Behind The Wheel, Part 2

 

 The holidays are pretty much done, thank goodness. I no sooner started working -five hours a day, five days a week and every other Saturday - than I squeezed in the little bit of shopping and baking I did for Christmas. I threw in a road trip to Maryland to see my friend Mike race at Timonium Indoors, and had an opportunity to see the play The Color Purple thanks to the generosity of my friend Jill. I enjoyed a couple of family holiday dinners and caught up with some other family members at my Uncle Louis's funeral. I'm pretty much looking forward to winding down and spending time indoors writing in between walking outdoors when the weather permits. The trails are generally less crowded in January than July.

     So now to adjust to the new schedule and fit the rest of my life around those five hours in the middle of the day. After being retired for five years I am still getting used to the routine of the work day. Even when I was still a nurse, I had not worked five days in a row in like forever! The last fifteen years I had only worked three days a week, but when I did work full time it was usually two to four days in a row and every other weekend, for decades. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make here is I don't know how to combine the pleasures I've enjoyed while being retired like daily walks and time at the keyboard to write, with the opportunity to earn some money.

     The job itself is pretty low stress. The first week had me feeling nervous. Would I be able to find my way around driving to the different shops on my routes? The second week was kind of an adventure- yes, I can do this - remembering to check orders before I left, getting used to which door to use at different stops, recording the little bit of documentation required. After just about a month, I'm comfortable doing the job, and now I need to find my balance again.

     I drove in all kinds of weather  to the hospital and then people's homes as a nurse, so I should be able to drive auto parts to local shops in Winter. That was one thing I quickly took a liking to in retirement. If I didn't want to go out in the rain and snow, no problem, I stayed home. I keep reminding myself that having free time to enjoy activities and travel is more fun when I can afford to do those things, so it's off to work again.
   

Back To Work / Behind The Wheel

        Auto Parts Delivery Driver (King of Prussia, PA)

     Retirement is great after decades of having to be at work on a regular basis. I have been totally enjoying my free time, my morning walks and road trips. Unfortunately I have found myself spending money as if I still had a working income rather than retirement funds. To those of you contemplating leaving the job someday soon, think about that and try to adjust accordingly.

     Having walked away from nursing five years ago, after thirty-one years in hospitals and then ten years in  home care I was ready to relax. I had done a little traveling in the first couple years, but then settled into a simpler lifestyle until this past year when I started wanting to do some activities that require a bit more spending. So I  started looking for a part-time job.  Last year I worked for six months as a part-time merchandiser for a major greeting card company, stocking and organizing card racks, and changing supplies with the seasons.  I have also applied to local libraries for support positions without success.

    Recently I came across an ad for an auto parts delivery driver. I thought I could combine my skills of working with people from nursing, driving from  my home care days, and lifting boxes of merchandise from the greeting card job. So I applied, and started working about a week and a half ago. If you live in the Delaware Valley, perhaps you've seen those cute little green and yellow cars around.

     Starting a new job or adjusting to anything new can be stressful and as one of the guys that I rode with the first couple of days said, "It's not rocket science", and my Mom reminded me, "it's not nursing" . Easy-peasy. The car is equipped with GPS and the first week on my own was a matter of getting used to the different customers on the route , getting in and out of traffic and the main adjustment of not having those five to six hours a day to relax or do what I like. I forgot how exhausting work is and not having time for my hour-long walk in the park or writing or reading left me more tired than I've been in a while. But at least unlike my friends in home care, I'm not taking my work home at the end of the day.

     After the end of my first week at work, I managed to find the energy to drive a couple hours to Timonium, Maryland to watch my friend Michael race his motorcycle. I've heard about some of his not so great results there in the past and wanted to see this track that keeps calling him back after some broken bikes and broken bones. It was a full night of watching racing, and Mike stayed upright and completed his practices, heats, and Main race  and looked like he had fun doing it.



     I decided to stay overnight in Maryland. After being so tired from working I thought it safer to not drive back late at night, even though my vision is better since my cataract surgery.  After I got home I was able to relax, and had time to take a walk on the trail. I found some time today before work to start writing again.

     I will probably be adjusting to the work thing for a while yet, but the ability to pay off some bills and save for more adventures will carry me through. Who would have thought this old nurse would be doing this job? Not me, but I'll just keep myself open to that Other Plan, and I'll keep looking to see what's going to happen next.

 

TREES - or Another Not My Plan Story

   

 This morning I headed out for a walk after a few days of not so great weather. My plan was to just be quiet and get some fresh air and sunshine.  I told myself I did not need to photograph or otherwise record every time I go for a walk. As has happened many times since I first wrote Friendship Tree back in the Spring. my plan is not the only one in play.

I walked along noticing the trees that have mostly lost their leaves revealing the shapes of the trunks and branches. I thought it might be time to revisit the original tree to see how it looks two seasons later.  I was again seeing shapes revealed in the wood that caught my eye and caused me to slow down and look and listen and feel, rather than just move along.

I was reminded of a couple of postings I've seen lately about trees and felt compelled to photograph some that reminded me of the words I was remembering. 

Some are bent and gnarly, some are straight and tall and beautiful, some broken and dead or dying. All are part of the whole and just where they are today. I wanted to share these pictures and words to remind myself, if no one else, to be as accepting of people as of trees.

Since I started writing this blog back in April, I've shared stories of people who have been a part of my life over the years. Like the trees, some have been tall and strong, some weak and twisted. I need to remember that I can be a bit of all that myself on any given day. 

 No special story today, just sharing random thoughts from the trail.

