A Day In The Life

03/04/2014
DailyMusings

Daily Prompt: Against All Odds

The Daily Prompt says: Tell us about a situation where you’d hoped against all hope, the odds were stacked against you, yet you triumphed.

I broke my left elbow last year. I smashed the little knobby that sticks out- it is called the olecranon- to bits. It took a plate and six screws to put it back together, and when I awoke from surgery I was told “your bones are soft.” Great. They hoped the screws would hold. The elbow is a finicky joint and does not respond well to being immobilized. For this reason, normally a cast is left on for a week to ten days. But because the Doctor wanted to make sure the bone would set, my cast was to be left on for 3 weeks.

Finally the day came to remove it, and boy did I cry. My arm would not extend, or bend up. I could not turn my palm face up (it is the elbow that allows the wrist and hand to rotate) I couldn’t bring a glass to my mouth, hold a phone to my ear, put an earring on, a contact lens in my eye. I couldn’t wrap a towel around myself after a shower- I had never realized I need my hand to be able to turn over to do it.

My grip strength measured 62 in my right hand, and 10 in my left. When the arm is fully extended (extension) the measurement is 0 degrees and when the arm is brought up (flexion) to touch the shoulder,150. My extension was 75 degrees, my flexion 85. I had a movement of 10 degrees. Which meant no movement at all really. I started Physical Therapy 3 times a week for an hour each time. And yet nothing happened. I did extra PT at home. And still nothing happened. Then finally, after 6 weeks, it started moving. A little. And so I pushed harder. And harder. The physical therapist told me he had feared it was never going to move based on the amount of time that had passed with no change.

Slowly I improved. My flexion went from 85 in November 2012 to 105 in January, to 128 in February, finally to 136 in March 2013.

My extension had not changed though, and I had another surgery in April 2013 to remove the screws and plate. With more PT and perseverance, my arm extended and is now about 5 degrees shorter than the other, undiscernable to anyone but me. I can once again bring my arm up to touch my shoulder.

I never thought I would reach (literally) this place- where I could once again wash my hair with both hands, hook a necklace behind my neck, be able to pull up to the Dunkin Donuts drive thru and be able to reach the coffee being handed to me. Hard work, meditation, belief that things would change, the support of friends all helped to get me there. Despite the odds.

03/04/2014
DailyMusings

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Sepia – Cee’s Foto Challenge

Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge

Current Color Series – Sepia Tones

Atop Notre Dame France

JOIN THE CHALLENGE!

03/03/2014
DailyMusings

10 comments

Frame – A Word A Week Challenge

A Word A Week- FRAME

Photo Taken from the porch of Acorn Hall

Historic Home built in 1853 in Morristown New Jersey

03/03/2014
DailyMusings

16 comments

Barns in Black and White Challenge

Sunday Stills: Barns in Black and White

This barn is located in Neversink, NY

I took the photo while walking the beautiful roads in the Catskill Mountains of NY

The barns throughout this area have “barn quilt panels” designed and painted by local volunteers and barn owners.

Read about Barn Quilt Panels Here

Join the Challenge Here!

03/02/2014
DailyMusings

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Daily Prompt: Daily Chores

The Daily Prompt asks:

We all have jobs, tasks, and chores that we dislike doing. Tell us all about the least favorite job/task/chore that you get stuck doing routinely. What is it about this duty that you can’t stand?

I love to cook. I usually spend one day cooking a lot of different things, that last through the week. The drawback with this is that I am left with a myriad of bowls and utensils that need to be washed. By the time I have finished cooking I am usually exhausted from having been on my feet for a few hours, and the last thing I want to do is stand at the sink and clean up. I try to wash as I go, but sometimes it just doesn’t happen. I always say I would just like to know I could make a tremendous mess and then have someone come in and clean it all up so I could put my feet up and watch TV. So far, the dish fairy has not appeared in my kitchen.

02/28/2014
DailyMusings

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Daily Prompt: Twilight Zone

This is a re post for me – but I felt it fit in with the Daily Prompt today,

which asked:

Ever have an experience that felt surreal, as though you’d been suddenly transported into the twilight zone.

Six degrees of separation is the theory that everyone and everything is six or fewer steps away, by way of introduction, from any other person in the world. A chain of “a friend of a friend” statements can be made to connect any two people in a maximum of six steps. I believe this, and I also believe that there are no coincidences, that things do happen for a reason- call it fate, a master plan, whatever. I had what I think was an amazing occurrence along these lines. I began researching my husband’s family tree, scouring the internet, joining genealogy groups, finding people and learning as much as I could about the tiny town in Poland they had come from. And I mean tiny. Population maybe 200. Cousins marrying cousins. You get the idea. I set up a webpage with information about this tiny town in the hope of finding others.

