Life in Plaid-Aprons and Beyond

4 years later in Happy Valley

2015-11-08T23:18:00.002+00:00

I love this time of year between the first days of school and Thanksgiving.

Early November in State College, PA is the epitome of fall in the mid-Atlantic. The hills surrounding town are sometimes still spotted with colorful foliage, the cider is fresh pressed, the air is crisp and cold and the University is still educating students from all over the world and hosting football games at Beaver Stadium.

Football in Happy Valley has never died, despite the hits the program and it's people took four years ago this week. Our tailgates are still fun, the stands are still packed with devoted fans and the halftime show is still entertaining. The town rocks from Friday through Sundays on home football weekends. The lines at the restaurants still snake down the blocks and sidewalks. The locals find ways to skirt the crowds to get their groceries and drive their children to activities or enjoy the area. We can watch the game in the comfort of our own homes and yell as loud as we want at what we see on the screen; be it good or bad. Some of us can get play by plays from friends on Facebook. I especially enjoy Ajja reports (Ajja is a friend's dad who once taught at PSU and at 88 is a proud, avid, and involved fan). In State College, even if you don't have season tickets, you can still be part of the fun.

But the rest, well, the rest still hangs over head.

Even though things seem to have improved, I can tell you, this lovely town and it's people are still reminded of the scandal all the time. Every color commentator somehow interjects something about it on game days. Today it came up when a friend returned from her high school reunion where she was questioned about J. S. (I won't print his name). Last week J.S. was in court, yet again, looking to appeal. Others implicated have yet to see the inside of a courtroom, even after all this time. Many people who lost jobs because of their association to the team at the time lost their jobs and are still trying to make a life. Some fans are adamant that the Coach's statue be returned to it's spot. And the victims, well, they will never be able to move totally away from it. So it lingers. The mess, the accusations, the he said she said rumors, the movies and books, the never ending discussions, the radio hosts and the world never have let it go. Maybe they never will and maybe they never should.

In the meantime I am reminded that time moves on. The young students who have chosen this university are not even up on the facts or the players of the case, as I was reminded in a comical way as I sat waiting for a play to start 2 weeks ago. The young lady beside me was telling her friend that the statue of the coach is definitely not here on campus because her boyfriend has looked all over for it and he works in the football building (wow)! Her focus is not on scandal. Our newest President assures us that, in time, the right people will be recognized for their accomplishments. We have another coach, new players and loyal fans and players who have stuck it out amid this whirlwind. We as a community have instituted and learned more about child sexual abuse and the abusers among us than, I would argue, almost any town in the US. The millions have been paid, the regulations met. It is a good place to live and a safe place (#1 in the state according to the 2015 rankings from Niche).

It has been four long years. Nevertheless, after those four long years the only thing we really need are the answers to the questions we still have. In the meantime we will love our Happy Valley life.

Life in Plaid, Book 2

2015-09-12T18:46:00.000+01:00

It has been a long time since I have written a post for this blog, well over a year, as a matter of fact. Why did I stop? Mostly because I thought I had exhausted the ideas fueling the Plaid Apron Adventure; the stories of a rich childhood in an Italian family. I wondered if I was actually saying anything that was more than just trivial. Frankly, I didn't want be boring with posts about things I was writing about. Since a blog is kind of like being a radio broadcaster in that you never really know if you are being listened to, I had decided Life in Plaid had run it's course.

Now I am going to give it another shot because I have been told that it was being read and enjoyed by people who were not blood relatives as well as those who are. So, here's a quick update on what's been shakin' in the past 17 months:

Most of life here in the '65 (those are the last 2 digits of our zip code, in case you are wondering) is the same as ever. Still rural, quiet, friendly, safe, and a little isolating. That said, there have been some amazing changes since the beginning of the year starting with our son moving to his own place and managing his MS with grace and positivity. He is once again independant and we are thrilled for him. Mike is sporting 3 unclogged arteries and a repaired aneurysm, thanks to some incredible medical people and processes. Our older son is still working hard and often playing harder, getting out of town whenever he can to enjoy his bachelorhood (do people say bachelor anymore?). Even though winter was long and snowy, spring showed up for a few weeks followed by rain rain rain and more rain in June. I got to dip my toes in the icy Atlantic in Cape Cod in late June, spent some time reliving my retail skills at "Curiouser and Curiouser"and then refreshed my soul back at the beach when I spent a sunny July week at Bethany Beach, DE. I am now almost a month into another crazy busy school year and thinking I am more ready to explore the retirement option than ever.

So, now that I have caught you up on the ins and outs of my most ordinary life, I will tell you this: I am looking forward to telling more tales, observing more of life's events (starting with a wedding next weekend), sharing love and laughter, going here and there this fall and winter, and, maybe, surprising myself with whatever life will bring on next in the '65 and other zipcodes.

Hope you will come along for the ride and will comment on how I'm doing and what you think.

Book

Factoids are Fun

2014-04-25T17:26:00.001+01:00

In our school our homerooms have what is called Advisory, a time to build solid and trusting relationships between the students and the staff. I have been assigned to an 8th grade classroom with a very good friend for the past 3 years. We have always had wonderful kids who join in in the activities we do, participate in discussions, do school work, and share their lives and interests and become a great unit by the end of the year. (I say always but things don't always go smoothly with 13 year olds at 8:10 in the morning). It is the highlight of my day to spend the first 30 minutes of school with our class.

To begin the year we do icebreaker activities to learn about each other. One of my favorites is a game that requires each player to share random and little known facts about themselves. Here are some random and little known facts about me

If money were no object I would buy jackets and not shoes, unlike my sister Lois
Being barefoot is better; flip flops are a close second
Flannel pajamas are a wardrobe choice 9 times out of 10 when I get home from work (my martini glass pjs are my favorite)
'Laverne and Shirley' always made me laugh out loud
My "gas is low" warning light goes off all the time
I love bridal magazines but dislike fashion magazines
Sometimes I try and hide at Whipple Dam State Park so I can be alone
Lilac and pear are 2 of my most favorite aromas
I eat ricotta out of the container as a snack
James Patterson and Martha Stewart annoy the heck out of me
My car is automatic but I can drive standard
I hate gory movies but love Game of Thrones
I believe in ghosts and spirits
Mint Chip milk shakes from Myers dairy are one of my favorite treats
my phone is not of the smart variety and often MIA
never have I ever had a speeding ticket (that right there is a minor miracle)

Feel free to discuss.

A Connection So Strong (with photographic evidence)

2014-04-13T17:23:00.001+01:00

Over the years things change. I have changed. Most of my changes have been subtle and personal and I am continuing to grow and become more confident in who I am and what I am good at. A hobby of mine and, a sometimes money maker, is my photography. I love to take pictures of the world around me. I don't have fancy equipment and I am self teaching the ins and outs of the skill, but, overall I like what I see in my viewfinder. I am an admirer of many local photographers including the late Bill Coleman, my Scott Kelby Photowalk friends, and, one of my favorites, Brandon Stanton who is the man behind Humans of New York.

I look at HONY every day. I own the book. I admire and am amazed at the emotion and truth that come from his images and his simple questions to his subjects. His sweetest are often of children or of older couples. Innocence and wisdom right there, everyday, on the streets of the city. Love is present in the eyes and the looks of his couples, but, he did not get to see the love of Dolores and Harry. He would have relished in the chance to take their picture and talk to them about love and loyalty.

