A BRUISED APPLE IS STILL GOOD ENOUGH TO EAT!

This summer has found me in a nostalgic mood as I have been sorting and organizing all the family history, photos, and stories that I have gathered these past 49 years.  At my age, I realize time is running short and one day this lifetime of work will be a challenge for any of my kids to deal with if I don’t finish off this project.

To add to this, I received a call from a first cousin of mine that I had not seen since I was about 7 years old.  She and her husband were traveling East to visit Atlantic City and since I lived close wanted to stop by and visit with me.  I was very excited to receive them.  

For those first seven years of our life, we were close as first cousins could be because our families lived in the same area.  One month older than I am, we were constant playmates, along with her older brother and my two younger brothers.  Then her parents separated and divorced and except for a brief meeting at our grandmother’s funeral in 1993, we had not seen each other.  I had not heard a lot about her or her life.  My younger brother had a bit more contact with these cousins after I left home, but I had none.  For me, a life of abuse caused me to be isolated and I kept to myself until the day I left home and started a new life with Pat here in Pennsylvania.  For my cousin, life turns out to not have dealt her a good deal at first, but for both of us, life did eventually bless us with love and the ability to create our own loving families.

My cousin, once she was gone with her mother and the life forged anew, was mostly separated from her father’s side of the family.  We both spent a life separated physically but as it turns out, not emotionally.  For her, memories of a family filled with the craziness made one cautious in wanting to make that initial contact.  Lucky for me, that caution did not stop the curiousness about a long-lost cousin.

When she and her husband planned a trip East they decided to give a visit to me, yet, there was a concern that maybe, I was the continuum of what we both knew at those young tender moments of our life.  So, with a bit of cautiousness, a brief visit was planned.

For the first couple of hours, it was catch up time.  Sharing what life had brought to the both of us, introducing each other to our own families through pictures and stories.  And memories of a childhood surrounded by adults behaving badly.  Not one of us, cousin or sibling, were left untouched by the pain caused by the behavior of those who surrounded us.

We talked non-stop.  My cousin’s husband could only sit and shake his head at the craziness of some of our memories.  “Remember the time we both sat huddled under the table in Grandma’s kitchen with beer bottles flying overhead breaking against the wall?”  “How about the Santa that gave us french kisses…ewe…”  “Remember how badly Donnie was treated?”

The fights…the fear…the drinking that always surrounded every gathering left its mark on our souls.  Photo’s shared of times and places hard to recall, but through them showed us how we were connected.

I invited them to let me show them my home area, and by the end of the evening, over a dinner by the Delaware, we spoke of how much we liked each other and sorry that so much time had passed between us.  Stories and memories left me a bit ruffled, yet at peace with not only the opportunity for each of us to recognize how fortunate we are that we had the courage to make better choices in our own lives.  

“You know what I hate?” I said to my cousin.  “I hate the saying ‘the apple does not fall far from the tree.’  Our apple rolled down hill a ways, a bit battered and bruised from the trip, but still good enough to enjoy!”

As we ended our evening together with a hug and a promise that we would see each other again, I was proud of the fact that some of us survived the family craziness and by the example of our lives, teach our own children that you have choices and the most important one you can make is how you choose to live your life.  

REMEMBERING 9/11

Tomorrow is 9/11.  That date will forever be etched in the lives of those who lived through that day.  I have kept a journal about this period.  Took pictures, kept samples of all the things that came across that had a patriotic symbol on it…all in remembrance of what we experienced that 9/11.  Now, on the anniversary I write in my journal once again, updating what we have been doing, never imagining that I would be writing an update so far in the future chronicling the aftermath of that day.  But here we are, still fighting and losing our young men and women in a war that looks like it’s impossible to win.  

I know I was forever changed by that moment.  There is nothing I can say here to change our lives as they are today, but one thing has not changed and that is the love I carry in my heart for those in my life.  What I wrote to my children that first Thanksgiving after 9/11 is as relevant today as it was then, so I shall share it here with you.

Thanksgiving 2001

To Our Dearest Children,

Due to the events of September 11th, Thanksgiving has taken on a new meaning for many of us.  After the first few days of shock and grief, I looked around and saw that we all were intact and I said, “Thank you, God.”