I received an email from a woman who had family from that same town, and amazingly her grandfather had gone back in the 1930’s before World War II and taken movies. She asked if I would be interested in seeing them, she could make copies. Absolutely! What an exciting connection to have made. I waited a few weeks but did not receive anything so I emailed her. She told me she lived in a beach area filled with vacationers in the summer and traffic was horrendous on the route she needed to take to the place to make the copies, so she had been unable to go. I asked what town she was in, and when she told me I mentioned that my grandfather had owned a home in that area, where I spent my summers as a child. I mentioned the road, and she said her parents had owned a home on that road too. I have no idea why I decided to scan a photo of my grandfather’s home and email it to her, but I did. I believe that is where the “master plan”- fate came into play. What possessed me to email her the photo? So what if we both had grown up spending summers in the same town? She told me when she received the photo, she became confused – why had a photo of her parent’s home landed in her inbox? She didn’t remember emailing it- she said it was like she had entered the twilight zone. She emailed me inquiring how it was that I had a photo of her parents home in my possession. It turned out my grandfather’s house was built by her grandfather and sold by her parents to my grandfather. She sent me photos of the house being built, of her playing on the lawn as a child, the same lawn I had pictures of with me playing on as a child. I then sent her photos of the interior and she told me she had been with her grandmother when the dining room table was bought (the house was sold to my grandfather with some of the furniture)- the same table that was given to me when my grandfather died and now sits in my home. Another mystery was also solved – the house had a built in swimming pool with cement all around it edges. Engraved in the cement slab when you entered through the pool gate was the name Rustine. My family had always wondered what Rustine meant, was it a person, who was it? I found the answer, via a genealogical search in a tiny town in Poland- I had found and met Rustine.

02/28/2014
DailyMusings

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My Father, Myself

Today would have been my father’s birthday. He died 9 years ago.

I think of him often.

Are we who we are because of genetics? environment? a combination of both? As I have grown older I have to come to realize I am my father’s daughter most certainly. So much of who I am, the things that make me tick, are so because of him. I was always closer with my father than my mother. He was always the more “emotive” parent- free with his hugs, easy to laugh, a good listener who really heard what you had to say. He was willing to engage in discussion at times when my mother just saw everything as black or white, gray never existed in her world. I was an emotional child- easy to cry, sensitive- my mother didn’t know what to do with it- thankfully my father was always there.

One of my earliest memories (I was 5) is of us going bird watching together. He was an avid bird watcher and part of a club. We would leave the house before daybreak, and meet his birding group. I remember spotting a Snowy Owl once- a major sighting! My love of nature and birds stems from those early morning trips.

He loved music and loved to sing. He had hoped to become a professional singer in his early 20’s, but real life came along and he needed to be able to make a living. His love for music was infused throughout our home-he always sang to us and for us, he played the banjo- old folk songs with verses we could all join in on. He was always bringing home the latest album releases-new artists of the day- like Bette Midler and the amazing Harry Chapin, to name a few. He encouraged me to learn to play the guitar & piano, and taught me proper breathing techniques for singing.

My father recorded a few songs in a studio when he was thinking he could turn his singing into a career. The recordings were on 78 rpm records. Shortly before he died I was able to have the recordings converted to CD. I remembered hearing the recordings as a child, but had literally not heard them in 45 years. At the sound of the first note of him singing, what a rush of emotion- music or a song can always take you back to another place and time- but to hear his voice! What a gift to be able to hear that beautiful voice again.

I am thankful to have had a father that understood me, helped me to grow as a person, and who lives within in me. I feel my ability to be a good listener, to search for deeper meaning in things, comes from him. I’m grateful to have had the opportunity to tell him those things before he died. I made the following photo montage with one of his recordings playing in the background, if you’d like to take a listen.

02/26/2014
DailyMusings

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Accepting The Things I Cannot Change

Today is my step daughter Becky’s birthday. She is 31. She was 6 when her parent’s divorced. She was 8 when I married her father.

Looking back, it has been quite a journey.

Her mother has never remarried to this day, and wrote the book on how not to behave when you get divorced. Unfortunately, she proved over and over that she was unable to act the adult and do what was right for her child. The first tip off was sending Becky to us for the first two weekends with not enough underwear and clothes. No problem, if this was the way it was going to go, rather than have her burst into tears every weekend, I went out and bought what she needed and filled her drawers & closets. What she went home in never came back, but I really didn’t expect it to. And so it went, my husband and I always trying to take the high road, trying to make what was a difficult situation easier rather than harder, but it was always a losing battle.

Becky and I became close – I am an open person, big on talking things out, I think there is much to be gained by expressing how you feel. Becky always knew my ears were open to what she had to say, what she wanted to share. Her mother is not that type of person at all, and I know it made a difference to Becky that she could talk things out with me. I was always careful not to invade on her life with her mother, never looking to make her uncomfortable about sharing something. Not looking for “information” about her life at her other home.

As she got older she spent more time with us, much to her mother’s chagrin. Hard situation. It saddened me to see her always being pulled and made to feel bad about the relationship she had with me and her father. Her mother’s insecurity so obvious-didn’t she, couldn’t she realize she would always be her mother? I was in no way stepping in as a replacement, could in no way fill those shoes? When she was a teenager there were times we would meet somewhere rather than me picking her up at home as she couldn’t take the grief she would get from her mother every time we went out together.

