echos8ball

Tarot Redux

2015-02-04T14:44:00.002-05:00

People who know me well know that I have been fascinated (to put it mildly) by tarot for four decades. I have read the cards in a variety of settings including fairs and events, online readings, in my home, and even on tarot phone lines.

I moved across country twice in as many years, and my cards got packed away. This of course, prompted me to buy new decks, rather than tackle the chore of going through dozens of boxes and bins where my old ones were stored.

This past Christmas, my eldest son showed an interest in learning tarot. It prompted me to begin writing a book on the subject, to create in one source, everything I know about the cards. This is primarily so that my children will always have access to my thoughts and experiences on the subject should they ever take an interest in it and I'm no longer here to speak to them about it. Being older now, the idea of preserving my tarot insights for my children, and anyone else for that matter, to peruse at their own leisure, is attractive to me.

I bought my son his own first deck of tarot, and during this process, it made me long for my old familiar cards that I haven't seen in a while. I solicited the help of my husband and together we dug through most of the boxes in our basement to find many of my old decks from the 70's through the 90's. I still haven't found all of them,

Being reconnected to my old decks has been amazing. Some were more beautiful than I remembered, some not so much. But as I rediscovered each of them, it was like being reunited with an old friend.

Since it coincided with the new year, I resolved to make tarot a greater presence in my life. I committed to an Instagram feed where I do one daily reading at the start of each day. It is the first thing I do every day, some days even before my morning coffee. It has become part of my daily zen. I wake up, choose a deck for the day, cleanse and charge it. I think of an intent for all my followers, I focus on something along the lines of, "What is something that we all need to work on today?" I have taken a collective approach to my readings, not focusing on myself, but on all of us. The collective self.

I handle and mix the cards while focusing on my intent. When it feels right, I pull a card from the deck and that is the card I use for the day's message. Sometimes multiple cards spontaneously fall from the deck before I deliberately choose, and in those instances, those are the cards I use.

It's been wonderful for me to commit, not just to use the cards for profit or for myself on a daily basis, but to really commit to using them every day for a much broader audience. I have a respectable following after just a few months, with more followers than I have for my other instagram feed for my unrelated business account which has been up and running for nearly two years! Although only in the low hundreds, it is an auspicious beginning and I am proud of what I am accomplishing and happy to be doing it. Much like riding a bike, it is a process that comes naturally to me. I am a visual person and often think in pictures, not words. Tarot is like that too.

In order to keep the feed interesting to my followers, I use a variety of decks and always identify all of them. Most days I offer a 2nd photo, either a selection of random cards from 'the deck of the day,' or sometimes a collection of one particular card from a variety of decks for comparison.

My primary purpose is to have an intelligent feed devoted to tarot, to present it in the best possible way. Non threatening and educational, especially for followers who are curious and enjoy a daily read. The teacher in me wants to educate as well. The beauty of tarot is that every card relates to every person, every day. It's the way they're made. It's virtually impossible to miss. They are always relevant.

A lot of people must agree because I've been getting so many requests for readings that I had to set up an online tarot website dedicated to readings and, I now also have a tarot blog.

I welcome any of you interested in my passion, to join my Instagram feed. If you are like most of my followers, I believe you will begin to look forward to 'the card of the day.'

xoxox~ Marilyn

The (Kennedy) Age of Lost Innocence

2013-11-19T14:17:00.002-05:00

I was the age of innocence.

I was just barely five years old and feeling elated as I skipped down the hilly road from Rose Tree Media Elementary School toward home. My kindergarten teacher, Miss Espenshade, had just dismissed us unexpectedly and I was thrilled.

An upper classman derided me for being happy about it. “The president has been assassinated; it’s not something to be happy about.” I didn't know what that meant, but I knew it wasn't a good thing. It was a sobering moment and I remember it vividly.

When I got home, my mom was crying. The television was on. It hurt me to see my mother cry and it scared me. Walter Cronkite told us the president was dead. The nightmare had to be true if Walter Cronkite said it was so. Even he was crying, you could tell. The television stayed on for days. Words like ‘grassy knoll,’ 'Dealey Plaza,' ‘lone assassin,’ and ‘book depository’ became iconic words that weekend. ‘Kennedy, Oswald, Zapruder, and Jack Ruby’ were all names burned into my impressionable psyche. The ‘Magic Bullet Theory and the Warren Commission’ would soon follow.

Both of my parents were glued to the set. I saw Oswald shot and killed on live television. It played right out on live television. I remember my father shouting out an expletive. My father rarely cursed. I know my father and presumably my mother, had voted for Kennedy. It was the only time my father had ever voted for a democrat.

A few days after the assassination , again on television, I watched a widow with her babies, a daughter slightly older than myself, and her little boy, hand in hand, walking. A flag draped casket. Her son saluting as his father’s casket passed.

It was no longer the age of innocence, and neither was I.

I don’t know if President Kennedy was a great president, but he must have been doing something right. I do know that the country was doing pretty well, and those who weren't doing great were doing better. My father was a Hispanic male, and living a relatively fat life in suburban Philadelphia in a district known for its superior schools. It was a life that I’m sure blew him away in contrast to his rough and tumble upbringing in the Marion section of Jersey City, NJ where he grew up as just another minority. My mother, a daughter of a successful Philadelphia architect, was already raising four children in a nice home on a nice block while still only in her twenties. Growing up, I never identified myself as a minority because that was not how I thought of myself. My parents were college graduates in a neighborhood where none of my non-minority friends’ parents had educations. I went to great schools. Life was hopeful. In ’63, we all had a fighting chance. I don’t think any generation since has had such a promising reality and horizon. My own children certainly have not had as promising a start in life as the time I was born into.

The music of Camelot was prominent in my childhood home. My parents took me to the play. I know every word of every song. The power in the title song, “Camelot”, instantly evokes melancholy and yet is so close, so close, to defining ideality. For a generation of people it’s the ‘go to song’ for 'what could have been' or for 'what once was.'

