What Word Does 2017 Need?

In 2016, I started the New Year by choosing a word - Determination.

And then I totally forgot about it.

I had said I was determined to make a difference - great or small.  I don't know if I did.  But 2017 is not going to be 2016. 

In the United States, we have an incoming administration that is scaring many of us.  Hate is on the rise.  Minorities are fearful. 

Hand of Man, Owego, New York, 2015

The angels of our world seem to be in short supply, and powerless.

from Hanukkah House museum, Binghamton, NY  2012

Snowbabies may be cute, but this is quickly becoming a time for more than cuteness.

Those of us who choose a #WOTY (Word of the Year) are making our choices.  There are so many good words to choose from - love, happiness, explore, simplicity, daring greatly, enable, gratitude, and more.  They are all good words.  When I thought of mine, this word popped up right away.

We need, for 2017..... Determination

Perhaps I chose my word a year early.  NOW is the time for determination.

DETERMINATION - not to stay silent if speaking out against hatred is needed.

DETERMINATION - to stand up against events that need standing up against.   I think about authors who have written books that have changed the world.  It is possible.  I must remember that one person CAN make a difference.  Could a blog post change the world?

DETERMINATION - to make my voice heard if the quality of life of my brother in law, who is developmentally disabled, is threatened.  

DETERMINATION - once again, that I will grow my writing, and my photography, no matter what my personal challenges are this year.  Even if it only grows a little, it will be a victory.   

Today, I link with #FridayReflections at Everyday Gyaan and  Laurel at Alphabet Salad.  
Will you join us?   Have you picked a word for 2017?

Tomorrow, I join the Ultimate Blog Challenge.  Let's see what determination can do.
  
To all my readers, near and far:  HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Whispering Determination

Welcome to 2017, and a new Ultimate Blog Challenge. 

The Challenge requires 31 posts in 31 days. It's a discipline all bloggers need at least one time in their blogging lives.

For 2017, I chose a word - determination - as the word that will guide me this year.  This coming year will demand a lot from us. Today, as the beginning of my year of determination,  I remember someone from years ago who showed me determination from a deep place inside her.

On my Christmas tree each year is a simple ornament.  But the story behind it is less simple.

Many years ago, the company I was working for was bought by a new owner, along with a couple of other local businesses.  Two offices were combined into the office where I worked, and Pat came into my life.

Pat was many things - an experienced worker, a loving mother and grandmother, and a woman who love crafts - needlepoint, tole, and more.

Her and her husband, a building contractor, restored a house in Maine, New York, and had a loving marriage. 

Every year, at work, we would have a small gift exchange at Christmastime. Pat's contribution was always a Christmas ornament - usually made by her, or one made by another craftsperson.

One December day, Pat called her co workers together.

A couple of months ago, she said, she had found a lump on her neck.  She went to the doctor, who immediately ran tests.  It was cancer.  Not only that, they found cancer all through her body.  Doctors ran more tests, trying to find where the cancer had originated.  It turned out to be lung cancer. She had perhaps 18 months to live.

Pat was only able to work a couple of more months.   We all kept in touch after she went out on permanent disability.  It was a small office, and we were close to each other.  We knew each other, our spouses, our children.  Pat had to prepare her children and grandchildren. 

Pat always conducted herself with dignity and determination, and the months after the diagnosis were no exception.  By her example, she showed us how to face death with dignity.

Our office, in the next months, fell apart due to poor management.  One by one, we left.  By the next Christmas, several of us were unemployed.  As each co workers quit the job,  they started to spend time with Pat every Tuesday when she felt up to it.  When I left, I joined them in the Tuesday outings.

The Tuesday before Christmas in 1997, Pat gave us our final gift - the gift of her presence.  We took her out to a local restaurant, and she gave us a tour of her house - something that took great effort.

By January of 1998, we suspected the end was near.  She could not walk more than a few steps without losing her breath.

Pat died on February 13, 1998, a day short of Valentine's Day, a week after suffering a stroke and lapsing into a coma.  In my last visit to her, five days before her death, she lay on a bed, under home hospice care.  Her favorite country music playing.  I held her hand and whispered in her ear.  I don't know if it was my imagination, but I am positive she gently squeezed my hand.

In September of 2011, my neighborhood was flooded and we had several feet of water in our basement.  We were so fortunate, compared to many of our neighbors.  The next months were hard for us and many other in our community.

When we cleaned out our basement, I found that several of the homemade ornaments Pat had given me were ruined.  There was no way to salvage them.  But the ornament you see above, a needlework Pat made, had survived in a box above the water level.  Yes, Pat was watching over me.

Every year the ornament goes on our tree, a sign of survival, caring and love.


Time marches on, and things change for us all.  But Pat lives on in my heart, even after all these years.  Every year, I gaze upon the ornament she gave me, the ornament she stitched with her own hands.  It whispers determination.

One day, my time will come, and I hope I can face it with the same dignity that Pat did.  For now, I will be content to face 2017 with courage, dignity, and determination, through all 2017 will demand of us.