Aunt Dolores and Uncle Harry were an extraordinary couple. I dont know the particulars of their love story, not sure how or when they met, or where they went on their first date, or, when they became engaged. I do know that they were enamored with each other. They were each others touchstone, best friend, life long partner. If ever there was an example of soul mates it was Dolores and Harry. Pictures of them make me smile. Memories of their affection are strong. They always held hands. He told her she was beautiful, she thought he was heaven sent. They always sat close together at events. They always teased and laughed. Always. It was sweet and real and something we all strive to have. Aunt Dolores and Uncle Harry had it in spades!

I don't suppose that their relationship was without bumps or moments of exasperation; no one's is. Nothing is perfect. In a long and busy marriage life can throw you lots of curve balls. They weathered every storm, together.

They were something else, fun, funny, caring and loving people who gave us all unconditional love and amazing gifts, delicious food, 4 incredible cousins, phone calls, childrearing advice and anything else we needed. All I ever had to do was ask. As they got older they enjoyed a retirement and built a new life away from Brooklyn where they made new friends and helped out in new ventures, always together. They welcomed all with open arms and I don't think ever met a stranger! I loved visiting with them when they moved to PA. I loved driving my aunt to the events we went to together and then coming home and watching John Edward's TV show in her country home.

When Uncle Harry passed on I do know that my aunt missed her husband from the moment he left this life till she was able to join him. I know she wrote to him every night before she went to sleep and continued to love him with every fiber of her being.

Recently I ran across this photo of them: I stole it from my cousin's facebook page and put it in my folder of photos. Humans of New York, wish you could have met Dolores and Harry on the streets of Brooklyn. That picture would have been classic and the story even more so. It would have been a treat to have heard what they would have said! This picture sums that love affair pretty well, though.

*sorry I can't credit the photographer, I have no idea who that is.

Loving and missing you both!

We Follow in Gaston's Ways, We are Especially Good at It, Too.

2014-01-12T18:33:00.000+00:00

This post is about a legend.

A proud and noble family tradition that began about a hundred years ago, I would guess. My mother and father,sisters and brother, my aunts and uncles, my older and younger cousins were taught as little ones all about this special special thing. I do not know exactly who started it. I dont need to. I just know that it is a well respected and time honored traditon in the Macaluso extended family. It is binding and real. It is just a little bit repulsive, but only because, if taken literally, the distastfulness of it all would be too much to take.

In my family, if something is desired to be given to us someday, we spit on it.

You read that correctly. To claim an item or number of items to be bequeathed to you the habit is to claim it by expectorating! Now, before you decide that this is a family of gross and disgusting people letting loose on fine china bowls and grandfather clocks and hand cut crystal goblets, let me furter explain our methods. We say, "I spit on that". The first person to say those words, with a witness, usually the owner or keeper of the treasure, is the true and rightful recipiant of whatever it may be. Easy as pie! The witness, the owner or keeper of the treasure, will then affirm it and honor the spitee with the item in due time. No quarrels, arguments, ifs, ands, or buts about it. Why spit? Again, this has an easy and totally logical answer: who in their right mind would ever ever ever want somthing with someone else's spittle on it? It is marked territory. It is DNA protected. It is yours unless or until you decide to give it to another.

The list of things I have personally spit on is not long but includes such things as the fabulous Ram's head lamp (a representation of my high school mascot), the panoramic framed shot of the Cottages in Truro, a certain necklace from Tiffany's and the very coveted and somewhat valuable Beanie Baby collection of over 100 squishy soft plush toys. We all have the right to spit, no matter the age, on family heirlooms to be. In my entire liftime there has been only one item I can recall being un-spit-on-able, a well loved and coveted Red Volvo. That is not to say they didnt try, but, that car could only go on so long.

It is a great and unique custom that I imagine has few equals. I have no idea, really, what other families do, maybe write things in legal documents. For us, we just spit.

The Past Year -- It's a Wrap!

2013-12-31T19:11:00.000+00:00

I have missed writing this past year. I have missed thinking of what to say and share and ponder. It has been just a bit longer than 11 months since I have posted here and I think it is about time to keep going. If you know me at all or if you remember my previous post from last January you will realize that the days here in the middle of Pennsyltucky have been in a state of flux due to something called LIFE. It has not been a bad thing, just a very different thing. Nonetheless, here I sit, cuddled up in my cozy blanket, listening to the winter wind and watching the snow literally fly past my window ready to take on a new year. 2013 can take a flying leap into my memory bank. It has exhausted me, surprised me, exhilarated me, stunned me, ignored me and humbled me. I send it on it's way with a hearty handshake and the hope that it will not have 2014 follow in it's footsteps.

A very short synopsis of the year is this:
The year began when Adam came home to stay because of his MS; his flare up in December was intense and for the next 6 months he could not walk. Soon after, Shane arranged for him to get excellent physical therapy at a rehab service in Mifflintown and it has been a Godsend. They work with skill and humor everyday.

Mike and I have learned how to share our home with a strong and amazing young man who has given us many days of laughter, awe at what he is made of, worry about what could be, strength in family and family values, pride in his spirit and witness to hardship in living a new kind of life. Faith is here all the time, too.

Our circle of family and friends has grown exponentially! My parents, siblings and extended family have been terrific, as always. The benefit in Adam's honor was a huge boost to our life and a great day of seeing the goodness in this place. Old friends from Clarkstown High School have lifted me up with messages of support, facebook comments and generosity. I never knew they would be a part of my life again and am very grateful that they are. Our small part of this world is chock full of loving and giving people who exude the "can do" attitude everyday.

In July Adam gave up using the motorized scooter and relies, almost exclusively, on his own two shaky legs and a fabulous cane. He was able to buy a car and get back a huge amount of independance. As the saying almost goes - when life gives you lemons, get a kitten! Mia has been hysterically funny and a great source of exercise for the legs as well as the heart of Adam. She came to our home because she was abandoned and, according to the people that found her, purrfect! They were right.

The summer gave me a pallet garden (big success) and a trip to Cape Cod with my sisters, brother and parents (also a big success)! and down time. I enjoyed the productions of our community theatre and the fires in our custom made fire pit along with the new friends we made in our neighborhood. Back to school meant extended job duties that I did not want and knew nothing about, but, have turned out to be a good thing teaching me that I can still learn some new tricks!!

The winter, so far, has been uneventful with the exception of my Mother in Law's accident, Shane's torn meniscus, and the terrible season of both the J. E. T. S. and the Giants (something I really could care less about but others here are into). It has also provided me with a chance to become addicted to the TV show "Scandal". With the exception of the football teams, all will be well sooner or later.

So, here we are again at the New Year. What is in store is a mystery. What I pray for is the strength to carry on and a continuation of all the blessings from the past 12 months to continue. Even though I step over this threshold into 2014 not knowing what will be I am sure to enter it with an open heart and a love for all of you who have hugged, loved, shared and been there to lean on. Let the adventure continue and let there be peace.

Lesson: keep treading!

2013-01-27T23:32:00.000+00:00

It's funny. Well, not ha ha funny but interesting funny.

Life. It can be moving along swimmingly and then out of nowhere you start to go under. You can kick and flail and shout or you can relax and lean back and try and float using faith and patience, trust and hope to carry you along. The harder you try to fight it the faster you go down so - relax!! Believe me, as much as you want to you have no other choice, so you just take one step at a time and attempt to understand the changes.

I am not an expert on this stuff. I am an amateur for sure. But, I have recently been let into an exclusive club. I never wanted to be excluded more from anything in my life!!   The club is the one where someone you love is dealing with something you cant fix. In our case it is a disease called Multiple Sclerosis. It is not a life ending situation but, man, is it ever a life changing one.

