LONE CROW

I’m traveling with my sister-in-law's college friend, through Virginia and into Winston Salem.  She called and asked if I would drive her on her journey to find that happy place to live in retirement.  The trip has been a delight and we are all enjoying talking about the fun days spent as young adults.  

Our first stop was in the Bedford, Virginia area.  I met a women of Mohawk Indian descent.  She lives up in the “hills” of Virginia, surrounded by woods, animals, and the memories of a husband recently lost.  The isolation was overwhelming to me, but at the same time there was a peace on that hill.  She has a donkey, named Kia, over a dozen peacocks, an emu, ducks, chickens, feral cats, two wonderful dogs and over 40 cockatiels.  

She lives in harmony with her surroundings, reusing everything she can.  I found her home a refuge of peace and harmony.  Indian traditions abound throughout the house.  She and her husband hosted sweat lodges during the summers, and she shared some amazing stories about the healing and joy that came from them.  

Her husband gave birth to flutes.  Beautiful, harmonic sounding flutes.  They were not only wonderful to listen to, but the artist look of each was a joy to behold.  A gift to the eye as well as the ear.  Her life with him, was filled with strangers that they turned into friends.  People from all over the world came to their home on the hill to share time with the positive spirit of this extraordinary woman, and the man called Lone Crow.  

Our host shared a lot about her life on the hill and her husband.  You could feel his presence all around. Symbols of the Lone Crow were everywhere.

As Dee and I left the home of this incredible woman, reaching the end of her property, a black crow sitting on a tree to the left in front of us suddenly swept down in front of us--so close as to startle us, only to turn back and return to the tree.

Both Dee and I looked at each other and said "Leonard came to say good-bye to us."  Without a doubt we both knew it to be so.

We continued our journey with smiles on our faces….

MAKING FRIENDS OF STRANGERS IS THE BEST ADVENTURE

Suntaro Torigoe

I always talk about life as an adventure.  For me, it does not always mean where I go or what I do, but often it means by whom I open the door to.  

I am lucky, in that I love people.  All people.  Not just ones that think like me, or look like me, or live in my neighborhood.  I will talk to anyone.  This act alone has provided much adventure in my life.  Along the way, I have not only met some incredible people, but all of them have touched my life and often the life of my family in ways that cannot be measured.

This is a story about one such adventure.  In 1982, a young Japanese reporter was doing an internship at the Quakertown Free Press at the invitation of Charles Meredith, owner and editor.  His name was Shantaro Torigoe—he invited us all to call him Tori.  Tori was to write one column a week— an observation of us in America through the eyes of this Japanese reporter.  

With interest I began to follow his writings when one day I decided to call the paper and invite him to our home for a dinner and conversation.  That was the opening to a year of happenings that today our family still talks about.

Tori was an unusual man.  He was married, with two daughters, all still living back in Tokyo.  I use to kid that Tori would accept an invitation to a dog house for the experience.  He is a curious man, who even at this age (75) is still writing about what he is learning in this world.  He took to our family early on.  Damian, my oldest was studying piano and it reminded him of his own daughter, whom he missed very much.  It did not take long for our friendship to grow and become a close part of our family.

Before long we learned that he would have people with itineraries that would take them from Tokyo to London, to Paris, to New York, drive down and visit with Tori, then return.  He would entertain them at the Duncan Donuts in Quakertown.  

“What?!?!” I would ask…”why can’t you take them back to your place.”  

“Because the family I rent the room from won’t allow it,” he would say.

“Oh Tori, if you want to have a relaxed visit with your friends just bring them here…anytime,” I said. 

And the door opened wider to adventures we never dreamed of.  It turns out that Tori was the Walter Cronkite of Japan but we did not realize that in the beginning.  We were just Pat and Marlene with four loud kids inviting a stranger into our home.  

Tori and Tomoko at set for their TV Show

Tori is a writer, TV personality and editor of many publications in Japan.  But Tori was not your typical Japanese man.  He has a spirit of adventure in him and a curiosity that infected those of us that had the privilege to know him.  

Our first clue that something was different is when he asked if a TV crew from Japan could come and follow us, “a typical American family” around for the day.  They filmed us at the kids soccer game, driving Damian to piano and dance, and me and Pat just being parents.  

In the course of the year we spent with Tori, we met a movie actress, an author, and another film crew.  We were interviewed for two magazine stories (have the magazines, written in Japanese to prove it) and Tori wrote a book about his experiences in the year he spent in Quakertown.  For a couple of years after Tori’s book was published, we would get the occasional Japanese visitor trying to follow in the steps of Tori.  They never came without gifts.  It was always a pleasant surprise.

