"I Stayed Up All Night To See Where the Sun Went - Then it Dawned on Me."

A friend of mine sent me the pun that is serving as the title of this post; ‘I stayed up all night to see where the sun went.  Then it dawned on me.’

It’s a wise pun, and anyone who knows me knows I enjoy puns very much!  My favorite birthday card was one that read, “I would dance down the steps to celebrate your birthday – but I’m a Fred a stairs”.  When in the library recently, I told the librarian friend of mine, “I'm reading a book about anti-gravity.  I can't put it down.”  So, the fact that this particular pun was sent to me today was not surprising.  However, the way it hit me was unique.

I’ve been waiting around for something to happen, some job to pop into my life since I was laid off from my prior full-time job over 2 years ago.  I started this blog, tried to get my children’s book illustrated, took a part-time job, and did my normal array of daily activities from cooking through chatting with friends.  But, through all this time, I didn’t really investigate and work toward any one thing in particular; I sort of floated through all my interests waiting for one to push me instead of me pushing it.

So, I stayed up all night to see where the sun went, and then it dawned on me.  I sat and did nothing, and everything happened anyway. I went with the flow and the tide has now left me on a new beach.

There’s a pretty good chance that I will begin a new, full-time position on Monday, May 14^th.  I received a call on Wednesday from the head of HR at a company I interviewed with, informing me of their decision to hire me.  Along with all the pertinent details of salary, vacation time, benefits, etc., with that one call, I was excited to learn that I had finally done it, I had succeeded at being recognized as valuable to the outside world once again.  Being that I am superstitious, I am not counting on anything until the formal letter arrives; however, the chance is pretty real that I will once again return to the world of full-time employment very soon.

Of course this is very welcome news.  The increased income will make it easier to buy fun things, pay off some accumulated, straggly bills, and perhaps, once I have earned time off, go on another cruise with family and friends. However, now I am grappling with one particular, nagging thought; did I do enough with my free time or did I just stay up all night and wait to see where the sun went?

I know I used the beginning of my time at home wisely and appreciated every single day.  Aside from searching for a new position, I was able to be with my Dad before he passed.  Those months are etched in my memory and I will cherish those moments with him forever.

I also remember spending time doing more mundane things like cleaning out the pantry and making an effort, in the beginning to de-clutter the house.  Well, that lasted for a short while.  Before I knew it, the clutter was back and I was just as good at ignoring it.  I still believe in the saying that a house needs to be clean enough to be healthy, but messy enough to be happy.  We strive for happy.

Writing this blog has been a big plus for me.  Getting things off my mind, putting them on paper, hoping others get something out of my writing, these things have been productive and enjoyable.  But, did I use the gift of time as importantly as I could?  Now that so much free time is winding down, I realize there are still so many things I would like to do yet the seconds are quickly ticking away!

Don’t get me wrong, the position I have been offered is very desirable and one in which I feel I will be contributing to a greater good.  The organization and follow-up that will be necessary to succeed in this position will be a welcome opportunity to get out of “my own head” and concentrate on something else, a sort of forced mental vacation.  Everyone I met through interviewing at the company was intelligent, welcoming, friendly and kind.  I want to do well, fit in and prove myself worthy of this opportunity.  I will try my best.

But, it just “dawned on me” that the free time I was given was really a very special gift; a gift that I lived in for a period of time; a gift that has taught me a lot about myself.  It is a gift I am glad I will never have to return as it has enriched my soul forever. 

I am excited about this new opportunity that is right around the bend.  I worked at getting this chance for a long time and will try my best to be a valuable addition every single day. 

My time spent sitting around waiting for the sun to rise was a wonderful time.  Thinking about it now, in retrospect, the time was used wisely and appreciated fully.  This experience enabled me to take a breath, clear my lungs, follow my heart and sing out loud.  And now, with the dawn approaching, I can start fresh.  I can watch the sun come up with a smile and face the new day and all its new challanges with enthusiasm and gusto.

Hello World – I am back!

A Must Hear Interview

For those of you who read my blog regularly, you will know I have had the honor of interviewing William Bertram MacFarland over the internet on more than one occasion.  Bertie Mac, as he is known, has published the first book in his series regarding the decades he spent working for various Presidents’ of the United States beginning with President John F. Kennedy and ending with George W. Bush. 

Bertie’s life and experiences are breath taking in their importance.  His writing is brilliant and masterful.   Bertie’s  book, “Back Channel – The Kennedy Years”, is one of those books you just will truly not be able to put down.

As I have the honor of remaining in e-mail contact with Mr. MacFarland, he sent me the link to a recent radio interview.  The link may be found at: http://wendleebroadcasting.com/KXYL.htm .  Once there, click on the Tuesday 5:15 link.  The interview begins close to the 11-minute mark.