But today we are not as close as we once were. I think the pulling just became too much to bear. 13 years after her parent’s divorce she told me her father was still a topic of conversation around the dinner table, not in a nice way. Relentless. All these years later. She couldn’t fight it, so she finally gave in to it. Became a little distant, more closed up. As this change slowly began to emerge I tried to “fight” it. Tried to find out what was going on, what she was thinking. A few years ago I asked her why we don’t talk, really talk anymore, and she told me, “I’m not like that anymore.” So profoundly sad to me. Too afraid perhaps to think about her life, to come to terms with some of it, to look back and maybe figure some of it out. Easier to shut it out, and pretend none of it ever existed. Easier to keep things on an even keel. She has been married 10 years and perhaps now shares with her husband, though in truth, he is not an open and emotional type.

It has taken me many years to finally accept that “it is what it is.” Change my expectations, know that what we once had makes no difference for today. The rejection still hurts, I don’t think that will ever truly abate. In my heart I know I was present in her life in a good way from the time she was 8 until she was 21- the birthday parties, the vacations to Florida, the trip to England, the shopping sprees, the laughter we shared. And most important, the emotional support that I gave her, that I loved her – and tried to always have her feelings in mind first and foremost. Sometimes it is easier to accept things than to continue to fight a losing battle, easier to come to terms with the truth and reality of a situation in order to move forward. Though the relationship has changed I am glad there is still a connection, changed though it may be. But I’ll take it.

02/22/2014
DailyMusings

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Daily Prompt: Tainted Love

The Daily Prompt asks: Ever been dumped by a boyfriend or girlfriend? Was it a total surprise, or something you saw coming? Tell us your best worst breakup story.

Even today, some 33 years later, I look back and find it hard to believe it was what it was. First love, youth, infatuation. Me: needing to be loved, low self esteem, awed and amazed by his intelligence and generosity. Him: smart, handsome, witty, generous with material things, cheap on emotional connection. We met in 1974, when I was 16, and it lasted for 9 years. On again, off again. I wasn’t the one for him, he was never going to marry me, but we fell into an unhealthy dependency, both too afraid of change, too comfortable to move on. Then that day finally came where I had had enough of living in limbo. Had enough of his distance, of his not being able to give me what I wanted and needed. He had been removed and distant and treating me shabbily and I finally reached my limit. Woke up. I packed up whatever things I had in his apartment,(though we did not live together plenty of my things were there) and I left. I was finally DONE. He called later that day and said, “You can’t leave, you’ll see, you’ll regret it, I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.” I remember laughing and saying “Are you kidding?” and hanging up. He continued to call for a few more days, I never answered the phone and finally he realized, for the first time in 9 years, I meant it. And so finally it was over, I felt free, ready to move on, move forward. I did, I married a few years later- a great guy. I realized that relationship taught me what I did and did NOT need in a relationship. You would think the story ends here, but there is a sequel.

In March 2011, I found out he was living a few blocks from me, was divorced and alone, and dying of lung cancer. He had moved back in with his mother. I went to see him, and ended up helping take care of him for the last 17 months of his life. I was with him when he died, when he took his last breath. This man who caused me such grief as a young girl, who I had cried endless tears over, was once again making me cry, but for very different reasons. We tied up a lot of loose ends during those 17 months, we shared a lot of laughs about the past, we got to know each other as adults and learn that we were no longer the same people we were when we parted those many years ago. Life is funny, sometimes you think you know what the ending will be, and then you find out that wasn’t really the ending, the ending was yet to come.

02/16/2014
DailyMusings

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Daily Prompt: Don’t You Forget About Me

The Daily Prompt asks: At the end of your life,what sort of legacy will you leave?

Describe the lasting effect you want to have on the world, after you’re gone.

This is something I think about a lot. I don’t have children, so maybe that is part of the reason. Getting older, and losing people in my life has also made me think of the lasting impressions left by those who are gone. What I remember about them. It saddens me when I think of someone and find the memories are not good and happy ones. I would not want to be remembered that way. As someone who was unkind, selfish, unable to connect, not there when needed.

I feel we have the ability to create memories with friends, with family, every day. To make those connections. I hope to be the Aunt who is remembered as having sent care packages to camp every summer and a letter a day. Who made the best brownies in the world. Who loved to play games & laugh. The person -friend, wife, sister, who was there with a listening, non judgmental ear. Supportive and open, helpful and kind. Who always stepped up to the plate. Someone who made a difference in their lives.

I would like always to be remembered with a smile when I come to mind.

The following video has always been one of my favorites, and I think goes along with how I feel about this prompt.

02/11/2014
DailyMusings

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The Evil Eye

Image result for hamsa Red Cord Bendel Bracelet with Gold or Silver Hamsa

Before leaving the house to go to a wedding, dressed in one of my nicer outfits, my mother in law would ask me, “Are you wearing something red?” Do you have on a red bendel?” (ribbon) “You look too good, it will bring out people’s jealousy and they’ll give you an ayin hara.” (Evil Eye) The red bendel a talisman to ward off the evil eye.

The Ayin Hara- The Evil Eye- superstition? myth? To believe it or not? It is defined as the ability to bring about evil results, bring harm to a person, by a malicious gaze stemming from jealousy. It is the idea that there are evil powers or negative energy in the world, that will have an influence on how a person lives. If these “powers” see something good, too good, they will cast evil on whatever that good is. It sends a warning against unnecessary flaunting of wealth and admiration to avoid resentment from others. It can cause injury or misfortune to the person at whom it is directed, for reasons of envy or dislike. The red string is supposed to deflect this energy.