The events of September 11th have touched my soul.  Although Joliene was closest to ground zero, I needed to hear all of your voices.  I needed to know you were all okay.  That was the most frightening morning that my life had ever experienced.  I will never be the same.  Thoughts are deeper.  Touches have more sensation.  The eyes see more intensely.  Through all of this, by how you live, you have reminded me that this too shall pass and life goes on; the wedding plans, the expecting of a newborn baby, the goals that are being set, the hope for something or someone of tomorrow.

Thanksgiving is a time to reflect on the good things that have happened to us.  YOU are the good things that have happened to us.  I love you in ways that words alone are too inadequate to express.  it is a joy to be your parent.  My life is a rich mosaic of personalities, experiences, and emotions just because of you.

I hope you too take a moment during this Thanksgiving holiday to reflect on your surroundings. your life, and especially your goals.  I have a friend who lives by a three-word philosophy:  “Seize the moment.”  Too many people put off something that brings them joy just because they haven’t thought about it, don’t have it on their schedule, didn’t know it was coming or are too rigid to depart from their routine.  If September 11th taught us anything, it taught us to seize the moment.

I read somewhere that “we Americans cram so much into our lives, that we tend to schedule our headaches. We live on a sparse diet of promises we make to ourselves when all the conditions are perfect:  We’ll go back and visit the grandparents when we get Stevie toilet-trained.  We’ll entertain when we replace the living-room carpet.  We’ll go on a second honeymoon when we get two more kids out of college.”

Life has a way of accelerating as we get older.  The days get shorter, and the list of promises to ourselves gets longer.  One morning, we awaken, and all we have to show for our lives is a litany of “I’m going to…” I plan on…” and “Someday, when things are settled down a bit…”  Dad said this year as he faced his latest physical challenge, “I thought I would work, retire and end my days fishing off into the sunset.”  Well, we will work, he will retire, but we will be searching for other things to do in that sunset and all I keep thinking of are the times when we put those fishing trips off waiting for the day in the future when all things would be perfect to follow our dream.

When anyone calls my seize-the-moment-friend, she is open to adventure and available for trips.  She keeps an open mind on new ideas.  Her enthusiasm for life is contagious.  September 11th says to me now go live and be more like my friend.  Life is a balance between our wants and needs.  it is important to keep your responsibilities in tact, but do not forget that it is also important to do something on your “WANT TO…not just something on your SHOULD DO list.

A woman in my memoir group wrote the following and with her permission I share it with you:

Have you ever watched kids playing on a merry-go-round?  Or listened to the rain lapping on the ground?  Ever followed a butterfly’s erratic flight?  Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?  Slow down.  Don’t dance so fast.  Time is short.  The music won’t last.

Do you run through each day on the fly?  When you ask, “How are you?”, do you hear the reply?  When the day is done, do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head?  Ever told your child, “We’ll do it tomorrow.  And in your haste, not see his sorrow?  Ever lost touch?  Let a good friendship die?  Just call to say “Hi?  You’d better slow down…do not dance so fast.  Time is short.  The music won’t last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere, you miss half the fun of getting there.  When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened gift…thrown away.  Life is not  a race.  Take it slower.  Hear the music before the song is over.

Your Dad and I wish you a very Happy Thanksgiving.

With All Our Love…

Much has changed since that 9/11, except for this one thing…my love for my family remains as deep and hard as it was that first Thanksgiving after 9/11.

How has 9/11 changed you?

FATTY FATTY TWO BY FOUR...

There is nothing funny about Comedian Nicole Arbour.  She is getting a lot of attention these days for her “Fat Shaming” video by those who have the courage to produce their own video fighting back.  The truth is, fat shaming is not just what Nicole Arbour does, it is what many do.  I believe it is the accepted form of bullying.  When is the last time you heard anyone say to someone who makes fat crude jokes, that they should not.  I haven’t.  I would be interested to hear if you have.

I am going to lay it out there…I have never been thin.  NEVER!  In 5th grade, my report card shows that I was 1/2 inch off my adult height and weighed 155 pounds.  A weight I carried right up to my first pregnancy when I was 23 years old.  Each of my four pregnancies added some weight (reaching 175 lbs) until I became the long-term caretaker of my dying husband in which I gained my most weight…a weight I carry today.  No excuses…it’s just what happened.  I have been on many diets over my life time.  I would initially lose weight but eventually it came back to where I started.

Carrying weight above what society says should be, has taken its toll on my self-esteem and emotional well-being.  Starting in those elementary years right up through today, I can honestly say not a day passes that I don’t experience something by someone that lets me know I am fat.  