Right before Christmas my son was diagnosed with MS. It was not a total shock since his symptoms had been showing up for awhile. Nonetheless, when you are witness to a specialized doctor telling your son he does have this disease (after a week of testing) you feel small and meek. Dorothy Gale was right! in front of the wizard you will do just about anything to get back to normal. I would gladly hunt down the wicked witch and melt her into oblivion. Too bad for me, no witch will take this away.

Fast forward to New Years Eve morning. Our elderly and very sweet dog suffered a stroke in the early hours and before nine he was gone. A hard decision had to be made; it was the right decision. We will miss that old dog everyday. Even the cat misses him. We grieved and then, because we had to, we moved on. Like I said life is funny.

So, in two weeks time we had two rather momentous events in our quiet household. Now what?

My son is adjusting to new routines that involve self administration of injections on a daily basis, relying on devices to get him safely from place to place, living back here with us after being on his own for so long and not being able to work due to his condition. He has filled out pages upon pages of paperwork. His life goals are different, he has a lot of uncertainty, yet he is so positive, strong and very accepting of the situation. Yes, he has his moments but they really are few and far between. We laugh a lot and we share a lot. Even though I wanted him to live closer this is not at all the way I wanted him to be here, but with that said, he is such good company and the reason we now put bacon on seemingly everything and sip bourbon on cold winter nights.

I would gladly change places with him. If only I could.

Now let me tell you that even though there have been losses, and big ones, there have been amazing gains!!   Never ever ever before have we ever needed or been the recipients of the kindness and love that we have felt recently. My colleagues are sweet and generous beyond belief. The church has made some hard things so much easier. My school has let me know that I can and should take the time I need away from work to help care for my son. My family has been comforting and available. Our older son is a natural helper and an amazing organizer, as well as a tremendous support and provider of all manner of comfort mechanical and not. Our community has been generous in the donations coming in. Both old and new friends have opened their hearts and wallets to me and mine and answered my questions, assured me and given me strength. My neighbors are fun and so giving and helpful. Prayers are being said for us and we know it helps! Blessings abound.

This year is one of new beginnings. All new years are. You never know what will come your way but you face it. Like the saying goes, you never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have.

Breadcrumbs and memories

2012-11-26T19:28:00.000+00:00

I love crunch. I love crunchy apples and crisp potato chips and walnuts in my salad. Crusty warm Italian bread is something to be savored and to be bought before every trip back home to Pennsylvania; several loaves. It goes to the beach with us or to the Catskills or to any party there is. People request it from those coming our way. I savor it whenever I have it and try not to waste it. I know it is just bread but, boy, is it good!

I can remember my grandparents always having fresh bread at their home and the bakery up the street where they bought it or sent someone to get more of it. It was part of every meal, in the bread basket, passed around the table over and over again. They never ever wasted any of it. The soon to be stale leftover remnants of the loaf had a purpose. My grandfather would make the finest, lightest breadcrumbs ever using an old box grater. He was diligent and neat, sitting at that old kitchen table he would work away at the heels of old bread and grate it to use in the meals to come. Every week he made more. When he finally retired it was always part of his routine. I smile when I think of him, a big former longshoreman, carefully and precisely working at that table. They were the best breadcrumbs around!

Thanksgiving day is always when we celebrated his birthday. It was actually a day or two before or after but Thanksgiving day was his day. After dinner (which went on for hours and had many courses both Italian and American) we sang to him as the cake was presented. His cake was a large white cake covered with amazing amounts of fresh whipped cream and it always had the biggest, sweetest strawberries decorating it and in between the layers. I would love to share one of those cakes with him again and talk to him about his life. I know so little about him from his own words. I am sorry for that.

Many other things remind me of him. Iced water, for instance, was his drink of choice and a big carafe was always on the table. I have a large blue mug, better suited for soup than for coffee, and it always reminds me of his coffee cup. No one ever used it but him. We would never think of it. Wool plaid shirts also bring back memories.They were often red and scratchy and huge, he had many and they kept him warm while he worked outside on the docks. In his older years I remember his cane. It was more than a walking aide, it was also a weapon and a way to tease great grandchildren. He was a silent jokester!

Orthopedic shoes, too, remind me of my Grandfather. I can see him arriving at our home in his white shirt and tie and with those big special shoes. Never anything else on his feet, not a loafer or a sneaker, ever. Special shoes. He grew up in the era where you wore a shirt and tie everywhere, church, of course, but also every outing. We have a picture of him in the 40s sitting on the sand at the beach with his family, in his white shirt and tie and those shoes.

I dont make my own breadcrumbs, although I should, and I cant remember his voice anymore, but I will always remember him. He treated me well, took me out for special outings when I was very young and one time saved my life. Tough on the outside but very tenderhearted.

Happy 109th, Grandpa, and thanks for so much.

Picking pumpkins and memories

2012-10-21T22:32:00.001+01:00

It is 10 days until Halloween. The news feeds are loaded with the stories of young families venturing out to find an orange treasure to set out on their front step. Everyone gets one. Everyone has different tastes and needs when finding the perfect one. Most of the little people want the biggest pumpkin in the pile and most of their families find a way to haul it to their cars. Sometimes I see a little pair of hands clutching a wee little one as if it is the Hope diamond. They are scenes playing out all over this country this month and they come with their own set of memories.

As a kid my mother and our next door neighbor, Mrs. Tucker, would load up all 8 of us in a big station wagon with no seat belts and a "way back" rear facing seat and drive to a huge farmers stand close by in New Jersey with "The Monster Mash" probably playing on the radio. Every year we went together as an extended family and had cider and doughnuts and got pumpkins. I can vividly remember the bright painted faces on so many of those pumpkins, but, for the life of me cannot remember the name of the orchard. It is a memory I hold dear of innocent times with friends. I learned to roast fresh seeds that came in those pumpkins, and to reach in and grab the glop of pumpkin guts. We would carve them and light them and gaze at them. The next week we would go trick or treating, after the obligatory group picture, from right after school until dark. We used huge grocery bags or pillowcases to get our loot. We went out alone, without escorts or guardians. My mother always always made lentil soup on Halloween for dinner, my guess is because it could warm us up and could be served to whomever wandered in at any time.

A few miles from my current home in any direction are lots of places to pick the perfect pumpkin. The festivals abound and the crisp air helps the mood. Just at the end or our lane, on the other side of a very old stone wall, are fields that are cultivated yearly by Penn State and grow a variety of things, mostly corn but often tomatoes, beans,potatoes, grasses and who knows what else. Years ago they grew pumpkins. Acres and acres of pumpkins. I am sure they were testing something in the crop or in the soil but I never found out what. What I do know is that as summer turned to fall the fields were left to rot. The vegetation wilted and the dots of orange were visible and plentiful. It was as if the pumpkin fairy had stopped by just for my kids and their friends! We wandered down the lane with a wagon and high hopes. It did not take long to realize that we could fill the wagon and still not have made a dent in the harvest. That is exactly what we did. Picked and chose and loaded up. Along with the pumpkins came corn stalks to place around the door and to top it off, it was Indian corn so we got some of that, too. I will never forget how perfect it was. I have not seen the university plant pumpkins there again. Curious.

This week I hope to choose my own orange orb, roast the seeds and carve it into something. It will not be the artistic type of jack-o-lantern that my son Adam can do, but it will be fine. It would be much more fun to go with a car full of kids to get one and someday, maybe, I will get to do that again, in the meantime, I will watch the Great Pumpkin on TV and enjoy the season filled with sweet memories, warm cider, lentil soup and try not to dip into the bags of candy until after the trick-or-treaters are gone for another year.