Hearing Bertie’s story in his own voice is worth the time.  I hope you enjoy!

The Joy of Bread

My husband and I spent Saturday morning with my in-laws, helping them work out a few issues and running a few errands.  My mother-in-law is, sadly, falling deeper into her Alzheimer’s abyss.  She can’t seem to remember, from one moment to the next, where she’s going and why, although she does still know who everyone is and how we are all connected. 

We met them in their old apartment building’s parking lot.  Unfortunately, that really threw her.  “Did she still live here?” “ Where did she live now?”  These questions kept her going for well over a half an hour.  In retrospect, we should have met them someplace else.  The problem was, we were running errands in their old neighborhood.  As it was, my father-in-law parked on the opposite side from where we asked him to park.  This mild confusion caused us to sit and wait for 15 minutes looking for them, when they were already there!  Finally, we became concerned and called them only to find they were already parked close by, just out of sight.

Due to reading the book, “Still Alice”, I believe I could, at times, see my mother-in-law’s inner frustration at her own confusion.  It must be similar to the feeling we all get when something is “on the tip of our tongue” yet you just can’t seem to retrieve it.  Only in her case, two minutes later, she forgets that she’s even trying to access anything.  My father-in-law is at his wits end, and it is completely understandable.  It must be torture to watch someone you love drifting away right in front of you, with no way to throw a lifeline. 

The four of us ran errands, then my husband and I wanted to take my in-laws for lunch.  It was finally Saturday, the day bread; crusty, delicious, teeth-sinking, comforting bread, could re-enter my diet after 8 days of Passover.   A restaurant in the area, Tomatoes, sat tantalizingly in a strip shopping center, it was calling to me.  My husband and I have eaten there before and they have an amazing roast beef sandwich on crusty bread with caramelized onions and the most wonderful horseradish sauce you can imagine. My mouth was watering just thinking of the deliciousness to come!

A young woman, who had no idea how thrilled I was to have reached this point in the day, led us to our table.  I took a look at the menu basically to reinforce my previous decision concerning the roast beef lusciousness.  We ordered and chatted while waiting for lunch to arrive.  Over my father-in-law’s shoulder I could watch the Ottawa/New York playoff game, which was a very good thing. 

Amidst the sounds of fanfare, (in my head), the waiter arrived with our lunches precariously perched on his arms.  Without hesitation, perhaps sensing my urgency, he placed my plate in front of me, the roast beef sandwich sitting majestically on the plate.  If it had been socially acceptable in any form, I would have devoured it before he even began to place the other entrees on the table.

My father-in-law had ordered the same sandwich I did, but he is a “plain Jane” eater and refused to try either the au jus gravy or the horseradish sauce, removing them from his plate and placing them on the table in between us, as if their simple existence was abhorrent.  To me, the placement of the additional sauces was a joyful insurance…in case I spilled mine or for some other reason (gluttony) needed more!!

In an attempt to be somewhat calorie conscious, I carefully scooped the roll on both sides of the sandwich, then without any delicacy at all, poured the horseradish sauce into the cavity formed by my scooping on the top half.  I suppose that totally negated my calorie consciousness!  But that sauce, that amazing, wonderful sauce, is completely irresistible with its delicate balance of creaminess and its soft touch of horseradish heaven.

Replacing the cavity filled top of the roll, enabling the sauce to comingle with the caramelized onions and perfectly cooked roast beef, I took my knife and with the lady-like precision of an ice sculptor, I cut the sandwich into magnificent halves oozing with messy delightfulness.   Full fat, salty potato chips and two pickle slices finished the perfection of what I was about to devour.  With no further thought to calories or being “lady-like”, I took my first bite! 

The mixture of textures, taste, and relief at being free again to eat what I had been craving filled my senses.  Savoring each tantalizing bite, speaking little, I was lost in the moment; sheer, pure enjoyment encompassed my being.

Perhaps this is the meaning of Passover.  Only through the forced denial to eat bread could I fully appreciate and take complete delight in the joy of bread and the joy of the freedom to eat bread.  Life is full of opposites; hot opposed to cold, sickness opposed to health, light opposed to darkness. Perhaps the meaning of Passover, the freedom that it celebrates, can only truly be enjoyed at the joyful completion of the denial of that freedom in a simple, ordinary way.  Just as it is easier to appreciate the importance of memory and good health through spending the day with my mother-in-law as she is now.

Never underestimate the joy of bread…never underestimate the blessing of good health.

The Winds of Change are Blowing

Sitting here, I can hear the wind snapping at the roof.   The leaves on the trees are bending and swaying as if they alone can dance to the musical hum of the whipping wind.  Listening to the symphony of shingles shifting and the pool cover flapping against the cement, I realize the inside of my house is oddly silent.  The television is off, my IPod is quiet, no one is speaking and nothing is running in the background – no dishwasher or washing machine.  The house is truly quiet except for the music of nature.

