#Ato Z Challenge Reflections

April showers, here in upstate New York, have brought....May showers.  But, despite the gloom, the flowers are coming out.  Could our last frost date be far behind?

Here's a hanging basket I made for you, my readers. I love you all!  (Really, I do.  From the bottom of my spring-besotted heart.  Do you mind if I hang it in front of my house?  It will be for all of us, but I'll take care of it for you.  How's that?)

Normally, on Saturdays, I have a Local Saturdays feature.  Not today.  I am going to do some reflecting on the past month.

I completed my second annual Blogging for A to Z Challenge.  It's a once a year challenge - on April first, your blog post must be about something beginning with "A".  On the second day, "B", and so forth, excluding Sundays, which are an "off" day.  Thank you, whoever kept the English alphabet to 26 letters. 

My theme was Days of Our Lives, and I managed to keep the theme for almost every day of the challenge. Considering that I have blogged daily for over five years now (my 5th year daily blogaversary came during the Challenge, in fact), doing this A to Z is a challenge I relish.  I'm already starting to plan for next April.

The staff and minions of A to Z work hard to police the challenge, making sure that only people serious about the challenge post their links on the website, and making sure that people who signed up are really participating.  If they aren't, they are ejected.  This makes it so much easier for us who are seriously trying to participate.  NOT, mind you, compete.  I love the vibes of this Challenge.

Reading the stories of those who completed the challenge is even better.

Especially after you read posts like this one: bloggers like Mary, who go on despite hard challenges, are what blogging (and life) are all about. 

My A to Z experience was a little bit more common.  I was gone from home for most of the first two weeks. I managed to work some of my experiences into a couple of the posts, such as the one for "Z".  

For three days, I had no Internet access, staying at a cousin's house who has no WiFi, during a weather event that gave a nasty surprise to parts of the Northeast United States.  For another three nights I was in a motel in Virginia whose Internet wasn't the best. 

So I found myself unable to do what the Challenge is all about - reading new blogs, commenting, building relationships - during the first few days, the peak times when the majority of bloggers are active.  After that, people drop out, people find favorites.  Or just get overwhelmed.  If I had one complaint about A to Z, it is that it has gotten too big.  Trying to participate is like drinking from a fire hose, as we say here in the States.

Ah well.  Life goes on, and I can tell you that Charlottesville, Virginia, has the most beautiful dogwoods you will ever see. 

My favorite?  This one on, of all topics, a cemetery in Brooklyn.

Despite my Internet woes, I found some blogs I am reading now, even after the challenge has ended.    Such as this one, Mumbai on a High.  And this one, Cresting the Hill.

And if I'm hungry, I will read a food blog.  Tina participated with two blogs.  It was hard enough with one, and Tina completed the challenge with two blogs. 

This challenge has staying power.  I still read a couple of blogs I found last year, and read them regularly.  Laws of Gravity, a teacher in California and a fellow crocheter.  CollectIn Texas Gal, who has quite a varied list of topics.  And, My Life in Retirement, who has completed several of these challenges. There are other blogs, too, which I didn't mention.

In that respect, the Challenge was a success.

And for that I thank you, my readers.

Throwback Friday - When is A Fall Not a Fall?

This post, with some minor edits, was first published in my blog in May of 2015.  Since then, I know one senior who died from a fall, one whose health is failing from a fall, and (I don't know this senior personally, but I know her daughter) still another senior, once a strong, vibrant woman, now is something quite the opposite.

I took a falls prevention class last May and June, and am still practicing the exercises I learned.  I was thinking of starting up this Friday feature again.  But first, some background:

When Is A Fall Not A Fall?

When is a fall not a fall?

Last week, I blogged about how I had signed up for a falling prevention course because - well, I've fallen several times in the past four years.  I am only 62 years old and I know what this can mean down the road.

My spouse had a relative who died from complications of a fall. My brother in law's mother in law has been hospitalized or in rehab since March after a fall in her bathtub resulted in a head injury.  Even my spouse's aunt, who is 103, has not escaped falling.  A fall when she was 102 (it wasn't her first fall, either) led to a partial hip replacement.  She will never be independent again, although (for now) she still lives at home.

Falling, for a senior, can be a death sentence at worst.  At best, it can result in broken bones, a trip to the Emergency Room, and/or the loss of independence.  So, if you are reading this post, and haven't fallen, you may still have elderly relatives to think about. Or, your taxes may be paying the medical bills of those who have fallen.  This is a problem that impacts all of us.

So, that's how I found myself sitting last Wednesday in a circle with six other women, and one man, and two facilitators.  The facilitators, both women, were retired RN's.  And, both had fallen.  We were all in good company.

We went around the circle, introducing ourselves, and telling our falling stories. So many of them seemed to involve walking dogs and uneven ground or gopher holes but there were some pretty nasty in-home falls, too.

Then the facilitators asked how many in the group had had joint replacements.  Almost everyone had had at least one, if not more.  In other words, I was sitting in a group of Bionic Seniors.

The program I am taking is evidence based and was developed in Australia.


