The Separator

When I was younger, one of the things I really liked to do was turn the handle on the milk separator.  After the milking was done and the milk for sale was safely in the steel cans and put into the cold water bath waiting for the milk truck, Grandpa would use a milk separator to get cream from the milk he kept. It was an interesting device.  It was made of several components and, to my young mind at least,  took an advanced degree in mechanical engineering to know how to put it together correctly.  The milk was poured into the receptacle at the top.  Then I would begin to turn the handle.  Because the handle spun a flywheel it was hard to turn at first, especially for a little boy, but if I put both hands on it and used every one of my muscles, I could gradually build up speed until I got that flywheel humming it practically spun itself.  It made an endearing sound.  The centrifugal force generated by the spinning separated the cream from the whole milk.  Since fat molecules are heavier than the other molecules in the milk, the cream would be spun farther out and find their way into the cream spout while the lighter skim milk wouldn’t be spun as far and would exit through the milk spout.  While both parts were valuable and needed, Grandma valued the cream more.  Not only could she use the cream to make wickedly delicious things to eat, but the cream could also be churned into butter, a process that I also liked to help with when quite young.  As I matured I lost interest in propelling the handle on either the separator or the butter churn but I came to understand that if you don’t subject the whole milk to centrifugal forces, you’ll never have any cream, or butter, or any of the delicious things Grandma made with both.  I think life is like that.  I don’t know anyone who hasn’t, at one time or another, felt like they were in a separator, pressed against the outer wall by the pressures of life, unable to move.  Reactions to that pressure vary.  Life certainly can be a great separator.  However, unlike whole milk, people have the power to choose which spout provides their exit, regardless of the pressures to which they may be subjected.  Certainly, each person’s ability to deal with pressure is different and the intensity of the pressure varies, but neither of those things can cement a life determination without a personal surrender.  The feelings of hopelessness can seem insurmountable at times, but hope kept alive will ultimately allow escape through the preferred portal.