Helplessly Hoping, not the song.

2012-09-16T18:28:00.003+01:00

For the past few months the reunion page has been getting more and more hits on Facebook. I check it out often, seeing posts by people who are planning on going, those reaching out for info on long lost friends and the general banter between people who have kept in touch over the last 4 decades. I have not kept in touch with many of my high school classmates, even those who swore under their senior picture that we would always be friends and our bond was too strong to break. I did have the good fortune a year ago to share a great brunch with 3 girls from school, and it may have been the only time the four of us did anything social together. It was wonderful and I am grateful to Bonnie, Laurie and Barbara for the gift of that day. A brunch with just a few people is one thing, but this is totally different.

As the party gets closer I get more nervous. I really want to go and have committed to being there. I sent in the money. I even think I know what I am going to wear! In the back of my mind, however, is the nagging thought of being on the outside looking in; becoming, once again, the awkward person I was back then, not having one hundredth of the self knowledge that I have now.

When I tell my current friends that this occasion is coming up most say the same thing, that they don't do reunions. They loathe them, actually, and would rather eat worms than go and see the people that they spent four years with in high school.

Not encouraging.

In August I took a little tour of Clarkstown High School. I walked through the front doors and remembered where the library is, where the attendance office and auditorium are, where my locker was and wandered in an about for a while. I walked into the gym and looked up at the names on the far wall of the stellar athletes who played there. I knew exactly how to get to the annex and peeked into the girls room that now is smoke free. It felt good to be there. Good to have flashbacks to the days when our football Saturdays were littered with tiny bits of IBM punch card confetti, purple and gold was worn proudly together, corsages with bubble gum adorned us on our Sweet 16th birthdays and we turned our class rings 72 times! I remember our long hair on both boys and girls, our hippyish ways, earth shoes and faded jeans, our huge class and the crushes we all had. I remember falling in love with James Taylor and his songs, and gazing lovingly at his picture on the Sweet Baby James album in the cafeteria. I still place my hands on the home keys of my keyboard (asdf semi lkj) and remember driver's ed in-car antics and the senior breakfast. Whenever I hear the song "Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Good-bye" it reminds me of an amazing basketball season! I remember the bright yellow halter top dress I wore to the senior dinner and the great friends I went with! and the Pub, of course.

None of that makes me less nervous because even though I am not that awkward girl anymore she lives on in my memory. I still have to walk into that room in a few weeks with my short hair that is more white than brown, and share my very ordinary (but pretty wonderful) life of the past 40 years with people who I would not know if I ran into them on the street and may never have hung out with all those years ago. Yes, it is giving me ajeda even as I write this! but, in a good way, I think.

So, class of 1972, I am counting on you all to remember that I will have a million butterflies in my stomach, and that this is not going to be easy. I promise, if you remember this about me, I will return the favor and remember that you may also be a bit jittery. See you in October.

Laughter through tears and life lessons

2012-07-19T17:23:00.000+01:00

My childhood home in New City, New York has a beautiful magnolia tree in the front yard. It blooms in the spring for just a few days. My mother and father delight in those blossoms every year and worry about how the wind or the cold or the rain will effect them. They are fragile. They are beautiful. They are pink and they are a sign of new hope and promise of good sunny days to come again.

My memories of that tree always include people hanging off of it's branches. My sisters and brother an I when we were young and my own sons as well as my nephews and nieces as our family grew. The blossoms may be fragile but the tree itself is strong. It has weathered many a blizzard, blazing heat and chimpanzee - like children swinging from its arms. It is a contrast in extremes; the delicate blossoms on a steely strong stem.

One of the delights of my post children life has been my involvement in theater. It is on a very small scale beginning with my work at the school I work at and continuing with the local community theater. I love reading plays, watching shows; being involved in some way. The past two summers have afforded me the opportunity to be a costume designer for two straight plays: The Survivor, which is a dramatic and powerful Holocaust show and Steel Magnolias, a drama laced with comedy. Both involve real life situations that force us to examine our beliefs, our faith, our hopes and our dreams for life and our shared reality of death be it at the hands of evil or the seemingly unjust reach of medical conditions causing chaos. I, of course, knew the Holocaust was real and that the play The Survivor was based on truth but, I did not know until very recently that there really was a Shelby from Louisiana and that this story was very real. The author of the play, Robert Harling, wrote it about his sister. She did actually die of complications of diabetes following the birth of her son and the rejection of the kidney her own mother had donated to her. Susan Robinson was 32 when she died. Out of the tragedy of her death and his trying to deal with his emotions Robert Harling wrote Steel Magnolias. He had never written anything besides term papers before.

I have now seen the show over a dozen times be it in rehearsals or in the theater. I will see it a few more. Six women with six stories. Sweet Annelle finds a family, Ouiser and Clairee have a lifetime love/hate relationship, Shelby and M 'Lynn are moving forward together as grown daughter and overbearing mother, not always easily. Truvy is the touchstone, the refuge to all their drama with her neighborhood salon in the carport. It always makes me laugh and it always makes me cry. Now it makes me marvel at the strength of people like Robert Harling and his sister. It makes me understand that we all have the strength of the magnolia tree as well as the fragility of the blossoms (pink, like Shelby's signature color). I realize that life is full of risk and leaps of faith and that we should all find a reason to live life our way regardless of the possibilities of bad things. We need our 30 minutes of wonderful vs. a lifetime of nothing special, and, when push comes to shove we all need someone to take a whack at and remind us that "life goes on".

A New Mayberry

2012-07-06T16:33:00.003+01:00

This week we celebrated the 236th birthday of our country and we said good-bye to a cherished friend. Although I dont usually discuss celebrities in this space, or, in my real life, I find it fitting to say thanks for the memories to Andy Griffith.

A long time ago the show that made him famous "The Andy Griffith Show" was a staple in the lives of all of us. We watched it on a black and white TV, which worked out just fine since it was in black and white. It was simple and charming. It had nothing flashy to attract you to it, just a man, his son, his friends and his work. But within it were the lessons of life. Be just. Be honest. Tell the people you love that you love them. Tease each other. Work hard. Like folks who may be a little odd. Believe in family. Take time to go fishin'. Be a part of your community. Smile. Have patience with the people who will test it often. Think before you speak. Go out on top, if you can. Hug your children. Whistle.

The characters on that show are classic. Barney Fife, Opie, Aunt Bee, Gomer Pyle. Loved and loveable no matter their ineptness, wild ideas, over protectiveness or just plain folksiness. How like us all and the families we are a part of. I can assign people from my life now to play the parts of the show. I can imagine them trying to solve problems, right wrongs and share experiences while someone, who knows who, is wearing the apron! It would be the new Mayberry with so many different voices blending in to make up my life now. My life in living color.

It would include family characters, of course, but also local flavor. A combination of old school thoughts, wild and crazy antics, song and dance, stories of falling down and getting up again, Pinterest pages and community scandal. My new Mayberry would be peppered with bald babies, school age children, talented teenagers, wise old adults and everyone in between. The world travelers and the home bodies, the well read and the cereal box readers, those that see the world with rose colored glasses and those that view it from behind the lens. Banana lovers, Whipple bathers and Amish farmers. And my dog.

Quite a bunch. I am lucky to have these characters in the story of my life. It is hardly ever boring.