The earliest known evidence for belief in the evil eye goes back to ancient Greece and Rome. There, it was believed that the evil eye was the largest threat to anyone who had been praised too much, or received admiration beyond what they truly deserved.

The following are the names it is called by in different cultures- lending credence to its existence in different parts of the world.

Hebrew Evil Eye – Ayin Ha’ra
Turkish Evil Eye – Nazar Boncugu
Italian Evil Eye – Mal Occhio
Farsi – Bla Band
Arabic – Ayin Harsha
Scotland – Droch Shuil
Spanish – Mal Ojo or El Oja
France – Mauvais Oeil
Germany – Böser Blick
Romans – Oculus Malus

Often when someone will give a compliment it is followed by (in Yiddish) Kane Ayin Hara- literally “without an evil eye”- meaning the person does not intend their praise to bring on an Evil Eye.

So do people believe it? Do they avoid putting themselves out there in a way that could bring jealousy from others? Some say it is superstition, meaning it is an irrational or nonscientific belief in the existence of certain powers bringing ill effects, but there is no tangible proof. But then how do we know it doesn’t exist?

I have heard people recount stories of people who have had tragedy befall them, followed by their assertion that it was brought on by an Evil Eye. Someone in the neighborhood built a gigantic home, with an indoor pool. Tongues were wagging, “what do they need it for? There are only two of them living in the house.” A year later the husband died suddenly. Many attributed it to an Evil Eye brought on by people’s jealousy- brought on by having such a gigantic house. Crazy? Maybe, maybe not.

Should people live a life a bit under the radar, keeping a low profile, as there are those prone to jealousy? We all have friends in life who will be happy when something good happens to us, are happy to share successes. But there are people out there whom we have to interact with through work, or other situations that may not be so happy for those successes.Who see everything that someone else has as something they don’t have. So I heed my mother in laws advice, and wear that red bendel.

02/10/2014
DailyMusings

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Choosing Death

I read a thought provoking article in the NY Times, titled Aid In Dying. It is about a man who has a heart problem and has already undergone an open heart surgery, but needs another, which he does not want to do. The state in which he lives does not allow Doctor assisted “aid in dying.” Vermont, Montana, Oregon and Washington allow it. Giving a patient the opportunity for a peaceful and dignified death is not suicide says the advocacy group Compassion & Choices. Overt assistance to bring on death, still remains illegal in most of the country.

There has been a move towards Palliative Care in many hospitals- allowing a patient to choose if they want to undergo aggressive treatments or choose to forgo them and opt for less invasive measures. This allows the person more quality of life during what remains of their life. I attended a conference showing the outcomes of two patients, one who chose the aggressive measures for her treatment, and ended up spending the last 4 months of her life in a hospital, hooked up to drips, and another patient who opted to be treated with milder drugs, that she could take at home, which allowed her to still live her life and spend time with her family. The woman who opted for the less invasive measures lived as long as the doctors had predicted, not a shorter time. And her family was left with great memories of their time spent together during her last months. Sadly, this was not so for the patient who remained hospitalized.

But what of the person who chooses that they want to hasten their death- avoid the pain, avoid what they know cannot be changed with medicine? My friend’s mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease at the age of 81. She was a vibrant woman, traveled extensively, involved in hometown politics, at the gym everyday from the time she was in her 40’s. Always attending lectures, always involved. The number 81 had no bearing on who she was. But she started realizing she was forgetting things, forgetting how to do things. She called my friend from a parking lot at the mall one day telling her she had no idea how to get home- it was as if she was “lost in space”- things didn’t look familiar. She underwent testing- and it was found she had the plaques on the brain associated with Alzheimer’s. She knew it was not going to get better. She had always been a very “take charge” kind of person- not afraid to speak her mind, to say what she thought. One of her favorite lines was “Everyone is entitled to my opinion.”

So she began hoarding the sleeping pills and anti anxiety pills her doctor had given her. I remember when my friend called to tell me her mother was going to end her own life- my response was “she can’t do that!!” My own fear creeping in. But why couldn’t she? She told my friend she knew what lay ahead- knew that her decline into dementia could go on for years- she was healthy and strong but for her disintegrating mind. She couldn’t do it- she wouldn’t do it. She wanted to leave this life with dignity, not lingering in some state of nothingness.

And so it was. She did not want her daughter to be implicated in any way, so she let her know only that it would be sometime between a certain few days. My friend lives an hour from her mother so she called the Police to ask them to check on her mother when she didn’t get an answer on the phone. Did it make it any easier for my friend knowing what the Police would tell her when they called back? No, not really- the shock is still there that someone you loved is gone- but she knew her mother had died as she had lived- on her own terms.

Try not to pass judgement when reading this. I realize for many the reaction might be to say that life is precious, it is not ours to take, it is up to a higher power to decide the time to go. I hope none of us will ever be faced with having to make such a decision. I felt my friend’s mother was brave- it took courage to do what she did. It also gave those around her the chance to tie up loose ends- to say goodbye, myself included. I sat with her over coffee and talked about the years we had known one another, reminiscing, remembering. We talked about the choice she was making, was she sure. She was. She walked me to the elevator of her building, and I remember her smiling at me and saying good-bye. Hard knowing it was really good bye this time.

