A Friendship Fourth of July

It's been a while since I've repeated this post but I am moved to today, with some new material and new (to my blog, I think) photos from the trip I blogged about.

In July of 2013, we were commemorating the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg, which took place July 1, 2 and 3, 1863.  This battle, fought near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, is said to have been the defining moment of who would win the United States Civil War.

I wrote many posts during the 150th anniversary of the war (1861-1865) including this one on July 3, 2013. 

I had wanted so much to be able to visit Gettysburg that week.   There was supposed to be a large gathering to commemorate that watershed battle, but, unfortunately, many people had the same idea and, unlike me, they didn't try to make last minute plans.

Spouse and I had already taken time off from work.

I was not happy, but then fate intervened.

First, I need to explain that many years ago, both this cousin (let's call her "C") and my childhood best friend (BF) were house hunting in Brooklyn, a borough of New York City.  C has spent almost her entire life in Brooklyn.  BF grew up with me in the Bronx (another borough) but, as an adult, moved to an apartment in Brooklyn at the time she got married.  

Anyway, C and BF found themselves at the same open house.  

They hit it off.  They became friends, not knowing (at first) that they had something else in common.  Or, actually, someone else.  Me.

(Just as another fun fact, a good friend of BF's husband was the son of my next door neighbor growing up, proving that even New York City, with its eight million people, can be a small world at times.)

At some point, my cousin and childhood friend found out they had me in common, and when spouse and I came to Brooklyn, we always tried to visit both of them.

Fast forward to 2013.  About a year and a half before, BF was diagnosed with cancer.  As the summer of 2013 came close, she was doing well.

One late June day, C called to catch up on life.  In talking with her, she mentioned that, on July 4, BF had planned a BBQ.  Among other people, C was invited.  Too bad I couldn't be there, as I lived 150 miles away, and probably had other plans....or could I?

I contacted BF, and yes, we were welcome to come.  And to stay with her and her husband.

We came. We had a wonderful visit and 4th of July BBQ with BF, C, and other friends of BF.    We had a great time, that first few days of July we spent down there.    

My friend loved to garden in her small New York City plot.

I can't remember if this zucchini plant (picture taken July 4, 2013) was in my friend's yard, or in the yard of one of her neighbors.  

These were her tomatoes.  She also had rosemary and dill growing.
 

A fig tree in her neighbor's yard.

My friend's dill.

I can't believe eleven years have passed since that day.

This is not a story with a happy ending, I'm sorry to say.  That night, before the unofficial street fireworks began, my friend, her husband, my spouse, and I, walked to a store and had some ice cream.

Over the frozen treats, she matter of factly told me she had decided where she would be interred after she passed.  She knew her time was limited, and joked that the cemetery was near a shopping center, meaning that people would be sure to visit.

That kind of joke was so like her....

This visit was the last time I saw my BF "well".   She passed away in 2015.  May she forever rest in peace.

If I I had been able to find lodging down in Gettysburg, I never would been able to go to that wonderful BBQ, and we wouldn't have spent other quality time with her during that visit.

Maybe some things are meant to be.  

When I think of the Fourth of July, I think of her, each and every year.

May my readers in the United States have a happy and meaningful Independence Day.  

Cancer sucks.

A happier post tomorrow.

Words of Wisdom #AtoZChallenge

I usually have trouble with the W post for the Blogging from A to Z Challenge because there are so many choices for W.  

This year, I decided on "Words of Wisdom" after visiting Greenville, South Carolina's Cancer Survivors Park (also see my "P" post on April 19.  This entire park provides support and inspiration for those facing cancer and those who have survived it. 

The park is full of plaques with words of wisdom.  Let's pay a visit and be inspired.

The Power of Teamwork - a quote from Helen Keller.

The power of Laughter, from famed author Madeleine L'Engle, author of A Wrinkle in Time and other beloved books.
 

Finally, the Power of Exercise.

This statue is called "Fear Not".  I also featured it in my "P" post on the park, but it is worth repeating.  It carries a powerful message.

What a beautiful park full of support and inspiration.

"W" day on the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.  My theme this year is: Exploring South Carolina and the Eastern United States.

Park (Cancer Survivors) #AtoZChallenge #WordlessWednesday

Another not so wordless post....

Greenville, South Carolina, is a city full of parks.  I visited some of them on a February, 2023 visit, including Cancer Survivors Park.  I am not a cancer survivor, but my late mother in law was a survivor of three bouts with cancer.  My late childhood best friend survived one cancer and lived more than 30 years after.