So, thank you to Mr. Andy Griffith, for all the joy you have given and all the inspiration you have provided. As much as I may sometimes like it I dont think we can go back to that simpler time. I will be content to try and incorporate the lessons learned into my new Mayberry. Maybe I will take up fishin'.

On the Crest of Summer

2012-05-13T16:30:00.002+01:00

              "We stood on the crest of summer, beneath an oak that blossomed green
                        Feeling as I did in April, not really knowing what it means
               But it must be then that you stand beside me now to make me feel this way
                         Just as I did in April, but it's a morning in May"

Those lyrics from the song Pieces of April by Three Dog Night rang through my head on the bus ride home Friday night. On this particular day, which began at an ungodly hour on a morning in May, I was tired, my feet ached from walking all day, the kids were not even the littlest bit interested in slowing down. The day had been a success. Our kids had as much fun in DC as they ever had at Hershey Park. It was a good day.

So why the song? Here's why.

The bus dropped us off at our destination which was crowded with tour buses from everywhere imaginable. It was morning and Arlington National Cemetery was busy. The sun was shining and I was as anxious as the kids to experience the history of that special place. We ventured to one of the least visited sections, Section 27, the area where the remains of African American War Veterans from the Civil War rest. To get there we passed a funeral full of the pomp and circumstance known to all, the flag draped coffin, the Marines ready to fire the report (21 gun salute) and the lone bugler. The kids were absolutely silent. We proceeded to other areas, famous and not so famous, and again and again saw funeral processions. As we walked up the hill to the grave site of President Kennedy we were passed by a caisson pulled by 6 horses. We witnessed the absolute precision and grandeur of the changing of the guards at the Tomb of the Unknowns. Following immediately after there was another caisson, pulled by white horses this time, waiting to proceed while the Navy band played a tribute for the sailor just being laid to rest just a bit up the hill.

Taps sounded and I cried. Even the most squirrelly of boys stood and were silent. It was the 7th time we heard the report that morning. How many more funerals there were that day I have no idea (we were told that it is usually around 27 each day). I just know that it was overwhelming and sad. One student asked if I was ok, and yes, I was, just touched by the power of the day and feeling for all the family members who were there to say goodbye. I was thinking of my family and relatives who, through the grace of God, made it home safely from their wars. I know some of the tears are for knowing that we will continue to have to have more funerals for more men and women in the near future.

That being said, it was still quite amazing to walk the grounds and marvel at the sheer number of people who are buried there. The over 600 acres is beautiful and serene. The history of our nation is represented from young to old, from all backgrounds and religions, every branch of the service, privates to presidents. Until you see row after row after row of headstones you never understand how many of us are willing to give everything for our country. I dont believe the students get it, I know I would not have when I was their age. But I do now.

My morning in May stretched into an afternoon of smiles and sharing and yes, it was a long day. It was a day where I shared the pride in our country with young people who experienced history in the making 7 times and will never forget it. Where a young girl told me it was the first time she had been out of Pennsylvania, where a boy took every explanation of what we were seeing to heart and who accepted every challenge we gave, where even the cockiest of 14 year olds stood silent and reverent as the bugle called.

This is the crest of summer, this was my morning in May.

A fine strand of twisted fibers

2012-04-15T12:58:00.010+01:00

There are times when you just have to sit back and listen. Listen to the birds singing, or the faucet dripping or the crowd clapping. I have been listening lately to the thunderous gush of wind as the world is whizzing by at record speed! and there have been times I have wanted to be Atlas-like and slow it down. No such powers here, alas.

One of the things I was able to hear just the other day was the conversation between two people I work with who happen to be first cousins. I was a passenger in the back seat of the car and they were in the front. Two people my age, both in education and both bantering back and forth about everything the way cousins do. It was fascinating to see the dynamic in action. I was definitely included in the conversations but sometimes it took a curve into "do you remember" times and I just sat back and enjoyed. They teased each other about one being much much older, and by much much I think it is 8 weeks! They spoke of siblings and long ago get-togethers and elderly parents. And chickens. Both have chickens in their yards for both the eggs and the tick eating properties of guinea hens! It was fun and funny. And familiar, too.

I, too, have great siblings and cousins,whom I have mentioned before; none much much older than I because I am the oldest. I am not, however, the wisest. I am not really sure I know who is but there are lots of contenders. They will let me know. Our shared heritage ties us together with a long thread. The thread links us and our stories together in good times and in bad; we dont have chickens (yet) but we have talked about it, we do have the "do you remember" moments. Favorites are when we get to view old pictures taken from when our parents were children and others are newer, from our own travels down life's path. Pictures tell stories, some understood and some not. Recently shared was the one of our grandparents on the beach with pots and pans and pocketbooks. Or the banana curled little girls and a boy in short pants sitting on the brownstone steps. Years later a picture may be of a preteen doing a cartwheel, a young ballerina or the gap toothed grin of a six year old smiling at us. A bride, a puppy, a beer drinking picnicker, there are so many. We celebrate the accomplishments of each other and each others family and we mourn the losses big and small together, too. A struggle for one is often a struggle for all of us. Life pulls us one way or another and the thread gets stretched and becomes taut but it doesn't break. It cant.

When the pictures of my mind kick in and I see characteristics of strength of family and our traditions that I have shared with my sons, I am proud. Included are determination to make a better life, extremely great work ethics, abilities to stretch a dollar, courage to move to a new country or join the service at a young age. Equally important is a sense of humor, you cant live, or love, without it. Family values and family loyalty. Faith. We have had bumps in the road. We have learned, through trial and error, that sometimes you have to back away. It is ok to wrap yourself up in your own life for awhile and disappear; that not everyone is a social animal but all of us are there for each other long distance or close by. We understand that just because we dont see or speak to each other as often as we like we still have that thread linking us together. Like the old song says, lean on me, I'll help you carry on.

Today, as I listen to this spring springing forward it brings us one more thing to celebrate with this family!! a new brightness to our thread. Frank Hercules, the littlest new family member, bounced into our lives and brought us new smiles. He was initiated into our club at just a few days old when he did got himself wrapped up in our family apron and thus our traditions. Our little Frank is going to be listening to some amazing "do you remember" stories and he will, I hope, learn that the loudest sound he hears is love.

WILLIE NELSON - LITTLE THINGS MEAN A LOT.. [STILL PICTURES].flv

2012-02-11T18:28:00.001+00:00

Little things

2012-02-11T17:54:00.006+00:00

I have been thinking a lot of what a real valentine is this week as I see ad after ad after ad about what to give to show love. Diamonds, flowers, chocolate covered berries, cards that bloom, candlelit dinners, vacations to Greece (ok, made that one up) are all there. The expectations can be gigantic and the disappointments the same if that is what VD is to you. I admit, when I was much younger, and more romantically inclined, I craved some of those things, too. Now it is a little different.

Some of the greatest gifts of Valentines Day are so much less costly than what I see and hear from the ads and so much more meaningful. Who doesnt love the roughly cut red construction paper heart with the glued on doily lovingly handed to you by a little child? or the single blossom presented to you while the dinner is cooking and you are setting the table and the kids are noisy? The small things are better than the grandiose and, I believe, we should show our love to our sweethearts all the time, not just one day of the year, with valentines from the heart.

My Aunt Carole always called her husband Darlin'. That is a valentine. My father's signature on cards he gives my mother is almost always "Always and Forever". That is a valentine. My brother-in-law, to this day, always brings my sister her coffee in bed. A valentine. My own husband will go outside and scrape the ice and snow from my car whether he has to be up and out himself or not. A valentine. There are so many more things than what we see on tv or in the mall that mean love. Think back. A fistful of dandelions. The stronger than possible hug of a toddler. The excitement of holding hands for the first time. The whisper of I love you. The surprise ice cream sundae. The private joke that always always makes you smile. The music of the shared giggles of your teenagers. Valentines all and little things that dont come in heart shaped boxes.