Every so often a stronger wind gust blows some unsuspecting sand off our back patio, it swirls rapidly before once again settling into a new home on the pavers.  I guess in many ways, the sand in the wind is like my life.   The winds of change are blowing me out of my comfort zone.  Where I am settled now may soon be quite different from where the winds will drop me; a new place that is hopefully close to where I am now, but different enough to warrant adjustment.

This past weekend was a holiday weekend.  Passover was celebrated in our home; while Easter was celebrated in the homes of many people we love and care about.  Honestly, Passover was never one of my favorite holidays.  I remember having a discussion with our Rabbi many years ago about what I felt to be the incongruence of the celebration.  The story we tell at the Seder consists of the celebratory tale of the Jewish peoples’ exodus from slavery in Egypt.  It celebrates freedom.  In short, the Jews had to exit their homes quickly, so there was no time for their bread to rise.  In honor of this fast exit, we eat unleavened food for the duration of the holiday.

My beef with this celebration is that it was the time that the Jews lacked, not the ingredients…therefore, it seems we should need to eat fast food this week, be forced to eat in restaurants, not cook at all!  But, instead, we labor in the kitchen for hours preparing foods to work as substitutes for what we enjoy the rest of the year.  Substitute foods are prepared; foods that never taste as good as the real thing.  (Some may try to argue this point with me and say how much they enjoy Passover food.  If that were true, why wouldn’t bakeries sell Passover cakes and cookies all year round?  I’ll tell you why; they taste like the sand on which the Jews traveled for 40 years, the sand that is whipping around my patio!)

Contrast Passover with Easter.  On Good Friday, Jesus was crucified.  On Sunday, he was reborn.  If this were a Jewish holiday, we would have to push pins through our hands or starve all day to relate to his suffering on Friday.  On Sunday, we would celebrate his rebirth by perhaps lighting a birthday candle, Yippee!!  For a people that really do know how to party, our holiday celebrations don’t do us justice.  Why can’t we celebrate our freedom with decorated, beautiful cakes, gifts, spring colors, and smiles instead of dipping bitter herbs and drowning gefilte fish was beet stained horseradish? 

As always, I “keep” Passover in my own way.  I don’t eat the bread, cake, cookies, crackers, peas and corn as I do the other 357 days of the year.  I don’t clean out my house of all bread products because my daughter and I are the only ones in the house who try to restrain from eating these foods.  Because of this, religious Jews would obviously say I am not keeping Passover.  To them I say, you’re right.  But, my daughter and I keep it our way out of respect for who we are and out of hope that one day, someone will stand up and say…they didn’t run out of bread, they ran out of time!!  And on that miraculous day, Jews all over the world will rush to various fast food outlets and nosh to their hearts delight for the eight days of Passover! 

There are changes that are happening, however, as the consistent beating of the wind against my window reminds me.  These changes are on a personal level.  I write often about my children being adults now. Thoughts of downsizing our home, ridding ourselves of so many accumulated odds and ends, looking down the road at being empty nesters…these changes like that grain of sand being blown in the air by a sudden wind and forced to settle into a new reality.  The shifting of reality, the day-to-day changes that seem overnight but really have been taking incremental steps for decades, these changes are reaching a new plateau.  Life is change…like the song says, “The answer my friend, is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind.”

I hope the winds of change result in all of us landing in an interesting, comfortable new place.  Happy Holidays everyone, no matter what you celebrate, take pride and joy in being you.   Whether eating the sweets of Passover or Easter, or just the sweets of an ordinary day, beneath it all we should always remember that the only sweetness of any importance is the sweetness we offer one another.

Experiencing the Library!

One of my favorite joys of being unemployed, or “under-employed” is the free time that I now enjoy.  I have already blogged about the time I had to share with my Dad before he passed away, time I would have otherwise missed.  Those moments, though tinged with sorrow, were such a blessing.  Love filled each and every day my Mom and I sat with my Dad in the hospital that last week.  Knowing I was there for him, to feed him, sing with him, talk to him, enabled me to hold him in my heart that much closer every day since.

The time I now have to write is also greatly enjoyed and appreciated.  Reflecting on what is in my heart at any particular moment is therapeutic for me.  I have time to appreciate the moments in my life that might just otherwise pass by in the hectic day-to-day of the full-time working world.  Now, that all being said, if I were to find a rewarding full-time position, one that held challenge and contribution to a greater good, that would be terrific; but, until then, I am appreciating what I have today.

Today.  Today I am not scheduled to be in the store.  Today I am looking forward to spending the day with my daughter and my Mom if she is free.  My daughter and I have rediscovered the neighborhood library the last few months.  Tuesdays seem to be our day for that excursion.

