Packing up Bittersweet Memories

I spent a few weekends in June, in Cleveland, helping my friend pack up her household items. She had sold her house and would be moving into a rental, until she decides where her permanent move will take her. I have a special attachment to my friend, as well as her house.

I’ve known my friend for well over 40 years. We’ve known each other from when we were first married, through our husbands’ medical school years, internship and residency, through the joy of our children, and the pain of our divorces. Both of our families lived together for a few month; husbands, wives, five children under the age of four, a cat, and a huge Great Dane.

We have kept our friendship connected through our phone calls, humorous cards, and emails. My friend’s beautiful home became a safe harbor the first year of my separation. I couldn’t wait for Fridays to throw my overnight bag into the car and drive to her house. I found the spare key under the Mickey Mouse statue, unlocked the door, and settled in with a cup of tea. I was finally able to breathe and relax in her comfortable chair, all the petting her dog, Bear, as he placed his head on my lap.

My friend’s house, besides being my safety net, was the one place that I felt happy and normal. During those weekends, we had fun, bought food, and made some fantastic meals. We shared a lot of good times in her house. We laughed a lot during the funny movies we watched. We shared a river of tears through our memories of the past. I stayed in her adult daughter’s bedroom. The bed was comfortable and that seemed to be the only time that I managed to sleep through the night.

No matter what, we knew that we could visit each other via the turnpike in a time frame of two hours. We knew no matter what, we would look after each other and have each other’s back.

This weekend was my final weekend to help her pack, and of course have one more good night sleep. But it was hard packing up those memories, even though I was able to choose a few cherished items to take from my friend’s house. The items included: a framed picture of a Native American woman, a very cool pitcher, a small wooden chair, and a few other things. I did take two fat ceramic hens that I would name one E and the other Laine. They are both sitting on my china hutch, a constant reminder of my friend. But I have to smile at the last thing that she gave me…the dust ruffle and beautiful bed cover from her daughter’s bed.

I’ll miss you, Elaine. Thanks for your gift – of friendship.

Juliette - #16

On June 19, 2012, my 16^th grandchild was born. This little baby was my 13^th granddaughter. I have three grandsons. I guess you can say that girls rule in our family.

I love my grandchildren. They are sweet, full of life, energetic and a part of my blood line. Each one is unique. I have spent a lot of time with each one of them, enjoying them and getting to know who they are, their likes and dislikes.

When I entered the hospital room, I saw Juliette wrapped in a pink blanket and hat. Her other grandparents were there holding her. She was the center of attention, oblivious to anyone and everything, just sleeping away. Occasionally, she would yawn and make a small noise and sometimes she opened her eyes, as her other grandparents snapped pictures of her. As usual, I forgot my camera. But I did smile watching the first time grandparents. I had been in their shoes, 16 grandchildren ago. And I think I forgot my camera then.

As an ‘old timer’ grandparent, I still took joy when I got to hold Juliette. It’s hard not to stop looking at a baby. There is an overwhelming feeling of awe and joy realizing that just a few hours ago they weren’t here. But now – here I was holding Juliette. She is here and we will all protect and take care of her. There is so much love and joy to go around and around.

For me, there is the pleasure of a baby’s smell. Maybe it’s the new born smell but it’s different, fresh and clean. That is one of my favorite smells.

Welcome Juliette! You may be #16 but there is a lot of love in my heart for another grandchild. And for the others to come.

Engine House #25

I walked into Engine House #25 and fell in love with it. This place is going to be the venue for my youngest daughter’s wedding that is scheduled for January 12, 2013. While my daughter was looking around at the place, I was enthralled with the memorabilia in the fire house.

Not only was the place attractive and renovated, but it will be a great place to hold a reception or a party. It has a wine and cigar floor. But it is the memorabilia that interested me. Plus it is also the Roberto Clemente Museum. And what a collection of memorabilia!

 Everywhere that I looked, there was something that elicited an “Oh, wow,” from me. There were over 300 photos and personal items. I loved the shot of Roberto Clemente’s back with him standing next to his three sons, the Golden Glove Awards, the Silver Bat Award, cleats, and World Series home plate and a collection of Pittsburgh Pirate team bats and the last Jersey that was worn by Clemente. Photos fill each floor and can be found even in the bathrooms and the kitchen area.

My favorite is the glass case of baseballs. Some are the white balls and others are red and blue, arranged to make the American flag. Each ball is signed by a famous sports figure, along with other notable people.

I found out that the Roberto Clemente Museum is an independent non-profit museum dedicated to preserving the memory and legacy of Clemente. It is also supported by his family. Visiting hours are by appointment. To find out more about the Museum call, 412-621-3339 or try ( info@clementemuseum.com) or visit the website (clementemuseum.com).

 Besides being a Hall of Famer baseball player, Clemente wanted to be remembered as a baseball player who gave all he could to others. As a player and humanitarian – he will be remembered for both.