In as much as I wish to travel to Greece, or toast an anniversary in Tuscany, or dance at the top of the Empire State Building, I crave the real symbols of love that come from the heart.

There was an old song that touched on this premise, about thoughtfulness. It has the line, "give her your heart to rely on". The song is called Little Things Mean A Lot. They do.

p.s. I will try to put my favorite rendition of this song on here, if I can figure it out!!

Water, mud, etc...thanks for the explanation. Ooo-fa.

2012-01-15T17:00:00.004+00:00

Do you ever think that a beloved family recipe was better in the days gone by? I know that my lasagna will never measure up to my Mother's and my cannolis will be good, but Lois' will be better and that Lee's inventiveness is superior to most others when it comes to improving and adapting. Luckily for the family we have Uncle Joe's cookbook " A Family's Memories" to keep the old culinary traditions alive.

I have that beloved book and some recipe cards. My mom has a bunch of recipes that she likes clipped out of magazines. Recently she gave me a baggie of clipped articles and also some 3 x 5 index cards with favorites that are decades old and asked me to transcribe them for her. There were 3 separate fajita recipes...pork, chicken and beef. Mom never makes fajitas, so I am not sure just why they were there. It also included Cathy's Chili, Macaroni and Cheese Croquettes (printed on the back of the label of Crisco),and four different, but the same, copies for Baccala, and many more. Some were written down as her mom was telling her what the process was, the ingredients needed and the tips and hints to make things work. They are written in pencil and fading fast. Some are laminated with plastic wrap and that helped tremendously. There are traces of flour on some or tiny splashes of sauce.

I found some gems within this collection. Grandma's stuffing ,which is called Rice and Turkey Stuffing in Uncle Joe's book is the recipe I followed this Thanksgiving. It has 6 ingredients. On a piece of Xeroxed paper in the baggie was a handwritten rendition (my Grandmother's writing) called Turkey Filling and everything was the same EXCEPT FOR THE 4 EGGS!! No wonder mine was not quite the same.I should have known since one of the notes in his book, under Things to Know, is "my Mother's recipes never list all the ingredients".

Among the to be transcribed group, in my own mother's hand, was the recipe for gravy. Fat, drippings, and 2 cups of "liquid water". I loved that!

This kind of explanation runs in the family, in a way, as they have a way with words. I like the clear mental pictures I get when I read through some things. For instance: the recipe for lentil soup in the family cookbook states clearly, "If you like lentils soupy don't reduce as much. If you like them like MUD reduce more, but don't burn"!

My life is enriched by little things like these. I hope I can pass on gems of this caliber myself someday.

If you Google it, It will come.

2011-12-30T16:37:00.004+00:00

This morning I pondered what to write about since I had an urge to blog. That happens sometimes, I just want to write. I didnt have any idea what to write about so I Googled writing prompts and word of the day lists and help me get an idea sites. there are all sorts of things on the internet to get the creative juices flowing!! One of them said to write about something you loved as a child and still love today. Still another suggested writing about an appealing idea or dream you would like to see become a reality. Bingo. Here goes.

There is one activity in my life that has been a constant since I was first able to do it. Reading. I have always had a passion for reading, sometimes to a fault. I know when I was a pre-teen I could block out the world and lose myself in a good story. I hungered for more books. I ravaged the small local library and felt more at home there than at my elementary school. I can still see, in my minds eye, the low building jammed with books. The small wooden stools to help reach the higher shelves. I could walk there from school when it was a few blocks away and later on when it was right across the street from St. Augustine's I would gladly head there than home, sometimes.

In recent years I have enjoyed helping to produce plays either at school or in the community. The process of getting from a read-through to curtain up is exhilarating! Now I would like to combine the two.

This winter break I read a short story that I think could make a fabulous holiday play. It would be ideal for a Christmas pageant or church service in the weeks before Christmas day. The story keeps calling me back. It touches me because it centers around an 8th grade girl who is like most of the 8th graders I meet, not yet a grown-up but wanting desperately to be while clinging onto the girl inside. The short journey she makes on the night of the Christmas pageant at her church shows her that only one thing makes the day possible. The ending of the story is sweet and clear. I can see a production of this...I really can. I can even see certain folks I know cast in the show, the staging and the lighting. I can almost hear the backround music being sung by a choir...OK, that may be a little much!

So, maybe someday soon I will send a note to the author and feel this out. Would he be willing to give me permission to adapt the story? If so, could I do it? Would anyone be willing to help me bring life to those words on stage? How much money would that take?? Could I actually run with this? Have I totally lost my mind? Should I stop googling when I have a small writer's block? Those questions dont really require answers but go at it if you want to. I can take it. I think.

OK, so there it is. My writing urge has be met today. Happy New Year! oh yes -- What are your hopes and dreams leading you to do in 2012?

December 26th, 2011

2011-12-26T15:21:00.004+00:00

Once again it has come,
and now it is done.
The one day of the year,
where we attempt the home-run!

The boxes and paper,
the ribbons and bows.
The wine and the cookies,
the hoping for snow.

Our traditional presents,
socks, underwear and toys.
Given each year,
to men now, not boys.

The new gifts, the odd ones,
Soap and hair-dryers,
Pet rocks, water balloons,
Hot sauce, USB wires.

Amid all the hustle,
the stress and the rush.
We cherish our moment,
and try not to gush.

My gift, however,
was perfect and dear.
Our family together,
a few hours of cheer.

I look at the fir,
decked out, lit up, fine.
Sparkling and lovely,
at night, quite divine.

Under the branches,
curled up and at rest,
Our cat purring softly,
content and unstressed.

Yes, this is simple,
I know, not the best.
But my Christmas was special,
I know I am blessed.

A Thanksgiving Smile Just for Me

2011-11-28T16:08:00.005+00:00

I dont think it has happened for me in a really a very long time, maybe since they were little, but this week I found my self smiling while trying to fall asleep. I was not drunk, did not feel loopy on any medications, and had had a relatively sane day. Considering that it was a major holiday, Thanksgiving, it was really a very nice surprise to me.

First off I have to say that the decision to request and receive a personal day on the Wednesday before the holiday was a gift. I was able to relax, visit Wegman's early in the morning with a friend, shop and dance and laugh and hug old friends who were also filling their carts. It was fabulous. When I got home and began the preparation for a low key dinner I knew that it was going to be ok that it would only be 3 out of 4 of us at the table. My simple menu was prepared well in advance and the prep was relaxing. Lots of fresh food and nice weather along with not having to hurry up and get somewhere was rather calming. I do love to cook, a trait that runs in my family from generations past to the younger ones, so it is a joy to put together a meal. I even sort of baked (pear crisp is baking, right?).

The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is always fun, I love to see the musical theater numbers from Broadway and listening to the silly banter of the hosts is traditional, too. It has to be on as the turkey is popped into the oven. Luckily for me, Mike calculated the time it needed to roast. I try every year to figure it out and it takes me twice as long...I am a language arts person after all, not a math guru. This year's bird was huge for 3 folks...20 pounds! We were all set for Shane and Brutus.

