A Day In The Life

People, Places, Nature, LIFE!

07/24/2014
DailyMusings

6 comments

The Musical Marker

The Daily Prompt: Musical Marker

We all have songs that remind us of specific periods and events in our lives. Twenty years from now, which song will remind you of the summer of 2014?

I would venture to guess, none. It seems the music I listen to, the songs I like do not seem to link or connect any longer to the times in my life as they used to.

The summer of 1973. My first boyfriend. Endlessly playing James Taylor’s album Mud Slide Slim-Hey Mr. That’s Me Up On The Jukebox. That song will be forever tied with that summer.

Summer 1975. Bruce Springsteen releases Born To Run-driving down the highway with my then boyfriend in his father’s 1969 Cutlass Supreme Convertible with the song blasting and my hair flying. Another memory entwined forever with a song.

Through my teenage years and into my twenties I listened to a lot of different music. So many of those songs became linked to events in my life during that time. To this day when I hear certain songs I am transported back to where I was at the time- specifically, with who, the season, the actual location, event. I am sometimes amazed at how vivid a memory can be.

But I haven’t had that association between music and time since then. I have consistently listened to music my entire life, but no longer find songs connecting to periods of time in my life. What changed? What makes that association between song and place? The importance of the person, the event at that time of life? Have those “events” lessened as I have gotten older? Therefore making whatever music I am listening to not have an associated memory?

The most recent association I make between song and “time” is June 2004. Proving that it is indeed the importance of the event that creates that bond between music and memory. I was working in a boy’s boarding high school. Two hours after I had said “have a great weekend, see you Monday” to one of the students I was especially close to, he was killed in a car accident. He loved music and had introduced me to the music of Evanescence. His favorite song was My Immortal and he had given me the CD. He comes to mind immediately still, every time I hear it. Inextricably linked. The musical marker.

07/21/2014
DailyMusings

7 comments

A Peach of A Day

There is a “pick your own” farm not too far from where we live that we decided to visit yesterday and try our hand at picking some peaches. It is still a bit early in the season, but with a bit of hunting through the grove we came up with about 10 pounds of peaches. I believe there is a cobbler in my future!

026

07/18/2014
DailyMusings

9 comments

The Me They See

The Daily PromptSherlock Holmes had his pipe. Dorothy had her red shoes. Batman had his Batmobile.

If we asked your friends what object they most immediately associate with you, what would they answer?

She’s always wearing different shoes, she must have a million pairs.

sequin3

She never, ever leaves the house without make up on – mascara and lipstick for sure.

lipstick

She sure loves her jewelry, doesn’t she?

Villa Paloma Palm Ring

She’s a whiz with navigating around the computer and internet, she’ll know how to find what you’re looking for.

laptop

 

07/17/2014
DailyMusings

12 comments

The Nose Knows

Daily Prompt:  Nosey Delights-We all have favorite smells we find particularly comforting. What’s yours?

I have a very keen sense of smell. I believe I inherited this ability from my father who was in the fragrance industry and also had an amazing sense of smell. The company he worked for created the fragrances that became perfumes and those that were used in shampoos and other products. It was his nose that was instrumental in choosing the fragrance for the original Herbal Essence Shampoo when it made its debut in 1972. Having a good sense of smell can be a blessing and a curse. When something has a wonderful aroma it is heaven. When there is a dead mouse rotting in the walls of a room in the house I am the first one to smell it.

Some of my favorite smells are:

Catching a whiff of freshly shampooed hair as someone walks by.

My husband’s freshly laundered shirt from the dry cleaner.

The first cup of coffee brewed in the morning.

I love when suddenly I will smell something that reminds me of the past, that conjures up a memory, makes me think of someone who is no longer here. A scent that serves as a reminder. That smell you forgot about until it appears out of no where to take you back to another time.

scents

07/16/2014
DailyMusings

16 comments

If Only They Knew What I Was Thinking…..

talking

The Daily Prompt: Full Disclosure-A mad scientist friend offers you a chip that would allow you to know what the people you’re talking to are thinking. The catch: you can’t turn it off. Do you accept the chip?