Sts. Patrick-Stanislaus Koska

I usually don’t shop for churches. Usually I register and attend that parish where I belong. The only time I have changed churches was when I moved, so I have been a member of a few different churches.

For the last 30 years I have attended the same church. But in the last 12 years, I have become restless. Usually when I attend mass on Sundays, I hope that my soul will be fed, and my heart will be touched. But for a long time, I have felt absolutely nothing. I feel empty and alone during the mass and when I leave.

In a round-about way, I found myself sitting in a pew at Sts. Patrick-Stanislaus Koska Roman Catholic Church, located in Pittsburgh’s Strip District. The church is a landmark church. It is a throwback to the old days when the church was the center of people’s lives, with the beautiful paintings, amazing stained glass windows, where the sun shines through each, the larger than life statues that mean something to the worshipers, and the imported marble used for the altars. This church is a combination of two parish churches. I assume that besides the regular registered parishners, a number of people who fill up the pews are those that come down to The Strip to shop or eat.

The first time that I attended Mass at St. Stan’s, I felt something. I felt as if I stepped into a holy space. Maybe it was the total beauty of the church that reminded me of my childhood parish, St. Patrick’s in Cleveland, Ohio. Everything was clean -  the paintings, the gorgeous stained glasses windows, each with a religious story, the smooth marble and the statues that I am familiar with. I was touched by the sermon that Fr. Nichols, the pastor gave. He delivered it in an informal way and the story was personal and he was able to relate it to religion to make it more meaningful. I like the fact that while he walked down the aisle or back up it, he would talk to individual people or say something funny to make them laugh or just smile or just feel good that they showed up for mass. Yet, during the time I spent at St. Stan’s, I felt a spark or maybe I was touched by the spirit of God.

The second time I attended mass, I felt as if I finally received a personal message from God. That was the day; I registered at St. Stan’s. I have been faithfully attending mass on Sundays, and I actually look forward to driving and going to church.

What happened? I’m not sure but I feel that I was still enough to hear a message and all I can say is…Thank you, God, for not giving up on me!

Sts. Patrocl-Stanislaus Koska

I usually don’t shop for churches. Usually I register and attend that parish where I belong. The only time I have changed churches was when I moved, so I have been a member of a few different churches.

For the last 30 years I have attended the same church. But in the last 12 years, I have become restless. Usually when I attend mass on Sundays, I hope that my soul will be fed, and my heart will be touched. But for a long time, I have felt absolutely nothing. I feel empty and alone during the mass and when I leave.

In a round-about way, I found myself sitting in a pew at Sts. Patrick-Stanislaus Koska Roman Catholic Church, located in Pittsburgh’s Strip District. The church is a landmark church. It is a throwback to the old days when the church was the center of people’s lives, with the beautiful paintings, amazing stained glass windows, where the sun shines through each, the larger than life statues that mean something to the worshipers, and the imported marble used for the altars. This church is a combination of two parish churches. I assume that besides the regular registered parishners, a number of people who fill up the pews are those that come down to The Strip to shop or eat.

The first time that I attended Mass at St. Stan’s, I felt something. I felt as if I stepped into a holy space. Maybe it was the total beauty of the church that reminded me of my childhood parish, St. Patrick’s in Cleveland, Ohio. Everything was clean -  the paintings, the gorgeous stained glasses windows, each with a religious story, the smooth marble and the statues that I am familiar with. I was touched by the sermon that Fr. Nichols, the pastor gave. He delivered it in an informal way and the story was personal and he was able to relate it to religion to make it more meaningful. I like the fact that while he walked down the aisle or back up it, he would talk to individual people or say something funny to make them laugh or just smile or just feel good that they showed up for mass. Yet, during the time I spent at St. Stan’s, I felt a spark or maybe I was touched by the spirit of God.

The second time I attended mass, I felt as if I finally received a personal message from God. That was the day; I registered at St. Stan’s. I have been faithfully attending mass on Sundays, and I actually look forward to driving and going to church.

What happened? I’m not sure but I feel that I was still enough to hear a message and all I can say is…Thank you, God, for not giving up on me!

LMS

Lawn, Maintenance, Service (LMS) is the greenhouse with a full service nursery and garden center that I used to work at and plan to return to work there, next year. LMS, which is a family owned business since 1970, is located on Wagner Road in Hampton. It has a number of greenhouses, housing the annual and perennial plants. There is also a huge tree block with all types and varieties of trees as well as the shrub nursery.

The store stocks a variety of items from gardening tools, gloves, eclectic pots, bird houses, bird baths, garden art,  bird seed, grass seed, animal repellants and so much more. A customer can purchase bulk or bagged goods of bark mulch, topsoil, potting soil, or mushroom manure. The staff is also able to custom design gift baskets for celebrations or for funerals, they can make up special orders, plant up your plant baskets and planters, make centerpieces and do custom made seasonal, decorated wreaths. They can help you with your fundraisers, take special orders, and set up an area in the greenhouse for your monthly garden club.

