyond talent: his endurance, humility, and willingness to put the work ahead of his own comfort.
The injury was not minor. According to a crew member, Freeman’s shoulder was visibly swollen by the end of the day. Yet he made no request to adjust the scene or reshoot with a double. He simply powered through. The injury was never publicized. There were no interviews about it, no press releases. He did not want sympathy, and he certainly did not want attention for it.
Cinematographer Roger Deakins, who captured that yard scene with his signature subtlety and natural lighting, later mentioned how Freeman’s physical pain didn’t show in the footage. “What you see on camera is all Morgan,” Deakins said. “There’s a grace to his movement, even when he was hurting. It’s a quiet kind of toughness.”
Darabont, deeply moved by Freeman’s gesture, remembered how the actor never made demands. “Morgan was the kind of guy who made the set feel grounded. He brought calm when things got hectic. And the day he showed up with that sling, there was a kind of silence, not from guilt or shock, but from respect.”
Freeman’s co-star Tim Robbins, who played Andy, later reflected on that day with admiration. “We all knew Morgan was dedicated, but that made it clear how much he cared about every detail. He was in pain, and none of us even noticed until the next day. That tells you who he is.”
Behind Freeman’s quiet endurance was a deeper philosophy he carried throughout his career, the belief that an actor is in service of the story. That belief guided every take, every line, and every subtle gesture in “The Shawshank Redemption” (1994). It is why Red’s character felt lived-in, believable, and deeply human. Freeman did not merely perform the role; he lived it, even through pain.
He never asked for acknowledgment. But the people who saw that moment never forgot it. And for those who admire his work on screen, that day on the prison yard is a reminder that greatness often comes not with noise, but with quiet, relentless commitment.
In nine hours of quiet pain, Morgan Freeman showed more about character than a script ever could.
Credits to respective owner
Lou’s Diner
In 1992, I worked the graveyard shift at Lou’s Diner off Route 9—the kind of place where truckers, insomniacs, and folks running from something stopped for coffee and pie. One night, a guy in a wrinkled suit slid into my booth, head in his hands. I brought him a slice of cherry pie, no charge. He didn’t eat it. Just stared at the plate and said, “My wife left me today.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I scribbled on a napkin: “Pie fixes nothing. But you’re not nothing.” I slid it across the table. He laughed—a wet, broken sound—then tucked the napkin into his pocket.
The next week, he came back. Bought two slices of pie and left a napkin note on the counter: “Thanks for seeing me.”
That’s how it started. Soon, others began leaving notes too—on napkins, receipts, sugar packets. A teenager hiding her pregnancy. A vet who hadn’t slept in years. A mom praying her kid would kick heroin. They’d tuck them under coffee cups or tape them to the jukebox. I kept them all in a shoebox under the register.
One regular, Martha, a retired nurse, started replying to the notes. She’d write back things like, “You’re braver than you think,” or “Tomorrow’s a new page.” She’d leave them in booth #4, where the loneliest folks always sat. Eventually, people began showing up just to read the notes. Booth #4 became “The Advice Booth.” No one knew who Martha was—just that her words felt like a hug.
Years later, after Lou’s closed, I found that shoebox while cleaning. Inside was a note I’d never seen. Martha had written: “I started this because my son took his life in 1987. I couldn’t save him. Maybe I can save someone else.”
Turns out, Martha died six months after Lou’s shut down. But her notes? They’re still out there. A trucker told me he keeps one taped to his dashboard: “The road gets lonely, but you’re never the only one driving it.”
Lou’s is a hardware store now. But sometimes, at 3 AM, I swear I can still smell burnt coffee and hear Martha’s laugh—sharp and warm, like she knew a secret the rest of us were still learning.
Making A Queen
Bees hide a surprising secret. 
When a hive loses its queen—the only one capable of giving life to the colony and maintaining order in a perfectly organized society—all seems lost. Life in the hive slows down.
Without new eggs, the future disappears. Within a few weeks, the colony is threatened with extinction.
But bees don’t panic. Nor do they wait for salvation from outside.
With an extraordinary display of collective intelligence and deep instinct, they launch a spectacular emergency response that is hard to imagine in a world ruled by insects.
Transformation begins with a simple but essential choice.
Worker bees select some ordinary larvae—the very ones that would normally become ordinary workers. They are nothing special.
They were born no different. But now their fate changes completely.
They are selected to receive a special diet: royal food. A rare substance produced by nutritious bees, rich in protein, vitamins, and bioactive compounds.
It’s royal food in the purest sense.