One of the best and most surprising gifts we received was from the movie actress that came to stay a couple of days with Tori.  We had taken them up to Jim Thorpe for a picnic and some down time.  As a thank you, she presented us with two 25 pound boxes of Godiva Chocolate and numerous cans of Dutch Cookies.  

Along with Tori’s friends, we hosted his wife and daughters, and his parents.  His daughters returned for a visit a year later and that provided another wonderful memory for my daughter, Joliene.  A friend of Tori’s had invited his daughters and Joliene to view CATS in NYC.  A limo picked them up and to say the least they were treated like notables for the whole day.  Joliene talked of the day for years to come!

Two highlights of the year with Tori come to mind that I have to share.  The first, was a hard one.  There is a group in Japan that buy up every inch of film on the dropping of the atomic bombs.  They show them all around the world to have people see the devastation that comes with the bomb in hopes that we abandon the idea of using one ever again.  They sent a film crew to the area to film a round table of people, from those military veterans who fought in the war, to the man who put the bomb on the plane, to another man who rode in the plane that dropped the bomb, to everyday people like myself.  They wanted to film an honest reaction from us after viewing the film for a documentary they were producing.  All they asked was that we not look away.

It turns out that the request was the hardest thing to keep.  The film was extremely difficult to view and I found tears coming down my face.  The conversation after the film was lively and honest.  When I returned home from the event, I found myself sitting on the couch and just bawling.  It was the only way I could release the experience of the film.  I will never forget the event.

2001 at my home in Perkasie.  Hosting party
for Tori and the staff that once worked as reporters
for the Quakertown Free Press.

The sweetest and most precious outcome of the year of Tori came about after Tori left us.  One of the people we had met in the course of the year had come with a gift of origami paper and sat with our children and taught them how to fold origami animals, especially the peace bird.  During the school year, our second child, Justin had a moment to shine as a result of this visit.  Justin, like all second children constantly search for their own identity.  In fourth grade there was a gifted young lady in his class, who stood and announced that she was going to present a program the next day on Japan and the art of origami.  She had indicated during her announcement that origami was so difficult to learn, that none of them could expect to learn it during her presentation.

Justin came home from school and asked me where the origami papers were.  He immediately grabbed them and put them in his school bag.  The next day I got a call from the teacher.  She said it was a beautiful sight to her to see how one so calmly and without making a sound proved a young women wrong.  While she stood in front of the class giving her demonstration on the very difficult form of origami, Justin sat quietly in the back of the class and made piece after piece of all the forms they had been taught to do a few months before.  

I loved the thought that opening the door to a stranger could in the end, provide a chance for my child to shine with confidence.  Nothing can be sweeter than that.  And for that reason, I will continue in life, to open the door to strangers and make them friends.

THE DRESS

As I mentioned in the past, I am working on a project that is providing me with an opportunity to relive my life through the pictures I have collected over the years.  This has taken me on a journey that is both a reminder of events and people that are no longer with me, and also of times and events that have caused pain.

We all have had those moments in our life that have seared a dark spot in our soul.  Eventually it may recede, but when you see a reminder through a photo, that moment can arise that makes you carry the feelings, as you did, those many long years ago.

Such a moment happened when I saw the photo of me in the print dress.  I must tell you, that in high school, my self esteem was way below a “zero” as it is for many students.  Nothing unusual.  I can only say I was not one of the “cool kids”.  My parents were what I call “working poor”, so dressing us in new clothes for school was not a family tradition.  I worked since I was in 8th grade to buy what few clothes I owned.  If things got torn, I would pin them.  I remember a moment when my Dad was so upset with the pins in my clothes that he ripped the outfit off my body and told me to put something else on.  The problem was, there was not a lot of something else to wear.  

So when my Aunt Berniece gave me a brown and white print dress that fit me perfectly I was in heaven.  I wore it a lot.  Too much it turns out.  I wore it to school at least once a week.  I happened to wear it on the day we had our school pictures taken.  In the mean time our school was preparing for our homecoming.  

Homecoming at Grant Community High School was a big event.  We had a parade in town with the school clubs and each class participating.  It was followed by a bon fire on school property that the senior football members spent the day gathering wood for.  The football game would be followed by a homecoming dance.