The purpose of Cancer Survivors park is to support and uplift those with cancer, whether they are undergoing treatment, are in remission, or facing a crisis.

 

The entrance is a work of art called Butterfly Journey. 

In this closeup, you can see the butterflies a little better.

Let's take a walk in the park.

This sculpture is called "The Welcome Statue".  The yellow flower is not part of the sculpture; daffodils were blooming and someone put one in her hand.

A closeup.  If there was a way for me (I'm sure there is but I don't have the software for it) to make the picture black and white except for the flower, I think it would have come out well.

Tom's Hat is a tribute to the designer of the park, Thomas Keith, Jr, who passed away in 2013.  It shows a notepad and a Tilley hat.

Fear Not is in a children's garden within the park.

The park was quiet when we were there, but I understand there are events each week to support, educate, and encourage.

"P" day in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.  My theme this year is: Exploring South Carolina and the Eastern United States.

Also joining up with Sandee at Comedy Plus for her #WordlessWednesday.

Seven Years

It's been seven years.  Seven years ago today, your journey on Earth ended. 

I had visited you, with my spouse, four days before. 

Life has gone on since.  One of your granddaughters married in the past year.  Another one is having her engagement party tomorrow.

I hope you don't know what has been going on here in the United States.  It would distress you so, I know.  Your parents were Holocaust survivors and good people.  You spent part of your life as an elementary school teacher.  You loved children so.

Today, I went to a local music festival.  I think you would have enjoyed it.

This was the 20th annual (in 21 years - one year cancelled due to COVID) Blues on the Bridge, a free concert event featuring local bands from the Binghamton, New York area.  Ironically, it was you (and your mother) who brought me to Binghamton for a short visit, back in 1972.

I never suspected I would spend much of my adult life here.  Life takes people in strange directions.

Let's pay a short visit to the festival (more tomorrow). 

Since I used to work a few blocks from here, I knew there was a flower garden a few hundred steps away. 

Ah, there it is!  You would have loved this pollinator garden.

The first group scheduled to perform did a cover of the iconic "For What It's Worth" by Buffalo Springfield.  They felt it was important that the festival goers hear the song.  Written by Steven Stills, the song did not begin as a protest song, but it's thought to be just that by many today.

I think the song is timeless. In the years since, it has been covered by so many artists. Some of the lyrics apply just as easily applies to our times today.

So, today, friend, I am thinking of you just as I do every September 17.  One day, the cancer that took you from us will be conquered.  But can we conquer ourselves, our drive to hate the "other", some of our impulses?

For What It's Worth.

 

Facing the Future by Remembering The Past

A heads up: this post includes some discussion of a book that takes a deep dive into COVID's affect on those who experienced the pandemic, especially in the second part of the book.  It may hit too close to home for some.  The research this author did for this book, incidentally, is outstanding. So onward to my thoughts:

A few days ago, I finished reading a book by Jodi Picault called "Wish You Were Here". It's my first book by her, and if this is like her other works, it won't be my last. (I hope the next one doesn't disappoint - I've had that happen with prolific writers).  

In a nutshell (because if I revealed the plot, it would have to contain a major spoiler), two 30-somethings, Diana and Finn, have their entire lives planned.  They will marry, buy a house, get a particular breed of dog, have two children, and visit a list of places.  Diana is an associate art specialist at a major New York City auction house.  Finn is a surgical resident at a major Manhattan hospital. 

Their careers are both on track.

Diana and Finn have purchased tickets to visit the Galapagos Islands, where Diana suspects that Finn will propose to her. It's the trip of their lifetimes.  It took them four years to save up.  They are supposed to leave in mid-March, 2020.

And then....COVID.  Everything changes, and the book is an examination of life during the first months of the pandemic from several different angles.  The book, for me, was a wrenching, emotional experience.

I had forgotten so much about those months.  Perhaps we all have, in a kind of mutually agreed on amnesia.  We don't want to remember.  We think, perhaps, that forgetting will make it easier to move on.  Or maybe we still deny it never happened.  Denial can be a type of forgetting, too.

But we need to look inward and to document our experiences.  We should ask ourselves, in that review, if our actions are making the world, or at least our neighborhood, a better place.

Are we bringing happiness to others?  Do our words, our writing, our photography, our volunteer work, our paid work, bring meaning to us?  Joy, or another positive thing, perhaps, to others?

This book stayed with me after I turned the last page. I stayed in its world.  As harrowing as what was presented could be, I didn't want to let go.

Those books are the best kinds of books.

But other things happened while I was reading the book.