I am Determined to complete the challenges of 2017 and the Ultimate Blog Challenge.  Are you?

What's The Word for 2022?

Starting in 2016, like many others, I chose a guiding word for the year, a word that would represent my goals for the coming year.  I haven't made New Year's resolutions for years; I figured one word shouldn't be hard.

For 2016,  I chose "Determination" and then promptly forgot about the word.

For 2017, I decided perhaps I was a year too soon with that word, and chose Determination again.  In part, I said:

"DETERMINATION - not to stay silent if speaking out against hatred is needed.

DETERMINATION - to stand up against events that need standing up against.   I think about authors who have written books that have changed the world.  It is possible.  I must remember that one person CAN make a difference.  Could a blog post change the world?

DETERMINATION - to make my voice heard if the quality of life of my brother in law, who is developmentally disabled, is threatened.  

DETERMINATION - once again, that I will grow my writing, and my photography, no matter what my personal challenges are this year.  Even if it only grows a little, it will be a victory. "

Then,  I promptly forgot about the word. 

In 2018, 2019, 2020 and 2021 I didn't choose a word.  Why bother?

Why, now, do I feel I need to go through the word of the year exercise again?

I think back to a TIME magazine from January of 2020. It must have been an early January 2020 issue.  There was a little sidebar that talked about a mystery virus in China. I remember showing it to my son.  Oh, if only we knew what the next almost two years would bring.   

This post by the blogger who introduce me to Skywatch Friday says it best.

In 2018 I blogged "I hope I can be a good friend to my friends, old and (hopefully) new.  I hope I can be someone who will be honest, someone who will make you laugh, someone you can trust, someone who will stand by you.  And, in my own little way, perhaps I can start to change the world with one little ripple. "

I still hope for that.  I hope for so much more.

Hope is what will keep us going through the storm until we get to the other side. This time, I don't think I will forget the word for 2022 I am choosing.  I tend to be a pessimist, but that will not motivate me or others to do what is needed.

HOPE will.

That's my word for 2022.  HOPE.

The Word for 2018

The last three years, I had chosen a guiding word for the year, a word that would represent my goals for the coming year.  I haven't made New Year's resolutions for years; I figured one word shouldn't be hard.

For 2016,  I chose "Determination" and then promptly forgot about the word.

For 2017, I decided perhaps I was a year too soon with that word, and chose Determination again.  In part, I said:

"DETERMINATION - not to stay silent if speaking out against hatred is needed.

DETERMINATION - to stand up against events that need standing up against.   I think about authors who have written books that have changed the world.  It is possible.  I must remember that one person CAN make a difference.  Could a blog post change the world?

DETERMINATION - to make my voice heard if the quality of life of my brother in law, who is developmentally disabled, is threatened.  

DETERMINATION - once again, that I will grow my writing, and my photography, no matter what my personal challenges are this year.  Even if it only grows a little, it will be a victory. "

And then I promptly forgot about the word. 

No focus.

So, what did 2017 hand me, and others I know?

One of my first cousins died.  At that time, I learned that he was in the early stages of Parkinson's, which contributed to the cause of his death (choking on food).
A co worker's mother died on Christmas Day.
A fall my spouse took that he may not ever heal completely from.
Someone I went to high school and college with was diagnosed with cancer. 
My family faces many challenges with future planning for my developmentally disabled brother in law.

As we age (I am officially a senior citizen now), people we know sicken, or, sometimes, die.  We will go down that last path one day ourselves, and that realization has hit me hard in the past year. That realization makes relationships more important than ever. 


We like to think of ourselves as independent.  But when my spouse fell in October, and ended up in the ER, I suddenly found myself being helped with various issues, and I am grateful for each and everyone of them.  In fact, we are all interdependent.  

I need to pay this kindness forward.

Tomorrow, I join, once again, the Ultimate Blog Challenge.  I am thinking of how I cherish some of these blogging relationships - I look forward to making cyberfriends this year through this and other challenges.

So I am not going to choose a word this year.  But I do have some goals that I need to work on.

I hope I can be a good friend to my friends, old and (hopefully) new.  I hope I can be someone who will be honest, someone who will make you laugh, someone you can trust, someone who will stand by you.  And, in my own little way, perhaps I can start to change the world with one little ripple.  

One little flap of my butterfly wings.

Courtesy of my guest photographer

Happy New Year to all my readers, near and far!  

 I look forward to interacting with some of you this January, in the Ultimate Blog Challenge #blogboost.

Determination in Action

Welcome, new readers, and all, to my blog.  I have been blogging since April of 2009, daily since late March of 2011. 

Today, I decided to take inspiration from a parade held in Pasadena, California each New Years Day- the Tournament of Roses parade, and see how I could apply the lessons of a parade to my daily life.  I've chosen the word "Determination" as my word of the year.

What is special about this parade?  After all, many parades have floats and marching bands.  But this particular parade has a special rule:  all floats must be covered in organic material - flowers, seeds, bark, and like material. 