God-Shot at the Wawa

 

 You never know who you'll run into at the local Wawa. I had just finished my walk in the park and needed to get change for the laundromat, the next stop on my to-do list. So I headed to the one stop convenience store to get coffee and change, but first decided to use the restroom since there isn't one where I do laundry.
      To my surprise, a friend who I don't see very often was in the ladies room and having a bit of a stressful day. She told me what had her upset, we chatted a while and hugged. We talked about the coincidence of running into each other when she needed someone to talk to. I told her there have been synchronicities occurring over the weekend starting with a conversation my son on Saturday,  a speaker at church on Sunday , a medium I met with later that day and interacting with some birds on my walk this morning. She went on her way in hopefully a better frame of mind.
     Another woman who had left the restroom and came back in while we were still talking apologized for me having to witness her brushing her teeth.  I didn't think anything of it and said I hoped my friend and I didn't disturb her. She said it was good to hear how we just happened to be there at the same time and she thought I was a good woman to spend time chatting in the restroom. All I could say is God works in mysterious ways and she agreed. I got the feeling her being present was helpful to her also.
     My plan for today was to spend alone time before my other cataract surgery tomorrow. I really had no intention of writing today. Focusing on reading and writing has been tiring at times over the last two weeks, something I expect will change once the other eye is done.
      The coincidences over the weekend and this morning all had to do with changes and connections  and expansion. So the message was for me as well as my friend and the stranger. I might sometimes need time alone to collect my thoughts or connect with Nature or my Higher Power but we're all in this together.  There is a plan at work and it's not mine,
   

THE JOY OF SEEING - Part 2

 

 A couple months ago I posted that it was time to schedule an evaluation for cataract surgery. I saw the surgeon shortly after that  and this past week I had the left eye done- cataract extraction and lens implant. It was amazing - when the surgery was over and the doctor removed the drape from my face, I was able to see his face clearly, which I hadn't been able to do when he walked into the OR. Then they wheeled me out to the post-op area and I was able to read the white board on the wall from about 6 feet away. Before this I might have been able to see that there was a white rectangle hanging there and maybe I could have seen blotches of color that was the writing, but to actually read something more than a foot away without glasses, without squinting was so fantastic I couldn't stop grinning. Truth be told, the sedation they gave me might have helped my mood, but I have worn glasses since third grade and that's been a lot of years.

     I went home and was pleased to discover what friends had told me- The light was so much brighter, I saw white walls that I thought were tan, and yes even that I had wrinkles I didn't see before.
     I  rested that night  and had a follow up appointment with my original eye doctor the next morning. My vision was a little blurry, but I attributed it to the fact that if I wore my glasses I could only see clearly out of my right eye and if I took them off, I could see clearly on the left. When Dr. John checked my vision in the left eye, I was a little disappointed to hear it was only 20/40 but he said that might improve with time. Then he examined my eye and told me there was an abrasion on the outer layer of the eye, kind of like a blister - it was like looking through a bubble!  He called the surgeon and they agreed to place a lens patch over it to help it flatten out and hopefully reattach over the next couple of days.

     They removed the lens from my glasses over the left eye and I was again surprised- I thought that since I had a lens implanted on that side, I would be able to see equally well with both eyes. No, but no. Well, yes I might have equal vision in both eyes, just not at the same time.  Even without the abrasion, apparently the placement of an external lens on one side and an internal lens on the other can cause distortion, Nobody forewarned me of this, but hopefully after next week when the right eye is done, that should balance out.
 
          I had to go back to the eye center three days after the surgery and they brushed the edges of the abrasion to help it heal and placed another patch lens to protect the eye. The next three days the clarity waxed and waned, sometimes clear, sometimes blurry, sometimes seeing double. This all made my eyes tired and made me annoyed.

     When I woke up this morning I was thinking that continuing to be positive in the face of setbacks was getting kind of old and was I feeling pretty irritable on the drive to the doctor's office. I was reminded of a character in Voltaire's Candide- Professor Pangloss who in the face of misfortune, torture and disease claimed that "all is for the best in this best of all possible worlds". I started to think maybe I wasn't going to be seeing as well as I had hoped and I might as well stop looking for the silver lining.

     This morning, another three days later, it's 95% healed. so I got another patch and I go back tomorrow to have that removed. Oh, and today the vision in that eye is 20/25!  I went out for my walk in the park after my appointment and could truly enjoy the view. At a distance I could see equally clearly with either eye, and if I didn't turn my head to the side too much I could use both eyes together. What a difference in the light with my left eye - the river was clearer, the sunlight reflected on the leaves was brighter. OK, the birdsong and the squirrels chittering sounding sweeter had nothing to do with my eyesight, except that seeing clearly put me in a good mood. .

     Later when I got home from my walk the vision started to blur again, so I took  nap and when I woke it was clearer. I'm typing my story with one eye closed, but it's okay. Next week I'll have the other eye corrected and things will work out as they are supposed to. Maybe not all for the best in the best of all possible worlds, but I trust that I will see well and I will write and walk in the park and live my life  well a day at a time. I'm still looking forward to see what's next. Tune in next time for the Joy of Seeing - Part 3.

And Just Like That, It's Autumn

   There was a definite change in the weather this weekend. I've been feeling myself wanting to crawl into the cave since it's been getting darker earlier and staying dark later in the morning. Summer is time for outside social activity and while I will continue with my walks all winter long, the concerts, festivals and bike races are done. It's time to go indoors.