It’s been a fast fifty years. That day when my parents cried, when the country cried, that day is coming around again, for the fiftieth time. And this time might be the last time we look at it with such sharp focus. It is the fiftieth anniversary, a landmark year. Will it ever be looked at again with such scrutiny on say, year sixty three? Will as many people care in year sixty-three? I am among the youngest people who were alive on that day to have a conscious memory of that day, and the days that followed. Many of the grown-ups from that time have died. My father, who was only in his twenties when it happened, has been dead for over a decade. People of my age will be the last to have a living memory of that day. After we are gone, will the truth be told to a public who no longer has a vested interest in the truth?

Unlike Lincoln's assassination, we do have the benefit of the Zapruder film, and maybe that will help keep it a real and human event.

As providence would have it, my husband and I had a reason to go to Texas in late October, the October before the 50^th November. How could we go to Texas without going to Dallas? I had never been to Dallas before, but my husband had. He arranged for us to go to Dealey Plaza during our trip to Texas, and I can’t thank him enough for making it happen for me.

Being in the location where President Kennedy was shot was very familiar. I knew the layout. After fifty years in the media, I have seen every nook and cranny of the place. I instantly recognized the spot where Zapruder was standing while filming his infamous footage. Even without the white X on the highway, I could identify the location of the president’s car. The ‘grassy knoll’ was exactly as I knew it to be. The 6^th floor window of the school book depository was readily identifiable from the sidewalk. The only thing that was in contrast to the video images that played in my mind was how small the space was. It was an intimate space, and not as expansive as it seems on television. When I drew the invisible line between the 6^th floor book depository window and the X marking the spot, it looked like a very doable shot. In contrast to everything I had ever believed, for a fleeting moment, it occurred to me that Oswald might have pulled the assassination off on his own. Being there was at the same time chilling and exciting.

At some point my husband and I wandered off in different directions to take photos. I am almost fanatical when I take photos, in avoiding tourists in a shot. I have waited hours on occasion to get the perfect shot without bystanders in it. Perhaps it’s because I carried a double major in photography and painting in Tyler School of Art in Philadelphia, and have a good eye for composition, or maybe I’m just a snob. But unless I’m taking family photos or commemorating an experience with family and friends, or deliberately taking photos of people, I just don't want strangers in my scenic photographs.

I stood on the sidewalk at the foot of the grassy knoll facing the wooden barricade and the white concrete structure known as the Bryan Colonnade, the birthplace of Dallas, and I snapped a photo. As I prepared to take the photo, I realized that a gentleman was descending the steps and entered into the frame, but I snapped it anyway. The man, realizing that he was in my photo, apologized for walking into the view as I was taking a photograph and offered to step aside so I could retake the shot. For the first time ever, it didn't bother me at all. In fact, I could hardly believe my own words as I said them,

“That’s alright, I took it on purpose, I wanted a human element in this photo.”

What he told me next, blew my mind.

“Funny that you should say that”, he said. “I was here that day, and right about at this same spot the day the president was killed.”

My jaw visibly dropped. What are the odds of spontaneously meeting and engaging in conversation with someone who was there when it happened, and standing in the same general spot as where I took his photo? He said he had returned, close to the 50^th anniversary, to revisit the memories for himself. I was all ears, an eager audience of one, hungry to hear his memories and anything he was willing to share. I wish I had asked his name, and unfortunately I didn't, but for the sake of the rest of this story, I will refer to him as Bob.

Bob told me that he and his friends were behind the stockade fence, behind the grassy knoll, playing ball and running around. He was young, nine, and indifferent to the parade for the president, but he does remember certain things. He remembered there were men in suits behind the fence where he was playing. Lots of people were back there, looking over the fence without restriction. Bob also remembered that immediately before the president was shot, the overpass was closed to both cars and walking traffic, and there were men in suits on the bridge too. Bob went to Dealey Plaza with his mother that day to see the president, and as the president neared the plaza, his mother retrieved him to join her on the lawn across the street from the knoll to see the president as he passed. He heard the shots, and within seconds, everyone there agreed, something happened from behind the fence. Bob told me that to his dying day, no one will ever be able to convince him that the shots that killed the president didn't come from behind that fence beyond the knoll.

Bob told me that immediately after the president was shot, the bridge was immediately and oddly opened to everyone, cars and foot traffic alike. No one secured the location. And here's the most amazing thing of all, before he left the plaza with his mother, everyone knew there was a man named Oswald who worked at the book depository.

“How can that be?” he asked me, “when today with all our technology, surveillance, and communication it takes us forever to know anything, but that day, almost instantly, everyone knew the name Oswald and that he worked at the book depository and that he had killed the president.”

This excellent point is what brought my mind right back to the conspiracy I grew up believing, which had been the common knowledge shared among those who had been alive that day. The intimacy of the plaza put the president in a turkey shoot. With open and non-secured windows everywhere, and barricaded fences perfect to hide behind, it was an assassin's paradise. Standing there, I could see that there were multiple easy perches for one or more assassin.

After chatting with Bob for about twenty minutes I figured I should look for my husband and I reluctantly said goodbye to my Dealey Plaza friend .

My husband and I ended our day at the plaza by spending a few hours inside the Book Depository Museum. Interestingly, the immediate area surrounding the supposed assassin’s nest on the 6th floor is completely encased in Plexiglas. There is a little staged area with boxes near the window from which Oswald may or may not have taken a shot at the president. You can see the work elevator that Oswald would have used during his work day. The other floors and the stairwell were not open to the public.

The museum is a place with all kinds of media, reflections of the age of Camelot. If you weren't yet born in '63, the museum does an excellent job in transporting you back to that brief moment in time. If you were alive then, it will remind you of a few things you've forgotten. The commercials, the music, the news clips, it's all there to take you back.