I would worry more about someone else receiving that chip and knowing what I was thinking. Take yesterday, for instance. Someone approached me to ask if I would be interested in helping out on a committee for an auction for a charitable organization. I immediately said no. My mistake was not walking away fast enough. Apparently she didn’t understand what the word no meant, as she then began giving me all the good reasons I should come on board. In my head I kept thinking things I would rather not put into print here, but you can figure them out I am sure. I kept interrupting her to tell her why I wasn’t interested and then she switched gears to ask if I would buy an ad in a journal she was working on for the same organization. Again no, and again a myriad of reasons as to why I should, all the while I am thinking “should I just get rude to your face, can you really be this dense, can you get more pushy, are you deaf, you need to get a life, you need to walk away from me right now before I lose it.” I did extricate myself silently saying she better stay away from me the next time she sees me.

What others are thinking about me doesn’t really concern me, I know who my friends are, and we are all pretty honest with one another. I don’t think there is anything I would be thinking while talking to them that I wouldn’t probably say to them and vice versa.

07/16/2014
DailyMusings

20 comments

Michelle’s Weekly Pet Challenge

Really Mommy, It wasn’t me who turned over the garbage and ate whatever I could find, then got into the cabinet with the container of cocoa and took off the lid and ate as much as I could so that when you came home you had to take me to the vet so they could give me something to make me throw up so I wouldn’t die, and it wasn’t me who thought it would be fun to take the end of the the toilet paper and pull it all the way down the staircase, really….

WP_000028

I am innocent….

WP_000030

petchallenge

07/16/2014
DailyMusings

15 comments

The Big 5 Challenge: “How” Old Do You Feel?

Challenge from Across the Bored – The Big 5

 “How” Old Do You Feel?

images (1)I think I stopped thinking there was a connection between my actual chronological age and how old I really felt when I was in my late 30′s. I still felt like I was in my 20′s, and didn’t really see what that number had to do with anything. Yes I enjoyed the benefit of my car insurance rates dropping when I hit 30, but beyond that it pretty much meant nothing. I was still hanging out with a lot of the friends I had grown up with, who I also still perceived to be in their 20′s. We all were keeping up (or trying to) with the changes in the world, technology, music, we vowed there would not be a “generation gap” between us and our kids (or in my case nieces and nephews) Then came 50 and I had a hard time believing the number….50 was as old as my parents- how could I possibly be 50??? I think it was at that point that I really started ignoring the number. Everyone was saying that 50 was the new 30 anyway. I went to the gym everyday, stayed out of the sun, had continued to try to keep up with technology and music, and still didn’t feel any different than I had 30 years ago.
But this year I started working in a school, assisting in a classroom of first graders. I am as old as some of the students’ grandparents. The head teacher is 40. In my head I am the same age as she is. That was until she told me yesterday that she wants to “aspire” to be like me. That in 16 years (thanks very much) she wants to still be fit, to have a young attitude, to be present in the current world of what is going on, to have a positive outlook and take things on with relish. What a compliment, what a beautiful thing to say- but what a mind blower at the same time. The words “in 16 years” were still ringing in my head. I see myself as a peer, a contemporary, maybe even the same age, but the reality is I am 16 years older, and as much as she sees me as young, there is a part of her that still sees me as 56. It may just be a number in my head, but it is still a real number.
I will continue to be who I am, despite the actual year of my birth, despite the medicine I take for osteoporosis, despite the wrinkles that have formed around my eyes. It really is a “state of mind.” If I think 30, I can be 30. How old do you really think you are?

lisafinish

Originally posted in January 2014

07/13/2014
DailyMusings

18 comments

Faded Photographs

I started cleaning out and sorting through the endless boxes of old photos that I have. I am the family member who has inherited the old family photos of previous generations. I remember as a child always asking to see the box on the top shelf of my grandmother’s closet that was filled with photos of her parents and uncles, the heavy cardboard they were on, the sepia and black and white tones, the poses so formal.

My Great Grandparents

I was fascinated by the clothes they wore, and wondered what they had been like. My grandmother would share only the smallest details. Her mother had been a pattern maker who came to the United States from Germany in 1915 with my grandmother who was then 2. My great grandmother had died in her early 40’s from diabetes that was not treated or had not been diagnosed. My great grandfather had worked in the Delicatessen owned by his brother in laws. After being widowed, he lived with my grandparents. The only stories I remember hearing about him were that he was a great ice skater- elegant on the ice, and when he babysat for his grandchildren while my grandmother was in the hospital after having a baby (my mother is one of 6) he made potato pancakes every night for dinner.