Evelyn and Me

02/02/2014
DailyMusings

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The Selfie

I started going through the photos in my cell phone today- I try to “clean up” and delete what I don’t need taking up space in my phone or the duds. I usually do this while I am waiting in line at the grocery store, or at a Doctors appointment- passes the time. As I was going through today, I came upon these:

Apparently, the last time my 6 year old grandson and I were together he decided it would be fun to take a few selfies with my phone, unbeknownst to me. Gave me a good laugh today. Love his creative use of a Snapple bottle as prop.

Why is it so much fun to take photos of ourselves? Do we really need to? Is it necessary to document every moment that occurs in our lives just because we can? Maybe so. There is something about being able to take a photo of yourself and either immediately share it with others, or be able to look at it yourself, study it. Is that really what I look like? Are those my roots showing? Why does my nose always come out so big?

My BFF and I took this selfie way back in 1983 using a Polaroid Camera

We thought it was the funniest thing ever- to turn the camera with the lens facing us, and hope we would both end up coming out in the photo. We were amazed as we watched the Polaroid photo develop before our eyes- and there we were! Ahead of our time, I guess.

01/24/2014
DailyMusings

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Songsheets To The Past

Me age 19 playing for friends

I learned how to play guitar when I was 13. My best friend taught me.The first song she taught me was Changes, by Phil Ochs, who was a folksinger in the 1960’s. We would spend hours sitting in her bedroom figuring out new songs. I loved to play and sing and found it a great escape from all my teenage angst- I was able to close the door and sit for hours, pouring out my heart in the songs of Bob Dylan, James Taylor, Crosby,Stills & Nash and many more. When I was 16 I started playing in public, a friend of mine worked in a bar and they needed entertainment on Wednesday nights. I started performing there every Wednesday and my friends would all come to cheer me on and show support. I also played at a local college for an on campus organization, I enjoyed playing and singing and people seemed to enjoy listening. My boyfriend at that time became inextricably interwoven with my playing, and with me. He loved music and turned me on to a lot of different genres of music and songwriters, some of whom I learned to play. He was always very encouraging about my playing and loved to listen. So much of the music that I listened to at that time in my life brings him to mind today. I am sure you have had the experience of hearing a song that brings a flood of memories of where you were at the time you first heard it, the people who were in your life at that time, what you were doing then. Music has that ability – to be able to conjure up strong feelings and memories, and take you back.

I stopped playing when I was in my late 20’s- I guess I was busy with other things, lost interest, I don’t know what it was, but I just stopped. My guitar sat idle in the basement of my home for the past 22 years. This week I visited with my niece who is 15, and has started learning how to play guitar. She played for me, and as I sat listening to her I kept flashing back to 40 years ago, picturing myself playing and singing. I went home and brought my guitar up from the basement and cleaned it off. Amazingly I remembered how to tune it and was actually able to, even though the strings are so old. I strummed a few songs that I remembered- I guess it is like learning to ride a bike- you never forget. Then I started to comb through the music that was laying inside the guitar case. It was there that I found my past- the play lists, the songs with chords written on the back of envelopes, the music that my boyfriend had introduced me to- the songs that held deeper meaning than just the words written on paper- they had been there through my relationship, through the break up. Seeing the pages of songs in my handwriting from that time- where had the years gone? Where was the young girl that had sat playing for hours? The boyfriend from that time died 17 months ago- as fate would have it I had reconnected with him and took care of him the last months of his life. ( I wrote about it here. ) The music I found took me back to another place and time- as only music can. Another song I had learned with the help of this boyfriend was also a song by Phil Ochs- called When I’m Gone. I can still hear my boyfriend singing along –

“There’s no place in this world where I’ll belong when I’m gone
And I won’t know the right from the wrong when I’m gone
And you won’t find me singin’ on this song when I’m gone
So I guess I’ll have to do it while I’m here”
It is a beautiful song-listen to it here

I opened my guitar case thinking I would give playing guitar a try once again, and was then caught off guard by finding myself going back in time, finding myself sad once again at the loss of my friend, and how much more meaning the song When I’m Gone now held. Realizing how much of life had gone by since I had written the chords on the back of those envelopes. Maybe now I will play, starting new memories with current songs, leaving the past where it belongs, behind me. Maybe even playing and singing with my niece.

01/10/2014
DailyMusings

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Lessons From a Life Well Lived

Jakob Schaffer was given a Blessing for “long life” from a Rabbi in 1937. The words of the Rabbi to Jakob were, (as translated from Yiddish to English)

“You are going to live a long, long, long healthy life. You have come from and crossed many frontiers. No man, no enemy, will have the power to put a hand on you. L’chaim and sholom.” (Life & Peace)

And so it was to be, Jakob Schaffer did live a long and healthy life, passing away just 2 months shy of his 107^th birthday, in 2010. He had traveled to Israel just 3 months before his passing, spending two weeks visiting with family, going to the Western Wall, never sitting still for a minute.