And what stories you can tell with these materials. Stories of determination.

A ballerina performing Swan Lake - a float honoring a 13 year old ballerina battling leukemia. 
She says "Cancer has taken a lot from me...I won't let it take ballet."

This float honored organ donor recipients - all of the riders are alive today because of organ or tissue donors.   They are too small to see, but there are also portraits, made of flowers, of those who who donated organs after they died.  I know two people who passed away because they needed an organ donation - one, a heart, one, a liver - and couldn't get them.

The Florida Panther - the most endangered mammal in the Eastern United States.

And the American bison (left), a "symbol of strength and determination".

Each one of these floats takes months to decide and build.  But the organic materials must be applied at the very last minute - the last week (12-27 through 12-31) before the parade.  The work is done by both professionals and volunteers, who labor day and night, applying sometimes tiny materials (anything from lentils to onion seed to ground cinnamon), and covering themselves in glue.  Some flowers must be placed, individually, into vials of water.

After the parade, there is a time for public viewing.  After that, the floats are stripped, and materials that can be recycled are - a messy job.

How can I not be inspired by these examples of determination?   The work I put into my blog and my life pale in comparison.

What are you inspired by the most?  What do you use to fuel your determination?

Today is day 1 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge and the Ultra Blog Challenge.

Dogs, Doves and Determination

The Rose Parade has taken place for 127 years now in Pasadena, California, usually on the first day of January.  (It is not held on Sundays, so on days where January 1 falls on a Sunday, like this year, the parade is held on January 2.)

I watched it, thousands of miles away, at my home in upstate New York

Creating a float takes hundreds of hours and lots of determination.  The rules seem simple - floats in the parade must be covered in natural materials.  So, every visible surface on every float you see is decorated in flowers, bark, seeds, walnut husks, or other natural materials. Flowers, seeds and more must be glued on individually.  Some materials are so fine that volunteers use tweezers.  Since most of the materials are perishable, they must be installed on the floats hours or days before the parade, by hundreds of volunteers.

The best floats receive awards.

The work is tedious - but, look at what this determination produces.

This float was called Doing Good in the World.

In this closeup, you can see some of the natural materials.

There are two other floats I would like you to see.   One float featured surfing dogs.  Yes, several dogs surfed, on real water, carefully monitored by handlers.

The float with the dogs was the largest and heaviest float ever in the Rose Parade. It is successfully rounding a corner which lessor floats have become hung up on.

The other float paid tribute to victims of a tragic shooting last year at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida.  Several survivors of the shooting rode on the float.  Doves were released to honor the 49 dead.  A large flowered dove hovered over the float.

It was a beautiful tribute, but sad, knowing that so much violence still remains in the world.

Again, determination - determination to continue forward after experiencing something like that, was on display.

A lesson in determination for day 3 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge.

Determined?

Determination was my word for 2016.  I chose it the last day of 2015, and then I promptly forgot I had chosen it.

Until now.

I am determined not to forget a word I chose again.  The world won't let me forget, either.  In retrospect, it was a good choice for 2016.

The world has changed in these last 12 months.  It is grimmer.  We are going into a new year with a new President who takes office on January 20, and there is both hope and fear for the future.

Living in our new world takes determination and other qualities. 

It is time for me to choose a word for 2017 (assuming I do choose one).  In the meantime, here is my post from December 31, 2015:

West side of Binghamton, New York, 2015

It's time to sparkle.

I am blowing off the dust from my blog, which hasn't been refreshed in a while.  I updated my blogging template, as my regular readers (thank you for coming!) will note.

I joined a blogging challenge for the first time in several months.  I read several older posts for inspiration.  I went to a sparkling wine tasting, and tasted, for the first time, Dom Perignon, Cristal, and even the Pol Roger Champagne served at William and Kate's wedding reception.

DETERMINATION

DETERMINATION will be my word for 2016.  (My word for 2015 - DIFFERENT - well, 2015 was different, all right).  I'm being more careful with my word for 2016.  I am:

DETERMINED that I will attain certain goals, which I will not reveal to my blog readers.  (Why?  It is said you are more likely to succeed if you don't announce them.)

DETERMINED that the essential "me" will not be swallowed up by the need to help with the needs of my elderly mother in law and my developmentally disabled brother in law.

DETERMINED that I will grow my writing, and my photography, no matter what my personal challenges are this year.  Even if it only grows a little, it will be a victory.   Even if, at some point, I decide to no longer blog daily, the fact that I have for nearly five years is a victory.

This past year, I learned once again just how precious life can be. The 39 year old son of someone I went to high school with died in a freak accident, leaving a young child and a pregnant wife.  My best friend from childhood died from cancer. A former co worker is gravely ill as I write this, and probably will not survive her illness. It would be a terrible thing to waste the opportunities I have been given.