     

     It's nothing new for me to withdraw in the wintertime and come back in the Spring  Maybe this will motivate me to write more with fewer activities to distract me. I took a drive this afternoon about an hour out to the country to the Fall Craft Fair at  Leesport Farmer's Market. I've been out there a few times in the Summer for the Native American Pow Wow that is held there and enjoy the ride. I was thinking on the way back that I just enjoy the road passing under my wheels even with no particular destination. 

     Anyway, it's been a good Summer, and tomorrow I'll be sitting down with a few family members to recall Sunday afternoons in days past when it was all about the family getting together for dinner. Some homes may start out a Sunday morning with the smell of bacon frying on the stove, but growing up with my Italian Grandmom meant the aroma of meatballs in the skillet and gravy in the pot. If you got there early enough, you might get to grab a meatball before it went into the gravy. 

     I'm looking forward to hearing what my cousins recall from those days, and to putting our story into words. I'm sure I won't be able to remember everything that happened when I was  growing up on Sandy Street but I want to give it a try. I have enjoyed writing this blog so far and the idea of  a book is still waiting to be carried out. I have no idea how long this might take, but I'll just keep at it one word, or idea or chapter at a time. 

     A few months ago I started attending a writers group - Writers Assemble - at a local library. Some  of the members have been writing for years, some are published, some attempting to be published, some doing it just for the pleasure of telling a story. I'm glad to have their support on a monthly basis  in this adventure. as well as those who have been there for me from the beginning.

     So as the weather turns cooler and the days shorter, here's hoping the story of Gravy Every Sunday finds it's way into words.

Storytellers and the Book Fair

     When I saw the event post from Marie Gilbert for the Collingswood Book Festival this past Saturday I decided to go check it out. Marie is a multi-talented person - Writer, Blogger, South Jersey Psychic, and Professional Ghost investigator. She is also the person who first suggested I start writing a blog when I met her at a Psychic and Healing Expo back in March. She was one of many readers there but I was drawn to her and am so glad I sat down with her and took her advice to start writing.

     The Book Festival was incredible! It must have been half a mile or more of Haddon Avenue closed to traffic. There were hundreds of authors and their books of a variety of genres, and booth after booth of book related merchandise, music, poetry readings, and new and used book sales. I stopped to talk with Marie of course and got a copy of her book "Life With Fred and Lucy". I also got to chat with a number of the authors, and even purchased a book ("Apart") from a new author - J. Lauryl Jennings who told me of her adventures in following her dream to write and encouraged me to do the same.

     That was the message I heard time and time again from many of the writers I met yesterday and have met over the past months since I started writing, including Marie, my friend Michael, and the members of my writers group -the Writers Assemble.  If you are called to write or tell a story, just do it!  The one thing I've heard time and again and I know as truth is to Enjoy the Writing!
       

     I have been having a hard time starting to write again after the last piece I posted, because I think I'm supposed to write my book and I get overwhelmed at the enormity of it. When I saw all the authors lining the street with their written creations I was feeling inadequate - how could I ever compete in the world of getting published and circulated. But as I walked around and talked with fellow writers about the love of writing and the joy of sharing their stories, I was reminded that I only have to do today, what I can do today. When I actually put my story into words, the path will become clear as it has been doing all along if I just trust that I have been given the call to write and the support I've needed to get this far. I am grateful to those of you who read my posts and leave comments.

     If there is something you've been dreaming of doing, if you feel called to move forward, trust that if it is meant to be, it will happen.

   

   

My First Flat Track Motorcycle Race

   

   Six months ago if you had told me I would be going to a professional motorcycle race, I would probably have just smiled and quickly walked away from you. I've never ridden a cycle, didn't know anything  about racing, and have pretty much gotten away from watching the Philadelphia  Phillies and Eagles - the only sports I've ever followed. Yet this past weekend I attended my first American Flat Track race, and had been looking forward to it for a couple of months.
     I was first introduced to Flat Track by the writing of a motor sports journalist and fellow blogger. Michael Lawless who I had only known casually before reading his work.  (#ehorseman.blogspot.com ) His stories of the people on the bikes and his behind the scenes views as a racer and journalist as well as a friend to many of the people involved in the sport created a very interesting picture of a whole culture . I started watching races on Fanschoice.tv and recognized some of the names of people whose stories I had read. It helped that for a sports announcer Scottie Deubler has got a voice that's very easy on the ears.
     As I became more familiar with the sport and the people, through watching races and then talking with Mike, my interest grew and I decided I would like to attend a race. The Pro races- American Flat Track  -are held all over the country and the closest to home wouldn't be until September. In the meantime, I did drive to Maryland to attend a District race and got to see Mike race back in July.
     Over the summer, I have seen the workings of the AFT family when there have been accidents and injuries and I learned of the work of the AMA Flat-Track Rookie's Class of '79 - a group who's purpose is to help injured riders and their families by raising funds among the American Flat Track community, This is maybe the part of this whole thing that attracts me the most. This IS a family. People may compete very seriously on the track, but if one of the riders is injured, they come together for one another.

     So, anyway. I had planned to ride out to Williams Grove, near Harrisburg and at some point, meet up with Mike for the rider autograph session and he would introduce me to the riders. As it turned out, he had room in his truck and I was able to ride with him which gave me the opportunity to wander around the pit with him for a good bit of the day, watch him do his job of networking, connecting, planning and generally schmoozing with his tribe. I got to meet a number of the riders I had read stories about like Henry Wiles and followed in the races such as Jeffrey (the Wizard) Carver, as well as one young woman, Sandriana Shipman,  who had been injured back in the early part of the season and was racing again for the first time that day.I also got to meet one of the Rookie Class of '79 members and again I  heard of how this flat track family was different from other sports- thank you Charlie. This was all before the action started!