I have a wall in my home where many of these photos are framed and hanging, but some remain in a box, safely tucked away. It has always troubled me when I go to an antique fair to see these same types of photos for sale. I wonder who the people dressed in their finest clothes, sometimes with children or a dog, posing so seriously, were. What happened to their families that they are now here thrown in a box for sale, anonymous, unknown. It saddens me to think this will happen to my family photos, that they too will end up in the trash, or in some yard sale someday. Maybe I am overly sentimental, or it is the idea of being forgotten that bothers me.

I will pass my family photos on to my sister, so that she can pass them on to her daughter who may someday wonder about the people in her family who came before her. To put the face with the name, to hold a small piece of her own history. A glimpse into the past, of who came before us, of where we came from.

07/11/2014
DailyMusings

11 comments

Living a Life of Caution

The Daily Prompt asks:

How would your life be different if you were incapable of feeling fear?

Would your life be better or worse than it is now?

I published this back in January, but felt it fit today’s prompt so I am re posting it

caution

As I crossed the icy parking lot on my way into the gym this morning, looking down watching my every step, a girl maybe 20 years younger than me ran past- ran across the lot – which was full of snow and ice- and all I could think as she ran was, she is running with “abandon”- abandon! fool! Doesn’t she know she could fall- doesn’t she think about it- realize it? 15 years ago I was just walking- not running, and slipped on black ice and broke my pelvis. It was after that I became aware of “hidden dangers”- the things you can’t see, that you are not thinking about that can land you bedridden for 3 weeks and on crutches for 12. But I also thought how freeing it must be to be able to just go about your life and not think about the what could happen, and the it might happen, and what if happens.

I was fearful as a child- lack of confidence which as an adult I attributed to growing up with a mother who was negative, and wore down my confidence. I was also the oldest, and never allowed to venture too far- something could happen. My mother’s own fear imposed on me. Becoming ingrained in me. Becoming who I would become. Don’t go near the street sewer, you could fall in. Don’t touch the plug socket, you could get electrocuted, watch when you are stepping between the dock & the boat, you could fall into the water, you can’t go into new York City it is too dangerous. I have a sister who is ten years younger than I am, fourth in line, and by the time she came along my mother was tired, my parent’s marriage was on the rocks, and it was as if she grew up in a different house with a different mother. While at age 18 I was still not allowed to go into NYC with friends, when she was 18 she was flying with a friend to Rio de Janeiro for a week. Needless to say, my sister is afraid of nothing.

I was not always thinking about the what could happens until I became older though. I was never very outgoing and never was the type to take chances, I liked playing it safe, I wasn’t adventurous, didn’t partake in risky behavior, (except for getting high in my teens and occasionally drinking too much) My friends went to sleep away camp for the summer, but I didn’t mind not going away from home like my friends did. In my 20’s I had a full life and good friends, had my own apartment, was working in New York City (much to my mother’s chagrin) and traveled every summer-Europe, Israel, Canada. The fears abated, and certainly didn’t stifle me-I seemed to break out of the worrisome child I had been.

I married a man who always sees the cup half full not empty, who helped to chip away at the lack of confidence that kept me from venturing out to try new things. And so I became less afraid of failing, and if I did fail, so what, at least I tried. It was refreshing and liberating to realize that I was capable of things I never thought I could do. He is not a worrier, and helped me realize that my time spent worrying was counter productive, as very often, and most times, whatever I was worrying about never came to pass. But I had grown up learning to worry from all of those things that I had not been allowed to do, was told to stay away from. The fear and worry cycle is a hard one to break.

Then I started volunteering in a hospital, visiting patients, and was thrust into the world of people who get sick, often young people, that had no warning, that sometimes died from what was making them sick. Seeing this side of life did not make me worry more, it made me realize that random things happen, that things happen to people for no “reason” and that is just the way of life. But they do happen, they can happen. So I was back to the what ifs, and the could be. And it was not just the idea of becoming sick, but also that random things can happen. I do my best now to attempt to prevent things from happening that I can prevent- I watch where I am walking when it is icy, I drive carefully and let the speeders go past, I try to keep myself in “safe” surroundings- I don’t go hiking down unmarked trails in the woods- so have I regressed to the fearful child I was- not willing to take the chance, for fear of what could happen? In many ways, yes I have- but it is now a choice I have made- I know myself, I like feeling safe, I am not a risk taker- it is just not who I am. I fight with myself not to worry- not to sweat the small stuff that I have no control over. But I do live a life of caution- I look before I leap- if I ever do take that leap. There are things we have no control over that will happen, but there are things that maybe we do have control over and can prevent from happening- the girl running over the ice this morning is lucky she did not fall- but I am not willing to take that chance, to run when I can walk- to try to keep myself out of harms way when I can. There are times when I wish I didn’t think so much, wish I could “throw caution to the wind”- but it is hard to change, it is hard to learn a new way “to be.” Maybe someday- someday when I am even older and in a place where the things I feared would happen, haven’t- maybe then.