The larva fed exclusively on this substance no longer follows the usual path. In just a few days, its body develops differently. The body becomes larger, stronger. Life expectancy is multiplied by almost twenty.
It won’t work. It will rule. It will not follow routine. It will bring life.
—
The queen isn’t chosen based on genes. It’s created.
What makes this process truly fascinating is that the worker bee is the King.
It’s as if, in a human society, you could take an ordinary child and, with the right nutrition, the right environment, and the necessary support, turn it into an extraordinary leader. Without genetic interventions. Without fireworks. Just thanks to support and perspective.
A Leader Is Born Out of Crisis
This metamorphosis doesn’t just save the larva. It saves the entire colony.
Once the new queen is ready, she takes over the hive, begins laying eggs, restores order, and begins a new collective life cycle. From the threat of extinction, the colony is reborn stronger, more organized, and more balanced.
A Silent But Profound Lesson
Bees show us without words that in moments of great crisis, what is needed is not despair—but clarity. The right choice. Care and guidance.
In their world, no queen is born. It is nurtured & Guided.
And perhaps, just as in the beehive, in life too – it doesn’t matter who you are at the beginning, it’s the end of a man that counts. And rather ,what you receive, how you are cared for, and what decisions others make in difficult times.
Because sometimes the strongest leaders are born in the most difficult moments.
Quote of the Day
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” – Albert Einstein, Physicist (1879 – 1955)
James Cagney
During the filming of the aquatic number in “Footlight Parade” (1933), a female dancer slipped under the water during a synchronized sequence. Dozens of dancers moved in unison in the large studio tank, but James Cagney, standing nearby in costume, noticed something off in her movement. Without a pause, he leapt into the water in full wardrobe and reached her before anyone else reacted. Crew members rushed in with towels, but it was Cagney who had already pulled her to the surface, gasping and pale. She later said, “If it weren’t for Jimmy, I’d be dead. He never blinked. Jumped in like a lifeguard.” Cagney brushed it off with a grin, saying anyone else would have done the same, but those who knew him disagreed.
James Cagney was known for playing gangsters and fast-talking tough guys, but in real life, he was quiet, gentle, and fiercely loyal. His longtime friend and frequent co-star Pat O’Brien once told a reporter, “Jim was the only man I knew who could talk down a bar brawl and then go home to read poetry.” That combination of steel and softness defined much of who Cagney was behind the camera.
During the shooting of “Yankee Doodle Dandy” (1942), a young extra on set slipped while coming down the soundstage steps. Cagney was already in costume, practicing lines alone on stage. When he saw her fall, he hurried over, helped her up, and spent twenty minutes sitting with her while a studio nurse arrived. The extra, decades later, recalled that Cagney stayed with her even after the nurse said she’d be fine. “He asked if I was embarrassed and told me not to be,” she remembered. “He said everyone stumbles in this town—what matters is how quick you get up.”
Born July 17, 1899, in New York City, James Francis Cagney Jr. grew up in a rough neighborhood on the Lower East Side. His father, a bartender and amateur boxer, died young. His mother supported the family by working as a cleaner and boarding house manager. Cagney’s early years were filled with hardship, but he often said his mother taught him compassion by action, not lecture. He recalled how she once brought home a beggar from the street and made him a full dinner. That memory stayed with him, shaping how he treated the people around him throughout his life.
Even at the height of his fame, he maintained friendships with grips, electricians, and drivers. On the set of “Each Dawn I Die” (1939), a gaffer lost his mother and couldn’t afford to travel back home for the funeral. Cagney overheard the conversation and quietly handed the man an envelope with train fare and extra cash. He never mentioned it again.
When a studio executive tried to replace a background dancer because she had fallen behind in rehearsal, Cagney stepped in. He had watched her push through an ankle injury and asked that she be given another chance. “She’s part of this picture too,” he reportedly told the director. “You don’t cut out family when they’re limping.”
His affection for dancers and the chorus crew was widely known, possibly because his own early career began in vaudeville. Before the suits and Tommy guns, Cagney tapped his way across stages, performing comedy and dance routines that earned him just enough for rent. He never forgot those beginnings.
In later years, when asked about his proudest moment in Hollywood, Cagney didn’t mention awards or critical acclaim. He quietly referred to the dancer he pulled from the water on “Footlight Parade.” “She had a family,” he said. “She went home that night. That’s all that mattered.”
Cagney’s instincts weren’t rehearsed. They came from a place deeper than performance—from the streets that raised him, from the mother who fed strangers, and from a lifetime of watching for people who needed a hand before they asked for it.