Of course, it could be just the Champagne talking, but I don't think so.  I was buoyed by a couple of recent comments on my blog, one by a reader who said she would miss me if I stopped blogging, and another one who extended an invitation. (That second person has no idea how introverted I am in real life but...hey, one can grow in ways other than blogging, too.).

I know I have something of value to share with the world.  I am determined to make a difference, small or large.

So....please join me tomorrow as I start a new year of blogging, and a year of determination.

Will you be choosing a word for the coming year?

Determination

I had set out to blog about one of my Christmas ornaments.  Many of them have stories behind them.

On my Christmas tree each year I hang some ornaments that were gifts.  One has special meaning.  I remembered blogging this several years ago, and I'd like to update it just a little.

This is a year where many of us are apart from loved ones, and they are in our thoughts.  I've been thinking about one person recently, a woman who passed away in 1998.  Here's the story:

Many years ago, the company I worked for was bought by a new owner, along with a couple of other local businesses.  Two other offices were combined into the office where I worked, and Pat came into my life.

Pat was many things - an experienced worker, a loving mother and grandmother, and a woman who loved crafts - needlepoint, tole, and more.

Her and her husband (also now deceased), a building contractor, restored a house in Maine, New York, and had a loving marriage. 

Every year, at work, we would have a small gift exchange at Christmastime. Pat's contribution was always a Christmas ornament - usually made by her, or one made by another craftsperson.

One December day, Pat called us together.

A couple of months ago, she said, she had found a lump on her neck.  She went to the doctor, who immediately ran tests.  It was cancer.  Not only that, they found cancer all through her body.  Doctors ran more tests, trying to find where the cancer had originated.  It turned out to be lung cancer. She had perhaps 18 months to live.

Pat was only able to work a couple of more months.   We all kept in touch after she went out on permanent disability.  It was a small office, and we were close to each other.  We knew each other, our spouses, our children.  

Pat had to prepare her children and grandchildren.  And us.

Pat always conducted herself with dignity and determination, and the months after the diagnosis were no exception.  By her example, she showed us how to face death with dignity.

Our office, in the following months, fell apart due to poor management.  One by one, we left.  By the next Christmas, several of us were unemployed.  As each co worker quit the job,  they started to spend time with Pat every Tuesday when she felt up to it.  When I left, I joined them in the Tuesday outings.

The Tuesday before Christmas 1997, Pat gave us our final gift - the gift of her presence.  We took her out to a local restaurant, and she gave us a tour of her house - something that took her great effort.

By January of 1998, we suspected the end was near.  She could not walk more than a few steps without losing her breath.

Pat died on February 13, 1998, a day short of Valentine's Day, a week after suffering a stroke and lapsing into a coma.  In my last visit to her, five days before her death, she lay on a bed, under home hospice care.  Her favorite country music was playing.  I held her hand and whispered in her ear.  I don't know if it was my imagination, but I am positive she gently squeezed my hand.

Now, fast forward to 2011.

In September of 2011, my neighborhood was flooded by a tropical storm and we had several feet of water in our basement.  We were so fortunate, compared to many of our neighbors.  The next months were hard for us and many other in our community.

When we cleaned out our basement, I found that several of the homemade ornaments Pat had given me were ruined.  There was no way to salvage them.  But the ornament you see above, a needlework Pat made, had survived in a box above the water level.  Yes, Pat was watching over her ornament.

Every year the ornament goes on our tree, a sign of survival, caring and love.

Time marches on, and things change for us all.  But Pat lives on in my heart, even after all these years.  Every year, I gaze upon the ornament she gave me, the ornament she stitched with her own hands.  It whispers determination.

Determination is what we need now.  The determination to see this pandemic through, not to inadvertently spread it, to protect our health care workers by our behavior.  She would have told us to make the necessary sacrifices, even as we tire of the things we need to do.

It's not time to quit yet.

Pat never quit caring for others.

Pat would have approved this message.

 

Determination

I lied to you, my dear readers.  Instead of using an already published post as the basis for my last post of 2015, I am creating a brand new post, which I wrote last night.

West side of Binghamton, New York

It's time to sparkle.

I am blowing off the dust from my blog, which hasn't been refreshed in a while.  I updated my blogging template, as my regular readers (thank you for coming!) will note.

I joined a blogging challenge for the first time in several months.  I read several older posts for inspiration.  I went to a sparkling wine tasting, and tasted, for the first time, Dom Perignon, Cristal, and even the Pol Roger Champagne served at William and Kate's wedding reception.

DETERMINATION

DETERMINATION will be my word for 2016.  (My word for 2015 - DIFFERENT - well, 2015 was different, all right).  I'm being more careful with my word for 2016.  I am:

DETERMINED that I will attain certain goals, which I will not reveal to my blog readers.  (Why?  It is said you are more likely to succeed if you don't announce them.)

DETERMINED that the essential "me" will not be swallowed up by the need to help with the needs of my elderly mother in law and my developmentally disabled brother in law.