Hydrangeas, Ross Park, Binghamton, 8-20-22

While I was reading the book, I read a blog post by a fellow midlife (or later) blogger, Laura, who has written candidly on her blog about various challenges in her life.  She considers some of her health challenges a gift, teaching her to look at others with compassion.  One of her latest posts bluntly discusses "What It's Like to Age Faster than my Friends".

Here is the blog post, and I invite all my readers to read and ponder it.

It seems to me (and many other people I've read) that we in the United States have become more selfish.  Less caring of our neighbors and community.  Some have turned to social media with posts and thoughts that will terrify you.

Finally, a man I went to high school with, the life partner of a friend of many years, and a man who fought his years long battle with cancer with grace and courage, would have turned 69 on Sunday.  But he passed away recently, so, instead, his birthday was marked with remembering the good man he was.

We are all granted a number, the number of breaths we will take in our individual gardens of life.  Most of us don't know that number.  But some of us do. I have been blessed by a lifetime longer than that of many people on this Earth, including my mother, and several "in real life" friends who passed in their 50's and 60's.  In a couple of years, I will be as old as my father was.  

Both my parents passed suddenly.  Here one day and gone the next. Both had health challenges that impacted their life spans.

So what am I doing with the years and health I've been blessed with?  Have I tended my garden of life?  Or is it getting overgrown with weeds, drooping in a drought brought on by not enough of the rain called self love?

We live in perilous times.  Anxious times.  But that makes self care, and finding meaning, even more important.

It may be time to reexamine our lives once again, and remember what we've been through in the pandemic times.

If we forget the past, we won't have a roadmap to the future.  History teaches us that without a roadmap, things never end well.  

What road will we choose?

Every Day is a Blessing

I don't want to wait until next Monday's Music Moves Me to pay tribute to Olivia Newton-John, who passed away yesterday at the age of 73. She was surrounded by loved ones, including her daughter and husband.

Newton-John won four Grammy's and sold more than 100 million albums during her long musical career.  Her life had its share of tragedy, though, including two battles with breast cancer, in 1992 and 2013 (the return of which she kept secret).  Her cancer returned in 2017 for the third and final time.

Even in her final years and months, she was raising money for cancer research, calling herself a "cancer thriver" rather than a "cancer survivor".   In an interview, she once said "Every day is a blessing".

Besides her music, she was known for her support of environmental causes.

As for her music:

Her cover of "If Not For You" was her first UK hit, in 1971.

 Here is Olivia Newton-John competing in the Eurovision Song contest in 1974.  Her song came in fourth.

 "Grease" was the word, and the movie that propelled her to super-stardom.  Here is her duet with John Travolta, "You're The One That I Want".

One of my personal favorites was this 1980 hit:  "Magic"

From 1981, "Physical" seems tame by today's standards but it was banned by various radio stations.

I will end this tribute with a duet Newton-John recorded in 2021 with her daughter Chloe Lattanzi, called "Window in the Wall".  Her daughter, incidentally, launched her own music career at the age of 15, apparently not taking advantage of her mother's fame.  She is also an actress.

May Olivia Newton-John forever rest in peace.

Back When Time was Endless

When we were in high school, time was endless.  Our lives stretched out into infinity (at least those of us who had not had experience with medical or other issues).  Our mortality was never on our minds.

There were two people in my high school.  A girlfriend that I am still a long distant friend of.  And a boy.

Fast forward many years.

There was a high school reunion.  They met.  They clicked.  They became partners in life. 

My spouse (who I didn't meet until college) and I had lunch or dinner with them several times over the years.  The last time we saw each other was in January, 2020, in Florida, where they have lived for years.  We had dinner.  We talked. We had no idea what the future would bring.

He was midway through a long battle with cancer when I last saw him.  Today, I found out he has been admitted to hospice care.

That infinite future is not so infinite anymore.  I want to stop time in its tracks.  I want everyone and everything that meant something to me to magically return to the way it was.  

Of course "The Way We Were" is only a song.

Today, I was planning one post, and here I am with a different one.  I want to post some pictures of daylilies taken between July 6 and yesterday in my flower beds.  

These day lilies are special because each bloom only lasts for a day.  They have multiple buds (as you can see in the picture above, so they bloom for a while, and then we have to wait until next year for more.

They teach us to be present, to live in the present, which is something I'm finding harder to do.

Today, I pause and take in their beauty.

While the winds of change blow once again.

Want music?  Join me tomorrow for "Music Moves Me".

Gone Too Soon

Some people teach us how to live; some teach us how to die. Some teach us both.  And some just die too soon.