Now I never thought I would ever be asked to go to Homecoming, so I volunteered to work at the dance.  To my surprise I did get an invitation from a young man in my class to attend the dance with him.  I said yes but with the caveat that I had already committed to work at the dance.  To make things worse he also invited me to join his brother and his date after the dance before having to head home.

“Oh that is okay,” I said, “I have my Dad coming to pick me up.”

Now I realized in school, that all the girls going to the dance were out buying new dresses for the dance.  But we could not afford to buy me a new dress, and I did not have a job at the time, so I had to turn to my closet…and you guessed it…I decided to wear the brown and white print dress that I felt so good in.  

The evening was a disaster.  The poor boy spent most of his time at the dance waiting for me to stop working, and the little time left to spend at the dance was awkward to say the least.  It was a night we both wanted to forget.  Not because of him, but because I was such a dope.

A couple of weeks later, while sitting in study hall, (wearing that same brown and white print dress) our school pictures were handed out.  There I was, sitting in study hall next to the boy who asked me to the dance, looking at my school pictures of me wearing the same dress I wore the day the pictures were taken, and the dance, and as it went, the moment I was looking at my school pictures….when I heard him ask, “Is that the only dress you own?”

I was so embarrassed, that when I went home that day, I put the dress in the burn barrel and burned it along with the evening trash.  

I relived that moment every time i looked at him in school and prayed he would forget in time that he even knew me.  

I can laugh about it today.  But to a young girl, whose wings were just beginning to spread, it was a devastating moment that had to be carried inside of me for the rest of the school year.  In fact, I never attended any other school dance, not even my prom.  

How odd, it is to me, that the first picture taken of Pat and I was a snapshot taken during our first dance on the first day we met, not realizing that it was the first day of the rest of our life!  Now that is cause to smile!

CONTINUING LIFE WITH VIGOR AND THE JOY OF PURPOSE!

Why is it, that the older we are, the faster time goes?  Even slowing down and enjoying the simple moments of living, seem to go by fast.  I get up and before I know it the day is gone and I have to pause and consider what I have done in the day.

The hardest part of getting older is dealing with the loss of those around us.  For us, who find ourselves the oldest in our generation left standing, it is odd to see that no one who started this journey with us, is there by our side when it is our time to go.  We remember our youth when for many life seemed simple and free.  For people like me, it is my young adult life, when the freedom of choice lay at my feet and the world seemed mine to grasp.

I am working on a project that is presenting me with a look back on my life.  It seems a dream at times, and yet I can still smell the river water as I watched Pat fish, or the smell of my newborn baby’s head.  These moments fill me with unbelievable emotions and remind me of a life once lived.  

But today is life too.  What does it hold for a body that slowly moves on, and the mind is still full of youth and vigor?  What does it take to live the twilight years of our life with as much vigor and purpose as it did when we were 20, 30 or 40?  

I know one thing, staying in and isolating oneself is surely not the answer.  Getting out, doing for others, finding purpose and giving ones self away to others in need seems to me the only way to move along in this part of life.

As I walk through the halls of a nursing home, and see the far away look in the eyes of our aged, I wonder what they were like when their bodies had not failed them.  I find myself wondering what kind of a young person they were.    What were their dreams?  Who did they love?  What was their fears?  What brought them the greatest happiness?

When do we cross that line of not living fully, not giving of ourself completely, or searching for that purpose in life?  Is it  because our body won’t allow it?  Or, I wonder if it is the depression of loss that freezes us in time, shutting us down, and closing the door to living that life with purpose and joy that we were once capable of.  

My son and daughter-in-law know a ninety plus year old man who still gives to the youth in their church.  Not necessarily money (although he may very well do that also)…but his time and his energy.  I have thought a lot about him recently as I search for my own purpose in today.  I think, in him and others like him who continue to engage in the people around them, are the secrets to living fully and with joy in our hearts.  

The traveling that I have done this summer, along with observing those around me who are older and still engaged in the world have taught me much about what i want to do with my life as it continues.  I am content in the day, and at peace where I stand.  My children are all very self sufficient and their need of me is minimal.  So it is time for me to reach out and find that one place where I can be of service to others.  I want to continue to live life with vigor and the joy of purpose.  

TOURS ARE NOT FOR SISSIES--PART THREE

Banff with the snow capped mountains all around.

Our neighbor, Canada, is wonderful, in both it’s people and it’s land.  And according to the bus driver of our tour, Bill, we are too.  More than once I heard him say, how lucky for us to share such beautiful land.  And it is true.  