After '63, it became easy to believe that our government could and probably did lie to us. I don't know what the truth is, but the fact that the records will remain sealed until 2063 is a strong indicator that something is fishy in Denmark. If the Warren Commission is the truth, as so many now believe, then why keep the documents classified top secret until 2063?

Oswald was clearly a troubled loser and a loose cannon. It is easy to believe that he was probably involved. He is known to have lied and I believe he had a pretty good idea of what was going on in Dealey Plaza that day. He was the only employee of the book depository to high-tail it out of the building that day. He was not an innocent. He knew enough to figure out that he was the chosen one, the fall guy. In his own words, he knew he was set up as the patsy.

For the truth, follow the power. Who became president? What did LBJ have on J Edgar Hoover that forced Hoover to demand that Kennedy choose LBJ as a running mate when it was known that Kennedy hated LBJ? And what did Hoover have on Kennedy that made Kennedy acquiesce on that point? If it wasn't LBJ behind the assassination, then what entity had the most to lose if Kennedy remained in office? Kennedy knew about, and stopped the CIA hit on Fidel Castro, and was considering disbanding the CIA. At least one member of the Warren Commission was CIA (Allen Dulles, former CIA head). Who worked in the CIA at that time who later cashed in his chips for his silence and became the 41st president? There is photographic evidence that our 41st president was in Dallas that same day standing in front of the School Book Depository. Besides the fingerprints of Oswald and other workers at the book depository, why were there also prints of a known hit-man (Mac Wallace, look it up) on the box by the 6th floor perch. And isn't it quite the small coincidence that Mac Wallace was a known associate of LBJ's at the time. Is this nonsense? Fifty years is a lot of time to let theories fester.

We need the truth already.

Always the Officiant Finally the Bride!

2012-09-05T11:52:00.003-04:00

It's been almost a year since my last entry. My bad. It's not that I haven't been writing, I write all the time. But I have embarked on new efforts which have been more demanding of my time, such as launching a new business as a professional wedding officiant and also getting married myself.

It was interesting being a bride with an officiant's perspective. It allowed me to understand how stuff works, much better than I understood before. For one, I realized that I could have any kind of wedding ceremony I wanted since it's something I'm now an expert in.

My sweetheart and I decided that we'd like an intimate wedding in a location that was special to us. During our courtship, John and I have made repeated visits to Niagara Falls, NY because it is one of the most incredibly beautiful locations relatively near to home (only 400 miles away) and just so much fun! So we figured a wedding as close to the Falls as humanly and legally possible was the perfect idea for us.

We notified family members months in advance on the day we were engaged, so that everyone could get their passports in order. (Who goes to Niagara Falls without going to the Canadian side?) Oh, and for the record, John proposed to me behind the Falls on the Canadian side on New Years Eve. It was awesome.

As the months progressed, some of our family members made the commitment to be there with us and it meant the world to us to be able to share our happy event with people who love us so much. John's best friend, besides me, married us. I instructed him on how to become legally ordained and I wrote our wedding ceremony. Considering Wes, our officiant, didn't have any prior experience in marrying people, he did a great job for us. Thank you Wes!

Our ceremony included a Love Letter component and a Handfasting component, so we actually tied the knot! Our location was Terrapin Point on the American side since we weren't sure if everyone would be able to get their passports in time and we had to reserve it months in advance. But it was the perfect location and I wouldn't have chosen any other location at the Falls even if I could do it over. We got married between 8:00 and 9:00am in front of an insanely perfect rainbow on a gloriously sunny morning.

My sons gave me away and my daughter read Shakespeare's Sonnet #18, which is something she used to read as a child and has very special significance between us. She did a perfect job. She also tied the cords around our wrists and tied the knot during our ceremony. Thank you Evan, Eric, and Ellen!

My six-year-old nephew, Alex, was our "Ring Bear" as he called himself. In attendance besides my children, Alex, and Wes was everyone in my family. My brothers, sister, nephews, one of my son's girlfriends, and my mom. It meant the world to us that they were there. So much love. xoxox Thank you folks.

After the ceremony we spent the day doing fun stuff: Maid of the Mist, Wind of the Caves, and we all gathered back together in the evening for an informal dinner at a fun place on the Canadian side called Johnny Rocco's. We spent two nights together at the AFB in Niagara Falls and then on the third morning, we began the long treck home.

John and I rented a comfortable and large Town and Country Van which allowed us and my children to ride in comfort and safety and spend a lot of time together.

At the AF accommodations, we had fun too. My sister-in-law fixed my hair, my daughter's hair, and mom's too, to help us look pretty. Thank you Donna. After our wedding day came to a close, everyone came together in our room for a champagne toast as John and I danced to Etta James' wonderful song, our theme, At Last.

It was a wonderful event that was tough to beat, but for our honeymoon we managed to top it all off with an amazing two week visit to Hawaii! Does life get any better?

The highlight for each of us was the kissing love scene between Deborah Kerr and Burt Lancaster in the exact same location where the film was shot. (That we re-created at least a dozen times.) And we have the photos to prove it! Anyone who knows me knows what a thrill that was for me. To make it even grander, not only did we do this incredibly romantic gesture on our honeymoon, we did it on my 54th birthday. Oh yeah, it was an awesome day. We visited many locations on Oahu as well as a day trip to Maui, and we have many wonderful photographs of paradise.

We don't know how anyone who ever visits Hawaii leaves, and we are plotting our permanent return. We want to live the rest of our lives there and are working towards making that happen.

With Aloha. Mahalo.

You Say Banahhna and I say Banana

2011-10-18T10:36:00.000-04:00

A month or two ago, a facebook friend posted that a European friend was visiting the US and needed a place to stay as a home-base while she toured. She asked if any of her fb friends would be willing to put her up.

Within seconds of reading the post, and without consulting my better half, I answered, "Any friend of yours is a friend of mine." Our mutual friend is a good person, and she wouldn't let a bad person into my life. Plus, I was young once, and used to travel alone, and I would have loved to have been able to stay somewhere with local people who were aware of my comings and goings and could serve as a safety net for me.