I hadn't opened LinkedIn in almost a week, and when I did, the lead post on my wall was one from my college alma mater.  You may have heard of the tragic fire in the Bronx (a borough of New York City) that killed 17 people in an apartment house.  Well, one of them was a sophomore at that college, a young woman who was planning to become a social workers. Her name was Sera Janneh.

The rest of her family made it out; she got separated in the terrible smoke and zero visibility the tenants faced when they tried to flee. One of her sisters was in critical condition the last I knew, her lungs damaged from smoke inhalation.

Every parent's worst nightmare is losing a child   That's not how things are supposed to work. And some of these families lost several members, all from smoke inhalation.  Nightmarish.

Gone too soon.  Then, there's other tragedies.

Bonnie was a Facebook friend and fellow blogger.  She was from Hawaii and lived in Brooklyn.  An avid sea kayaker and lover of the ocean, she expanded my horizons and showed me a side of New York City that I had never experienced in my 21 years of growing up in the City.  She was also a participant in the boat flotilla of September 11, 2001 which transported stranded workers from lower Manhattan  back to New Jersey so they could get home. 

I enjoyed Bonnie's photos of Brooklyn and her kayaking adventures.  She belonged to a paddling club in Jamaica Bay and was a fearless kayaker.  Her last job was with Scholastic, which must have been like heaven to a book lover like her (and me!)

Bonnie touched many lives in many ways.  I had no idea how many lives until she started her final voyage Wednesday, January 12.

Social media has brought people together who otherwise never would have known each other.  I don't remember when I discovered Bonnie but I am grateful I had the opportunity to experience a small slice of her adventures.

Yes, another pair of my socks.

Bonnie battled breast cancer once before (in 2016).  In March, 2020 it returned, just as COVID-19 hit New York City like a bomb.  Bonnie knew that metastatic breast cancer wasn't curable, but the doctors at the Manhattan hospital where she was treated bought her as much time as they could under the circumstances.  Bonnie remained upbeat on the outside all through the last almost two years of her life.  In December, she started to post pictures and reminiscences of the past on her Facebook wall, but didn't reveal (at first) that she had started home hospice care.

On January 8, she posted her last picture - a view of a group of kayakers in front of her, as they embarked on a voyage.

Rest in peace, Sera (and the others who died in the Bronx fire) and Bonnie.

July 2013 Revisited

 In July of 2013, we were commemorating the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg, which took place July 1, 2 and 3, 1863.  This battle, fought near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, is said to have been the defining moment of who would win the United States Civil War.

I wrote many posts during the 150th anniversary of the war (1861-1865) including this one on July 3, 2013. 

I had wanted so much to be able to visit Gettysburg that week.   There was supposed to be a large gathering to commemorate that watershed battle, but, unfortunately, many people had the same idea and, unlike me, they didn't try to make last minute plans.

Spouse and I had already taken time off from work.

I was not happy, but then fate intervened.

I was so positive I had written a blog post about what happened next, but if I did, I can't find it on my blog, so here goes (eight years later).

First, I need to explain that many years ago, both this cousin (let's call her "H") and my childhood best friend (BFF) were house hunting in Brooklyn, a borough of New York City.  H has spent almost her entire life in Brooklyn.  BFF grew up with me in the Bronx (another borough) but, as an adult, moved to an apartment in Brooklyn at the time she got married.  Anyway, H and BFF found themselves at the same open house.  

They hit it off.  They became friends, not knowing (at first) that they had something else in common.  Or, actually, someone else.  Me.

(Just as another fun fact, a good friend of BFF's husband was the son of my next door neighbor in the Bronx, proving that even New York City, with its eight million people, can be a small world at times.)

At some point, they found out they had me in common, and when spouse and I came to Brooklyn, we always tried to visit both of them.

Fast forward to 2013.  About a year and a half before, BFF had been diagnosed with cancer.  As the summer of 2013 came close, she was doing well.

One late June day, H called to catch up on life.  In talking with her, she mentioned that, on July 4, BFF had planned a BBQ.  Among other people, H was invited.  Too bad I couldn't be there, as I lived 150 miles away, and probably had other plans....or could I?

I contacted BFF, and sure, we were welcome to come.  And to stay with her and husband.

We came. We had a wonderful visit and 4th of July BBQ with BFF, H, and BFF's other friends.     We had a great time, that first few days of July we spent down there.   

BFF loved to crochet and knit.  During her treatments, she would work on outfits for pediatric cancer patients, and she showed me some of her work.  Here is one picture of her work.