Now, people who know him will understand that there is real time and there is Shane time, much like Island Time, so getting the table the food and the guest here and ready all at the same time can be a challenge. Thanksgiving miracles do happen, my friends! Shane was actually ready to come at the right time and called to ask us if he could bring a guest. Knowing we had more than enough to share I set another place and we welcomed May to our home. I love that we were able to share with her since she was not able to get to her own home this year. Both our guests were cheerful and helpful and hungry; even if they did make fun of the gigantic turkey! It was lovely and low key; very different from the uber large Macaluso dinners with dozens of loud people.

So, you maybe asking yourself, what was the reason for the smiling?? Ahh--here it is. For the first time in a long long time it seemed that my family was all happy at the same time. True, Adam was recovering from hand surgery and far away, but I could tell by the sound of his voice that as much as he missed being here he was just fine. He had friends and was not in pain. He spent the evening enjoying the company of people he liked while they raised money for Breast Cancer Research at Uno's in Reston. Shane was relaxed, looked wonderful and was more than willing to share our bounty with a friend. He seemed to be happy to be with us. Mike was a great host and the food was good. Brutus and Bailey and Sydney all ignored each other and all seemed well in our world. We could have used another bottle of wine, but lesson learned.

So that is the story of the smile on Thanksgiving night. I cant tell you how good it felt to feel the joy and have absolutely no stress as I drifted off to sleep. I hope to get a repeat of that joy many more times in the future.

The week that was: November 5-12, 2011 State College, PA

2011-11-12T21:18:00.004+00:00

About ten years ago I was at a meeting at the Autoport with school administrators, teachers, psychologists and other interested parties as we mapped out the anti-bullying strategies we planned on teaching. At one point, after so many compliments about our wonderful town, our Happy Valley, I remember getting a big laugh when I reminded everyone that "we may be Happy Valley, but we are not Perfect Valley". At that very moment the sirens of a police car sounded not too far away and the point hit home.

This week it hit home again but with no laughter.

How we deal with the absolutely horrid and utterly impossible to believe facts around here we will only know in time. Our collective hearts are broken. Our pain is nothing compared to the pain of the children whose innocence was taken. Our Happy Valley is under a cloud of shame and disgrace. To understand this scandal fully is nauseating. It is tremendously sad and, as one of the local talk radio heads said on Thursday, it has robbed us of a bit of our identity.

After 34 years in this beautiful part of the world I feel that local is a good term to describe my family and me. Many PSUers come and go, pass through and love their time here, return only sometimes. Many others return to the stadium or to Arts Fest or the fireworks on the 4Th of July and relax and reminisce with a sigh of remembering the easier days of their past. Lots of people try and recapture their youth at homecoming (that usually ends badly). Many many others will return to live here. It is that kind of town. Three hours from everywhere but the hub of our lifestyle. A safe little nest in the valley.

Only now we find out that that safety did not extend to all. That is what breaks our hearts.

It is very very hard to explain to those that don't live here just how special this place is. To that end I will just say, trust me. It is not perfect by any means, and we know of it's flaws. However, my circle of connections is touched by this tragedy in what can only be described as the "trickle down" variety. By that I mean that no, I don't know the boys who were hurt irreparably by the predator whose name I wont mention, but, I do know or have met just about everyone else whose names have been in the national media. Years ago our sons sat in the local barbershop and took their turn after the legendary coach, they entered the football competition Punt, Pass and Kick held every year, I assisted the coach's wife when her daughter was being married,my husband would help her when he worked for Sears, I have seen the university president out and about and sat next to him numerous times when our kids played Little League. Our kids and their kids grew up together. One of my sons famously kicked out the lead witness during a youth baseball game a very long time ago...they have since become friendly, to a degree. At the high school football banquet years ago we sat at the table with the new coach and his wife and had a wonderful time. My street is the home of a man who works for the Second Mile and I know many kids who have benefited from that wonderful program. We have tailgated and been to games at the stadium. One of our sons has a degree from the university. I have had my pictures framed by the brother of one of the people who has ties to the case. It goes on and on and on. I am by no means bragging about the people here and me being close, we are not. I am saying that this is, after all, a small town. A close knit and small town.

But it goes deeper for me. I am around the children of these famous men all the time. The nieces and nephews, the grandchildren, the innocent ones who happen to have recognizable names. One of them is a lovely young one who I really am impressed by, I like her as a person, she is sparkly and sweet and kind and pretty feisty! Her sister and cousins are also very sweet. I worry about them and what this world wide attention will do to them. It will effect them. It is sad. Former students are now or have been on the football team, or may be sports writers or photographers at Penn State. Many many of my young friends participate in THON, the largest and most successful philanthropic event in all U.S. colleges, raising money to aide in cancer research.

Last night I drove through our main street, called College Avenue. I was passing through after running some errands. The quiet lovely avenue was filled with traffic. More than on a normal Friday before a home game. The traffic was backed up because of the news trucks from all over. I counted 12 of them and more were at the stadium and at the coaches house and the Second Mile. It was incredible. Remember, we are in the middle of the state, three hours from every major city. There was nothing new to say but there they were with wires and mics and booms across the lawn of Old Main and downtown. It felt as if they were continually ripping the scab off the fresh wound. If I felt this way as a townie, imagine how my young friends must feel.

So now what?? I can only hope that the news does not get worse. I pray that soon we can be better to each other. I will walk in the vigil tomorrow to promote awareness. I will cry many more tears for the boys. I will pray for my bad thoughts about the perpetrator to be lessened. I know that this is not over. But, it is my home, my son's love it here. We have built a life here. It is Happy Valley. I also ask all of you who don't live here to remember that lots and lots of good and decent people are proud to call State College home. We need your love and the victims need your prayers.

2011-11-05T15:33:00.003+00:00

On the cusp.

Today is a day of being at the apex, the top, the cusp of ending one year and beginning another. It is the last few hours of time before my next birthday. It is just about a year since my last. I have successfully made another trip around the sun.

On the cusp of this birthday is the realization, once again, that many things still remain the same. We live in the same neighborhood, have the same jobs, go through the day to day paces as if we were those critters on the never ending wheel inside a cage. It is not the day to day routines that makes it a good life, it is much more the ways we choose to take a leap of faith or venture off into the unknown or let fate lead us that makes it life with a capital L.

Here are some of the moments that peppered my year and influenced my choices, some good and some not so good; continued stress and worry about family and friends- knowing our economic situation is stuck in neutral and looks to remain that way- facing the powers that be in my community knowing that I might lose big time- the desire to make memories- making a longtime wish a reality- having my eyes opened to the fact that I AM a creative person- always wanting to have more spice in my life- realizing that friends come in varieties and circumstances make those friendships special- sharing moments of celebration long distance and close up- believing, sometimes against all odds, that it is going to get better.

So What did I do in this year to try and live life with a capital L?

Here is what I remember; I prayed more earnestly for guidance and peace of mind. I trusted more. I spoke out for things I believed in and defended those who could not or would not speak out. I addressed a few hundred people in hopes of holding onto my job. I managed to keep the ball rolling on our vacation house. I got inked. I dressed an entire cast of a summer stock show. I snapped campaign pictures. I reconnected with high school classmates in person. I took a photo walk. I ate Indian food for the first time. I saw a strawberry moon.

On Monday the trip begins again.

Scenes from and Italian Restaurant 2011

2011-10-02T10:26:00.000+01:00

A bottle of white, a bottle of red. Great first line of a classic Billy Joel song from a few decades ago. I had my own observations last weekend at an Italian Restaurant that put us together again for a celebration. We were gathering in Kingston, NY for the birthday party of my mother who does not look or act like the octogenarian that she now is. We had been talking about it and planning it for awhile. I was so excited to be there and looked around again at what gifts my life holds for me. Here are some of the highlights.