The next thing I knew, I was in contact with our young traveller and anticipating her arrival. The world really isn't that big a place as long as you have friends in it and opening your home and heart to a complete stranger is one way to make the world a better place. So we embraced the idea wholeheartedly, as no half-assed effort would do the gesture justice.

Davinder stole my heart before she ever stepped foot in my house. Immediately I knew she was lovely through and through, and John and I can't do enough for her because we really want to. She's stolen our hearts.

Sometimes, you just have to go a little out of your safety zone to take a chance on humanity, and the rewards, are yours.

FOLLOW-UP to Jury Duty

2011-04-21T06:46:00.000-04:00

Whew, after all is said and done, I dodged the jury duty bullet for two years. I was instructed not to go in.

And Now for Something Completely Different

2011-03-15T13:01:00.003-04:00

Jury Duty.

First response: ugh. Second response: I feel guilty for my first response.

It is my civic duty after all, and if I were to find myself facing a jury of my peers, then I'd want someone like me on the jury. I try to be fair, I try to be honest. I try to be unbiased. That's the best I can say. I am not a perfect person and I am guilty of human emotion.

I can't complain really. I've only been called upon once or twice before, and both times I appeared but was dismissed because the jury was picked before they got to me.

Both times I actually wanted to be picked. I wanted to serve on the jury for the experience of seeing how our justice system works. I wanted to ensure that a defendant had a fair trial because I would make sure it was fair. I was so ideal then.

Now I don't want to be picked. Now I don't even want to have to appear at all and I'm hoping that when I call the number the night before I will learn that I have already been dismissed.
And it bothers me that I have a bad attitude about it.

I did a google search where all I typed in was "jury duty" and the very first thing to pop up in the search was, "How to get out of Jury Duty" a wikihow article. So that suggests to me that getting out of jury duty is what most people want to know about it.

So here's a chilling thought: If everyone expects a fair trial, but no one wants to serve on a jury how does anyone get a fair trial?

What is the root of this problem? You can't fix a problem if you don't understand the problem. So where does the problem lie? Why is jury duty so undesirable?

In an effort to figure it out, I put the question out there to my facebook and twitter friends for two consecutive days:
"Why don't we want to do jury duty?"

Total apathy. I only got two responses on twitter. One friend said that she actually liked jury duty and looks forward to doing it. The other responder replied that the state of NJ only pays $5.00 for serving. That would barely cover the cost of coffee bought en route to the courthouse. Clearly, if you are self-employed it makes jury duty very undesirable indeed.

Based on the State's webpage regarding jury duty; while the employer is obligated to allow the juror to attend without consequence of being fired, it is not obligated to pay the employee. Double Wow. And those employers that do pay, may expect the employee to turn over the money earned for jury duty. All $5.00 of it.
OK, so mystery solved. It is abundantly clear why most of us try to wiggle out of jury duty.

Now here's a scratch your head question:
If the summons isn't delivered via certified mail, why don't jurors just shred it and put it in the trash? No one can prove it was properly delivered. In fact, even after I moved and voted from my new location, my summons was still mailed to my old residence in a different municipality. It is highly possible that I would not have received it. How can a bench warrant be issued for a person who may not have received a summons in the first place? That's presuming an innocent person who can never prove their innocence, is guilty. That's messed up even for New Jersey!

I found a youtube video put out by the State, describing the importance and honor of sitting on a NJ jury:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFBfYX3wcTI
It's well done by a judge and a high power attorney who undoubtedly make $6 figures a year and make it all sound so dignified.

It should be an honor but I think the fundamental problem is that jurors aren't treated with respect. And it isn't only about the $5.00 day salary or the pressure put on us by employers to get out of it or postpone the date. (I should mention it goes up to $35.00 day after serving four days.)

What the video doesn't mention is that sometimes the county courthouse is in the sleaziest section of the sleaziest towns, and that parking can be blocks away if provided at all. There should be a shuttle system in place to pick jurors up and take them home. (Except that we all know if the State provided such a service it would be so lame nobody would ever arrive to court in time.)

The video addresses the responsibility of being a juror and an impartial participant, but it doesn't mention jury nullification, which allows a jury to find the defendant guilty, but of an unjust law. It's one of the most powerful rights a jury has. Think Rosa Parks for example. We aren't told of this aspect of jury duty, because it poses such a headache for the system that if the judge or attorneys know you know about it prior to being chosen as a juror, you will most likely be excused. It's so hush hush they won't ask if you know about it. You have to ask them to explain it to you as a function of the jury and then it is almost guaranteed you will be let go without the explanation. A jury can only utilize nullification if one of the jurors knows about it and kept mum while being selected in order to preserve his/her right to use it if it is felt necessary. In the words of Voltaire, "It is dangerous to be right when the government is wrong."

A fair and impartial juror can be dismissed for prejudices of the court. Is the defendant grossly overweight and a juror a health nut? Without explanation a skinny juror can be dismissed because the attorneys might assume he or she'd be prejudiced against a fat person. Many assumptions and stereotypes are made based upon a juror's profile. Ironic, huh?

I think it all comes down to this: we owe each other this courtesy, despite the hardship, unpleasantness and indignity, because it's the right thing to do.

I'm not saying this out of an idealized liberalness. I'm as bitter as the next guy. I've worked alongside corrupt individuals. I've done my job by the book while others didn't because I believed that hard work and loyalty is recognized and appreciated. But it isn't. I was the employee who was laid off due to political reasons and administrators who were gutless and corrupt enough to do the easiest thing instead of the right thing and don't even get me started on the union who forces you to pay whether you belong or not but won't lift a finger to help if you aren't tenured. But that's a different article. Trust me, I'm as disgusted and bitter as the next guy and just as suspicious of the corruptibility and fallibility of even the judge that sits before the jury.