     Once the racing got started, I wandered out of the pit to watch the track. What I noticed right away that was different from watching on TV was the sound and the blur. The roar was much clearer live, but even on a half-mile track, the pack buzzed by and I didn't hear it much til they came around again.  The blur on the other hand  was harder to adjust to. At home the camera tends to focus on individual riders which I would find annoying because I couldn't see what was going on with the rest of them. Live action was hard to watch because at over 100 miles an hour I could hardly tell who was going by, especially if I didn't recognize the numbers.
    I tried taking pictures and video, but was not very successful at capturing action clearly. My hat is off to the professional photographers and cameramen who do such an excellent job. There was some delay in events due to rain and then they squeezed all the races in early because of threatened rainstorms, As it turned out, the autograph session which is usually held before the Semi and Finals races,  was moved to  after the races were completed and trophies given and the season Singles Championship was awarded. -way to go Montco PA racer Dan Bromley!  So thanks to Mike letting me tag along, I was able to have a much fuller experience behind the scenes than if I had to wait til the end. Thank you Mike! It was so much fun.
     I had originally planned to attend one race to feel the excitement of race day and as Mike introduced me to his friends and told them this was my "first Flat Track race"  I was thinking yeah first, probably last. But since Saturday I'm thinking, I'm probably not done. There are only two races left this season. If you've never watched - check out American Flat Track and fanschoice.tv.  Maybe you'll be surprised too.
       
   

On The Road -Years Later

                           

      If I were to choose my all time favorite book I might say On The Road by Jack Kerouac.  I was seventeen when I first read it and it was suggested by Marty Cohen, a young man who I had recently met when he took over the Jack and Jill Ice Cream truck route in my neighborhood. The first day he showed up, I was probably sitting on the front steps reading a book, since reading was my favorite past time for a large part of my life.
     I had grown up reading from a young age. My Dad taught me letter sounds and how to put them together to make words before I started first grade, and I think I had my first library card by the age of six or seven. I read most all of the Nancy Drew books and graduated to more grown-up detective stories as I got older. So as I said, I was probably reading a book when Marty and I first met. He was an English major at Temple University in Philadelphia and I was about to enter my senior year of high school in my home town outside of Philadelphia. We got to talking over the summer and he recommended a few of his favorite reads such as The Blackboard Jungle and Johnny Got His Gun which I read and which introduced me to literature outside of the detective genre.
     On The Road however, was exciting to me on so many levels. Kerouac's free-flowing style of writing was something new to me, his characters and adventures carried me way beyond the world I had lived in to that point.  The flow of conversation, music, road trips, love-making, and poetry went on and on. I had been born in and lived in a mostly Italian working class neighborhood and had no inkling of going beyond my small town. The idea of just heading out on the road with no plan, itinerary or schedule was beyond my way of thinking. And I loved it!  The following year I graduated from high school just in time for Woodstock and the era of sex, drugs and rock and roll.  Fortunately I survived with some happy memories of good times and not too many negative effects.
     It has probably been decades since I last reread it,  but I came across a copy at a used book sale a while back. I was going to give it to my son to read, but didn't because he has some trouble getting into actually reading books because of an eye problem, though he can skim over internet stories for hours at times. The other reason though was I don't think that I wanted him to realize that Mom had her wild side that grew out of reading this homage to the Beat Generation.
     Nowadays, many years and hundreds if not thousands of books later, I still have to smile when I think about On The Road. It was like opening the door to a new world. Maybe that's why the other story I think of as a favorite is Stephen King"s Dark Tower series. But that's a story for another day.

   

Writing, Community, and Flat Track Racing

 

 When I started  thinking about what type of creative activity I wanted to get into in retirement earlier this year, I initially thought about music. I have sung with my local community Chorale, and played a little keyboard and guitar around the house, I've even written a few songs back in the day and used to harmonize with my late husband Joe who was a great singer and guitar player. A friend was getting back into playing and producing music, and about this time I reconnected with a friend from high school who has been playing guitar, singing and writing music for years. I never got past the thinking stage though.
     Somehow the idea of writing began to percolate in the back of my mind and I ran into a guy I know through some mutual friends who is a professional blogger and motorcycle journalist. I asked if I could read some of his writings, because he seemed really enthusiastic about what he was doing. He gave me his info and I started reading his work (see ehorseman.blogspot.com). I've never had much interest in motorcycles, even though both my brothers and two of my nephews ride, but this storyteller was able to use his words to connect me to the people on the bikes and the flat track racing community.
     In my lifetime I have  not followed sports outside of Phillies baseball and Eagles football, and the only races I've watched have been the Preakness, which is run in Joe's hometown of Baltimore, and maybe parts of the Indy 500, especially when Janet Guthrie broke into Pro racing. So the fact that I now have watched at least ten AMA Flat Track races this season, know the difference between Singles and Twins, and recognize the names and faces of a lot of the racers and am even planning to attend an event within a few hours away next month surprises me. Reading and talking about these people with the guy who first let me into this world has allowed me to become connected to a racing way of life I would not have wandered into on my own.
     I started writing my blog about the same time I started watching Flat Track. If you've read my stories so far, I've shared random thoughts and memories of my life. So why am I writing about American Flat Track today?  There have been riders injured since I started watching, but I had only heard about it after the fact, thanks to the work of AMA Pro Flat-Track Rookies Class of 79 and Friends, an organization that financially assists injured riders through fund-raising among the AFT community.
     This past month though, it seems there have been more accidents and injuries. Two weeks ago was the first time I saw the red flag come out while I was watching a race. I knew it had to be serious by the length of time it took to get the rider off the field. Unfortunately the young man succumbed to his injuries nine days later. Another racer who has been successful for years is battling back from a serious injury after a recent accident, and just a few days ago I saw the red flag come out again and two other young riders were taken out in ambulances. Fortunately they have been released from the hospital, but I guess time will tell if they'll be able to resume riding.
     After every injury and in the time of loss, I see the AFT family join together in supporting one another. Though they all compete on the raceway, in the world outside the race they are all connected in a way we folks outside can only observe and appreciate.  I guess that is what I'm writing about today. No matter the community, we all have our connections that sustain us- family, faith, recovery.
Let's all take care of  and love one another.
     Go out there and have a good day!