There are three women who sit at the front desk to the library.  They are friendly and welcoming and they now know us from our frequent visits.   The women look up from their work every time someone enters the building; they smile and welcome everyone.  My daughter and I have become such regulars that they not only say hello to us they also ask how we are!

The unique quietness of the library always strikes me when I first walk in.  There is an atmosphere of learning, of information, of endless possibilities.  Do you want to learn about gardening, philosophy, history, or cooking?  It’s there.  Would you like to listen to a book on tape, read a book in large type (without your reading glasses – great for when you’re coloring your hair!), or watch a movie?  It’s there!  Visiting the library is in many ways like writing my blog; each visit is the same yet yields different results.  Each visit is a reflection of my feelings of the day, my interpretations of what I am thinking and feeling at that moment.

On my second to last visit to the library, I took out a wonderful book, “Still Alice”, that carefully detailed the life of a woman diagnosed, at 50 years old, with early onset Alzheimer’s disease.  Having just visited with my in-laws, seeing my mother-in-law, I felt this book might give me some insight into what she is going through instead of only thinking about what my husband, father-in-law and the rest of us are going through.  I learned so much.  I highly recommend the book.

Last week, when I returned the book, I took the trip to the library by myself as my daughter was in Florida with her boyfriend.  I don’t remember ever going there by myself before which struck me as odd, but in I walked.  The friendly women at the front greeted me from the counter, as always.  I said hello and we exchanged warm smiles.  Then, before simply walking in as I usually do, I looked around.  The computers were full of young people and senior citizens.  Articles were visible on the screens, so many different topics popping up then off the screens.  Beyond the computers, straight ahead was the fiction section, next to that – audio books.  For some reason, that wasn’t my direction for the day. 

I was drawn to the area to the right, beyond the videos, to non-fiction, then to philosophy and beyond to religion.  Slowly and deliberately I read the titles.  Some were about death, a bit too morbid for my mood.  Other titles touted dealing with an ‘empty nest’, then there was an “Idiots Guide to the Torah” that drew my attention for a time.  Before I knew it, my arms were loaded with eight to ten books on various topics from religion to happiness to the stars (in the sky, not Angelina Jolie!).

In the back of the non-fiction section there are a few desks, which line the circumference of the library.  The wall is floor to ceiling windows that overlook a landscape of trees that stretch as far as the eye can see.  The trees are still bare and the branches are clearly visible with their twists and turns to the heavens.  It is truly beautiful; peaceful, serene, just lovely.  I choose a desk that allowed me to put my heavy pile of books down and offered me a view of the trees that calmed my mind.  It was a chilly day outside, but from my vantage point I could enjoy the outside while experiencing the calming warmth of being inside.  The interesting topics of the books in front on me then enveloped me.

Before I knew it, an hour and a half had flown by.  I was amazed when I looked at my watch.  After more careful inspection, I narrowed my choices down to five books.  I gathered my coat and purse, returned the books not chosen and allowed myself one look back at the now empty desk and the audience of trees.  Carrying my chosen pile of reading, I walked to the women still busy working at the front desk.

We talked quietly about the sudden return of winter as each book was scanned.  I walked through the double doors and back to my car, where I turned the heat on immediately upon starting.  With an inner calm that is not my usual state, I drove home singing to Carol King’s Tapestry.  It had been a lovely day and one I am now looking forward to sharing with loving company today.

I wonder what direction my mind will wander into as I enter the library today?  The one thing I am sure of is I will not know until I am there, confronted with the endless possibilities.  The library is a bit like life, I may not be sure where I am headed, but I am excited and happy to be on the journey!

A Refreshing Interview!!

I walked into this particular interview not knowing what to expect.  The open position was a foot in the door, a very promising, lovely door into a company that I have heard only terrific things about.  I trusted the words of those who led me to this company, but thought they were too glowing to be real.  They weren’t.

With my resume, application, and references in hand, I walked to the receptionist, told her my name and who I was there to see.  The busy woman was answering questions and directing people on the telephone, a phone that rang constantly.  She was putting this one on hold, talking to that one, agreeing that it was a lovely day to a passing co-worker and handing me the necessary “Visitor” badge and sign in sheet.  I’ve never seen anyone do so many things so well in such a short time!

While I waited for the Human Relations Manager, Kathy, to greet me (I was way too early) I was very busy checking out my surroundings.  In front of me a poster on the wall described the many reasons why working for this company was such a positive experience.  There were many reasons listed that all showed the care and consideration they provide their employees.  I was impressed.  Next to the poster was a company photo, everyone full of broad, happy smiles.  Under the photo was an outline of the same with everyone’s name listed.  This listing clearly showed that everyone had a place of value and significance; it was as if it was a large, happy family.  So far, so good!!

