Bested by a 4 and 6-year old

A few months ago, I had three of my grandchildren staying at my house for a two nights while their parents went away. I have plenty of rooms and beds and hoped that I would have plenty of energy to take care of the three little girls, ranging in ages: two, four, and six.

 

Since I had a few children myself, nine to be exact, this should be pretty easy for me. I had stocked up on the foods that they like and I had a few treats as well. For Saturday morning, I planned on bacon and pancakes for breakfast. While watching videos, I planned on popcorn and juice.  I also bought new coloring books, crayons, a board game, and the Dance videos for the Wii game. Everything was in order, everything but the weather. It turned out to be a rainy and cold day and that sabotaged filling up the wading pool and having the girls play outdoors.

 

When I needed to open the girls’ suitcase, I realized that it was an one of those old-fashioned suitcases with snaps. I needed their clothes and toothbrushes, but the more I tried to press the snaps, or slide them, or work the buttons - nothing happened. I decided to resort to a knife but decided I would wreck the suitcase. Looking at the clock, I still had plenty of time to call my son before he boarded his airplane.

 

I explained the problem and my son started to laugh, and said, “Mom, it’s old school. Just slide the buttons and you’re in.”

 

I went back and still couldn’t open the suitcase. But then my 6-year-old granddaughter stepped in and opened the suitcase. At first I stared at her in disbelief. But when my 6-year-old and 4-year-old started to laugh – I did too. With that, the 2-year-old laughed along.

 

Oh, by the way, my granddaughters were the ones who figured out how to get the Wii game to work, too. When it came to preparing the food, and entertaining the girls with the old-fashioned board games, coloring books, movie, and popcorn – I managed quite well. I managed in my “old school” way.

 

But as for the electronic games and suitcase, my granddaughters “bested” me on both!

Yarn

I love yarn. I don’t know what it is about yarn. But I truly love it. I use yarn to knit. Knitting gives me a sense of comfort and release. It de-stresses me.

 

Maybe it is all the different colors of the rainbow, in all the colors found on the color wheel, and more. Nothing is just black or white. The colors are any that an artist or painter could think of or create.

 

Then again, maybe it is how the yarn feels to my touch. I always have to touch the yarn. It is usually the softest ones that I work with. Like quilters, who collect those quarter squares of fabric, as a knitter, I collect yarn. I have at least three large plastic bins, overflowing with every imaginable color and yarn style. I also have two large craft bags stuffed with more yarn and needles. My needles range from short ones, long ones, aluminum, bamboo, and circular ones.

 

 Although, I usually start my knitting projects when the weather gets colder, I do work on a knitting project at other times, too. I have a lot of scarves in different colors and styles and give them away as part of my Christmas or birthday presents to my family or friends.

 

Maybe my love for knitting comes from my mother. She is the person who taught me how to knit. Maybe that is why I feel so connected to knitting because it makes me feel closer to her.

 

But whatever the reason – I love the colors and weights of the yarn. I love their softness and beauty. I love making things with my hands and I can’t think of a better thing to do at night, while, watching television in the evenings, then knitting.

Lance Armstrong

Lance Armstrong has been stripped of his seven Tour de France cycling titles. Now what? He has been found guilty of what? Of course he’s guilty because he grew weary and tired of all the years of accusations piling up against him by the US Anti-Doping Agency. Since he would no longer fight them on these accusations, the committee members said that showed his guilt. Really?

 

For me, Lance Armstrong was an incredible man; a courageous man who in 1996 was diagnosed with testicular cancer, and given less than a 40% chance of survival. My awe and admiration continues with his survival and his Seven Tour de France titles. To ride a bike was something but to ride in those grueling races and win was something else.

 

He rode not just for himself but he set up his foundation to help and inspire other cancer victims. He taught a lesson of survival to others. Armstrong had nothing to prove and what he has accomplished is amazing for himself, for others and for the sport of cycling.

 

It’s amazing how people always seem to look for heroes, and forget that they are mortal human beings. We settle on athletes that we seem to revere, and raise them and others to lofty positions. We enjoy watching them rise to the top. Yet, we are there to be the first to tear them down when we grow tired of them and are ready to move on. We love to watch them crash and burn. Why?  Maybe it is our boredom with them. We seem to take great pleasure in watching them rise to the top, as well as fall down in flames. Then we move on to someone new.  Why is it so important to take such pleasure when someone gets destroyed? I don’t know the answer to that. Maybe they are reminders that we are all human and not super human. That we all share common fragilities. Even our heroes that we have supported show they are not superhuman, but like us – mere mortals.