I met Uncle Jakob in 1999, while doing genealogical research on my husband’s family tree. I was given his name and number and told he would have many of the family answers I was looking for. I was in for a great surprise. At the age of 96 it was remarkable that he remembered details from his childhood growing up in Poland, the names of family members, and how people were related to each other. He filled in all the blanks, and was able to bring to life the members of the family. We discovered that Jakob was a first cousin to my husband’s grandfather, but we took to calling him Uncle as we came to feel such a close bond with him. He and his wife (who died in 1990) never had children, and I was happy to step in as adopted granddaughter!

His vitality was amazing at such an advanced age. He took no medication. He took care of himself with no outside help. Nothing ever fazed him. He took everything in stride. He was always optimistic, positive and focused. When something would be troubling me he would always say, “Everything pass, no need to be upset or worry, because everything pass.” These words have stayed with me- reminding me during challenging times- I can hear his voice in my head.

He lived alone in his condo until the day he died. He cooked for himself, did his own laundry and shopping. He felt he could do his shirts just as well as the cleaners, so he washed them himself and then ironed them. He always took the stairs, and shopped at the local supermarket and carried home his groceries himself. Often on a Sunday, he would take the bus to the local mall, just to walk around, sit and have a coffee, or shop. He enjoyed just being out among people.

He was blessed with good health until one week before he died. Did he have a healthy life because of his positive attitude? Because of the non judgmental way he lived his life? Was it his fierce independence that continued to drive him? Whatever the reason, he set an example to be followed. To look at the cup half full, not empty, to think positively about people even if they differ from you, to get out and go. And to remember that when things get hard, this too shall pass.

Uncle Yakob making me breakfast in his apartment at age 106

01/09/2014
DailyMusings

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Six Degrees Of Separation

She told me when she received the photo, she became confused – why had a photo of her parent’s home landed in her inbox? She didn’t remember emailing it- she said it was like she had entered the twilight zone. She emailed me inquiring how it was that I had a photo of her parents home in my possession. It turned out my grandfather’s house was built by her grandfather and sold by her parents to my grandfather. She sent me photos of the house being built, of her playing on the lawn as a child, the same lawn I had pictures of with me playing on as a child. I then sent her photos of the interior and she told me she had been with her grandmother when the dining room table was bought (the house was sold to my grandfather with some of the furniture)- the same table that was given to me when my grandfather died and now sits in my home. Another mystery was also solved – the house had a built in swimming pool with cement all around it edges. Engraved in the cement slab when you entered through the pool gate was the name Rustine. My family had always wondered what Rustine meant, was it a person, who was it? I found the answer, via a genealogical search in a tiny town in Poland- I had found and met Rustine.

Rustine and her parents in front of the beginnings of what would become their house.

View of my grandfather’s house

The pool where the name Rustine is in the cement.

12/31/2013
DailyMusings

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Be There

Walt Whitman summed up my feelings on this last day of the year (which also happens to be my birthday) It makes for a day of reflection as it not only marks the end of the calendar year, but also another year in my life. I am not a New Year’s resolution person, I believe we should strive every day to be better, to correct the flaws we have, to see ourselves more clearly and learn from our mistakes. Make our relationships meaningful by sharing and allowing ourselves to be vulnerable sometimes- being there for our friends. I have always loved the quote “give to the world the best that you’ve got, and the best will come back to you.” Be that person who makes a difference, even if it means going outside your comfort zone. Be there for the people in your life. That’s what really counts in the end. Happy New Year fellow bloggers, thank you for sharing your words and your world- my life is richer for it.

12/29/2013
DailyMusings

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Gratitude & Setting Expectations

“It’s not having what you want – It’s wanting what you’ve got”

I heard those lyrics this morning from the the song Soak Up The Sun, and it got me thinking. Being happy with what you have is crucial to overall happiness, I think. Not comparing your life to someone else’s, not being envious, being happy for what someone else has rather than resenting them for it. The old adage “the grass is always greener” is quite true I believe. We don’t know what is really going on behind closed doors. What may look perfect on the outside may not be on the inside.

Our focus should be to be the best we can be, strive to improve on the things we know can use improvement. It is easy to find faults in others, pick out what we don’t like about them. It is then our choice to continue to hang around with them and accept their faults, or move on knowing it will be healthier to let them go. Or is it that we need to dig a little deeper inside ourselves and try to take stock of what is really going on? Do we need to re-evaluate our interactions and reactions? Have we set unrealistic expectations for some of the people in our life? There are basic expectations we have for our friends, for how we should be treated by them, and what we can realistically expect from them. But sometimes do we expect too much, and then become disappointed when they have not lived up to that expectation? It is not fair to them that we have set an unrealistic expectation and are then disappointed when they fail.

Some people are emotional, they like to hug, they like to tell you they love you every time they hang up the phone. But not everyone is like that. I can never hear I love you too much- that’s just me. I’m mushy, I’m huggy, I’m sentimental, ok so I’ll admit maybe a little “needy”- but not in a bad way. But I have friends who are not so emotive, I know it would make them uncomfortable to be so emotionally forthright, so I don’t do it with them. I also know it is not “their way” to be like that so I am not disappointed by their inability to be gushing. Am I drawn more to people who are more like me? I believe so. I am an open person and like to surround myself with other people who are willing to open up, to share, those who are a little more creative and can think outside the box. But I continue to be a “work in progress”- I continue to try to work on myself to improve my relationships and better understand what makes me tick. And to be thankful for wanting what I’ve got.