The next day, we went into Manhattan on the subway and walked (in that 90 plus degree heat) the  entire High Line.  Here's a post I wrote about it at the time.  At one time, this was an elevated railroad track.  Now, it's one of the most successful urban parks in the United States, full of art work.  The neighboring buildings take advantage of its popularity, too.

This is not a story with a happy ending, I'm sorry to say.

This visit was the last time I saw my BFF "well".   She passed away in 2015.  May she forever rest in peace.

But if I I had been able to find lodging down in Gettysburg, I never would been able to go to that wonderful BBQ, and spend other quality time with her before and after.

Maybe some things are meant to be.  Each July 4, I think back on that special July 4 I spent in Brooklyn.

May my readers in the United States have a happy and meaningful Independence Day.  Tomorrow I will have a happier post - I promise.

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.

 

The Five Year Anniversary of Courage

This is taken from a post from the summer of 2013, when my best friend from childhood was a couple of years into her fight for health and life.

My friend sent an email to friends and family:

I brought the fruits of my knit/crochet project to the pediatric oncology department today. Grand total was 2 baby blankets 7 hat scarf sets, 2 plain hats, and 9 infant/toddler hats. The nurses were so excited and happy. Some good came out of some bad. I hope some children like the things I made while waiting.

As one of my other friends from childhood said "cancer and children should never be in the same sentence."

At the time I wrote this post, my friend's husband was battling cancer alongside of her.  My friend went to all her husband's appointments and waited for him while he has his treatment - sometimes waiting an hour (or even more).

Out of boredom, she started to do her needlework while waiting.

She did beautiful crocheting and knitting work - and, at some point, started to work on projects for pediatric oncology patients.

I crochet but I do not knit, and I wanted to show off her work because I know quality work when I see it.   Again, this is from 2013:

A crocheted blanket and some knit hats.

Another crocheted blanket.

And finally, some hats and scarves.

We have the cliche "lemons out of lemonade" - this is about as lemony as you can get.

And now she's gone - five years ago, today.  I was able to visit her and her husband in Brooklyn four days before but I can never be sure she knew my spouse and I were there. 

In her last two years, she showed the full measure of courage, but she fought a foe that was strong, and unrelenting.   Her memory lives on in those of us who miss her.  On days like today, especially, I miss her.  She was a 4th grade teacher, and she taught me so much.

One day, perhaps, I will understand why she was taken from us too soon.

One day, perhaps, no one will know the meaning of the word "cancer". 

May she rest in peace.  May her memory continue to be a blessing.

Be The Warrior

 It's a topic none of us want to talk about.  But we must.

The untimely death of Chadwick Boseman at the age of 43 reminds us again:  colorectal cancer, more and more, is becoming a young person's illness.

Years ago, my next door neighbor's daughter in law battled stage 4 colon cancer even as she mothered two school aged children.  She survived.

A co worker's brother was diagnosed in his 20's.  He did not survive.  The co worker has two children in their 20's now.

A former co worker lost her grandmother and mother to colon cancer, both at the same age.  Fortunately she and others can get life saving screenings.  But insurance (except if someone is high risk, and not all cases in the young occur in high risk individuals) may not cover the test in full if you are under a certain age.

If cases of colon cancer and rectal cancer are increasing in the young, why aren't testing guidelines being adjusted?  When young people present with symptoms, it sometimes takes a lot of convincing to get a doctor to order a colonoscopy.

I ask my readers:  if you are over 45, get that screening that's recommended for you by your doctor. If you are under 45 and have symptoms such as blood in your stool, changes in bowel habits, or pressure like needing to "go" but you aren't ready to "go", please see a doctor immediately.  If you are blown off, please, see another doctor.

That's what a warrior does.

Chadwick Boseman was a warrior, on the screen and off it.  May he rest in peace. 

May the fight against cancer continue, and end successfully.  May all the warriors in this battle find strength today to continue the fight.

I've only seen portions of the movie "Black Panther". It will be shown on television tonight, 8 pm EDT.

From the Black Panther soundtrack, The Weeknd and Kendrick Lamar in "Pray For Me".

I invite you tomorrow to read (or, better yet, participate in) a Monday weekly blog hop called "Music Moves Me" where bloggers who love music gather to share their favorite songs, or songs from the theme for the week (alternate weeks).  Tomorrow, the theme is "Songs about the end of summer". 

"See" you tomorrow!

The Next Chapter

In 2017, I participated in a "cousins" family reunion on my father's side.   I don't know if there will be another one.  It gets harder and harder to fit things in.  And, sadly, one of my cousins (he couldn't make it) died later that year and the wife of another one (who did) died earlier this year.  We are at that age where people seem to get together mainly for weddings and funerals.  Especially funerals.