 

I still believe in Armstrong and wonder now – who will be next on that list to build up and tear down?

A Passing

Last week, I attended a funeral mass for a neighbor, who was 82-years-old. Another member of the greatest generation to pass away. Ed was a husband, a father and a grandfather. He served in the Navy. By trade, he was an upholsterer…and a good one at that.

 

My oldest son, Matt, was the connection between Ed and myself. When Matt was young, he had a newspaper route and one of his customer’s was Ed. One day, years ago, Ed offered Matt a job working for him. It was a job, Matt couldn’t refuse and a friendship began that has lasted almost over 30 years. Ed actually taught Matt more than how to reupholster; he also taught him how to tie a necktie.

 

Occasionally, I would run into Ed and his wife, Betty at mass. Every time that I talked with them, I was always struck by their kindness and happiness. They were always upbeat and always inquired about my son, Matt. They would sing their praises about my son, and tell me how proud they were of him, as if he was their son. They actually treated Matt like their son and enjoyed when he would visit them with one of his little children in tow.

 

While greeting Betty before the service, between tears, all she could say was, “60 years of marriage. I don’t know what I will do now that he is gone.”

 

Sixty years of marriage is a long, long time. But then like my old 7^th grade teacher, Sr. Mary Johanna, said year ago pointing to a raid drop on one of the long windows in the classroom, “Our life is like that rain drop.” As I watched it slowly making its way down the glass, before I knew it, it was at the bottom. Its life journey was over.

 

To me, Ed was one of the last of his generation: the Greatest Generation. He was truly a good man, a religious man, a gentle man, as well as a gentleman. He will be deeply missed by Betty, his family and his friends.

 

But to echo what the others said – we are here to live our lives the way this wonderful man lived his and showed us how to live.

 

After the funeral, I sat on my upholstered furniture, the pieces that Ed re-upholstered, many years ago, thinking about Ed.  I sat there lovingly stroking the fabric, admiring the workmanship and finally all I could do was murmur -  “Thank you, Ed for this and much more…”

Old Forge, New York

If I lived in New York near the Adirondacks, I would definitely want to vacation there. Or even my own summer house.

While visiting my relatives in Utica, New York, for a few days, my cousin, a friend, and I drove up to Old Forge, New York, for the day. The day was hot and despite the heat, I still could appreciate the beauty of the area. Everywhere that I looked there were trees, mountains, lakes and more.

We parked and started to walk around the quaint little town. We walked in and out of the different boutique stores and eclectic shops. But my favorite store was the Old Forge Hardware Store. This store truly had everything from soup to nuts. The store was all on one floor and you could fine anything that you wanted and needed from camping, hiking, to fishing gear, You could also find camp dishes and  regular dishes and many amenities for a home, along with place mates, napkins, table cloths, glasses dishes, mugs, pots and pans, and more. There was every type of hardware. I came across three rooms that were filled with books and children’s toys. But my favorite area was the yarn and knitting books. I bought a few different skeins of yarn and a book to keep me busy with some knitting projects.

After visiting most of the shops, we ate lunch and then went to tour the Adirondack’s Museum. Unfortunately, it was closed because of a wedding. Maybe this was fortunate for us because we ended up taking a boat cruise on the lakes. We sat on the top deck for a two hour cruise of Old Forge. There are eight lakes in the Fulton Chain of Lakes that flows through Old Forge. Interesting, the lakes are named: 1^st Lake, 2^nd Lake, and 3rd, Lake, 4^th Lake, 5^th Lake, 6^th Lake, 7^th Lake, and 8^th Lake. Our cruise covered the first four lakes.

Along the landscape, were the houses and cabins, boat docks and boats filled the area. In the back ground were the Adirondack Mountains and they were amazing. The boat ride was calming and the view breath-taking. The sun was hot but there was a cool breeze. Along the way we saw Treasure Island, a small light house, the home of the former President Harrison, and many boaters and swimmers. Our cruise followed the old steamboat route through the Fulton Chain of Lakes. The day was perfect and beautiful. The trip mellowed me out making me wish that we covered the rest of the lakes.