DETERMINED that I will grow my writing, and my photography, no matter what my personal challenges are this year.  Even if it only grows a little, it will be a victory.   Even if, at some point, I decide to no longer blog daily, the fact that I have for nearly five years is a victory.

This past year, I learned once again just how precious life can be. The 39 year old son of someone I went to high school with died in a freak accident, leaving a young child and a pregnant wife.  My best friend from childhood died from cancer. A former co worker is gravely ill as I write this, and probably will not survive her illness. It would be a terrible thing to waste the opportunities I have been given.

Of course, it could be just the Champagne talking, but I don't think so.  I was buoyed by a couple of recent comments on my blog, one by a reader who said she would miss me if I stopped blogging, and another one who extended an invitation. (That second person has no idea how introverted I am in real life but...hey, one can grow in ways other than blogging, too.).

I know I have something of value to share with the world.  I am determined to make a difference, small or large.

So....please join me tomorrow as I start a new year of blogging, and a year of determination.

Will you be choosing a word for the coming year?  If you are, come link with Laurel at Alphabet Salad

An InLinkz Link-up

Sweet Tea

Welcome to day two of the Ultimate Blog Challenge #blogboost and #FlavoursomeTuesdays.

In reviewing 2017, I realized I had never blogged about the several days my husband and I spent with our adult son, traveling in separate cars (but together) from upstate New York to Columbia, South Carolina. It was the first vacation together we had in 11 years.

Our son helped us when the entire state of Virginia turned into a parking lot, with seemingly the entire East Coast of the United States having the idea of  traveling to South Carolina to see the eclipse. His young nimble thinking ran rings around what suddenly seemed like our senior thoughts stuck in concrete.

It's kind of funny - I had chosen the word determination as my word for both 2016 and 2017.

And now it was my son showing the determination, as one hour of avoiding stuck traffic stretched into hours.  My son led the way, as we kept in touch by cell phone.  He found secondary roads to escape Interstate 81, which had turned into a parking lot.  At one point we even thought of turning back.  That thought never entered his mind.

When had we become quitters, more interested in comfort than adventure? Yikes.

Fancy Gap, Virginia

Finally, past the traffic jams, we entered the mountains on the Virginia/North Carolina border and my son asked me to take a picture of the runaway truck ramps.

We got to our first stop, Mt. Airy, North Carolina, a couple of hours after my son arrived.  We had called the motel to tell them he would be getting there before us.  And the desk clerk complimented us on our "nice polite son".

The man who made fun of our garden as a teen admired the gardens of the South Carolina state capital after we arrived the day before the eclipse, and took this panoramic picture for me of the African American mural.  Yes, my son had to show me how to take a panoramic picture with an iPhone.

It doesn't look it in this picture, but it was a brutal, humid 95 degrees F (35C) Sunday with a heat index of 100.  The central South Carolina sun beat down upon our Northern heads (although I had protected mine with a hat).  After a few minutes of gazing at what the grounds of the state capitol offered (it was our second visit, and I highly recommend it, incidentally), we fled, trying to escape terminal roasting, to find some good air conditioning. (I must add here that I've lived in Florida, Texas and Arkansas, and summer heat is not unknown to me.  But I am no longer used to it.)

We made our way to a local restaurant called Rush's After ordering some broasted chicken, a young server came to our table and offered us some sweet tea.

Here, for my foreign readers, I have to pause to explain.  In the northern United States, iced tea is drunk without sweetener.  However, in the South, it is assumed you will be drinking sweet tea unless you specify "unsweetened".  My son had never had sweet tea.  I must admit, I do not like it, but then again, I am not a true Southerner.

If you want to try it out, here's a recipe.

But son said "yes" to the tea, as we all gulped mass quantities to quench our thirst. He loved his broasted chicken dinner, too - so much so that we ate at Rush's again the next day, after the eclipse.

not our family

Dear son, who hated the history museums I took him to (I love history, while he was a science person), explored the South Carolina State Museum with great enjoyment, while waiting for the eclipse to begin.

That afternoon, we used our tickets to view the total eclipse of the sun with hundreds of other people on their front lawn.

And the eclipse itself - our third, his first, we felt wonder together.

The horizon during totality, Columbia, South Carolina

At totality, I yelled with other participants while son exclaimed over and over "This is crazy!"

This video was taken by the local newspaper - I was one of the people screaming in that crowd.

I found out we had some similar things on our bucket lists besides viewing a total eclipse of the sun- visiting Iceland one day, for one thing (I'll pass on his skydiving goal, though). 

I don't know if we ever will taken another vacation together, but I do know I will remember this trip for the rest of my life.

It made 2017 for me, realizing that I enjoy the friendship (my non-word for 2018) of my son.

And there was that sweet tea....something to bond over.

Join Bellybytes at Mumbai on a High and Shilpa Gupte at Metanoia for #FlavoursomeTuesdays. If you want to share a food related memory, why not join us?