And I guess now my logic has come full circle but from a different place. Selfishness.

It's the right thing to do not because of some idealized notion, but because of the realization of how corrupt the world really is and what a difference a sincere juror could make. It's not just for the sake of the innocent men and women who sit in jails or are executed because they had jurors whose motivation was to get out of there asap. (Think Twelve Angry Men without Henry Fonda's character.)

It's just as much for my sake as for the protection of a possibly innocent defendant: to make reasonably sure that the real perps stay off the streets.

Best Wedding Advice I Ever Received

2011-03-11T13:34:00.001-05:00

Here's something I wrote a while back for Associated Content. In light of the fact that I am now officiating weddings, it seems very fitting to include this article in my blog:

The Best Wedding Advice I Ever Received

Second only to the birth of our children, our wedding day is considered by most of us to be the most important day of our lives. And yet, how often do brides and grooms too for that matter, confess that their wedding

day was a blur that they barely remember? Or worse yet, that their wedding day was a day to forget and filled with one blundering disaster after another?

We've all heard enough wedding horror stories to suspect that it may be the norm. But how on earth can you rise above the wedding madness to ensure that your wedding day is a day that you can actually enjoy and remember with a happy heart?

Here's the secret that brought me to my senses. It was good advice 25 years ago and it's sound advice today. Do yourself a favor and repeat it daily to yourself for days, even weeks before your wedding day. Heck, memorize it if you can.

Remember that at the end of the day, it isn't about how fabulous your hair was or how shapely you looked in your gown. It isn't about how lovely the flowers were, (or if they even arrived at all). It isn't how the adorable little flower girl stole a little bit of your glory (as kids at weddings often do) or that your mother-in-law wore black. What it is about is how you are now bonded, hopefully for life, with your most favorite human being on the planet. That is the focus, and all that other stuff is fluff. It seems so obvious a truth, and yet it's an almost completely overlooked aspect of the day.

If you focus on all those other aspects, then you will not enjoy your wedding day, guaranteed, because something will inevitably go wrong. More importantly, if those other aspects are your focus, it may be a red flag that you are getting married for all the wrong reasons. And if that's the case, it isn't just your wedding day that's in trouble.

It's fine, even advisable, to have an organized plan in place to ensure that your guests have a good time. But as things go wrong in the course of the day, and they probably will, just remember what the focus of the

truly day is. It will help keep the trivial aspects in their proper perspective so that you are free to experience the real beauty and magic of the day.

Good luck!

On Being an Officiant

2011-03-10T11:24:00.005-05:00

I wrote this article for Weddzilla wedding blog a while back, and want to share it here. It's not a profession for everyone, and I'd say that it requires better than average writing and speaking skills. But it's sure for me and I'm loving it! Here's the article:

On Being a Wedding Officiant

Once I officiated my first wedding, I was hooked! After the ceremony, I was so elated it almost felt like I was the one who had gotten married!

It’s with this enthusiasm that I’ve embraced my new calling as a wedding minister, and it is a calling, much like being an artist is a calling, because each wedding or civil union ceremony is like a mini masterpiece, artistry inspired within the soul, unique to its couple.

I would not recommend performing your first ceremony unless you have a very high degree of confidence in your ability. There’s little room for error in gaining their trust of you. Your couple should not be able to recognize that it’s your first wedding. In every aspect, you need to be the expert and able to answer questions and offer them information they don’t even know to ask.

I never would have been able to perform my first wedding without a network of mentors in place, who graciously shared practical information; like the importance of filling and filing the paperwork properly; what to wear; and other technical and practical aspects. Be the student who soaks up information like a sponge. Ask the questions your mentors don’t think to mention.

Your own research is critical. Know your competition better than they know themselves. Spend hours if not days devoted to this alone. Read everything you can find on weddings. Know every wedding trend and figure out how to put your own twist on it. Learning about your new profession is your full-time profession until you are ready to go live, and in my opinion, it’s not something you can do justice to unless it’s something you can do full time. I can’t imagine doing the quality of work I do if it were a part-time pastime.

Don’t neglect how you will put yourself out there. You need a web-page that needs traffic. Figure out where to spend your advertising money. Become an expert in social networking. Eventually, if you build up a solid reputation, word of mouth will be your greatest marketing tool.

Be clear on what it is you want to offer. Do you want to minister in prisons? Do you want to jump out of airplanes and scuba dive while officiating your ceremonies? There’s a niche for everyone and you need to find yours.

At any given time you are juggling multiple couples, all different and most expecting a tailor-made ceremony. Each one of them will undoubtedly make changes. Keep your documents updated and identify each by couple so you don’t accidentally mix them up. Impeccable organization is a must! Listen to your couples and ask questions. Even if they want a quick no fuss no muss ceremony, there is always a way to make it theirs alone. It’s their special day, not yours, and it isn’t a success unless they are happy.

If you bear that goal in mind, you will also be a success!

I Did It!

2011-02-07T13:07:00.004-05:00

Well Ladies and Gents,

I did it! I made my New Year's Resolution come true! I married my very first couple last week in a local, private ceremony. What a wonderful experience! The bride was crying and as I was officiating, I kept thinking, "Oh my God, I'm marrying this couple and it's for real. It's the biggest day in their lives after the birth of children and they're letting me do it!"

I was a bit apprehensive at first, in case they asked me how many prior weddings I'd performed, which was zero. And I made the moral promise to tell them if they asked me. But they never asked me and that was very reassuring because it suggests that I handled the preliminary steps like I knew what I was doing.

My confidence level was high since I knew I wrote a lovely ceremony and because I have been mentored by a pro. I joined a group of wedding officiants and one of the members took me under her wing so to speak and explained the process and procedures. I picked her brain relentlessly because I wanted to leave nothing to chance.

After the wedding, I immediately went to the county clerk to file the wedding license asap and to make sure the paperwork was properly done, which it was thank God.