The Daily Prompt

07/10/2014
DailyMusings

13 comments

The Voice

Here’s the answer to today’s Daily Prompt – What do you find more unbearable: watching a video of yourself, or listening to a recording of your voice? Why?

So there you have it….a touch of a whine, a bit nasal, and kind of hoarse. I remember the first time I heard my own voice on tape was when I was in second grade. We had a big reel to reel tape recorder in the classroom and for some reason we were recording our voices. When my voice was played back someone said “You sound like a boy.” Obviously it left an impression if now at age 56 I can still remember the incident. I am always a little appalled when hearing my own voice on my answering machine, thinking how can I possibly sound like that? I can’t do much to change it though, I suppose I could take elocution lessons to rid myself of my New York t’s and d’s and r’s- but I fear it is too late. A friend used to say I sounded like Fran Drescher on the show The Nanny.

07/10/2014
DailyMusings

17 comments

Dress Your Age ?

ageappropIt happened again. I found myself wandering through the junior department in Macy’s. In my head I could hear my voice saying “you need to dress “age appropriately”, get out of this department.” but the cute lace top hanging a few steps away was calling in a louder voice.

I dress fairly conservatively. I wear things that really do not go out of style, “classics” if you will. I am not “trendy.” My skirts hit the knee or below, the tops I wear may be colorful but not wildly patterned. I have a million (or so it seems) cardigan type sweaters in different colors. I try not to look matronly or stodgy, but put together, and wear things that are well fitted and neat.

However, I am small, and so I am able to fit into the sizes sold in the junior department. Sometimes I just get too bored with my typical “look” and feel the need to “refresh.” Keep  it classic but with a “twist.” Best place for that pick me up is in the junior department. Granted I stay far away from anything too revealing, too short and too tight. I happen to love lace- and there seemed to be an over abundance of adorable tops right there for the choosing today. As I entered the dressing room it occurred to me that if someone would notice they might wonder “what is she doing- thinking she’s 15 again?” or “maybe she is trying it on to see if it would fit her daughter”- in reality this was all going on in my own head, no one took any notice of the 50 something woman in the junior department dressing room. Two tops later I was on line with my coupons and my credit card…. ringing them up. And the cashier never asked who they were for.

One of my finds from the Junior Department

One of my finds from the Junior Department

07/09/2014
DailyMusings

15 comments

The Visit

I visited my cousin this morning. In the cemetery. He died 7 years ago at the age of 50. After exhausting all avenues for treatment after 5 years, his words to his mother were, “We’ve had a good run.” That was how he told her it was over. His sense of humor never dimmed, even in the face of death. That was Mitch. A man who couldn’t do enough for his friends, the life of every party, a person who never wasted a minute of his life before he was sick, and surely didn’t waste a second after he was diagnosed.

One of my first memories of him was after my husband and I got engaged. (Mitch and my husband were first cousins.) My husband’s mother & brother were not overjoyed at our getting engaged as they still weren’t over his divorce two years prior. I remember sitting on the bus commuting to work the morning after I got engaged, and Mitch got on a few stops after me. I was lost in some reverie thinking about my new status no doubt, when I spotted him coming down the aisle – as he spotted me, right there in front of a bus load of people he opens his arms wide and yells out loud, “Welcome to the family!!” Grabbing me in a bear hug. Not caring who heard, who was looking, that he was now the center of attention- that was Mitch. It was just what I needed that morning- someone to share in my happiness – who was genuinely happy- and though it was 24 years ago I remember it like yesterday.

He was a big man- large in size and larger than life in personality. You knew when he made an entrance into a room. Always happy to see people, be surrounded by people, laughing, joking, always ready to do a favor for someone, be a friend when you needed one.