One memory of that reunion sticks in my mind.

After eating, we talked on the phone with our last living biological uncle, who is in his early 90's. His wife, who is younger, is our last aunt.  They live about 850 miles from us.

When asking him how he was doing, he said "not bad for an old man".

I flashed back to when I visited him as a teenager, when he was an energetic man in his 40's, raising three children (my youngest cousins).  Now, those young children are in their 50's.

Last week, Last Uncle celebrated his 95th birthday.  There was a party Saturday at his church.  His children (only one lives locally, and another lives overseas, but they all came) and grandchildren attended.  What a wonderful occasion.

One of my cousins texted me to tell me she was sending me some pictures of Uncle's birthday party.  But then there was some additional news she needed to pass along.  One of the cousins at the reunion had recently been diagnosed with cancer.  She already has health issues that cause her a great deal of pain.  Now, this.  She will have surgery sometime in December.

I can't help but think of the cancer that has hit my family (it's not what my cousin has) three times:  pancreatic cancer.  Twice on my father's side and once on my mother's side.

We are blessed, we who are alive and in good health.  I ponder this almost every day now, even as I watch someone on my floor at work battle cancer, and think of a former co worker on another floor who faced her own cancer battle earlier this year.  I have a feeling that the universe isn't just sending me a message, but, rather, screaming it.  It's about time I paid attention.

I was taught that we inherited an imperfect world and we are charged with leaving it better than it was when we arrived on Earth.  I can't say that my still working full time as I near age 67 is a bad thing, but I am feeling it is time to turn my talents to something new.

I just don't know what that is.  And I never realized you could still have "midlife" crises this late in life.  Why is it so hard for me to make this decision?

One day, I can only hope, my spouse and I will be saying "not bad for an old man" or "not bad for an old woman" to the children of the next generation, my future first cousins once removed. 

Thank you for coming along with me on this journey. 

A Chance Blown? #blogboost

President Jimmy Carter, who was President from 1977 to 1981, celebrated his 95th birthday this week.

In 2015, he was diagnosed with  stage IV melanoma, highly aggressive.  He spoke for almost 40 minutes at the press conference where he announced his cancer diagnosis, dressed in blue jeans and a blazer.  But he is still with us.

Which leads me to how I blew my chance to see Jimmy Carter back in 2009.

I had gone to Americus, Georgia to visit the nearby Andersonville Civil War POW site and Plains, Georgia, the birthplace of Jimmy Carter.

While staying at a B&B, I was told that Jimmy Carter taught Sunday School every Sunday he was in the area.  He was still doing extensive travel for his charity and foreign relations work, and, when I looked up his schedule, it said online he wasn't going to be at church that Sunday.

I felt a little uncomfortable, being of a different faith, and decided not to go to the service.  The set up was:  service first, then the Sunday School.  You had to go to the service to go to the Sunday School.

If I had gone, I would have seen him, because, as it turns out, he did teach that Sunday.

We had talked about going back to Americus this past April (2019).  Jimmy Carter is still teaching Sunday School, by the way.  What a lesson in Profiles in Courage.

So the obvious lesson of this moment is:  Grab the moment.  Don't let the discomfort of a new experience keep you from a once in a lifetime opportunity.

But there's one more thing I wanted to blog about.

At the 2015 press conference, there was one last surprise.  I have blogged about my family history of pancreatic cancer (on both sides of my family) - an aunt, an uncle, and a great aunt.  It turns out that Jimmy Carter may have the most extensive pancreatic cancer history of any living person.

Pancreatic cancer killed his father, brother and two sisters (all of his siblings).  His mother died from breast cancer that spread to her pancreas.

But, despite all this, he plans to continue working as long as he can.    And, as of right now, he still is.

While I, drawing closer to age 67, waffle about retirement.

I am in awe of Jimmy Carter.  No matter what your politics, this man deserves our respect. 

Due to circumstances, I still may not be able to get away from Americus until next year.  And then - will I try to see President Carter teaching?


We'll see.

Day 5 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge #blogboost

Celebrating The Oldest Former President Jimmy Carter

Here is a post I wrote on Jimmy Carter in 2010, when I visited his birthplace in Georgia.  Yesterday, Jimmy Carter became our longest lived President.

He still lives outside Americus, Georgia in a modest house on a family compound.  He still teaches Sunday School and visitors can come and participate in the class.  (If you do, unpaid plug, you might want to consider this wonderful Bed and Breakfast.