Day 2 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge #blogboost

Interesting Opportunity to Have Your Say

I haven't spoken in a while about my spouse's brother, who has autism.  This from a listserv I subscribe to sounded interesting.  Family members, friends, and others, have the chance to "give testimony", they do have to give a name and email address.

I don't know anything about this agency, but it was intriguing.  Apparently the original deadline to participate in this was March 1 but it is now extended to March 4.  Here is the message:  Note, the person with a developmental disability can be any age, child or adult.

In the case of our family member, he is middle aged, and there are a number of concerns.  I don't want to get personal, but I am thinking of posting something.  Don't know if it will go down a cyber-black hole or not, and I'm a bit leery of giving my email address, but perhaps it is worth a try.

We'll see.


Dear Families, Self Advocates and Provider Networks:

Please take a few minutes and read this note and follow through on offering comments to ADD.

It is crucial that the Administration on Developmental Disabilities (ADD) hear from family members and people with disabilities about accomplishments and successes that have been possible because of the help, supports and education people have had access to. (The U.S. Administration on Developmental Disabilities (ADD) has a mission to improve and increase services to and assure that individuals with developmental disabilities have opportunities to make their own choices, contribute to society, have supports to live independently, and are free of abuse, neglect, financial and sexual exploitation and violations of their legal and human rights.)

We, the families and people who depend on this assistance, need to ensure that cuts to education, services (including Medicaid funded services) and employment supports do not put people back into institutions. As parents of children with disabilities, we learned from or heard about parents who helped pave the way for us and for our children. They had few choices and made sacrifices to make life better for people with developmental disabilities and to help other parents. Their perseverance included truly fighting for educational services we consider an entitlement. Their determination included striving for a place to live other than an understaffed institution ward and activities to enrich a person's day so they do not sit idle. These are things we consider an expectation. We need to be the ones to help pave the way for the future.

The potential for children and adults with disabilities losing services, supports and education that have helped make people successful is real.
The Administration on Developmental Disabilities invites you to share your vision of the future. Because of an overwhelming response, online comments are being accepted through Friday, March 4. Please take a few minutes and add your thoughts. Follow this link and provide testimony about community inclusion, participation, education, capital, employment, self-determination, person centered choices, self-advocacy, etc.

This is the link for submitting your testimony/story/comments:

http://www.envision2010.net/comment_submit.php

Happy Mothers Day to the Five Mothers in My Life

On this Mothers Day I want to pay tribute to five women who helped make me into the person I am today.

The first person was my mother, who died too soon and too young. She was a stay at home mother who, I know, wanted to be in the workplace but the times (the early 1960's) did not support that. Instead, she became the mother that the neighborhood children would call for treats. Yes, call. We lived on the fourth floor of an apartment building in the Bronx. When we would play, and got hungry, we would gather under the window and yell in unison "Mom!" Somehow she always knew "Mom" meant her and not one of the other 130 Moms in the building. Well, OK, sometimes we had to yell for a few minutes. But soon, a bag would be dropped out the window for all of us to share.

Mom was so very proud that her English skills were such that she had gotten a job meant only for college graduates. She graduated from high school and never went further in her education. She had been a contest judge for a famous organization and I used to love to hear her tales about that. She had also studied to be a dental hygienist, and still had one of her textbooks. It was way too hard for me and I was amazed that she could have studied from it.

When I was 10 years old, I broke my leg. As my 6th grade class was on the 4th floor of my elementary school, and there were no elevators, the school sent a home instructor to my apartment for the two months I was out of school. As it happened, the teacher grew up in the the same neighborhood as my mother and they would have coffee and chat as I worked on my studies.

One Friday morning in November my mother left me to go shopping. When she returned, she was crying. She turned the TV on and that is how I found out about the assassination of John Kennedy.

In the last years of her life, rheumatoid arthritis stole much of her mobility and left her so exhausted that she would lie on the couch. She was so very depressed, too but I was too young to understand. I would rub her feet and help her feel better. I would go to the market with her and do the shopping while she sat in the front of the store.

The second mother was the mother of a good friend from school. After she died, "Mrs. Frank" showed me how to use a washing machine, how to open cans (would you believe I didn't know how!!) and so much more, and kept an eye on me. She is still alive today and I hope she had a wonderful mothers day.

The third mother was my Aunt Trudy, who lived in Tampa, FL and in many ways stepped in to fill the huge hole the death of my mother created in my life. I visited her three times in my teen years. She showed me and taught me many of the things that my mother would have shown me if she had been alive. My Aunt also died young, from pancreatic cancer.

The fourth mother was my Aunt Mary. My Aunt Mary lived out in Iowa but after I married and moved out to the Midwest, I became close to her. She was one of the most understanding, most accepting people I was ever to meet. I list her fourth but in many ways the mark she left on me was second only to my own natural mother.