Driving home I was on a high feeling so great, I just can't describe it. It was like I had just gotten married myself. I was silly and giggling to myself while driving home. I'm totally hooked!

Just minutes after arriving back home came a phone call for another wedding this coming week, which is now confirmed and on its way to happening. I can't wait.

After all I've been through these past several years and most recently in education, I just never knew how much pleasure a calling could be.

And the best part is that I created it for myself. No one hired me. I work for myself and I do it at my own pleasure. And grasp this, not only is the work satisfying, but it is actually appreciated! How great is that? Wow, what a concept!

American Spirituality

2011-01-11T12:28:00.006-05:00

The Saturday (January 8, 2011), New York Times ran an article that compels me to write. Titled, Religion and Representation, it was written by Charles M. Blow.

In it, he points out that a full 16.1% of the American population is non-religious. They are not necessarily non-spiritual, or without some religious connections, but they are not affiliated with any established church organization and consequently, are unrepresented by Congress.

It resonates with me because 16.1% of the nearly 312,000,000 of the US population is a lot of people to have no representation, (about 4,9920,000 people) and I am one of them.

For a politician, being without a brick and mortar established church/synagogue/place of worship is like a political kiss of death. And even so, if it isn't the 'right' religion, they'll always have some explaining to do. Politicians don't necessarily believe in their affiliations, but they are smart enough to know they'd better have one and it better be the most politically correct one. Consequently, the 16.1% of us without a brick and mortar church are a huge minority whose lives are imposed upon by people with religious/political agendas. That's nothing new, and has been going on since forever.

In example, by modifying history, men in powerful positions took the opportunity to remove the blame of Christ's death from the Romans, who clearly killed Christ, to start a hatred of Jews trend which persists to present day. Once they gained power by 'owning' Christianity, they manipulated the masses to follow by associating the details of Christ's birth with pagan ideas and celebrations which were just too popular to shake. Hence, the virgin birth and coinciding the birth during the huge winter festivals of the pagans. Isn't it known that Christ was born in April? Even King Henry VIII killed two wives for bogus reasons to avoid falling from grace with the new branch of Protestantism that he himself invented to justify getting rid of his first wife when he couldn't because of religion. I mean, come on people, hasn't anyone noticed that Jesus ran around with a woman named Mary Magdalene, with whom he was probably intimate? She was his most intimate apostle. But somehow, through history, her power (as a woman) had to be denied by the church, and she suddenly became a whore? I don't really think that Christ would appreciate how people celebrate and observe his life, and I think he'd be appalled by the get ups worn by the Pope.

My gut instinct, even as a kid, told me that Judas was an historical patsy. I never believed he betrayed Christ. It came from a gut belief, maybe you can call it faith.

I was raised in a strict Roman Catholic upbringing including Catholic school for three years. By the first or second grade, I remember thinking, how does anybody believe this stuff? But the defining moment when I knew I fell from grace so to speak, was when I was taught that if I didn't follow Jesus I would burn in hell. What if I was born on a desert island and never heard of him? How could I burn in hell for that? It just didn't make sense. Ok, maybe it was due to the whacko nuns at that particular parochial school, but I don't think my Catholic school experience is atypical. And honestly, there are some really strange extremist protestants and muslims out there as well. And don't even get me started about pedaphile clergy members of all faiths.

People will argue that their belief in religious dogma is based on their faith. Which is fine, but my own faith based on my own perception is no less valid. Nor is the faith of the 16.1% of Americans who have become disenfranchised from mainstream religions less valid.

Why do so many of us tolerate religious discussion in Congress, (Representative Steve King of Iowa who justifies his views on healthcare based on what God would want) or allow our tax dollars to be spent arguing evolution vs creationsism in public schools? Isn't that what religious schools and homeschooling are for?

We lack representation because those of us who tend to live and let live, are so liberal that we allow other people to deny us our own decision making as well as our own credibility and being heard. (When my former husband and I decided to get married, we wanted to be married at the beach. But the Catholic Church, where I agreed to be married to appease my parents, would not recognize our marriage if we were married outdoors, even if we were married by a priest. So we had to compromise our wishes and settled on being photographed on the beach as newlyweds instead.) Why is that ok?

For that and many other reasons, I no longer follow the faith of my upbringing and until recently, I've kept my own personal religious beliefs private. I have been guilty of worshipping in my own closet and not being vocal about it. And this is exactly why I and the 16.1% of other spiritual yet non-religious Americans have given away our power and rights as citizens and have no representation in our own country.

I cringe everytime one of my facebook friends post things like, "Repost this if you think Jesus is our lord and savior." I never respond either way. It's what they believe, and that's fine. But some of them are the same friends who chuckle or worry when they learn that I am pursuing a path as an ordained wedding celebrant, because they cannot accept that the only dogma of my faith is to believe and worship the way I want to, so long as it harms no one.

Why am I the strange one?

Here is my one little voice for whoever happens upon it. I hope the other 16.1% speak up too, and soon.

The Best is Yet to Come

2011-01-03T15:37:00.005-05:00

When my ex-husband told our kids he was getting remarried, it prompted my practical jokester son to suggest to my ex that I officiate his wedding to his fiancee. Naturally, my ex and his fiancee declined on his offer, but it did bring to the forefront that I am indeed an ordained minister who can legally marry couples in NJ and any state in the US. It's a little secret I've kept to myself since Aug. 3, 2001. I have never officiated anyone's marriage, but I like the idea that I can and I know that I would do a bangup job if given the opportunity.

Back in 2001, the year my own father died, I was struggling to understand my own spirituality. I was raised in a strict Roman Catholic upbringing. My husband wasn't Catholic and although we married in the Catholic Church, we ended up raising our children in a very non-denominational kind of way.