12/27/2013
DailyMusings

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My Father, Myself

Today would have been my father’s birthday. He died 9 years ago.

I think of him often.

12/24/2013
DailyMusings

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Tradition!

The word “tradition” itself derives from the Latin tradere or traderer literally meaning to transmit, to hand over, to give for safekeeping. A tradition is a belief or behavior passed down within a group or society with symbolic meaning or special significance with origins in the past.

So many of the posts I have read over the last week have talked about the “holiday season.” For many this is a time of joy, of continuing traditions. Taking out the decorations from years past, reading special books, getting a tree from a certain place and decorating it in a certain way. These traditions include what foods are eaten, recipes handed down from generation to generation.

Then there is the flip side to all this continuing tradition through the generations….the reality of divorce, of distance making it too hard to travel, of death. People who can no longer look at the “holiday season” as something joyful to embrace, but rather with dread and let’s just get through this. Their traditions no longer exist, but the memory of those traditions do, and it just makes it harder. Too much loss- loss of the life they knew, the comfort of it, of tradition- knowing you could count on certain things always being the same.

For some they will move forward and start new traditions different from the past, removing the reminder of what life was and what they once had. For others they may incorporate into their new life those old traditions – making them “theirs” now- even though the people they once shared them with are no longer part of the picture.

My life has gone through many twists and turns, leaving behind many of the traditions I grew up with. My parent’s divorce changed things, marrying a man with a child changed things. But it allowed me to make “traditions” that were ours alone. We started new traditions different from what my step daughter saw in her home with her mother. I am not just referring to holiday traditions- in life we have the opportunity to create ways in which we live that can leave a lasting impact once we are gone. I do not have my own children so I think about this a lot. It is important to me not to be forgotten. I am close with my nieces and great nieces- and make an effort to connect and spend time with them so they will know me. Having them come a few times a year to go shopping and sleep over has become one of our “traditions.”

The holidays will always bring up remembrances of our past, and a longing to have it all as it once was, but the reality is, sometimes “you can never go home.” When my husband got divorced and moved to a new town, to a small apartment quite different from the lovely house he had been living in, he met a neighbor who told him, “Go and build anew.” Something to keep in mind.

12/19/2013
DailyMusings

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All My Life’s A Circle

Can you pinpoint the moment someone came into your life that would change its course? Now almost 40 years later I can- but back in 1975 when he walked through the front door I had no idea. He was handsome and charming in a kind of sullen way- and oh so smart. I was 16, he was 18- and he knew about everything, it seemed. He had been raised in an observant Jewish home, which sparked my interest, as I had not. And so the relationship began- and lasted for almost ten years, during which time my life changed dramatically as I too became observant.

We both loved music and going to concerts, and he turned me on to all kinds of new music. We followed Bruce Springsteen up and down the East coast. We hung out every night in his apartment at college, and I helped him study through law school. He was generous with his “things”- need to borrow the car- no problem! But he was stingy when it came to giving of himself emotionally. Very stingy. His communication skills were not great- and I hadn’t yet gained the wisdom of knowing you just can’t change people. Or think you could make them love you as much as you loved them. There were many good times, but many emotionally barren times too, and it was difficult trying to extricate myself from a damaged and damaging relationship. Eventually I did though. And I always said the relationship taught me a lot about myself-what I did need and did not need or want in a relationship. And so we parted ways, and went on about our lives for the next 26 years.

Then I heard through an old friend that he was living back home in town with his elderly mother, divorced, alone and dying from lung cancer. Not a tremendous surprise about the lung cancer as he was a three pack a day smoker. He was living 6 blocks from me, so I went to visit. And so began a new journey for the next 18 months, one that if you had told me would happen back in 1985 I would have never believed possible. I sat with him at his chemo appointments, I went over everyday and helped out with the cooking and walking his dog. It was on those walks with the dog that we filled in the pieces of the last 26 years, and talked about our relationship so long ago. His perception of me was still rooted in the 1980’s- but I had lived a whole life since then, had grown, had come into myself. What a surprise for him. There was a closure brought by this, that surprised me. I had not really thought about this man for so many years, I was happily married and had moved on so completely. But somewhere deep in there was still the girl who never had the chance to “prove” to him who she really was, who held such potential, that was never recognized or acknowledge by him. Now he saw it, and told me what he thought – finally. Why did it matter? He had not been on my radar for years. But there was still that young girl buried inside, that needed to hear him say he had been wrong. Needed to hear him say he had regret about having treated me the way he did. And he said it.

He spent the last 6 months of his life on home hospice, and I was with him when he died. It was shocking and surreal to to hear the sound of his last breath and know we had come full circle, my life had changed when he walked into it, and now once again it was changed as he left it. It made me wonder about the “master plan”, if it really is all fate and predetermined. You have to go through x in order to get to y. All of life is a circle.