The last mother is my mother in law. She is 81 now and a very strong woman. I hope I have her wits and her determination when I am 81! She is a two-time cancer survivor and the mother of a man with autism. My brother in law was born years before autism was something discussed in the daily news. She was one of the generation of women who did not institutionalize her son and tried to make as normal a life for him as she could while he was growing up. The parents of children with autism today owe a lot of gratitude to women like my mother in law, who "made it up" as they went along, without support, without understanding.

Happy Mothers Day to all mothers. Thank you to the women above, and to their sons and daughters, some of whom are still in my life.

Civil War Sunday - Thrust into History

I am going to pause my Civil War Sunday post this Sunday due to the events in France this past week.

I have a small personal link to France through family.  One of my cousins married a man born in France to a French mother and an American father.  I met his mother and sisters when they came from France to the the United States to attend his wedding.  The children of that union have visited France to meet their French relatives.

I watched the rally in Paris tonight, live on CNN.  I saw the faces of the thousands there, mirroring sadness, fear, exhaustion, and determination.  The CNN headline read "Standing with France."


A number of French bloggers have read my posts, and I have read theirs.  Through the Internet, we interact with people all over the world every day, and think nothing of it.  It's such a different world than the world I was born into 62 years ago.

So, instead of blogging about a Civil War peace initiative, I would like to blog instead about the fickle finger of history.  

History has a way of taking ordinary people and thrusting them into the front lines of history.  This has happened so many times, and this past week is no exception.

Staff members of a Paris satirical publication.  Shoppers in a kosher supermarket.  A policeman in the wrong place at the wrong time who died in the line of duty, caught on video.  A kosher supermarket clerk who saved upwards of 15 shoppers by hiding them in a freezer.

The events of this week in France, in a strange way, have something in common with the study of the United States Civil War.

When history calls, ordinary people act heroically.
Nothing is ever as clear cut as it seems.
We must not ever give in to fear.  And we realize how hard that can be.
Stereotypes are just that, stereotypes, but they can cause immense damage. 
And, sadly, a country can be ripped apart by hate. But it can also grow stronger from the struggle to understand and overcome.
And, sometimes we don't know what we had until we have lost it.

In our Civil War, history touched the lives of so many people (I have blogged about some of them and hope to blog about others before the end of March), who may have been unknown to history.  But, instead, we study them and learn from their actions.

We in the United States must stand united with the people of France.

Next week, perhaps I will blog about what I intended to blog about this week - a Civil War peace initiative started by a man no longer a household name, but once well known in the United States, and an amazing link this man has with a modern actor once a household name in our country.

The Tree That Still Grows in Brooklyn #ThursdayTreeLove

I blogged about this tree for Parul's bi monthly #ThursdayTreeLove back in 2018 but it's worth a repeat.

Consider this tree, which I photographed back on August 19.

Now think of tenacity, and some of its meanings. .  Determination.  Persistence.

Tenacity.  The ability to grow where it was planted, and flourish despite all odds.

The lessons of a tree that grew in Brooklyn and inspired a best selling novel.

In 1943, a novel called A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith was published.  It was the story of an impoverished 11 year old girl, Francene Nolan, who, during the course of the novel, endures many hardships.  When the book ends, Francene is seventeen and is ready to embark on her adult life.

Like the tree in the yard of her apartment building, Francene survives all that life throws at her.  The tree is destroyed again and again, but sprouts again, and survives.

I fell in love with that book when I read it as a young teen.  As someone who grew up in New York City, I was quite familiar with that tree.  It is a survivor.

The tree is called Ailanthus altissima.  Or Chinese sumac.  Another name is the tree of Heaven, which may be a sarcastic name.   It is quite invasive, grows rapidly, and can live up to 100 years or more.  If chopped down, it will regrow from its roots.  And, quite literally, the tree can stink. 

 Back in 2015, when spouse and I had to make frequent trips to a northern suburb of New York City during the summer, I was amazed to see how it was taking over the roadsides of one of the parkways north of New York City.

With climate change, its range is rapidly expanding, and it now grows where I live in the Southern Tier of New York State.  It isn't just there, either - if you head west on NY 17 towards Bath, New York, you'll find it there, too as I did earlier this month.

But still...that tenacity. You have to admire this tree, even as you are saddened by its spread.

Joining Parul of Happiness and Food each second and fourth Thursday of the month for her #ThursdayTreeLove.

Compassion for Ourselves

 I've renamed this post and I've rewritten part of it several times. 

Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, ended yesterday evening.  This day has a deep meaning for those of the Jewish faith, as the Almighty makes final determination of our fate for the coming year.  Prior to the beginning of Yom Kippur, the religious Jew has tried to make amends for all his or her wrongdoings of the past year, and asked forgiveness/tries to make things right with those he or she has hurt. Yom Kippur itself is marked by a 25 hour fast and various religious observances.

Here is a brief history of Yom Kippur.

So, why am I blogging this after the holiday has ended?

It's about compassion and caring for each others, and those who give all because they care.