During the filming of the aquatic number in “Footlight Parade” (1933), a female dancer slipped under the water during a synchronized sequence. Dozens of dancers moved in unison in the large studio tank, but James Cagney, standing nearby in costume, noticed something off in her movement. Without a pause, he leapt into the water in full wardrobe and reached her before anyone else reacted. Crew members rushed in with towels, but it was Cagney who had already pulled her to the surface, gasping and pale.
She later said, “If it weren’t for Jimmy, I’d be dead. He never blinked. Jumped in like a lifeguard.” Cagney brushed it off with a grin, saying anyone else would have done the same, but those who knew him disagreed.
James Cagney was known for playing gangsters and fast-talking tough guys, but in real life, he was quiet, gentle, and fiercely loyal. His longtime friend and frequent co-star Pat O’Brien once told a reporter, “Jim was the only man I knew who could talk down a bar brawl and then go home to read poetry.” That combination of steel and softness defined much of who Cagney was behind the camera.
During the shooting of “Yankee Doodle Dandy” (1942), a young extra on set slipped while coming down the soundstage steps. Cagney was already in costume, practicing lines alone on stage. When he saw her fall, he hurried over, helped her up, and spent twenty minutes sitting with her while a studio nurse arrived. The extra, decades later, recalled that Cagney stayed with her even after the nurse said she’d be fine. “He asked if I was embarrassed and told me not to be,” she remembered. “He said everyone stumbles in this town—what matters is how quick you get up.”
Born July 17, 1899, in New York City, James Francis Cagney Jr. grew up in a rough neighborhood on the Lower East Side. His father, a bartender and amateur boxer, died young. His mother supported the family by working as a cleaner and boarding house manager. Cagney’s early years were filled with hardship, but he often said his mother taught him compassion by action, not lecture. He recalled how she once brought home a beggar from the street and made him a full dinner.
That memory stayed with him, shaping how he treated the people around him throughout his life.
Even at the height of his fame, he maintained friendships with grips, electricians, and drivers. On the set of “Each Dawn I Die” (1939), a gaffer lost his mother and couldn’t afford to travel back home for the funeral. Cagney overheard the conversation and quietly handed the man an envelope with train fare and extra cash.
He never mentioned it again.
When a studio executive tried to replace a background dancer because she had fallen behind in rehearsal, Cagney stepped in. He had watched her push through an ankle injury and asked that she be given another chance. “She’s part of this picture too,” he reportedly told the director. “You don’t cut out family when they’re limping.”
His affection for dancers and the chorus crew was widely known, possibly because his own early career began in vaudeville. Before the suits and Tommy guns, Cagney tapped his way across stages, performing comedy and dance routines that earned him just enough for rent. He never forgot those beginnings.
In later years, when asked about his proudest moment in Hollywood, Cagney didn’t mention awards or critical acclaim. He quietly referred to the dancer he pulled from the water on “Footlight Parade.” “She had a family,” he said. “She went home that night. That’s all that mattered.”
Cagney’s instincts weren’t rehearsed. They came from a place deeper than performance—from the streets that raised him, from the mother who fed strangers, and from a lifetime of watching for people who needed a hand before they asked for it.
Turmeric boosts working memory in one small dose
Written By: Sayer Ji, Founder
One small dose of turmeric powder was found to improve working memory in pre-diabetic patients.
Interest in turmeric as a tonic and regenerative agent for brain conditions is growing rapidly. Given the increased prevalence of neurodegenerative conditions such as Alzheimer’s disease, as well as an alarming uptick in brain cancer and the cognitively impairing metabolic dysregulations associated with type 2 diabetes.
Turmeric and its primary polyphenol curcumin hold great promise as an alternative to pharmaceuticals, none of which have been shown to address nor resolve the root causes of disease.
A recent study published in the Asia Pacific Journal of Clinical Nutrition titled, “Turmeric improves post-prandial working memory in pre-diabetes independent of insulin”, reveals the unique therapeutic profile of this ancient Indian spice in preventing cognitive impairment linked to pre-diabetes and dementia.
The study enrolled 48 60-year olds with newly recognized yet untreated pre-diabetes. They were randomized to receive either a placebo, turmeric (1,000 mg), cinnamon (2,000 mg) or both (1,000 mg & 2,000 mg respectively), ingested at a white bread (119 g) breakfast.
The researchers observed the participants’ metabolic responses over a 6 hour period for the following parameters:
· Pre- and post-working memory (WM),
· Glycemic and insulin responses
· Biomarkers of Alzheimer’s disease (AD)(measured at 0, 2, 4 and 6 hours):
amyloid precursor protein (APP),
y-secretase subunits presenilin-1 (PS1),
presenilin-2 (PS2),
glycogen synthase kinase (GSK-3ß).