My sister and dad did a wonderful job on not only the location but the after party. We all ate well and drank just as well and together all raised a glass in Joan's honor. We listened to sentimental and touching words from Aunt Lois who spoke so nicely of a life well lived. Dad made a sweet statement of love. Around the table were the old faces and some new ones, welcome guests who brought more smiles. One nephew and two nieces were there all grown up and beautiful. As much as I loved seeing them I missed those other young men and women who couldn't get there, including my own sons. I do think everyone who was absent called at one point or another, though. Far away from me at the table was the new mom-to-be glowing and "just" popping out who along with her always spirited sister gave a pink princess sash and feathered pointy birthday hat to the guest of honor amid lots of laughs. I am still amazed that it was worn with a smile and pride!! silly is not something my mother often does but it reminded me of the picture of her old friend Kathy wearing a party tiara and a smile.

Our luncheon was held in a city with a past--the first capitol of the state of New York. I loved the riverside scenes including the sculls of Cathy's crew team waiting to be put in again, the bridge overhead and the opportunity to take some quick portraits of Lois. To get to my sister's afterwards required me to follow the leaders up and down streets, over railroad tracks, and zipping though red lights (yellow goes too fast in the city), however, I was assured that all would be fine since if I was stopped the policeman driving the car I was following would be in my corner. No harm no foul...until I refused to follow him the wrong way up the one way street! Crazy I may be, but not stupid. We did get to see some flashing lights that night, my dad got pulled over for a burnt out taillight! Funny thing is one aunt, one sister and one cousin had noticed it and warned him...just a little too late. Again, no harm no foul and no ticket.

Before heading west again and home I had the pleasure of reconnecting with former classmates for brunch. I am so happy that people took time out of their lives to spend a few hours with me. It meant a lot considering it had been over 20 years since I had actually seen 3 of them and 39 years since I had seen the other. (Facebook does not count here). My brother and cousin joined us, too, with their lovely new girlfriends who make them happy guys. Looking at the Tappan Zee Bridge while telling stories of our lives was the icing on the cake to end those quick few days. Along with the events in Lois' town celebrating the people who helped after the hurricane, the time at Cathy's lovely home and the company of my brother and family it comes down to reality...I needed a little give and take, a little New York Times and Daily News...I was in a New York State of mind.

Tears, Songs, Heroism, Memories.

2011-09-11T14:15:00.005+01:00

I have been watching the coverage of the memorials for our country's victims from ten years ago today. I have been touched once again by the regency of New York City and the pride of it's people, the dignity of Washington D.C. and the resilience of the citizens there, the rural grace of Shankesville, PA. and the scar left in a field by everyday heroes. I remember so well that day in our history. I have been collecting stories from the staff of our school to put together a book of what we went through that incredible day. I will have more stories soon and then will compile the remembrance's of those of us who had the responsibility of trying to maintain the normalcy of middle school in the most abnormal of days. Ten years of memories as clear as if they were yesterday.

Today I saw and heard the waterfalls at Ground Zero. I do think they must be all the tears that have been shed. The tears of rage, grief, disbelief and for some, gratitude and grace. I always think about the rescue workers doing what they were put on this earth to do. My heart skips a beat when I know that they all did the impossible, trying to put a stop to the carnage however they could. Amazing Grace, indeed.

I understand how that day is what caused our ongoing wars. I still am a pacifist. I still think God, by whatever name you call Him, would not want us to kill each other in His name. I support our efforts to bring peace and I stand behind the men and women whose job it is to do that in whatever uniform they wear. I am grateful to my nephew Nicholas for his service and I pray his long lasting effects from his time overseas will lessen soon. On that fateful day Adam was a New Yorker working for our family's company. He was deeply effected watching the black smoke rise from the city from his vantage point high above and not too far away and he shared his emotions with his cousins. He spent a few nights being the coffee guy with his cousin delivering hot coffee to firefighters because that was all they could think of to do. Here at home I got and took a phone call from Shane who was not sure I knew what was happening. My always event planning Shane organized a way for money to be collected at the establishment he worked at at the time during the following weekend's home football game. It was all he could think of to do. I will forever be proud of those small but extraordinarily selfless gestures that came from their hearts. Mike was the one who told me about the plane in Pennsylvania. His voice, calm as ever, but still filled with the disbelief we all shared.

My memories of the nights following the attack are very vivid. I know that each night for many after I would walk our old dog Sandy into our backyard. I would cry quietly every night and sing God Bless America while looking up into the summer sky, tears streaming down my face. I don't know why I chose that song but it was my tribute to our nationwide pride that grew over the days and the flags flew. I think God was closer for some reason those nights. Lastly in this blog of remembrance is this: Mike and I were married on September the 11th, 1976. Since then we have sometimes struggled with the two anniversaries. We will always remember both. We celebrate quietly but we do celebrate our marriage because if we don't, if we choose to pick another day to raise our glasses in joy to the years we have chosen to spend together, than I believe those terrorists have stolen one more thing from us.

Modifying Me in the Summer of 2011

2011-09-04T17:04:00.012+01:00

Reflections. Rethinking. Revitalizing. Regeneration. Renewal. Rejoice.

All our lives we have to do things to move forward whether we want to or not. Little ones are insistent on going further every day in whatever mode they have mastered while trying to become experts at the next mode. When we reflect on our lives it is often a good thing. Reflecting on the accomplishments of this summer has been a nice trip, even if it is a short one. What I have realized is that so many things stay the same but the details, the adjectives of life, the accoutrement's of being are what makes life fun and rewarding.

My short rundown of the last few months includes my absolute five star rating of reading on a Kindle. I never ever thought I would enjoy it as much as I do. My week at the shore renewed my love of the sea, the sand, the sunset and the sensational people who have become closer to me in the past few years than in all the other years combined. It gave me a memorable piece of art to live with that reminds me of so much. It also reinforced the reality that time is moving on faster and faster as we get older and older.

On the home front it was a time of small changes and big emotions. The reality that our country is still suffering is evident every time I look at my checkbook. The move of one son to a new place was an unexpected step, and as his stress level changes it, of course, effects mine. It is a mom thing. The other son is moving to a new beat, too. This one is surprising and encouraging and brings hope for him and his future. While Mike and I get set to celebrate 35 years of marriage on the 11Th we will have to temper our happiness to share the ten years of sadness since the attacks on the USA and the memorializing that will mark that day. Our minds will be much more on those that lost precious members of their families and we are OK with that.

Extended family events are the drama of the summer. Horrific storms and devastation are still the focus in upstate NY. The cleanup is going to be weeks longer than first thought but the community is pulling together once again. With some luck my sister will have built a following who will vote for her in the general election after seeing her volunteer hundreds of hours to help in and around her small town. The transplant team at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital performed another miracle and extended the life of my cousin. How do you say thank you for that? His donor is my heroine and I am proud to know her. Our angels above were smiling down on us for sure that day. Without a doubt Facebook was the means of communication once again that let us all follow the happenings in almost real time. Thank you social networking.

From beach time, camping, reading, photographing, Google +-ing, gardening, costuming a show, sharing a journey or two, I think, no, I know, it has been a summer to remember. And now we will have a brand new person to add to our list when my littlest cousin joins the world in March! Just in time to celebrate the upcoming marriage of Nick and Lauren! and start the memories of the summer of 2012. Whew! I think I have added plenty of adjectives this summer.