In my 8th grade class from Gavin Grade School, we had a tradition of signing autograph books as our class graduated elementary school heading off to high school.  Some of the boys in my class filled my book with poems reading, “Fatty, fatty, two by four, can’t get through the kitchen door….” sending me out with a life time of insecurities and self conscience and negative attitudes towards myself.  And in my case, this treatment was only the frosting on a cake that was already soured by a complicated childhood.  

I never had a safe place from “fat comments.”  Over the years, conversations with long distance relatives would often include a question, “lose any weight lately?”  It would sting, but I would brush it off the best I could.

Look, I get how weight can be a detriment towards good health, but at the same time I also recognize that sometimes weight is caused by more than poor choices.  My daughter suffers from Polycystic ovary syndrome, which showed up while she was in college.  One noticeable symptom of POS is weight gain.  It is heartbreaking to watch how differently someone you love is treated just because they carry more weight than what is “acceptable” by society standards.  

Yes, bullying comes in many forms.  And the video that Nicole Arbour produced is a form of bullying.  In a society where we celebrate those who call people who disagree with them “losers” and name call anyone different than themselves, I don’t know how to expect anything different.  I am filled with sadness when I see how we tolerate being cruel to one another.  I cannot change the world, but I can choose to be kind and accepting to those around me, no matter how different they are as compared to me.  

9/8/2015

DESCRIBE YOUR FAMILY

According to the dictionary, the definition of a family is a group consisting of parents and children living together in a household.

An Intelligencer reporter, Christina Kristofic, is asking us to send our description of what our “family” is for a piece she wants to write as the World Meeting of Family approaches here in Philadelphia.  When I first read her question my first thought was, depends on what stage of life you are talking about.

My childhood was not and is not anything I want a do over in.  Getting as far away from those times has been my life long quest.  It is a time period where the world “normal” had profound meaning for me as I did not believe I was “normal” in any fashion.

My “normal” did not start until I met and married my late husband of 45 years.  Together we created the family I could only dream about as a child.  Four children in 4 1/2 years made for a fast, compact, and full existence.  I worked hard at “being a good mother”, even when my own children didn’t appreciate it.  My husband’s family were kind, loving and taught me the meaning of unconditional love.  Family gatherings carried a high priority and one did not miss the event unless it was a life and death situation.  

The wonderful thing about the family we created as a couple is that our table always made room for those without family connections.  A tradition that carries on today.  Our son and his wife host the family Thanksgiving celebration, and every year he expects a call from one of us asking, “I have a friend who….” all the while counting on the fact that their answer would be yes.  Of course last year’s 27 people at the dinner table may have pushed the hospitality to the limit!

Today, as a widowed senior,  family life has taken on another meaning.  One where family gatherings are sandwiched in-between a lot of quiet lonely times.  When I am with my children and their families I see through them, the fulfilled life I once had and long for even today.  My husband’s illness and early death did not allow for us to have that special “empty nest” experience I hear many talk about. Children grown with families of their own, grandchildren entering their teenage years, making it that I am just an old person who visits now and then, leaves me searching for any purpose in my existence today.   

So when Ms. Kristofic asks what comes to mind when I hear the word family, I am carried back to my fulfilling days of being a wife and mother, surrounded by wonderful neighbors and friends and experience the joy of knowing that through our love and experience, we have passed on that same sense of purpose and tradition of a loving family to our children.  That in the end fulfills my ultimate purpose.

WHY WRITE MY MEMOIR?

I lead a Memoir Class in the community in which I live.  The most common question I get regarding our Memoir Group is “Why write a memoir?”  So I reached out to some people I know who are in the process or have written their own memoir and here are a few of their answers:

"I want them to know 'the real me,' to know I had an interesting, adventuresome life."

"To understand my life by looking backward."

"To write something for myself."

"I want to talk about all the fun we had."

“I loved life on the home front during WWII and I wanted my grandkids to know what it was like.”

"I grew up in an Irish neighborhood in Philadelphia which no longer exists. I wanted my kids and grandkids to know what that life was like in the city."

“To share our immigrant story."

"To capture the stories, but not in a lot of depth."

"To write the story of my military life.”

“To share what life was like during the depression.”

You don’t have to have led a spectacular life to write a memoir…you just need to be you, and find the story in your experience.  I have had people tell me their story, then follow that by saying I cannot write so I don’t know how to write my story.  I tell them to write it as you just told it, in your own voice, your own style, and your own way.  It is that simple.