I have been thinking recently of Dr. Adeline Fagan  

Dr. Fagan, who grew up in LaFayette, New York (perhaps an hour from where I live), was a OB/GYN resident in a hospital in Houston, Texas. Dr. Fagan died earlier this month after a two month fight with COVID-19.  She been rotating through a number of positions within the hospital as part of her residency.  As part of this, she worked in the ER and was exposed to COVID-19 patients.

She was 28.

Her parents moved down to Houston to be closer to her, but they were only able to see her (briefly) three times before she died.

I want to take you to LaFayette, New York for a minute.  LaFayette is apple growing country but hundreds of cars must pass this exit off I-81 near Syracuse, New York to experience that beautiful country.

It is beautiful country.

Apple Valley, they call themselves. This is not an apple processing plant but a large orchid is near this business.

It's hard to imagine a young woman growing up in this peaceful place practicing medicine in the bustling city of Houston.  Her dream was to practice OB/GYN medicine, and she was taken from us way, way too soon, miles and miles from home.

Meanwhile, our country continues to tear itself apart.  Anyone who is in the public eye in any way related to COVID seems to be a target for one side of another, in attacks that make anyone wonder where the truth is.

But one thing is for certain.  Those who died should not be forgotten. 

If only we could find our way back to the path of caring for one another.  But perhaps it is too late.  Certain of us don't seem to care.  They do whatever they want, and don't think (or care) about the consequences.

For others, what seems simple to you or me can create the need for consultation with religious authorities for others.  For still others, certain of the recommended practices to curb COVID-19 are unthinkable.  I'm not thinking masks here, which is a whole other (seriously charged) topic in the United States, but, rather, cultures that live in overcrowded situations in multi generational households and refuse not to gather in large family groups for certain observances.

Not all is lost, though.  Here's one viewpoint - enjoy.

If you want still another viewpoint, this post by someone who lived through a civil war several years ago  may scare you, or plunge you into self-denial.  

We may need compassion for the entire human race, and how impossible is that?

Perhaps we start with compassion for ourselves, and go from there.

Can we overcome what seems hopeless?

Is there still hope for us worldwide to escape this second wave, which is already on its way?

We can only continue to move forward, one day at a time.

Winter Wednesday - Snow and Resolutions

Today, a photo of a dead tree in a frozen over swamp in rural Broome County, New York, for my blog readers who love snow.

This was taken by my "guest photographer" in a swampy area which is frozen over, so my guest photographer was able to get "up close and personal" with this and other dead tree roots sticking out of the ice.

So, what does that have to do with the other thing I want to talk about today?

I read a blog post yesterday that made me think.   

"February 7 is the day we give up".

That's right.  We start the year with the best of intentions.  We start out at full speed, with the best of intentions.  But, before you know it, we realize it is going to take time, and work, to reach our goals. We say "the heck with it." And that happens...around February 7.

I had this word for the year....what was it, again?  Oh yes.  Determination.

I had already forgotten it.

But yesterday, something interesting happened to me.  It was drizzling, and the temperature was right at freezing.  The conditions were right for freezing drizzle.   I knew that was a possibility as I started my commute to work.

I'm scared of ice.   But I ended up having to walk on some sidewalks yesterday that were just starting to ice up.  I didn't have ice cleats on, and my balance (despite the balance exercises I do) isn't the best.  I was so tempted to freeze (no pun intended) in place the first time I started to slide.  But I knew I had to keep moving.

I made it to my destination.

Once there, we talked about some serious things in a meeting, but also shared a couple of jokes.

That's more advice from the post I read yesterday- remember to laugh and have a good time.

I will remain determined, and I will remember to be grateful, and to laugh, every day.

Music Monday - Unforgettable

On New Year's Eve, Natalie Cole passed away at the age of 65.

She was the daughter of a legendary jazz singer, Nat King Cole, who died when Natalie was 15 years old.

It isn't easy when you are the son or daughter of a legend. You must prove your own worth, and people don't take you seriously.  Natalie wanted to succeed on the basis of her own talent, but the link to her father was brought up again and again.  For years, she would not sing her father's songs.

A song from early in her career. (Everlasting Love).

Natalie Cole turned to heroin and crack cocaine for solace.  Her drug use began in college and continued through the early years of her fame.   She conquered her addictions after entering rehab in 1983, but the price on her body was high - she contracted Hepatitis C and announced it in 2008.  Natalie Cole ended up needing dialysis and, later, a kidney transplant.

She lived a life of determination despite her rocky beginnings and her health problems.

Ms. Cole was a success in the music field, winning nine Grammy Awards.

Ironically, one of her best known songs was a duet she performed, through the magic of modern day technology, with her father.  They sang one of her father's biggest hits, Unforgettable.

 Aretha Franklin announcing the death of Natalie Cole at a concert on January 1.

We will Miss You Like Crazy.

Upon her death, her family said (according to Wikipedia) "Natalie fought a fierce, courageous battle, dying how she lived ... with dignity, strength and honor. Our beloved mother and sister will be greatly missed and remain unforgettable in our hearts forever."

If you have a memory of Natalie, share it in the comments below.