More recently (2015), Carter has been treated for melanoma that spread into his brain. He also has an extensive history of pancreatic cancer, the cancer that Jeopardy host Alex Trebek is receiving treatment for. 


They called him....

The Peanut President

Jimmy Carter has always fascinated me.  He came seemingly out of nowhere, seemed to have what it took to be President, but once he got into office he never succeeded.  Yet, in private life, he has succeeded beyond what may have been his wildest dreams.

What in his upbringing, what in his childhood values, what in his education made this man?

And why has this area of Georgia grown organizations such as Habitat for Humanity and others?  What here was so special?

We are visiting the Americus/Plains area to find out. In this blog entry I am concentrating on Jimmy Carter the man.

This is the house that Jimmy Carter grew up in.

Jimmy Carter grew up outside of Plains, GA in a solidly middle class family.  The actual town, which no longer exists, was called Archery.  The realities of rural life in those days created a childhood of lots of hard physical labor.  His father, loving as he was, did not believe in keeping anything on the farm that did not "pay its own way".   And this was hard farming, although the Carters were rich enough to have tenant farmers.  Still, Jimmy worked side by side with area black farmers, performing distasteful chores such as "mopping cotton".

"Miss Lillian", Jimmy's mother, was a nurse who did not turn anyone away, black or white.

Jimmy's father encouraged Jimmy to work and play alongside of the local black farmers.

The Carters grew cotton, peanuts, and sugar cane.  Student farmers still raise these crops at the homestead today.  They kept goats for meat, and mules to plow the fields.

In this windmill, is the germ of using "alternate energy".  There is nothing new about windpower.

The Plains High School the Carters attended has been closed (as part of consolidating various school districts).  This is a classroom set up the way it would have looked for Jimmy Carter in the 7th grade. Like so many famous people, Jimmy Carter credits a high school teacher, Miss Julia Coleman, as another great influence on his life.  In 1940 Eleanor Roosevelt invited her to the White House to honor her.  I highly recommend reading about her life.

 This is the outside of the high school.

Plains was the "Big City" for Jimmy Carter.  This is what it looks like today:

Jimmy Carter lives just outside of Plains today, and when he is in town, teaches Sunday School at his church.  This is Jimmy Carter's "Church Home".

When we had first planned our trip, Mr. Carter was not supposed to be in town but this has since changed. We weren't able to change our plans but it certainly would have been interesting.

So, Mr. Carter - we wish you many years of quality life to come.

The Next Journey

Around 11pm on February 7, my cousin's wife took her last breath.

I like to think that she is on a new journey.  But she left family and friends who mourned her, including a husband and son who loved her very much.

Another life cut short by cancer.

Something that gives me comfort in bad times are sunrises and sunsets. Perhaps, even now, she rides towards the sunrise, free from the paralysis her brain tumor inflicted on her, marveling at the sights unfolding before her.

At least, I hope so.

Parakeet Curtains

The hospice is a small place, tucked into a neighborhood in a city in Pennsylvania.  Outside the house it must be lovely in the summer, but the trees were bare the day my spouse and I visited, and snow carpeted most of the ground.

There are six rooms, and a kitchen like one you would see in a residence.  There is a place to sign in.  There is someone at the front desk and a buzzer sounds whenever someone enters or leaves.

Her room is named after a color which is also the name of a fruit.  Her window overlooks some of the wooded grounds, but she does not notice.

She sleeps almost all of the time now.  She does not see the couple of pieces of furniture in the room, nor does she see the curtains made lovingly by someone (I suspect) in a bird print - not quite parakeets, but that's what I want to think they are.  I love birds.  I love parakeets.

Her husband, my first cousin, held her hand and whispered that we were here to see her, but she did not awaken.  He had already been there for a couple of hours, and was going to go home soon to make lunch for himself and his adult son (who lives with him). Then, later in the evening, he would go to work.

The cancer had come quickly, leaving her partially paralyzed, and it took him a while to process what was happening.  His wife was given anywhere from a month to 18 months by her doctors.  Sadly, the tumor is growing quickly and now he just takes it one day at a time.

We all knew this visit (we had also seen her about two weeks ago) would be the final one.  There aren't too many days left for this loving, devoted couple.  My cousin is in a bad place right now - besides what is happening with his wife, he also lost his brother, his only sibling, less than a year and a half ago.

He's a man who uses humor and punning to interact with family and friends. On our last visit, his wife was able to talk briefly with us, and they shared some puns.    But when we visited the other day, there were no laughs, no puns.

An hour or so after we left, my cousin texted me. 

His text was simple.  "Thanks for stopping by it means a lot."

I was lost for words. 

I still am.