1977

12/13/2013
DailyMusings

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Connections

A friend of mine who is in her 80’s, has had a caregiver for the last two years, as she suffers from Parkinson’s disease and cannot live independently. She lives nearby and I usually see her every day, to say hello, to see how she is, to spend some time chatting. As a result of our visits, I have become close with her caregiver, her name is Albertha. Albertha is from Trinidad. A world away from New York, 2,247 miles to be exact. She is kind and generous in her caring for my friend. She is easy to laugh and sensitive. We sit together in the kitchen and she tells me about her home in Trinidad, the family that is still there, what she did before she came to help my friend. We learn about each other from our daily visits, and become connected in a way that is comfortable and deep, we share an intimacy like family members, because we both love the woman she cares for, while also coming to know the daily routines and rhythms of one another’s days.

Then the call came. Albertha’s son in Trinidad was in a horrific car accident. She was leaving in 2 days. And not coming back. I could feel the catch in my throat as she told me. Fear for what lay ahead for her son, for her, and an immediate and powerful feeling of loss knowing I would never see her again. This person who I shared my day to day with, who I felt such a deep rooted connection with, was leaving. Our routine was breaking, change was coming. It brought to the surface how some of our friendships and connections occur in unlikely places, and maybe where we least expect them.

Albertha’s son has made great strides in his recovery, and she is grateful he is alive. We stay in touch on email, and share brief updates of recent happenings in our lives. But I miss her smiling face, her easy laugh, hearing her beautiful accent and the way certain words rolled off her tongue. We make connections in unexpected places, that sometimes can surprise us, and I have learned whose loss can run deep.

12/04/2013
DailyMusings

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The Girl Who Fought Death-but lost

For the last 8 years I have served as a volunteer in the Pastoral Care Department of a hospital. I visit patients and talk with them. Sometimes the nature of our conversations is spiritual, other times it is just about whatever is on their mind. I have visited people who are in their 90’s, Holocaust survivors who share their unbelievable stories of overcoming the horrors they lived through-unburdening themselves now near the end of their lives. I have visited people in their 40’s who are staring death in the face but manage to keep a sense of humor through it. But there is one patient who will forever stand out in my mind. The day I went to enter her room, the head nurse told me I most likely wouldn’t have luck, she didn’t want visitors, and wasn’t talking to anyone. Her name was Sammy. She was 21.
I walked in and she asked me if I liked make up. Sure did. So she pulled out a giant box filled with every imaginable color of lipstick, blush, and eye shadow you can imagine. The door had been opened to let me in, and through it I went. She was diagnosed with Lymphoma when she was 18, and had undergone countless rounds of Chemotherapy but never went into remission. Her mother was a little crazy and rarely came to visit her in the hospital. But her friends did. They traveled over an hour a few days a week and her hospital room would turn into a college dorm room. Laughter, antics, all while she was hooked up to a Morphine drip that should have had her flat out sleeping. I visited her everyday, we put on makeup. she loved lipstick that had a “sparkle” in it- she told me everyone needs a little sparkle in their life. She showed me the jewelry she had ordered online from Target, all the while telling the Doctors she would not leave the hospital until they agreed to give her a stem cell transplant. They kept telling her it would do no good, she was too weak, it made no sense. But she wouldn’t- couldn’t hear it. In one of the rare times she opened up to me, when the jewelry and the makeup and the laughter were put away, she said flat out It’s not fair, I’m supposed to be in college, going out with my friends, have a boyfriend. I’m not giving in, I’m entitled to have a life- I’m 21. There were no words I could say other than YOU ARE RIGHT. Her determination to live had kept her going longer than any of her doctors had predicted, her ability to overcome the drugs she was on and “entertain” in her room- was astonishing.

Sammy did get her stem cell transplant, and to the surprise of the doctors she did live for almost 2 months afterwards, but the fight was not won. She died 2 years ago this month. I learned so many lessons from this young girl that I still think of her often. Her determination, her unwillingness to give up, her ability to change her surroundings into something positive while spending months in a hospital room. Yes, she was cheated out of a life. She was right. But that short life left an impression on all those she touched, that will last our lifetime. And I still wear sparkly lipstick.

12/04/2013
DailyMusings

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The Families We Invent…Our Sisters & Brothers From Another Mother

An article written by Frank Bruni appeared in the NY Times – titled The Families We Invent. It talks about the people in our lives who are there throughout our lives, but may not be related to us by blood. Relationships like this were written about in a recently published book called The Ties That Bind.

It made me think of how true this can be, as the person I am closest to is my friend from 5th grade Elementary School. That’s 44 years of friendship. Of sharing laughter over the years (ie: a 24 hour car ride to Florida with her parents when we were 17) Of almost dating the same guy (don’t ask) Of wondering if we could make it through 4 years apart while going to college (we did) Of taking different spiritual paths (we are very tolerant & accepting of however one chooses to observe or not observe their faith) We have shared what seems like every conceivable life event together- my estrangement from my father, her mother’s suicide, both getting married in our 30’s. The things that happen in life that catch us by surprise, the things that are planned that bring us joy. We have been there to see it all, feel it all, get through it all. The common life experience together that has helped each of us grow, the security of knowing that one person will be there no matter what. Does being related by blood make a difference? I think not. We have shared childhood memories, teenage angst, adult life experiences. There has never been a time we were out of touch through it all. Am I blessed, thankful, grateful? Yes indeed.

1975