The study results were reported as follows:
“We found that a modest addition of 1 gram turmeric to a rather nutritionally-bland breakfast of white bread improved working memory (WM) over 6 hours in older people with pre-diabetes. This was not the case for 2 grams of cinnamon.”
Moreover, they observed that body fatness and insulin resistance modulated the effect that turmeric had on improving working memory, “suggesting that the benefits of turmeric might be enhanced where these characteristics were less abnormal.”
While the study found the Alzheimer’s biomarkers “showed active correlations among themselves during the 6 hour study, these did not account for the link between turmeric and WM.” In other words, the researchers surmised that while the spice components access and modulate traditional Alzheimer’s biomarker pathways, no definitive mechanisms of action explaining how they affect working memory could be discerned in the study.
Interestingly, the study intentionally selected whole turmeric powder instead of extracts of curcuminoids, as is normally the case, in order to simulate real-world culinary exposure to the spice:
“We deliberately used whole turmeric rather than curcuminoids or turmeric extracts. We wanted to examine the commodity used in daily life and with which there are generations of experience and presumptive safety across Asian food cultures – south, north-east and south-east Asia, albeit in a range of cuisines. The amounts used were also within the usual household range.”
This study adds to a growing body of literature showing that turmeric/curcumin is both an excellent intervention for pre-diabetic patients (with up to a 100% prevention rate, according to a Diabetes Care study published two years ago), as well as anti-dementia agent, as evaluated in greater detail in previous reports we have done on the subject.
https://nexusnewsfeed.com/article/food-cooking/turmeric-boosts-working-memory-in-one-small-dose
Walnut and Date Spice Cake
This decadent Walnut Date Spice Cake combines the brain-boosting power of walnuts with naturally sweet dates for a dessert that’s as nourishing as it is delicious.
Each slice delivers a perfect balance of warm spices and omega-3 rich walnuts, offering a guilt-free indulgence that supports cognitive function while satisfying your sweet tooth.
Servings: 12 slices
INGREDIENTS:
For the Date Paste:
2 cups pitted Medjool dates (about 20-24 dates)
1 cup hot water
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
For the Cake:
2 cups whole wheat pastry flour (or all-purpose flour)
1 cup finely chopped walnuts, plus extra for topping
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup unsweetened plant milk (almond, oat, or soy)
1/3 cup applesauce
2 tablespoons ground flaxseed mixed with 6 tablespoons water (flax eggs)
1/4 cup avocado oil
For the Frosting (optional):
1 cup soaked cashews (soaked 4+ hours)
1/4 cup date paste (reserved from above)
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2-3 tablespoons plant milk, as needed
INSTRUCTIONS:
Soak the dates in hot water for 10 minutes. Drain, reserving 1/4 cup of the soaking water. Blend dates with the reserved water and vanilla until smooth.
Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Line a 9-inch round cake pan with parchment paper.
In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, spices, and salt.
In another bowl, mix 1 1/2 cups of the date paste, plant milk, applesauce, flax eggs, and avocado oil.
Fold the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients until just combined. Fold in the chopped walnuts.
Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Sprinkle additional walnuts on top. Bake for 30-35 minutes until a toothpick inserted comes out clean.
Let the cake cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.
To make the frosting (optional), blend the soaked cashews, reserved date paste, lemon juice, and vanilla until smooth. Add plant milk as needed to reach desired consistency.
Once the cake is completely cool, spread the frosting on top and garnish with additional walnuts.
Nutritional breakdown (per slice):
Calories: 325 kcal
Protein: 6g
Total Fat: 15g
Saturated Fat: 1.5g
Monounsaturated Fat: 9g
Polyunsaturated Fat: 4g
Total Carbohydrates: 45g
Dietary Fiber: 6g
Natural Sugars: 25g
Added Sugar: 0g
Micronutrients
Vitamin E: 10% DV
Vitamin B6: 12% DV
Iron: 10% DV
Magnesium: 15% DV
Phosphorus: 12% DV
Copper: 20% DV
Manganese: 45% DV
Selenium: 15% DV
From: https://goodnesslover.com/blogs/goodness-today/issue-58/
OK. So I made this last night. I did not have the half walnuts and did not have enough frosting for the curls on top, I used two cups of ordinary, not Medjool dates and that was not enough left for the frosting after I took one cup out for the cake so next time I will use three cups to start with.
I have an oven thermometer so had the temperature just right but it took closer to 45-50 minutes rather than the 30-35 the recipe states.