Going to The Feast

   

 Well, I had been thinking about doing a bit on the Feasts that I went to over the years, and this weekend is the Holy Savior feast.. I don't know if it was growing up Italian American in Norristown or not, but it seemed that there were always celebrations of some Saint's day either in our parish or our town, or somehow Grandmom knew of events a hundred miles or more away.
     I can't remember all the names, but I recall they were frequently held in small churches, often in what seemed the middle of nowhere. Grandmom would charter a bus and load up a lot of family and friends to go to Vineland or Hammonton, NJ . I think one of these was for Our Lady of Mount Carmel. There was Saint Rocco's in Martin's Creek, PA. There was always hundreds of people crammed into churches meant for half as many people for Mass, usually followed by a procession and then the feasting would begin.
     There was food and music and rides and vendors and people coming from far away to celebrate. I remember the smell of chicken grilling on open pits in Vineland, always served with a fresh tomato from a nearby farm and, I think, a bag of chips. The celebration of Saint Therese in Nesquehoning,PA was a big draw to another small town on the edge of the Pocono Mountains. It seemed to me that hundreds of buses would crowd the small streets of a town on the side of a mountain and the day always ended with a helicopter dropping rose petals over the town to remember  Saint Theresa "The Little Flower".

     But in my mind and my life The Feast was and continues to be in my little town of Norristown, in what was our family parish, Holy Savior. Held every August, it signals for me the winding down of summer celebrations. As with all the others, the Mass is followed by a procession which used to pass by our front door, For years my Mom would hand out cold water to the people walking to honor God. But as a kid and, even now, it's about food and tradition. If you've ever attended, you know the year is not complete unless you've had a roast pork sandwich and fried dough at the feast.

     When I was little I remember the excitement of being allowed to go with my friends or by myself and wandering around in the crowd. Everyone was lost in  having fun, good food, company and music. It was a community party. I guess that is still the joy in summer gatherings, whether it's a local music festival, a PowWow. state fair or motorcycle races. Anyway, I'm getting off track.
     Last night I met my Mom and my sister at Mass before the Feast. I parked around the corner on Sandy Street, half a block from where I grew up, right next to Holy Savior school. I walked past Penn Street where Charlotte,  my best friend from grade school lived. I'm so glad that twenty-first century media has allowed us to reconnect. After Mass, I ran into another classmate, Linda,  who has stayed in touch with my Mom over the years because they still  attended church there. She reminded me of sharing test answers back in seventh grade, which I didn't remember. Funny thing is I remembered jamming fingers and breaking my glasses because I would literally run into her playing basketball.  We would both go for the ball  but she was always stronger and faster. I never was much of an athlete, but I'm glad to know I helped her pass that test.  I sometimes run into another classmate at The Feast, but I didn't see Josephine there this year.
     Every year we say we have to go to the feast because it might be the last time to attend for Mom who is ninety-four. Every year it gets harder to find a seat to sit and enjoy our pork sandwich and fried dough. Every year there are fewer people for my Mom to connect and reminisce with . Right now as I'm wiping away tears as I write, I know that we will probably go again next year as long as Mom is still able, and maybe I'll continue long after that.
     I had planned to write today, maybe even start on that book I've been thinking about. These thoughts will likely find their way into that book, but I needed to share this today. It's only been a few months since I started writing, but it had been so rewarding to let new people into my world and reconnect with lost friends. I am grateful to my writing community, which continues to grow, for your support. and especially to the person God placed in my path to get me started - Thank you Michael.

Loving Life

   Wow! What a great weekend I just had. It was nothing extraordinary and yet it was. Catching up with old friends and family, lots of music, outdoor exercise. And somehow it all felt connected together.
     Last Wednesday I finally saw the cataract surgeon and scheduled my surgery for October. I'm looking forward to being able to drive at night and just generally see better- especially "The Colors"
people tell me I've been missing- Sorry, I have to smile- I just remember how special that phrase sounded back in my younger days. And to all those who have offered me rides to and from the eye doctor- I will be calling, and appreciate the offers of help.
     Asking for help and letting people in is still hard for me sometimes, though I'm getting a little better. For a good part of my life I've taken care of myself and even when married or in a relationship I had no trouble going off and doing my own thing. Maybe it's the idea of not being able to drive safely wherever and whenever I want.  Maybe that now that I'm living alone for the first time in a lot of years,  I need to open up to others if I'd like company instead of having another person around to talk to all the time, even when it wasn't always the best situation.
     Anyway, this weekend, I got to spend time with my brother Mike who was visiting from South Carolina and caught up with an old friend who I used to work with and hardly see any more. Then I was going to spend time at a music festival, with no plans to meet up with any one, but as so many times lately, my plan is not the only plan in action. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, an outdoor fundraiser with ten live acts, each one better than the one before. I looked up and saw someone I have met a couple of times before, sitting with an old neighbor of mine who also enjoys live outdoor music, and with them was a woman I hadn't seen in probably ten years. She and I had a great time catching up, we all had fun listening to the music and even getting up and dancing, which I love but never do outside of my apartment anymore!  I finished up the evening spending time with my brother and some friends.