Five minutes before my scheduled meeting time, Kathy came to usher me into her office.  A lovely, classy woman, Kathy’s broad smile and kind eyes welcomed me immediately.  By the time we reached her office, I felt at home.  I know that sounds crazy and maybe it is, but it is true.  We spoke for about a half hour.  I may have told her more than she expected, but I felt at ease and comfortable being myself.  I explained my career desires, my concerns and hopes, and honestly expressed what I am looking for in a work situation.  She listened, truly listened, and offered constructive, valid advice and insight.  Obviously an intelligent woman, my impressions of this company were ever increasing.

As I waited for my next interview to begin, the Vice President of Human Relations came out and spoke with me.  We had been corresponding through email off and on for a couple of months and it was great to put the face with the name.  Another impressive, clearly professional woman!  When she returned to her office, I sat for another minute or two in the comfortable seats outside the HR area.  I listened to the calming quiet that enveloped the area, the welcome balloon that was slightly deflated, but still cheerful, was swaying to the breeze from the air vent. An open door gave me a clear view of the office across the way, a woman was busy working, concentrating. 

It felt wonderful.

Vicky appeared right on schedule and we shook hands and walked to her office just a short way away.  I still cannot believe that I didn’t know her before.  One word passed between us and I felt an instant connection to her.  As we talked, I felt as though I knew her for years.  Her warm smile, friendly approach, and willingness to REALLY see me rendered me almost speechless.  She holds a truly impressive talent for people.  As co-workers poked their heads in to ask her various questions it was obvious that this was a collaborative, hard-working but very supportive team.  Vicky is an impressive woman.  She knows her stuff.  Her competence is apparent, but beyond that, her caring came through loud and clear!  I would be so proud to work with her one day.

Honestly, I have a feeling that the position I went in to discuss will be offered to someone else, and I understand.  However, I am hopeful that one day another position that more closely fits my experience and talents will come up.  After all the interviews I have been on in this stage of my life, this one was special.  These women were special.  This company’s mission is special.

To Kathy and Vicky, thank you.  It was truly my pleasure and honor to meet you and I sincerely hope that you don’t mind if I do stay in touch.  It would be more than a thrill to one day be able to call you both co-workers.  Thank you for your time.

I may not have obtained a new position today, but I regained a hope for the future.  With Vicky’s help and guidance I feel more positive than I have in a long time.  To my brother who introduced me to and told me about this special company, I love you.

There are superb corporations out there, filled with warm, compassionate, friendly, wise people.  Hooray!!

Two Sides

Just as there are two sides to every story (at least 2 sides) there are at least two sides to every person, the mother’s side and the father’s side.

Most of the memories I write about are of my mother’s family.  My grandparents, my mother’s parents, lived well into their 90’s so I had the chance to know them all through my childhood and far into my married life.  They were a major part of my growing up, my early adult life and also a large part of my children’s youth.  This is obvious through my many blogs, which I hope you have enjoyed.

However, there is another side to me, my Father’s side.  I have fragmented, but happy memories of times spent with various members of my Dad’s side of the family.  There were Sunday afternoons when my Uncle Al, my Dad’s brother, who drove a bus, would bring his bus to our home after delivering church members for their services.  He would spend the time while they were in church at our house for Sunday morning bagels and lox.  If the Sunday happened to be a particularly lucky time for me, he would bring his grandson, Jeffry, along for the ride.  I enjoyed those mornings especially because Jeffry was a real good person, fun to spend time with. I always hoped we would spend more time together as we grew older; as of now, we haven’t done so. 

Other memories include cousin clubs where there was always endless food and warm, hearty laughter.  I don’t remember how often the cousins met, but when they did, it was special.  We would always leave with my Dad telling his cousins that they should really get together more often.  But, that never actually materialized and as the older generation passed away, their children, including myself, never continued the precedent. 

My Dad’s sister, my Aunt Elsie, was always an integral part of my life.  She was funny and direct, like my Dad, never really caring about being politically correct.  But, unlike my Dad, she always had and took the time to keep in touch with almost all members of her family, including those who lived far, far away.  She had two sons, my cousins, Bobby and Kenny.  Kenny was the same age as my oldest brother, and so he was about 10 years older than me.  Bobby was the older of the two boys, which, kept us from really knowing each other in the 'early days'.

Being that I was so much younger than my cousins, I didn’t interact with them very much at all while growing up.  My brothers’ reality is probably different in that regard, but then they would need to write a blog to discuss their impressions of those days.

Kenny was the cousin who told me to take a mental picture of those most important in my life while at my wedding.  I will always be so thankful to him for those mental images, as they are truly all I have of the day aside from the pictures the photographer took.  Without those images, I would have no recollection of the occasion from my own perspective.  Kenny was also a caring, competent dentist.  I always had a dental phobia, but when I was first married I had a tooth ache and Kenny told me to come into the office that day, a Sunday, and he would take care of it.  With my new husband as the dental assistant, since the office was closed, Kenny painlessly and without complaint, fixed my tooth.