Many people confuse memoir writing with autobiographies.  Autobiographies encompass the entire life of the writer, where memoir writing focuses in on just one given period.  Which is why memoir groups are growing in popularity.  Pick a topic and write about it as you lived the moment.

I share a story about two sisters I know who lost their mother early in their life.  Their father remarried about a year after their mother died.  These two sisters, loved their step-mother but over the years as they went through the special occasions in their own lives they missed their mother and wished they knew more about her.  Afraid they might hurt the feelings of a step-mother who was very kind and loving to them, they kept this desire to themselves.  When their father died, the older sister got a call from the step-mother and let her know that in the attic she found a box of things that looked like they belong to their mother and offered the items up to the sisters.  

The sisters got together that very day and opened the box which began a journey of discovery. In the box were not only photos and mementos but also diaries their mother had written.  Non-stop reading, sharing, laughter and tears until about 4 in the morning when they realized the time but so overjoyed by the realization that for the first time in their adult lives they knew who their mother was, her desires, her experiences, and how much she loved her two little girls.  A joy they share over and over again today as they gaze down on their own children and grandchildren.  

Like so many others today, they keep active journals of thought and experiences for the purpose of sharing who they are with the generations to come.  

There can be many reasons for writing your memoir, but none more important than sharing an ordinary life in extraordinary times.

FEELING MY IMMIGRANT HERITAGE

The last couple of weeks as my health has kept me quiet and inside, I find myself contemplating the “Donald Trump” syndrome that I am reading and hearing about.  I ask myself, “What is it about his speeches and the discussion that he has brought to the political table that bothers me.?  Why do I cringe when I run into neighbors and friends who tell me what a great President he would make?”

How does a country, whose foundation is based on immigration, spout such ugly rhetoric toward the people who come here to become American.   I am reminded of conversations with my husband’s grandmother, whose family immigrated to American in 1903, from the Austrian/Hungarian Empire. They were a hardworking, close family, who told stories of having stones thrown at them during World War I and II because they had Germanic names and spoke some German with heavy accents.  It caused them to pull in ranks, stay close as a family, put their heads down, work hard, and live a quiet life in the community in which they lived.  It even caused my husband’s grandfather to change his last name to an American name…“Ford” instead of Jobb that he was born with.  “A good American name”, he said to Grammy when he returned from serving in the Calvary during World War I.  

On the other side of the family were the Irish immigrants who eventually settled in Philadelphia and like the Ford side of the family, their church, community organizations and family bond helped them pull in tight in order to withstand the slings and arrows that came their way just because they chose to come to America and start a new life. 

1896 anti-immigration cartoon

Being anti-immigration is nothing new to us.  Political cartoons sometimes played on Americans' fears of immigrants. This one, which appeared in an 1896 edition of the Ram's Horn, depicts an immigrant carrying his baggage of poverty, disease, anarchy and sabbath desecration, approaching Uncle Sam.

I grew up with ugly conversations towards those who lived and looked “different” from us.  As a child we lived on the “edge” of one neighborhood which put us in school with a very diverse group and in fact, in my elementary school time I was only one of four white students in my class.  I had friends in the class of both colors.  I would get invited over to my friends home, where treatment by them towards me was nothing but kind and giving from the adults in the household.

I would not bring anyone home, because my parents didn’t hold their tongue and their words so often embarrassed me (even as early as age 6, 7 or 8) so that early on in life I knew not to bring friends home.  But this did cause me to grow up and question very early in my life, the things my parents said about those who are “different”.

What I see happening today with the Donald Trump popularity makes me feel as uncomfortable as I did when my mother shouted at me asI walked into our home with my friend from class, “Who is that tramp and what is she doing here?”

I have not heard Donald Trump say anything concrete about what he would do to help our country grow and prosper.  I have heard him do a lot of name calling.  The fact that his ugly spewing of venomous language is so welcomed by so many burns my spirit.  I find myself feeling the same way I did when my mother would shout her ugly venomous language at me if  I dared bring someone different into our house.

I am left feeling embarrassed that the world sees us through Donald Trump’s eyes and sad that we are all letting it happen by supporting him.

AGING IS NO JOKE

Before I embark on any trip, I do a lot of research about the area I am going to visit, setting up road map information and laying things in chronological order to ease my stress on the trip.  Planning becomes so important in making it easy and stress-free.  