     On Sunday morning I was planning to drive twenty miles to the "Hippie Church" up the road for Peace Sunday, but couldn't drag myself out of bed in time. I drove to my local trail for a walk, but there was nowhere to park, so I left and went to my local church instead. I don't recall the exact readings, but they had something to do with God feeding His people and Jesus feeding the crowds. The thing I did hear was when the priest related how when parents fill the fridge and cabinets with food, and kids then open the door and can't find anything to eat. The message being, we can sometimes not see or appreciate all the blessings and gifts we've been given. That touched me deeply with gratitude.
     In the afternoon I listened to a webinar on Shamanism and was reminded of the healing power of living life daily with honor and respect. Then I attended a Hymn festival led by the director of the Norristown Chorale, a local community chorus that I have sung with in the past.  The music for the day was from various faiths and cultures and was a reminder that no matter how we worship or address a Higher Power, there is one God who connects us all in Spirit.
   As if my weekend wasn't full enough, my son Sean came up for dinner. We've both been pretty busy lately and it felt good to sit and spend a couple of hours together. We made plans to attend a music festival together next month. Even though our musical tastes are varied, we can on occasion just share the joy of music together. And since my late husband Joe, was a non-professional musician, I have a feeling he will be joining is in spirit.

     After Sean left, I sat down to watch a little American Flat track racing, a new interest I'm still learning about. After a long rain delay, it was exciting. A different layout than I've seen before, with a lot more crowding and more that a couple of restarts. One of the riders I've been following went down and wasn't able to finish, but thankfully he did get up and I hope to see him and some of the other racers next month at William's Grove which is not too far up the road.
     Wow! That felt good. It's been a little while since I wrote anything,  though I've started a couple of times.  I am so grateful to have people in my life and I do tend to have trouble keeping a balance between quiet reflection and meaningful sharing, but I am alive and open to whatever comes next and  that feels beautiful today.

The Joy of Seeing

Well, the time has come to have a consult for cataract surgery. I'm scheduled to see the surgeon next week to explore options and decide if I'm ready, but my regular eye doctor told me last month that there isn't much more that new eyeglasses will do and if I have the surgery I might not need glasses at all. That sounds pretty exciting since I've been wearing glasses since third grade!
     I was talking with a friend last week about when I first realized I couldn't see well. The teacher was giving a quiz and instead of just leaving blank spaces for us to fill in, she randomly wrote the answers on the blackboard. I knew the answers to the test, but when I looked up,at the board, I couldn't see George Washington because it was on the far side of the room. Being me, I couldn't just raise my hand and tell her, but instead started crying because I couldn't see. She notified my Mom and I was later taken to the eye doctor for the first time. It was great to be able to see clearly.

    Over the years, I've had numerous changes to my prescription as my sight has grown weaker. Of course, for vanity's sake I gave contact lenses a try, but couldn't tolerate them because of dry eyes. I remember the shock about fifteen or more years ago when a student doctor was doing my initial eye exam and exclaimed "A cataract!"- I guess it was the first time she had actually seen one outside the classroom.  Dr John came in and told me it was in the early stages and not a concern, and I have been doing fine until recently.
     I have noticed I'm not as comfortable driving at night on unfamiliar roads. I have not seen people or animals along the side of the road until I was close to them which kind of scared me. Also when driving on major highways I sometimes don't see signs for my turnoff until I'm almost on top of them.   So when the doctor said it's time for surgery I was a bit relieved. Just last week, realizing I would be out of town late at night I reserved a hotel room rather that try to drive home. I'm glad it was only a mile away from the event I was attending, because I had difficulty locating the driveway. I don't think I would have made it back home at night.
  I am grateful for the ability to see, to drive, to be independent and want to continue to be all that for as long as I can.Yeah, I know there's always a risk with any surgery and maybe I'll still need glasses for some things. but the idea of being able to travel more comfortably is a big motivation to get it done. Wish me well.
   

   

Life Goes On and On and On

   