I am also lucky to have seen the Grand Canyon a couple of months before the beautiful Rockies in Canada.  Both areas are special places on this earth.  Our bus tour took us from Vancouver to Kamloops, Jasper, Banff, and Calgary.  The bus driver referred to this type of tour as “Rocket Rockies”.  He told me that it is designed to just give us a glimpse of what there is to explore.  Glimpse is right…more like a drive by shoot, as he would take us into areas and many of the pictures I have were taken out the moving bus window!  

Standing on the streets of Banff with the snowcapped mountains rising up at the town’s edge I wanted to just stand in the streets and soak in the view.  Being hugged by a sea of snow capped mountains is an experience to dwell in.  For the brief time I stood there I wondered what it would be like to wake every day living in this magnificent postcard of beauty.  

Driving around Banff.

British Columbia, Canada is definitely a place I want to explore on my own sometime in my future.  To walk into the piney woods and have it smell like Christmas, to see a caribou herd grazing in the wooded fields, to see the teal green of the glacier waters flow over the eroded rocks of the mountain, to drink glacier water from the top of a glacier…are all just some of things I want to go back to so that I can linger over the experience.  

This tour has taught me one special thing.  Life is too short to rush through it.  I like to wake up to the morning sunrise, and sit out on the front porch to stare at the peach and gold colored sunsets.  I like stopping in the garden and appreciate the flowers and watch the bees work on gathering the pollen needed to make the honey.  Standing by the rivers edge and watching the strength of the water flow by fills me with peace, gratitude, and a sense of how lucky some of us can be in this world that is not always kind.  

This tour has taught me one other thing too.  Living alone in this world is only hard when I stay inside of myself.  Reaching out, being with people, or moving about in life, can fill me in ways that satisfy my longings.  Oh yes, I still have those moments in the silence of the night that I wish I was sharing who I am and what I am doing with the “someone” who loves me, but at those times I must remember that I had it once….for forty-five beautiful years.  That is more than some and better than many.  

So I will continue to move about in this world and explore the beauty it has to offer, meeting people along the way that will fill me with new and interesting memories, so that in the end I won’t have to say, “I wish I would of done that.”

Mary, Judy, and Joan, my perfect roommate.

P.S.  I thank the three ladies who were a significant part of this journey.  Each has filled me with memories to carry me along in my sweet thoughts.  As long as I live you will each all live in my heart.  Thank you. 

A small cabin on Lake Louise. 

Just one of the many waterfalls.

Yes, that is snow on the roof.  Our Canadian brothers and sisters are a hardy group!

TOURING IS NOT FOR SISSIES--PART TWO

Our first stop of the four day tour.

I learned a long time ago when traveling, that most of the time when choosing public transportation you are never in control of anything.  The only way to get through the processes is to take a deep breath, be patient, and learn to enjoy people watching while standing in line, as it can be a great form of entertainment.

The trip started out great.  My lady friends and I were picked up by a limo and taken right to the airport.  Boarding the plane was timely and was seen as a great omen for the start of this wonderful adventure.  The plane started to taxi out on time and head out to the runway for takeoff.  We began to notice some animated conversation taking place between the airline stewards and a young women seated in front of us.  We could not make out what was going on but as the plane stood in the line readying for takeoff, the Captain got on the PA system and announced that we were returning to the gate to enable a passenger to leave the plane.  He apologized and said it would take a while until they located her luggage but we would soon leave the gate again for takeoff.  We sat.  And sat.  And waited.  

Soon the Captain came on again with another apology that we now have a problem with the air system and we were now waiting for a maintenance person to board the plane to fix the problem.  As the cabin heated up, people began to rumble and it became obvious that some on the plane were going to miss their connections.

An hour later we were able to take off.  Connections were definitely going to be missed but a promise to do all they could to help these passengers was made and the rest of us just hoped we too would not miss ours.  All this because someone got radical about being on the plane. Seems to me that this could of been thought out a bit more before she boarded the plane.

Joining a tour, set up by a sadist must also come with the recognition that you are not in control.  (Before I proceed any further, I must say, if I had a choice in the schedule, I would of done the bus tour before the cruise as I would have had more energy..I think) 

Just one view from our tour bus window.

The tour promotor prints out these nice brochures to inform you that your trip will include the opportunity to visit, see, and experience the wonders of the places they plan to take you.  Opportunity is the key word here.  To take advantage of the opportunity one must be in good shape, be able to walk fast in order to get to the places mentioned, and be able to experience the moments in fast forward motion.  Strolling is out of the question…no time.  Minutes count!  After awhile I guessed the purpose to all of this was to get our blood flowing so as not to get blood clots from sitting long spells on the bus.  By the time we got back to the bus, our hearts were pumping and beads of sweat were pouring down our faces.  