Maybe that will be for another time. No, not maybe – I definitely will make the time to do another cruise on another visit.

Nun Run

I have had a long friendship with three sisters who are not just biological sisters but religious sisters.  Thy sisters live together in their family home, called St. James Convent in Greentree, Pennsylvania. They are sisters of the St. Joseph Order and their mother house is in Baden, Pennsylvania.

My friends are Sisters Eileen, Jeanne and Rosie. I first met Sr. Jeanne over 20 years ago, when we were both at one of the local catholic high schools. Sister Jeanne was on the faculty and I was one of the parents who volunteered at the school.

Sr. Jeanne and I became close friends. Sister Jeanne was one of the coolest person’s that I have ever met, dressed in the latest styles, right down to her funky three inch stylish heels. Anyone who ever met her, loved her. She has the most infectious loud laugh. Her love for the students was profound and deep. No one passed by Sr. Jeanne without her stopping to talk to them, praise them or compliment them. I had seen teenage boys and girls worship her. I had watched the boys talk to her and cry in front of her. She had that effect on them as well as on the female students.

I helped Sister with Campus Ministry, and interviewing all types of students that she would tell me about. I would write about them for the parents’ newsletter that I was in charge of. Sr. Jeanne and I became a formidable duo. Then one Sunday, Sister invited me to her house that she shared with Sisters Eileen and Rosie, and their younger brother Jimmy. Jimmy was bedridden and was the center of their attention and love. They adored him.

Anyone and everyone who visited the sisters made a beeline into Jimmy’s bedroom to say hello to him and to talk to him or just gently touch his arm and face. I will always remember coming into their house and being a part of their family. Even after Jimmy died, he left a void in not only the sisters’ lives but in the lives of the people who used to visit him. I still sit in the living room and look down the hall expecting to see Jimmy in his bed.

Whenever I drove to the Sisters house, and (that was a lot of the time), I dubbed it the Nun Run. Just sitting, eating, talking and laughing were enough to shore up my sagging spirit, or just energize me. There was nothing better to just sit with them, and just be with them.

A few weeks ago, Sr. Jeanne told me that they would be moving back into the community housing in Baden. All I could think of was how happy I was for them but how much I would miss visiting them in their own home. Then I thought - where did the time go? How could this be? I can only imagine being and feeling so vital, living in one’s own place and waking up one day and knowing that it was time to move on. But, it still baffles my mind.

I will miss visiting the sisters in their new place. Baden isn’t that far and all I have to do is jump on Interstate 79, exit to I-65 and drive a few miles down that road to Baden. It’ll be different for them and for me and for all the other people whose lives they have touched. But we can still talk, share food, and our stories. But mostly, we will still be able to laugh and anyone coming down the hallway will hear it!

Meat and Potatoes

Meat and Potatoes is quite an upscale restaurant located in the cultural district of Pittsburgh. It reminded me of a restaurant that should be in New York City with its tall, opened ceiling, long black eclectic chandeliers. The tables were a mixture of hammered metal tops and others with wooden tops. The tables had black legs, as did the tall black bar stools. The dining chairs were a chic style in a brown.

Reservations are a must and since we didn’t have one, my friend and I sat at the bar. I was seated next to a young couple. The young man struck up a conversation asking me if I had ever been there before. No was my reply and since he had, I asked him for his food recommendations. Then we started to talk and since he and the girl that was with him were ‘foodies’ we started to swap restaurants to try out. The earlier crowd is a younger one and as the evening wore on, an older crowd began to fill up the bar stools and tables.

My friend ordered the salmon special, with Brussels sprout Kim Chi, pineapple chile and Korean barbeque sauce while I ordered the smoked pork chop with baked beans and spicy apple slaw. Neither one of us was disappointed. I watch my young friend share a soft crab taco and a marrow with grilled bread, gremolata, onion relish and sea salt. The meat and dish looked delicious and the couple ate everything and proved that it was good. The next time I go there, I think those will be the dishes that I will try.

Sitting at the bar had its perks. The diners are really friendly and willing to share a food idea or even give you a sample from their plate. My friend sampled for the first time a fried pickle from the gentleman next to her.

Meat and Potatoes is a little pricey but worth every dollar and cent that it cost. The wait staff and bar tenders were friendly and knowledgeable. This was a perfect first course to the rest of my evening with the next course being a Noel Coward play at the Public Theater.