A few years after that, Kenny married a lovely woman.  Their wedding was, to this day, one of the absolute loveliest I have ever attended.  It was held outside on his property, a large expanse of beautiful grounds.  The sun shone perfectly, it was warm, not hot, and the colors and scents that filled the air enhanced the beauty of the handsome, young couple.  I felt as though I was in the midst of a fairy tale.

Unfortunately, Kenny was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor and passed away far too young.  Although, he lived too short a time in years, he lived the years he had fully, enjoyed them completely.  From walking with him to taste the sweet fresh raspberries on his grounds, to talking to him before my wedding, there was something in Kenny that enabled him to enjoy life 100%.  That is a true gift.

This brings me to my cousin, Bobby.  My earliest memories of Bobby were of him when we lived a few houses away from each other.  Our parents had purchased homes on the same block.  Bobby was handsome beyond belief.  I remember one day seeing him on the front porch, sleeping on a lounge chair in the summer sun.  My Aunt’s rose bushes were all around him.  I remember thinking that since I was related to him, how bad could I possibly look??

Bobby left his parents home and lived many interesting places for many years.  I don’t know much about this time in his life, but I know his adventures took him to various places in Canada and also to the sunshine and beauty of Hawaii.  I missed knowing him in those times, and that is definitely my loss, but while I was growing up in suburbia, he was learning and growing and becoming one of the most beautiful men, inside and out, that I will probably ever know.

A few years ago, for some reason, which I honestly don’t remember, I had the chance to sit down and reconnect with my cousin.  What a gift!  We can chat for hours on end and I would want to talk more.  He has experienced so much and has a great ability to see through facades to what is important, love.

I am certainly a lucky lady when it comes to my cousins, on both sides.  They enrich my life with an acceptance and understanding that is unique.  My cousin, Ellen, on my Mom’s side and my cousin, Bobby, on my Dad’s; both of them are not only cousins, but friends, true, deep, caring, loving friends.

There are at least two sides to every story, and at least two sides to every family.  I am so thankful for the two sides of my story that support me and enable me to stand taller than I otherwise could.  From this height, hopefully one day I will see what I need to do.  I will grow up and stand up for the person I am now and the person I am still striving to be.

Tomorrow Is My Husband's Birthday

Tomorrow is my husband’s birthday and it also happens to be the first day of spring.  The two are definitely linked as he always warms my heart and brightens my day.

The very first time I saw my husband was in the halls of our high school, to this day he has no memory of me there.  He was two years ahead of me and in the “cool” group (from my perspective); it was 1974 and his hair was long and his bell-bottoms were wide and striped.  I remember passing him in the hall as he joked with his friends.  He was very cute.

Three years later I worked in a woman’s clothing store, part-time, with two other friends from high school.  We were all working while in our first years of college together and on this particular day I was driving one of my friends to work.  I had no idea that the cute guy from high school, who was now a junior in college, lived across the street from my co-worker.  As I waited in my friend’s driveway, I noticed a guy in my rearview mirror; he came out of his house wearing just a pair of shorts, no shirt.  He put something in his trunk.  It was summer and his hair was light and shone brilliantly in the sunshine.  I watched as his muscles tightened in his arms when he lifted the trunk.  They tightened even more as he lifted what looked like a huge bag of laundry placing it “just so” in the trunk then gently closed the lid again.  He walked around to the driver’s side of the car and reached in for something then he disappeared back into the house.

By this time, my friend had come out of his house and plopped into my front seat.  I asked him who lived across the street and he told me his name and said he was a really nice guy and that I should remember him from high school.  Only then did I realize that the guy with the light hair and muscles was the same guy from the hallways at Upper Dublin High.  He had cut his hair but had only grown more handsome.  Now why couldn’t I meet nice guys like that?  With that thought spoken out loud,  (which, looking back, must have made my male friend feel great) I backed out of the driveway and off we headed for a day of work.

The following summer I was invited to another friend from high school’s special party – her engagement party.  My friend had just become engaged to her high school sweetheart.  (They, like us, are still married to this day.)  I was invited to her engagement party as we had known each other and been close for many, many years.  The “cute guy” from high school and the driveway was invited because he was great friends with my friend’s older brother.

At the party we were not seated together and didn’t even meet.  I was seated with people my age and he was seated with friends of her older brother.  Actually, I met another young man at the party that I began dating for a bit.   My girlfriend didn’t think he was right for me (she was correct) and because of that she was thrilled when my husband, who was looking at the pictures from her party, noticed me and asked who I was. 

I learned that the guy I was dating had asked someone else out behind my back, so, when my engaged friend told me that a particular guy had thought I was pretty (there's no accounting for taste) and wanted my number, I told her I would meet him.  I had no idea he was the guy I had thought was so cute for so long.