A day on the bus tour would start with a 6:00 a.m. wakeup call…hopefully.  Some complained they did not get the call.  You had just enough time to dress, put your large luggage outside your door, hopefully get breakfast (some hotel restaurants made this a challenge by their slow service) and be on the bus by 7:45 to 8:00 a.m.  

The days plans were drive two hours, stop, visit the site, drive again for 2 hours, stop, visit a site…until we reached the town we would be staying, at which point we would be given a driving tour of the town (in case we wanted to explore) and finally around 6:00 p.m. we would arrive at the hotel.  At this point exhaustion was setting in, so washing up and finding a place to eat became priority.  Touring the town did not because most of the time that meant hiring a cab to take you there and in the end that only added expense to the meal you were going to eat.  Shopping was the only other thing available and I am no shopper.  I hate shopping at home, I sure as heck am not going to spend big money for a trip to just shop somewhere else.  I want to feel the area by exploring the streets and get a glimpse of how the locals live.

After dinner, we found ourselves heading back to our rooms to shower, set up our clothes for the next day, and crash into a deep sleep until the next 6:00 a.m. wakeup call…starting the day all over again. By the fourth day of bus touring all 45 of us were getting a bit slap happy in our attitudes.  Couples were beginning to nip at each other, impatience was showing in attitudes of some, and since the crowd was mostly from Philadelphia and New Jersey, their Philly and New Jersey attitudes came through loud and strong!

My roommate, Joan and I just got silly.  (I must point out here that for me Joan was a perfect roommate.  She never complained, and when things got a bit crazy she laughed right along with me…perfect!) We were so exhausted by the fourth day, that when we were given our wake up call at 4:00 a.m. we worried that we may not get the call like some others had experienced.  So Joan tried to set the clock, and I set my iPhone alarm.  We repacked our bags to ready for home and the customs crossing, ate, showered and stretched out in bed early.  Both of us falling asleep, and managing to turn off the TV and lights.

Still in the dark, I awoke to laughter in the hallway, and noise outside our first floor window.  Thinking that we may have missed our wake up call and that we may be late, I jumped up to check the time.  Joan woke up at this time also.  “What time is it,” she asked.

“The room clock says 1:30 a.m.,” I respond.  

“Oh don’t pay attention to that,” she says.  “I tried to set the alarm and screwed the whole thing up.”  

Panicking at this point I checked  my phone.  It indicated it was 10:30 p.m.  “Oh no” I said, “something is wrong.” 

We turned on the TV and could not figure out from it what time it was so we called Room Service.  

“Excuse me,” I said, “but could you please tell me the time?”

“10:30 p.m.” she said.

Joan and I started laughing at ourselves and although we had a hard time settling back down we both were glad that we still had some sleeping time ahead of us.  

I remembered something my husband’s Uncle Bob would say to us long ago. “If you have never been somewhere, a good way to see it the first time is by a tour, then if you see something you really like, come back next time on your own.”  Yes, it takes stamina to take a bus tour in this way, but we did see some magnificent sites.  And yes, I would go back in a flash…on my own to really explore the area.

More tomorrow…..

TOURING IS NOT FOR SISSIES—PART ONE

Glacier as seen from the ship.

I like thinking of life as an adventure.  Discovering every day something new about the world around me as well as about myself.  Learning how to live as a single person and finding joy in it all, I will admit at times is a challenge.  The loneliness can be a killer.  But getting out on the road, meeting new people, seeing new places, and experiencing things outside of my comfort zone I have found to be very satisfying if not challenging.  But through it all I see life and living all around and know that I just have to keep getting out there and stay involved. This I realized as I took my first ever “tour”—part cruise, part bus.  Now I have cruised before and found a great pleasure in it,, but now having done 3 of them, choosing another one will depend on where in the world it will take me.  This one took me to Alaska.  

The Mendenhall Glacier

If you want to talk about a rugged state and rugged people this is a place to put on your list.  First I found it beautiful in many ways, but extreme also.  The rawness of it’s natural resources were a wonder to look at and experience.  We were lucky to have experienced a very passive inside passage of Alaska.  Lots of fog, but wait fifteen minutes and the weather would clear.  An ever changing landscape presented itself as we cruised down the waterway.  