My husband would attend Christian services from time to time, but I generally drifted from the church and began to worship in what most people would describe in a pagan way. I still pray, and frankly, I aspire to be Christ-like. I mean, who could ever say that the teachings of Christ are anything other than inspired? But as far as the hypocrisy shoved down my throat as a kid, and the politics of organized religion, I found myself no longer identifying with the church and given the corruption of holy men, pretty much decided to worship the divine in my own way. And to me, nothing makes more sense than to see the divine in all aspects of nature and to aspire to live an honest life based on the enlightened lives of those who serve(d) as an example.

It was at this time in 2001 that I stumbled upon the Universal Life Church, who for no fee at all, ordained me as a non-denominational minister allowing me to legally marry individuals who have their own way of thinking about God and the universe and want to celebrate and legalize their love for each other in a way true to themselves.

I kept it a secret, because I thought people would give me a hard time about it. But I take the role seriously, and would like nothing more than to marry couples who want their ceremony to resonate with their own spirituality.

My marriage broke up because we are flawed people and couldn't see our way to keeping our lives together. Should humans stay married until the end of their natural lives? I think it's something we should aspire to. But because we are human we are not ourselves divine and we make mistakes.

Having said that, should we be allowed to remarry after a failed marriage, without judgement and shame? Yes, I think so. Ending a marriage is no casual thing and we learn a great deal. If we are lucky enough to find love with another human being we need to forgive ourselves and our exes, and get on with the act of living and loving.

Good luck and many blessings to Stephen and his new wife Marnie.

And in 2011, one of my resolutions is that I aspire to marry at least one couple!

Happy New Year and New Life to One and All!

Top 10 Perks of an Unemployed Teacher

2010-12-09T08:38:00.011-05:00

OK, so it's been a while since my last blog entry. What can I say? I'm easily distracted.

Distracted by the condition of unemployment brought on by recent budget cuts courtesy of the State of NJ and the school district of Pleasantville, NJ, I've spent the last six months glued to my computer looking for full-time employment. My position as an art teacher was eliminated. There were other art teachers, but Iwas the only non-tenured teacher in the bunch, so I got the ax. It had nothing to do with merit. Timing is everything and to add insult to injury, it happened seven days after I bought my house and signed a mortgage.

I'm beginning to think that at age 52 I have to abandon the one thing I'm best at doing and love the most. I worked full-time while raising my children and putting kids through college and going back to school for my own master's degree seemed like a selfish act. But now it is painfully clear that without a master's degree I simply can't compete with the new generation of 20 somethings who have them. Doesn't seventeen years in a classroom count for anything? It's a terrifying prospect that I may never teach again, or even have a career.

I could drone on about the corruption of the district and the corrupt nature of our teacher's union, and even our idiot governor, but nobody cares and it's just too painful for me to dwell on these facts.
So, in the interest of comic relief, here is a list of the top ten perks of my situation:

1) I don't have to make signs or draw illustrations for other teachers or administrators who think that teaching 100 students a day isn't enough of a job.
2) I will never again lose my lunch period due to a fire alarm!
3) I actually had the time to write holiday cards this year to people that I love instead of people whose asses I have to kiss.
4) I get to play doctor on myself since I lost my health benefits when I lost my job. I should have gone to medical school, I bet I wouldn't be in this situation if I had.
5) I can be proud of my dedication as a teacher and that I have 33 accumulated vacation and sick days that I never used. Guess I shouldn't have had perfect attendance all those years, huh?
6) I actually get through the day without anybody stealing anything from me.
7) I just love receiving automated telephone calls from my former district informing me in two different languages that a district event has been cancelled. (It doesn't matter that I've contacted the superintendent twice to please remove me from the district's calling list.)
8) No more missing favorite TV shows or family time because I'm grading work or calling parents.
9) No more losing hours of my precious weekend doing lesson plans.
10) My boyfriend moved in with me to help me with expenses. After raising three children and working my entire adult life I may have a career as a housewife afterall. NOT. It pays less than unemployment.

July 20, 1969

2009-07-20T22:59:00.023-04:00

Clearly, every blogger on the planet is writing about the first Moon Walk.

But I think 1969 in general, deserves a nod.

I was almost eleven years old when man landed on the moon on July 20, 1969.
My parents made a big deal of it, and I got to stay up late to watch it. My parents were excited and so that let me know it was a big deal. I remembered thinking, "I thought we did this already." Such is the jaded mind of a ten year old. But then again, the TV had brought so many astounding events into our homes is it any wonder?

Vietnam was a daily dose of reality on TV during the dinner hour. My father's cousin was killed there and that made it more real. I had nightmares about war machines in the sky. The first troop withdrawls of American Soldiers were sent home that summer. But sadly Americans didn't welcome them home or treat them as heroes as we do our soldiers today. They were twice, the victims of an unpopular war and were treated badly. (Years later it still pains me to hear a beau recall his personal experiences upon returning to the U.S. after serving his country.)

Mary Jo Kopechne was killed at Chappaquiddick, which once again brought the Kennedy family back into the forefront with another scandal and tragedy.

The Tate and LaBianca murders happened that same summer. It affected me so much that I recently made a pilgrimage to CA to see the La Bianca and Tate homes and even Ms. Tate's grave. (The Tate home has since been demolished.) I recalled the graphic memories as I stood by Ms. Tates grave and shivers crawled up my spine. So very sad.

The REAL Woodstock happened that summer. The day after my 11th birthday, which really made it stand out in my mind. I remember watching the Woodstock hippies on TV and thinking how cool those teenagers were. (How could I have known that my future ex-husband and father of my children was somewhere in that rain-soaked, pot-smoking, hippy crowd?)

John Lennon and Yoko Ono staged their 'Bed In' along with a solo which pretty much meant that the Beatles were probably going to cease to exist. I think the Beatles made their last public appearance sometime that year on the roof of Abbey Road Studios and that was pretty cool too.

Even the Gay Rights Movement was born as TV covered the riots in NY.

All these grown-up events in the same year that the Brady Bunch came on the air. (And at that time who could have guessed that the Brady Bunch dad was Gay?)