I remember our first telephone conversation and our first date.  He took me to a lovely restaurant and then we went disco dancing at a private club he belonged to in Philadelphia.  I thought he was very sophisticated and was really glad to learn he was also very gentlemanly, funny, nice, a great dancer and a smooth singer.  As he drove us home from dancing, a song, “Mind Blowing Decisions”, by Heatwave, came on the radio.  He sang it softly and lovely; I fell in love.

It is now almost 34 years from that first date…actually, this July will be 34 years.  The time has flown.  I remember those early days like it was yesterday.  I remember counting down the days to our wedding, the birth of our children, the days to various vacations.  Days that I hope I appreciated as much as the events themselves because it is those days that make a lifetime. 

That cute guy from the hallway at Upper Dublin High has always been there for me.  We have shared more years than we spent alone and I hope we share decades to come.  Tomorrow is his birthday.  I hope he knows that I am so thankful he came into my life.

Happy Birthday, Babe.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rodTpSVmSBQ

The Naked Truth

It’s odd how some things just pop into mind at certain times, out of the blue thoughts that meander to the forefront….

The other day I was talking to a good friend when a memory, as vivid as the day it happened, spilled from my lips.  My friend and I were reminiscing about long ago times, when we were the “young” people, like a young woman who had just left the store where we work.  There are quite a lot of young moms that visit our store every day, and they always remind me of times gone by.

So many of my memories from my days as a young Mom are centered on times with my children along with my Mother and Grandmother.  The memory that popped into my head the other day was one of those times.  My daughter was just 4 years old; my son wasn’t born yet.  It was a warm afternoon in early September and my daughter and I were visiting my parents’ apartment.  I remember the telephone ringing (in those days the phones were still attached to the walls).  My Mom answered and I could hear her say, “Okay Dad, we’ll be right there”.

As my Mom hung up the phone, she turned to me and said, “We have to go help Grandmom; she went in the tub to take a bath and can’t get out.  Grandpop needs our help.”

With that, we quickly rode the elevator down the four floors to the lobby.  We walked into the bright sunshine, across the parking lot and to the car.  I remember feeling anxious, wondering what was wrong with my Grandmother and why she couldn’t get out of the tub.  Thinking ahead, as I always do, to all the things that must be wrong in order to receive such an urgent request from my Grandfather, a man who never asked anyone for anything.

We arrived at my Grandparents’ apartment and didn’t take time to talk to any of the older people in the lobby as we pushed the button for the elevator.  The people in the lobby were always ready for conversation as most were lonely and congregated there for human contact.  I felt badly not interacting with them as we usually did, but this was obviously an emergency and we were in a rush.

My Grandfather opened the door before we even reached it.  He had been keeping his eye on the parking lot and knew we had arrived.  He calmly and softly let my Grandmother know, through the closed door, that we were there and that we would be coming into the bathroom to help her.  The door was closed, but luckily not locked.

My Mom and I went into the bathroom, leaving my daughter to play in the living room with my Grandfather.  She always loved visiting with him, as he was absolutely one of the kindest, gentlest, sweetest men to ever live, talk about your gentle giant, that was him!

As we walked into the bathroom, my Grandmother’s first words were, “Shut the door!”  I found that odd under the circumstances since the only people in the apartment, aside from my grandmother, were my Mom, my daughter, my Grandfather and myself.  Without thinking, I complied and shut the door.  I grabbed the bath towel that was on the counter and my Mom leaned over and actually quite easily helped my Grandmother out of the tub as I held up the towel to her.  Thankfully she was fine.

She instructed us to leave the bathroom and close the door.  We did.  We walked into my Grandparents bedroom in order to stay close in case she needed anything.  My grandmother was in no apparent rush as she dried off, put on her robe, combed her hair and eventually walked into the bedroom.    It wasn’t until I saw her walk into the bedroom that it hit me, there was nothing wrong, why couldn’t my Grandfather have helped her out of the tub?

Before I could censor myself, the question blurted out, “Grandmom, why didn’t you just let Grandpop help you out of the tub?”

A look of incredible shock was my Grandmother’s immediate reaction.  “Grandpop? Grandpop couldn’t help me out of the bathtub…he’s never seen me naked!!”

That’s when the look of incredible shock previously on my Grandmother’s face spread across my own.  “He’s never seen you naked?”  

“Grandmom”, I said, “you’re married for 64 years...you have two children!”

Her reply rings so clearly, so absolutely directly, in my mind…”It was dark.” She stated.

Wow, it was dark, that was her answer?!  So, after sharing a lifetime together, going through the depression, raising two daughters, enjoying grandchildren and great-grandchildren, comforting each other through loss and celebrating together during happy times, he never saw her without her clothes!