Bougainvillea, symbol of welcoming visitors

Day 27 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge #blogboost

Realizing How Fortunate I Am

In the past couple of weeks, I've had occasions where I have felt sorry for myself.

But, I am really one of the luckiest people on the face of the earth.  I get to view beautiful sunrises like this one from earlier in the week.  I sometimes get to travel.

Five days a week, I have the opportunity to get up, eat breakfast, and go to work. Then, in the late afternoon, I get to go home. 

On the other hand, not everyone has that privilege.

Yesterday, my spouse and I made a trip, probably to say goodbye to a relative.  She's younger than I, and has cancer.  Her prognosis is poor.  She knew we were there, but was too tired/sleepy to interact with us.  She is unable to get out of bed on her own. 

I want to use the time I have left, whether years or months, wisely.  I need to devote more thought to that than I have recently.

I need to remember how grateful I am for life.

Day 12 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge #blogboost

Local Saturday - Charity Begins with Crochet

This morning, I read a fellow blogger's post on her 365 day crochet project for charity.

That struck a chord in me.  I've crocheted for nearly 50 years.  I'm mostly self taught.

I've done a little bit of crocheting for charity on and off during my life - I must admit, a lot more of it was "off" than "on".

But I could do something about that.  

I was starting work on a lap blanket for my mother in law.  I worked on it during a short vacation I was able to take in September.  Alas, when the vacation ended, so did my work on it.

My mother in law, as my regular readers know, passed away the day after Thanksgiving.  I've worked on the blanket, a little here and there, including on my recent travels to Brooklyn.  It's thick, and soft, as I hope you can see from the picture.(I included the hook for a little scale).

I think she would be very happy to see it donated to someone. 

And actually, I know three people right now who are battling cancer.   I know someone else whose spouse has serious heart issues, being treated at the University of Rochester in New York State.

There is so much need out there.

Charity can begin with crochet.  I don't know how many people in this country crochet items for vets, for people battling cancer, for the homeless, and for other causes.  It must number in the thousands.  My late childhood best friend crocheted her way through her cancer and her spouse's, before she was no longer able to, also for charity.

Can I do less?

It's time for me to shed some grief and get back in the game.  I'll share what happens with this blanket with you, my dear reader, which will make me accountable.  I'm sure my closet, which has too many works in progress (WIPS), will thank me, too.

And I'll wish Alice, the blogger in another part of New York State, the best of luck with her decision to crochet a square a day so she can donate crochet for the comfort of cancer patients.

Day five of the Ultimate Blog Challenge #blogboost

From Afar

Today was a blustery day.  Leaves fell, bitter winds blew, and we got a little snow and graupel (a soft hail).

Leaves and graupel on my lawn

Life has spoken, and this is not the post I intended to write.

Today is the 53rd anniversary of my mother's death.  It is the 80th anniversary of the end of Kristallnacht, the Night of Broken Glass, the night that changed the course of thousands of lives forever.

Today is the day a high school/college friend's California family fled their homes as fires neared.

It is the day I ponder the news I received last night, the news that a cousin's wife has been handed a death sentence by cancer.  That same cousin lost his older brother last year from Parkinson's disease. The call came from another cousin, one who has been the wife's very good friend for years.


My cousin's wife has inoperable brain cancer, manifested in a tumor that has already left her paralyzed on one side.  The doctors say maybe she has a a month.  Maybe she has up to 18 months.  And now, with the clock ticking quickly, decisions must be made.  Should she try to undergo chemo, knowing that it can not cure?

I was asked not to contact the family yet - they are so overwhelmed they don't want to speak to anyone. (They live about three hours from me).  I respect that.

I thought about a simple card just to express that I knew and that I was sorry. I don't like a lot of the "serious illness" type cards out there.  They don't feel right to me.

And, in fact, thinking back 53 years to the aftermath of my mother's death, it makes me think of the things people said to the 12 year old me that helped, and those things that were hurtful, stupid, or worse.  The young teen me made a vow never to hurt people in that way. 

So then I went online to see if I could find a card, and I found a lot of "warrior" type cards.   I thought, does this mean that if my cousin's wife dies, she wasn't enough of a warrior?  


I found a book at the library called "There is No Good Card for This: What to Say and Do When Life is Scary, Awful, and Unfair to People You Love."  It reminds me that sometimes simple is best.

My cousin is a photographer, and a man who loves puns and Monty Python.  So right now, although he does not read my blog, I will send him some virtual flowers.  Our last mums, mixed in with maple leaves.  And then, I will go from there.

Dear cousin, I am sorry.