Heading further up north from Vancouver, found us experiencing a drop in temperature with each passing day.  As we approached the glaciers it was bitter at times, but experiencing the glaciers and floating ice, took my mind off my numb lips and cold hands.  I was trying to imagine how the natives of Alaska survived the harshness this part of the world handed out.

Up close and personal

The cruise ship stopped in three ports during our 7 days.  Ketchikan, Skagway, and the capitol of Alaska, Juneau.  I discovered that the cruise lines work very hard to get you to shop at their shops often making you believe you are doing the local economy good.  But in Alaska there was an opportunity to find the local shops and in the end make out better doing business with the “real locals” not the cruise-line owned stores that filled the streets.  I made it a point to talk with a couple of locals and got directions to the locally owned businesses rather than to further pad the pockets of the cruise lines.  In doing this I saved money.  I was asked by a friend to pick up an Ulu knife, found everywhere in Alaska.  I found them in a locally owned business for $6.99 each.  But the shops owned by the cruise line was 13.99 and 21.99.  Same box, same packaging.   

Ketchikan as seen from the ship.

The towns were small, somewhat ragged (except for right where the port was) and it was easy to see that life was not full of many opportunities living there.  Juneau, the capital of the state of Alaska was not very pretty.  The tour guide who drove us through town described the capital building as the uglies capital he had ever seen.  He was right.  It was not very pretty or grand at all.  

One of the locals told me that the towns we were visiting were towns we had to drive to, not thru.  One way in and one way out.  

Totem poll done by a native carver.

I enjoyed seeing this part of Alaska but know from what I have read, that there are other exciting and adventurous places to visit.  Something to consider as I make my new travel choices.

Strolling the town with the clouds hovering close.

Tomorrow I will share the adventures of traveling with a tour group and the characters I met along the

way. 

Driving back from our road tour.

DWELLING IN THE PAST

1980

 I know why, as we age, we dwell in the past.  As the isolation of aging surrounds us, and the loneliness envelopes us, we fill our mind with memories to remind ourselves that once, we too, lived full and meaningful lives.

So busy in fact, that we didn't take time out of our crazy busy schedules to really enjoy it all.

Oh how I remember our home that we loved so, with one bathroom and 6 to 8 people who always needed to take morning showers.  We did it, but it was all in the timing.

Oh how I remember feeling like the car was part of my body as I drove the four kids to all their activities.  All I did was drive, drop off, drive, pick up, wait, wait, and wait.  There was a time I remember the fatigue was so deep, that waiting in the car to pick up one of the kids I found myself tearing up…not because I was sad or unhappy, but the depth of tiredness filled my body so.  Being sleep deprived was the name of the game when the family was young.

One thing I always did when the kids lived at home, even through their teen years, was to go to each room and say goodnight, or have a bit of a conversation with them, even when one, like Justin, would get that glazed look over his eyes and you just knew he just wanted me to go away…I didn’t.  

It was often 10 at night before I could find that first moment to get off my feet and sit.  

I remember Pat working his 16 hour shifts, leaving me to deal with the four kids alone, sometimes for days at a time.  It was not easy.  But I would give anything to have those days back.  Even when there were times I could not tell Monday from Sunday because all I did was feed the kids, clean the kids, change the diapers, wash the diapers, and try and keep the house in order.  Exhausting and not fun on many levels, but this too I would love to have back.

For in looking back, there was life, living, being needed and someone to share it all with.  

I loved watching Pat wrestle with the kids.  So often I would stand at the door way watching them roll around on the floor and think what a beautiful sight this was and let the tears flow.  I never experienced this kind of happiness in my own childhood, and I was so happy to be able to have it in my adult life.  

Pat and I didn’t have a lot of money with only one of us working, but we had a lot of fun as a family.  We didn’t take a lot of vacations, mostly day trips were all we could afford.  We would get up at 5 in the morning, head down to the shore, eat breakfast, spend the day on the beach, shower at a bath house, walk the Boardwalk, have dinner and head home, being home by 8 at night.  Sometimes we would pack up a picnic lunch, and go to places like Mauch Chunk at Jim Thorpe, and we would swim, while Pat fished.  

Yes, looking back reminds me that life was not always this quiet and I was not always alone.  It also shows me that life has many passages, and all have a purpose in it’s own stage, and i just have to find the purpose in this one.  Like everything else in life, I know in time, this too shall be revealed to me and I will once again rejoice in it all.  In the mean time be easy on me if you find me “dwelling in the past”. It is my way of reminding myself, that once, I too, had a full and meaningful life and someone to share it all with.