Although it didn't happen in '69, The Jackson Five were soon to make their TV debut in 1970 which I also remember. I was absolutely amazed to realize that Michael was the exact same age as I was. (Born in August of 1958.) I remember the exact moment I learned this fact, hanging out with my then best friend Sue and playing Jackson Five records in her bedroom.

(Who could know in a few dozen more years, he would have invented his own Moon Walk, and come to such a tragic end?)

Living by the 8 Ball

2009-07-20T14:39:00.010-04:00

Last week while grocery shopping, I noticed the 8 Ball toy. I didn't expect to see it there on the shelf in the context of being a grocery store item. As it sat there and I stared at it for a few seconds, it awakened the chambers of my brain that long ago stored away the memories of my young self looking to the 8 Ball to reveal the meaning of life.

All these memories in the flash of time it took me to reach for it on the shelf and find a special, safe spot for it in my cart.

I continued the mundane task of food shopping and actually forgot about it until I got home and unpacked it. Again, it demanded my attention and while unpacking the other groceries, I found another special, safe spot for it in my apartment where I could leave it until I finished my chores.

Once done, I retreated with a cup of tea to a comfy area while I contemplated the 8 Ball still in its packaging. I remembered that my sister somehow managed to claim my original 8 Ball. The packaging claimed that this new one had 20 responses, as though the original had fewer, but I have no memory of that detail.

As I removed the packaging, I did it as though I were unraveling a sacred object. I was struck by the almost ritualistic way I was perceiving and handling this little object. I realize now, that this moment was significant because it honored in its own way, the beginning of my childhood interest in making sense of the unknowable aspects of reality that we call life. Sure, my friends and I used the Ouija Board too, but the 8 Ball was a cut to the chase method and offered direct responses. And sometimes it even offered an opportunity to come back and check later (and who doesn't like that when they're obsessing over a question?)

Oddly enough, I didn't start asking a trillion questions. I asked only one that first day.

It occured to me that for all my effort in making the best choices I know how, it has not left me so well off in life. I don't mean to say that I am bitter, sad, or unhappy, but for all the effort I've used to think through the situations and decisions that define the parameters of my life, I'm really not very impressed with where I ended up. And so in holding that little ball of plastic in my hand it further brought to light that so much of life is random and has as much to do with luck and timing as really knowing the right answers.

When people ask me what my religion is my honest response is that I believe in the law of physics. Like numbers, laws of the natural world lack emotion. Events happen as a consequence of other prior actions. Every split second decision, action, and thing I have ever done in my life merges with everything everyone else has ever done and and leads me here to this moment, holding this little black 8 Ball at age 50 and still wondering what the heck is going on. Even the way I hold the ball, ask a question and retrieve the answer has to do with the actions that led to this moment. "So what the hell" I thought, "I'm gonna try asking the 8 Ball for some answers."

So there it is. I'm going to allow the seemingly random decisions of the 8 Ball to guide some of my daily activities when I have no real clue what to do or no opinion either way.

Oh, and for the record, my decision to start this blog was based on a question I had for the 8 Ball.

If you really want to get to know someone play a game of Scrabble with them

2009-07-20T12:26:00.007-04:00

Seriously, everything you want to know about a person you can learn in the time it takes to play a game of Scrabble. Including yourself.

I don't mean an online game. I mean a real, sit down with the board and people, game.

The last game I played was about two weeks ago while visiting west coast friends and it seemed harmless enough. "Yes, sure, why not?" I said. There were four of us.

I should have known I was headed for trouble when one of my friends started off by saying that she likes to modify the rules to allow the use of proper nouns. We all agreed since it seemed like a harmless change.

I suggested we get the dictionary. How do you play Scrabble (check challenges, etc) without a dictionary? Our friends didn't own a dictionary but decided that between the four of us we could determine a word's fair play. Sounded like trouble, but what the heck, I agreed to play what I perceived to be a casual, fun, anything goes game of Scrabble.

What was I thinking?

Suddenly the one rule change had sub rules. (OJ could not be used as a proper name since 'everyone knows it really stands for orange juice' or at the very most Orenthal James which still makes it an abbreviation and abbreviations aren't allowed) "Seriously?" I asked. I defended my position by saying no one would argue Tony wasn't a proper name even though it was a nickname for Anthony, so why didn't OJ count as a nickname for Orenthal James? And suddenly the anything goes crowd turned into cut throat competitors. I sheepishly retreated my O and J back onto my wooden rack. (I think I would have been allowed to use OJ if it weren't for the fact that in using OJ I was also able to make another word in another direction that would have granted me about 30 odd points for the play. I think that was the real issue.)

The next controversial word came about when the most vocal critic of OJ spelled out 'AX.' I recalled the last game of Scrabble that I had played (again with people who did not own a dictionary) and I had spelled AX only to be shot down because I was told AX had an e at the end. (And damnit I should have checked the spelling after that last game but I hadn't.) So undoubtedly to bust the chops of my OJ nemesis, I recalled that memory and claimed, "Ax ends with an e." She correctly claimed it could be spelled either way like blonde and blond and I honestly suspected she was right and I let it go. But she did not like being challenged and refused to use the word ax because she didn't want controversy and she spelled another word.

But the claws came out and for the rest of the game insults were disguised as jokes. When the rest of us took longer than 10 seconds to spell a word she and her husband hummed the theme music for final Jeopardy which precluded us being able to concentrate. We looked at each other and realized that all we could do was just ignore the behavior and do what we could to end the game as quickly as possible.

Our friend won, but disappeared immediately thereafter. We thought it odd but said our goodnights to her husband and went on our merry way.

The next morning our friend posted a full dictionary page of the word AX and its nine dictionary entries onto each of our facebook profiles. Wow.

My Southern California, hip and trendy, easy going friend is just as uptight as my own east coast self. Who woulda thunk it?

Here's what I've learned: 1) Always play Scrabble following the game rules without exception, and 2) always use a dictionary!