This will be my third attempt this week to write. It seems like after the last post when I bravely spoke about getting ready to start writing a book, I have not come up with anything outside of my daily Morning Pages / journaling that I started back doing at the beginning of the year.
     Last weekend started out on Saturday by following a friend to drop her car off for repairs at the unreal hour of 7 AM. I mean I'm retired and that is no longer part of my routine, right? Anyway after stopping for breakfast before I'm normally awake. I was able to drop her off to retrieve her car. Then a group of us had gotten together at 10 AM as we usually do and one of our ladies was overcome by the heat and another friend and I spent a few hours with her at the local ER. Fortunately she was able to be released after being hydrated and cooled off. By this time it was too hot for me to get my usual walk in so I headed to the laundromat instead and got that chore done. I finished up Saturday watching American Flat Track racing on FansChoice, a new interest for me, thanks to the excellent writing of a  professional journalist and fellow blogger. (see ehorseman.blogspot.com )
     Sunday started out quietly with a visit to my local church followed by a walk on the Schuylkill River Trail. In the afternoon I met a friend at a local book store- yes there are still local book stores- for a book signing by an author I've been reading for a couple of decades. She and her daughter have just released a new book and her daughter has a novel coming out that she has been working on for years. She has a deal, the book is in re-write and should be out next year. She encouraged newbie writers (like me) to keep at it and not lose hope. I needed to hear that. It would have been great to have an actual seat, but thanks to my New Yorker buddy the seats on the tile floor were more comfortable than standing for an hour!  A local band was performing at the hometown park that evening so I headed over there for a while to sit back and soak up some music and chill. I was there all of about ten minutes and ran into two former classmates from high school and a neighbor and her mom from my childhood street.
      My mind was a bit crazy, so I left early to go hang with some friends where I could just sit and listen. On the way out of the park I stepped on what looked like a damp patch of grass, but was instead a foul-smelling mire of mud that sucked my shoes off! I managed to rinse off as much as I could with my water bottle and went home to shower and change. I was able to make it in time and heard what I need to hear to get back to a calmer place. As I was getting ready to leave, a friend asked if I would like to attend Cirque Du Soliel on Thursday! She had gotten tickets from her job and was thinking of asking me to go and I showed up - just like I was meant to be there after all the  running around I'd been doing. Perfect ending to a long weekend.
     Monday was a quieter day- a nice long walk at my favorite park where I could see the tents that had been erected for Cirque Du Soliel.  Later that evening I got to catch up with the aforementioned blogger to talk about the weekend's races. I always enjoy our talks. Tuesday I took Mom to her eye doctor appointment and she was told to come back to see the glaucoma specialists ASAP because her pressures were up. That night I got to see Casablanca on the big screen for the first time, though I've watched it lots of times at home- a quiet fun night.
   Wednesday I was about to take a long ride when my sister called to say Mom had fallen and they were going to Patient First for stitches. Mom is ninety-four and has had a couple falls before, so she wasn't going to bother getting checked except she couldn't stop bleeding. After closing the wound over her eye, the doctor told her she had to go to the ER for a CT scan of her head to make sure she wasn't bleeding. She was not a happy camper, but fortunately everything looked good and she got to go home.  On Thursday, the glaucoma doc told her her pressures were down again, but suggested a laser procedure to stabilize things, She's had it done before, so that's in the works for next month.
     Finally Thursday night, my big night at the circus aka Cirque! We arrived half an hour early and maybe because it was opening night  they were passing out free popcorn, sandwich sliders, cookies, donuts and wine (we had to pay for our water!) . Had I known I would have skipped dinner, Anyway, The show started and was pretty amazing. I have never seen Cirque Du Soliel before except for excerpts on TV. Action, acrobatics, fluid movement, music, breath-taking moments, enough hints for everyone to make up their own story. Per the website, VOLTA focuses on a guy who as a child felt different and in the end finds that it's about being true to himself, about finding our own identity and power. The street bike acrobatic choreography at the finale was amazing!
     So, not every week is like this one has been and looks to continue to be, but people ask what I do in retirement. My initial response was whatever I feel like. It seems like since I started writing, new things are occurring all the time. I can't wait to see what happens next!

I Think We're Going To Need A Bigger Book

Hi All.
This morning I posted a message to a few relatives:

Hey Family, I'm getting ready to start working on a book and wanted to let you all know. If you have any stories or suggestions I'd love to hear from you. Also, would you let the rest of the family know, Thanks so much.

tIntro to "Gravy Every Sunday" Back when I was growing up on Sandy Street, we lived with my Grandmom, Carmella. We moved in with her before I can remember. There was Grandmom, my Mom Mary, sister also named Mary, brother Bob and me. Over the years aunts, uncles and cousins moved in and out as well. I believe at one time that four bedroom house was home to ten of us as well as whichever Army buddy Uncle Joey brought home from Fort Dix for the weekend. There was always room for one more at the table. The best part of the week was Sunday morning when I would wake up to the aroma of meatballs frying in the skillet and homemade gravy cooking on the stove.Every Sunday all the family that lived in town would sit down together. If anyone was not there when Grandmom put the spaghetti dinner on the table, they got a phone call letting them know they needed to get there now!

The responses came quick and numerous as well as suggestions for who else to include and where and when we could all get together to talk it over. I'm starting to think that the writing the memories and the actual sitting down together are all connected to the "gravy". I have seen psychic mediums over the years because of a desire to connect with  husbands and other family members who have passed. Both my Grandmother a while back, and an uncle this year have said they miss the gravy.
As I was out walking this morning it occurred to me that the connection is the coming together as "family" as much as the food itself and  it's preparation.

The book will be written, I have no doubt, and I know I will enjoy the memory of us all getting together again and reflecting on what we have shared in the past. But the gravy in my story can also be the pot-luck picnics shared with friends, coffee and home-made desserts at a meeting or at a friends home, bringing a home-town sandwich or chocolate to a friend up the road  or even Gatorade shared with a member of a different kind of family having a bad day.

So as I start out on this adventure in writing, I have no clear idea where I'm going , but I do have an idea  that it's about taking time on a regular basis to be present to those we care about and maybe establishing pleasant rituals that we can carry with us when they are no longer around. And if we can add a smile and some good food it's all good.