Mitch had chosen where he wanted to be buried, a spot on a hill in the cemetery, at the edge of a forest of trees. As I sat there today, under the canopy of those trees, I wondered why being near the grave of a person brings a certain degree of solace. I have always felt that once someone has left this world, they can be anywhere. I can have a silent conversation with my father, an uncle, a friend, at any time, anywhere- why should being at their grave site make a difference. But somehow sitting there on the grass in the shade, thinking of Mitch in life, just being there did seem to make a difference. Made me feel closer. And though seven years have gone by, I find whenever I go I am still overwhelmed with sadness. At his not being here to see the sun shining and feel the warmth of another summer, to share the days with his wife, his 3 children, his mother and father. To hear his booming voice saying “hey, how are you?” Yet in the gentle rustling of the leaves in the wind I felt like I could almost hear it again.

07/08/2014
DailyMusings

17 comments

One Word Photo Challenge: Silver

Jennifer Nichole Well’s Challenge 

SILVER

I have been fortunate to inherit some beautiful serving pieces from my Grandmother and Mother in Law. I love the beauty in the intricate patterns on the handles, the flower motifs, the chasing on a knife. I love to take them out and use them, first making sure they are polished and buffed. My Grandmother collected spoons and I now have a lovely little one with a soldier for a handle. I think of her whenever I use it. It must be old by now as she is gone 40 years and it hung on her spoon rack for all the years I was a child. Though it is not the age that matters, or the monetary value, their value lies in my heart.

good2

 

one-word-photo-challenge-badge

07/07/2014
DailyMusings

11 comments

A World Apart

My husband received a call from his second cousin who lives in Belgium, inviting us to the wedding of his son that was to be held in New York. We had connected with this cousin about ten years ago when I was researching the family tree. We felt we must attend as he had made such and effort to call, and then call again a week later to make sure we were coming. His siblings live in London where he is from originally, and Israel, and were not coming. What would make this wedding interesting was the fact that these relatives are Chassidim. They follow the tenets of Orthodox Judaism, and dress in the garb of Eastern Europeans in the 1800’s. The men wear long coats, some wear knickers with white socks, and large black hats, or for a wedding, a shtreimal- a large fur hat. Women observe the laws of modesty and wear long sleeves, or sleeves covering the elbows, long skirts, and necklines that cover collar bones.Women cover their hair after marriage, either with a wig or in some sects of Chassidim a scarf over a wig. They live in insular communities, shying away from the modern world, the secular world. No internet, no secular newspapers, no television. Life is prescribed, a woman’s role is as homemaker, with an abundance of children, men study Torah and go to work. Girls usually marry at age 18 or 19. There is separation between men and women in the synagogue, and at weddings too- women dance on one side of a large divider, and sit separately for the meal, men on the other.

This was not my first Chassidic wedding, I actually have a close friend who is Chassidic. We met when she was a patient in the hospital and I visited her over many months. You would think coming from such different worlds we would have nothing in common. But that was not the case. We always had things to talk about, she was well aware of what was going on in the world through the Jewish newspapers she read, we shared a love for cooking and entertaining, and though she had 10 children and I had none, somehow that didn’t matter either. It taught me a lot about not making judgments about people, or thinking that because of the way they live their lives you couldn’t possibly relate.

My friend Gitty

My friend Gitty

So off we went to the wedding in Brooklyn. The bride was young as expected, with her sisters flurrying all around and friends coming in to wish Mazel Tov (congratulations) The marriage ceremony is always held under a canopy- a Chuppah- though usually indoors with a skylight above so as to be married under the stars, in Chassidic circles it is often held outside, as it was in this case. Right there on the sidewalk, with the cars driving by, and the cars honking.

 

chuppah

Waiting for the bride to come out

The bride makes her appearance and the custom is to circle around the groom seven times. There are many reasons given for doing this, the one I like the best is seven is the number of times Joshua circled the walls of Jericho in order to bring them down, and in circling her groom a bride brings down any wall that may remain between them.

Then it is inside for the meal and dancing! Women form large circles and dance around the bride, while in the men’s section on the the other side of the divider they are doing the same around the groom.

dancingwomen

mendance4 mendance3I watched the bride with her friends all around her, knowing each one was hoping they would be next to get married, to reach that goal that had been set for them from the time they were little girls. Our goals in the secular world so different, college, education, career choices, marriage a possible option, but not necessarily a given. Their lives planned out, what is expected of them, all on the basic same course of life. Not knowing any other way. They are safely ensconced in their own communities, not letting the outside world in if they can help it. The community ever there in time of need, or in times of joy, as at a wedding.

Mazel Tov!