The staff is experienced and knowledgeable from the friendly owner, Rich Cafaro, or Bill McWilliams, who is a top notch landscaping designer. If there is any question or anything that you want to know about plants, trees, bushes or garden control, Jane, Nursery Manage, is a walking encyclopedia of knowledge. She is one of those rare people who seems to know everything and is there to help anyone and everyone. Whenever I need a delivery made, Ray is there and always does a good job with a short conversation and a big smile.

So on one of those beautiful weekends when you need flowers and more, drive out to LMS in Hampton, off of Middle Road School, and tell them Mary sent you.

A Garden of Wonder

Since I have taken a few years off from working at a local greenhouse (I am returning there next year), I decided to focus on my garden. When I worked at the greenhouse, I spent months planting baby plugs that would grow into flowering plants. Actually I started planting in February. It is during those cold winter months that those beautiful annuals and perennials begin to grow.

The high point for me is during those dark cold months of the year when I walk into the hot greenhouse and see those beautiful plants blooming. The flowers are the size of a fingernail but it always affects me the same way seeing those tiny plants blooming in colors of purple, pink, yellow or pristine white, it  lifts my spirits up. Their beauty excites me, and I feel joy and happiness knowing that I was responsible in nurturing those baby plants.

The beauty of the greenhouse continues on and on. I have spent hours planting and watering. To water the plants is necessary for their survival. But usually by the time I come home, I am too tired to water, weed or maintain my own garden.

But this year I have refocused myself on my garden. I am trying to keep ahead of the weeds. I have been diligent with the watering. I love to see what will bloom next. So far I haven’t been disappointed…I have watched my plants take turns blooming one after the other like the crocus, daffodils,  tulips, forget-me-nots, lilies of the valley, bleeding hearts, lilac tree, and the false indigo plants.

I have given a little of my time to my garden. Right now, my garden has given me more in return. I notice that my wooden arbor is full of buds that are opening into a mix of the white clematis and red roses that I have planted together. Next I will be ready for my hydrangeas – pinky winky and the greenish white limelights, which will bloom for the summer and I’ll be able to cut, dry the flowers and arrange them in different pots and vases to enjoy, during the winter months.

I can’t wait for my butterfly bush to bloom along with my shasta daisies, purple coneflowers, and black-eyed Susans. In between those flowering perennials are the aromatic smell of the herbs…Rosemary, basil, parsley and fennel.

My gardens is filled with surprises. I intend to enjoy it to the fullest this year.

Three Myths About Published Mystery Authors

By Gail Lukasik

My debut stand-alone mystery The Lost Artist (June 2012) centers on a quest for one of the greatest lost art treasures of sixteenth century America. I loved discovering the little known and forgotten historical facts about American history that are part of this book’s journey. 

Now with third books published (Destroying Angels, 2006 and Death’s Door, 2009), I’ve learned that being a published mystery author isn’t what I expected. I’d like to debunk some commonly held myths about mystery authors. 

1) Mystery authors make big money.

Unless you’re a best selling author like Sue Grafton or Patricia Cornwell, most mystery authors make a modest income from their books. I’m doing a little better than breaking even. You have to factor in promotional materials, conference and travel expenses, and a publicist. My advance is modest and because my publisher caters to libraries, the book comes out only in hardcover and the print runs are about 1200. Even though I’m able to sell my paperback rights to Harlequin for their Direct to Consumer book club, my audio rights to Books in Motion and have put the first two books in the Leigh Girard series out as e-books, the cost of promotion and travel wipes out most of my profit.

2) Talent and persistence are all you need to succeed

You definitely need talent and persistence. But you also need luck. It’s impossible to guess what the next best selling book will be. Ten years ago who knew that vampires would be so popular today. That’s luck. And luck is the one thing you can’t control.

So write the book you need to write, the one you’re passionate about. You may get lucky and it’ll be the next best seller. But if it’s not, at least you will have written the book you wanted to write, the book only you could write.

3) Anyone can write a mystery.

Just like any piece of writing, it takes skill to write a mystery. And to obtain that skill you need to read deeply in the genre and you need to hone your craft. There are certain “rules” in mystery writing. This is not to say you can’t break these rules, but you need to know what they are first before breaking them.

 You also need to know how to write a compelling scene, how to write memorable characters, and how to construct a believable plot line.

Here’s the elevator pitch for The Lost Artist:

When Rose Caffrey, a struggling Chicago performance artist, uncovers four nineteenth century murals in an old southern Illinois farmhouse, her quest to discover the unknown artist leads to a hunt for one of the greatest lost art treasures of sixteenth century America. What Rose never expects to find are crimes going back over four hundred years with the potential to transform American history--if she can escape the fate of the other lost artists before her.

Gail Lukasik www.gaillukasik.com

The Lost Artist is available at:

www.amazon.com

http://www.gale.cengage.com

www.barnesandnoble.com