Thoughts on Getting to be a Mom

     Back when I was 19, in the era of  the Summer of Love, and Woodstock, I found myself pregnant and was in a bit of a panic because I knew I was not in any way ready to be a Mom. I was still living at home with my Mom and Grandmom and single moms were not that easily accepted back then.  A friend offered to drive me to a neighboring state where abortions were legal at that time, and the guy involved offered to get me some rat poison but neither option appealed to me.  I chose to carry the baby to term and place him for adoption. I mean I was young, and there was  plenty of time to settle down and have children.  I had no intention of getting married until I was at least 30.
     Funny how life has a way of happening according to some other plan.  I met Jack, my first husband, about a year and a half later when we were working together at the local Woolworth's and were married within a short time. A couple of months after the wedding we were watching TV when a commercial came on showing breakfast sausage frying in a skillet. All of a sudden I felt sick in my stomach. I found out shortly later that I was pregnant. Unfortunately I wasn't able to make it past six months before I miscarried. We weren't able to have any children and Jack had a fatal heart attack a little more that five years after we were married. If I had waited until I was thirty I would have missed out on time with this special guy.
   The following summer, I went on vacation to Canada with a group from my Mom's church. One day in Quebec was sunny and warm and it seemed a lot of guys were walking around in little more than cutoff jeans and work boots..Being only twenty-seven and starting to come back to life after months of grieving,  I looked around the local pharmacy for some kind of contraceptive, but didn't find anything. I met a handsome young man vacationing from Evian, France and we enjoyed each other's company that evening and into the night. I  came home pregnant and again was not able to complete the pregnancy.
     I was more careful after that and stayed single, dated and avoided pregnancy for the next ten years or so. Around the time I was in my mid thirties, I was dating a younger guy and though I knew that we weren't ever going to get married, I thought that this might be my last chance at having a baby before I got to be too old. I did become pregnant and that kind of ended our relationship because, this time, he was the one not ready to be a parent. A couple months later I miscarried again.
     It seemed I blew my chance to be a Mom when I was nineteen and after grieving that part of my life, I was able to accept that I was childless and move on. Again, life had other plans.
     I was in my early forties when I met Joe, who would in time become my second husband. We were both cautious about starting a new relationship, yet felt it would be worthwhile, and took our time allowing it to grow. He told me on our first date that he had a son, but they were estranged and he was trying to reestablish their relationship. They began to have visits for short periods of time and eventually I met Sean.
     Around this time, Joe had a roommate who worked at the local shopping mall. Denis would sometimes bring home merchandise that was usable but was meant for the trash because it was scratched or the box was damaged. One day Joe presented me with a pretty trinket box that about broke my heart, On the cover of the box was a picture of a seated woman with a child kneeling next to her. I guess I hadn't yet shared with him about my failure to become a Mom, so he couldn't have known the hurt that gift would cause. Again, not my plan at work!
     About two years after I first met Sean and a year after Joe and I got married Sean came to live with us after his Mom  died. For a while I was Dad's new wife, I was the step-mom. There was a period when he wouldn't address me - he would walk up to where I was standing and start talking to me- and I could understand that it must have been incredibly hard for him. I on the other hand had no experience as a parent and was suddenly responsible to co-parent a sullen, angry thirteen year old boy. Nope, I was not feeling any warm and fuzzy Mom moments yet.
     The first time Sean actually called me "Mom" was when he had a friend over after school and they were up in his room. Instead of coming downstairs and out to the kitchen where I was, he yelled out "Hey Mom, do you know where my blue shirt (or whatever he was looking for) is?"  So maybe it was just a matter of convenience rather than any affection that he first called me Mom, but I do remember a break in the ice.
     Joe was still the primary parent and they still had a lot of healing to do, so I allowed things to unfold at a slow pace. I helped with the math homework, rides to dances and games, and later on with driving lessons. I was working full time and Joe was at home so he did the cooking. He made sure we sat down to dinner as a family most nights and took time for a quick prayer before we ate. We celebrated birthdays and holidays and vacations as family. In time it was clear that we were family, the three of us, with Joe as the center. the glue. the music of our life. When Sean was 14 1/2, I formally adopted him, with his consent. This way if anything happened to Joe, Sean would always know that he belonged.
     Sean left school before graduation, moved out and back a couple of times and always Joe was the one that was there for him. About the time Sean was twenty-two and getting ready to move out on his own, Joe was diagnosed with cancer and needed chemo and radiation. Usually Joe was able to get himself to and from treatments, but sometimes Sean would drive him or go with him. After a year and a half, Joe was taken down by pneumonia and a stroke on top of the cancer. During the ten days that he was in the hospital on a ventilator, and I was there as much as I could, Sean would come and sit with us or bring me dinner. Joe fought hard, but in the end we lost him. Sean and I planned the funeral together and got through that time together.
     Then we we learned to be a family without Joe there to hold us together. I remember the night when Sean came home from work and told me he got a new car. It took me a little while to realize that he and his Dad would have been out the door looking it over and talking and telling stories. So I got my shoes on and went out to look over the new car and let Sean tell me about what he liked about this one and what else he looked at.
     Eventually he did move out on his own, - across town, over to New Jersey, back down the street and even to southern California. We kept in touch,  but I felt he was living his independent life and didn't need to talk to Mom as much. When he was in San Diego, he went through a rough time and I flew out for a couple of days. It was good to sit and talk with him about the old days and remind him he'd been through tough times before and gotten through them. It was right that I should be there as Mom, as family. The following year He decided to move back East and I offered to fly out and drive back with him. He managed to get back alone in one piece, driving through a week of pouring rain.
     We spent a year and a half at the family home together while he was getting back on his feet and I was getting ready to sell the condo and downsize to an apartment. We sat at the same table saying a prayer before dinner a lot of nights, we've celebrated birthdays and holidays together, and I always try to remember how it was when the three of us were together.   I certainly would not or could not have planned this path to motherhood, But I am so grateful to call Sean my son, and to hear him call me Mom. I am very grateful that God gave me Joe and that Joe made us a family.

A Certain Summer

Going back to the beginning - English 102
Something I wrote when I went back to college after being out of school a while.
Still enjoy the memory of that summer