Too many times, I have watched people enter their aging process with no plans, only the attitude that “something will come along to take care of me.”  No worries.  No fears.  Just wing it.  For many of us, that is all we have to work with. When we wing it, too often we are asked to make these life changing decisions when we are least able.

I know many of us are not in a financial place to plan for the worst-case scenario, but I don’t see anything wrong in taking time to search what the system of aging offers so we can best understand what we will be faced with.  Other wise, tough decisions have to be made in your name, surrounded by a lot of kicking and screaming, 

Taking care of our seniors when they can’t live alone is an expensive proposition.  For those without long-term care insurance policies, we must rely on family and government programs and hope that family or room can be found to help with care.

People more knowledgeable than I have written volumes about what we face today when entering alternative living arrangements.  As I mentioned some posts ago, my friend, Martin Bayne, has been a long time advocate for better living situations in assisted living facilities.    His website, http://thevoiceofagingboomers.com/ is considered one of the best because he has been living in an assisted living facility for over 10 years.  In his 50’s, his body was in need of help, but not his mind.  He continues his work today, constantly challenging those who own and manage long-term care facilities to find better ways to create a home for our aging citizens.

One thing we can do to help those that will be our caretakers is prepare all the necessary paperwork, laying things out to make it easy to discover.

One site that I have been using to get my own personal things in order is called, “Get Your Shit Together”.   http://getyourshittogether.org/.   Yes, you read that right….Get Your Shit Together!

This is one of my favorite sites because it gives you a checklist of all the documents everyone should have in their files.  Not only does it provide a checklist, but it also provides forms that you can easily fill in and print out.  It’s easy-to-understand-explanations of what the documents mean help me understand the truth from the myths we think we know.  

Right after my Dad died, I decided to create an “IN CASE OF DEATH NOTEBOOK”.  I purchased a 3-ring binder, added some plastic sleeves, and began to gather the information necessary to deal with my end of life issues.  When Pat died, I discovered it to be a gift to myself.  I pulled out the book, opened a page, contacted who I needed to contact, making notes and filing the notes with the paperwork until the process was complete.  I did not have to search for anything as all the paperwork I needed was all in one place.  When the death certificates came in I placed them inside the book and used or made copies to file with all those institutions that needed them.  Leaving the balance in the book for when my time comes and in case the kids need them to finish off my estate.

The following is a sample of the items I had in my “IN CASE OF DEATH” notebook.

Obituary information:  This may sound silly to you, but what I found in my own family is that when sitting in front of an undertaker, still reeling with the shock of loss, you and your family members have a great deal of trouble remembering.  Having things written out simply helps simplify the moment.

MEDICAL POWER OF ATTORNEY DOCUMENT

MEDICAL LIVING WILL

POWER OF ATTORNEY:  Note most financial institutions will require their own, so don’t assume because you have a POA that it covers everything.

LIFE INSURANCE POLICIES

MEDICAL INSURANCE INFORMATION

COPY OF WILL COVER WITH A NOTE WHERE THE ORIGINAL IS LOCATED

Military information:  If you served in the military keep your DD214 (Discharge Papers) on file.  They will need it to provide all the military honors your are entitled to.  If, like my husband you are receiving disability payments from the VA, you also need this information to inform them of death.

Marriage and Birth records:  At least copies with notes on where you keep the originals.

Financial Accounts:  I update every quarter when the new statement comes in so that my family will have the last statement on record.  (A good practice is to always keep the first statement showing what you started with.

Bank Account Records:  I take December’s statement and keep a copy of it in my file to give information on bank and information needed to inform of my death.

List Assets:  For most of us this will include our home and car information.  A good habit is to make a copy of important information concerning both your home and car, along with a spare set of keys for each in these pockets.

A COPY OF YOUR UTILITY BILLS:  I found when dealing with these issues you need these for the account information and contact numbers.  I usually copy the last bill of the year and place in this pocket.

A LIST OF PASSWORDS FOR YOUR ACCOUNTS.  In today's world of online banking, doctor sites and other sites that are important to us, we find that we are overwhelmed with the need to collect our passwords.  Your caretaker needs to have these to carry out your wishes when the time comes.  I understand these have to be protected so a note where they can found is good to place here.

I share this with you to inspire you to make things easy for your future caretakers and like I discovered when my husband died, a gift to yourself.