A generational difference I suppose.  Raised in a time when women didn’t work outside the home, didn’t drive, didn’t vote, they couldn’t bare their souls let alone their bodies even in the most intimate of relationships.  Amazing.

My grandmother was astounded that I found this incredible.  It was only years later that I realized my Grandfather had also, so naturally, gone along with this reality.  He never even thought, not for a second, that he could go in the bathroom and help her….

After all, he could have turned off the bathroom light…

Words sent from me to you ~ Hope you enjoy...is what I do!

When I sit and when I think

I think about a milkshake drink. 

I think about a million things

I think about a bird that sings~

I think about the moon so bright

I think I’m glad to feel all right

I think of happy, joyful times

I think about a stack of dimes

I think about the sun that shines

I think of happy nursery rhymes

I think of books that tell a tale

I think about a plastic whale

A plastic whale in a museum

That makes me happy just to see him!

I picture palm trees in my head

I picture them beside my bed

I see the moonlight gleaming through

The branches sway, it’s what they do!

I see the colors of the world

I see the boys I see the girls

I see those who live overseas

I see those who live beside me~

I see the blues, the reds the greens

I see the complete color scheme

That fills the universe with cheer

And makes me happy to be here!

I picture bugs, bees, and plants

I imagine their happy, joyful dance.

I watch the carefree way they play

And feel the good parts of the day.

When I feel sad, or down or blue

I always know just what to do

I think of the beauty of the day

The love that comes along my way

I cherish it all, I really do.

I cherish me; I cherish you.

I hope you know down deep inside

The love I feel, the hope and pride

To be a part of this amazing place

That puts a smile on my face.

I wish you love and joy, and fun

I wish these things for everyone

I wish you imagination, running wild

Always enjoy your inner child!

So think of this when you feel down

Think of a car, think of a clown

Grasp the day from the start

with an open, willing heart.

Life has its good times and its bad

But even when you’re feeling sad

Or maybe especially at those times

Just think about that stack of dimes

And continue thoughts that make you smile

Keep them in a heart shaped file

That always lives inside your mind

And always know you’re doing fine.

Not Just Another "Pleasant Valley Sunday"

I remember the day in September of 1966 when the first episode of the Monkees television show aired.  I was 8 years old, the Beatles were flying high, and I loved them, but in an instant, I fell for a different, cute, sweet British man with an accent that made my heart melt, Davy Jones.

I watched the Monkees every week and became one of the earliest members of their fan club.  I remember the autographed photo I received and the button…wish I knew where they were now!  That picture was proudly displayed in my bedroom and I blew Davy a kiss every morning!

My cousin, was infatuated with Micky Dolenz.  We would sing Monkee songs and pretend that Micky loved her and Davy loved me.  I know we were not alone in our fantasy world, but it was a fun, special time for us, that’s for sure.

As I grew older, the Monkees continued to be a part of my life.  I introduced my children to their music and the television show.  We purchased the series and would watch the episodes and laugh and sing.  They were happy times.  I remember one day, I was driving to the market with my daughter and son in the car and the song, “Valerie” came on the radio.  We sang our hearts out. Va a a a a lerie…….(I can still hear it in my head.)

The first time we learned that Davy, Micky and Peter were performing together again, we purchased tickets to see them in Atlantic City.   The concert was held in the Xanadu Theater at the Taj Mahal casino, the year was 2001.  We had great seats and sang every song along with them, loud and strong.  The theater was electric that night, I believe the entire audience was transformed and as we sang as one, our happy memories filled our hearts and souls with the magic that only music can bring.

After that concert, from which my daughter still has a stuffed monkey souvenir, a monkey wearing a Monkees t-shirt, we were lucky enough to attend another of their concerts, this next one in Holmdale, NJ.  This outdoor concert was also thrilling.  They sang out strong, their voices and talent rose through the night air, filling the sky with joyful music. 

When I heard that Davy passed away yesterday, I was heartbroken.  I never had the privilege of meeting him in person, but I loved him anyway.  Hearing his voice can still, in an instant, make my heart smile.  His passing is a wake-up call; my “Six o’clock Alarm” that life is fragile and we never know what the next moment will bring, so enjoy this moment as it’s all we have.

I thank Davy and all the Monkees for the happiness and fun they brought to my life.  Davy will always remind me that “I’m a Believer” in the love that music brings and the impact that it holds all the time, even “Sometime in the Morning”. Davy singing, “I Wanna Be Free”, keeps running through my thoughts.  You’re free now Davy, free to let your spirit soar and brighten the heavens with your brilliant light.

I send deep sympathy to Davy’s family, as well as to Micky, Peter and Mike.  I am so thankful for the love and happiness the Monkees’ music provided and continues to provide; how great, what a true blessing it must be, to be part of something that holds such positive feelings for so many.

“Look Out – Here Comes Tomorrow”, so enjoy today ~ and thanks for all the love and music.