Next, two physical therapists joined the class to teach us exercises we would do to build up our balance and strength, to prevent future falls.  Four exercises for balance, to be done daily.  Four exercises for strength, to be done three times a week.

I didn't feel out of place at all.  Certainly no one was giving me funny looks or wondering why a young senior was sitting in the class.

I talked to one of the RN's after class and she told me a person at risk of falling, no matter what their age, could take the class.
 
The youngest person to take this class locally was in her mid 40's.  The oldest was 103 - she is 106 now.  So, it is never too early (if you have the need), or too late.  As we were told, age is an attitude.  There are people in their 90's who think more youthfully than people in their 60's.  I want to be one of those people.


As for the question "when is a fall not a fall?"  One of the RN's explained that when someone calls to register, she always asks, "have you fallen?" Many times, her question is met with several moments of silence, as the person on the other end of thephone thinks about it.  Was their fall a fall? 

Too many people think, the RN explained, a fall doesn't "count" if it doesn't result in a trip to the ER or a broken bone.  But, the RN went on, "it's like being a little bit pregnant.  You did or you didn't. You either fell or you didn't."

Throwback Thursday - A Homemade Healthy Super Bowl

Today is the Cinco de Mayo (May 5), celebrated in many in the United States as an eating and drinking holiday.

Today is NOT  Mexican Independence Day (that comes in September), but rather, today commemorates a 1862 battle where Mexicans defeated a French army despite being outnumbered.  Eventually, the Mexicans won the war and ousted the French.  And, during our United States Civil War, this holiday and what it stood for started to gain popularity in the United States.  Now, it is actually more celebrated in the United States than in Mexico.

For today, I am repeating a Super Bowl post from 2015. Whether or not you are trying to lose or maintain weight, I am hoping  you may get some inspiration from this for your Cinco de Mayo celebration. And if you don't celebrate - why not have some of this food, anyway?

A Homemade Healthy Super Bowl

This is my third Super Bowl on Weight Watchers, which creates quite a challenge.

For those of my readers not in the United States, a brief explanation.  Super Bowl Sunday (tomorrow) is the final, championship game of our football (meaning American football, not football meaning soccer -oh, never mind) season. People gather to drink lots of beer, eat lots of snacks, gorge on mass quantities of fried chicken wings with caloric sauces, and watch commercials that cost millions of dollars.  And, somewhere in there, there is a sports match and a half time show featuring a celebrity singer.  This year, it's Katy Perry.

"Healthy" and "Super Bowl" normally do not go together. And, if you aren't careful, "delicious" and "healthy" variations of high fat items do not go together, either.

The first time we tried to make healthy snacks, it was New Years Eve, 2012, I was new to Weight Watchers and much of the food my spouse made was inedible.  Dry. Tasteless  Ugh. We decided that, in the future, we would not try to do "healthy" makeovers of fatty food, but rather, forge our own trail.

So, we have (no pun intended) lightened up a bit.  It's a splurge day.

We will have guacamole, although we won't make it in this device.  It is so simple - peel ripe avocadoes, mash (we like ours a little chunky), add chopped sweet pepper (orange, yellow, red), garlic, scallions, a little salt, a touch of homemade ground chili pepper (my spouse's own secret mix, so I can't tell you) and a touch of lime juice. Just don't eat too much.  Easier said than done.

We serve with chips - these happen to be local chips made about an hour away from us.  Or, make your own baked ones - take fresh corn tortillas, cut into triangles (pizza cutter works great for this), spread on cookie sheet, bake at 400 degrees F until they start to turn light brown.  (Celsius folks, you are on your own-sorry.)

Salsa makes a wonderful dip - and fat free salsa has no Weight Watchers points. It's so easy to make, too, if you have good fresh tomatoes available. If not, use canned dice tomatoes (preferably fire roasted diced tomatoes).  Simply chop up ripe fresh tomatoes or use the canned ones, combine with chopped pepper and onions, season with cilantro, lime juice, salt to taste, jalapenos if you like it spicy.  Or, buy it pre made in the refrigerated section of your market.

We'll be serving fresh fruit although, at this time of year, there is little local fresh fruit to be had here in upstate New York.  This is the time of year we are grateful to Florida, California and Chile.

We don't bother with low fat versions of high fat dips - we are not fans of fat free mayonnaise or fat free sour cream.  You can substitute fat free Greek yogurt with a touch of lime juice (for zing) for sour cream, too.  An easy dip can be made with the fat free yogurt, a can of black beans, some cilantro, salsa, just blending it to consistency.  Add jalapenos for spice.

And last, instead of those chicken wings, how about some Thai Chicken Skewers?  We haven't tried this recipe yet but I am a big fan of powdered peanut butter.  We have used a product called PB2 but decided to use "Just Great Stuff" which we found locally.  It is organic, and uses organic coconut sugar, sustainably harvested and low glycemic.  I know some people shy away from this type of product, but I don't have a peanut allergy, and this is a good alternative for me.

Do you make your own snacks?

Throwback Wednesday - The Ugly Stepsister of Cancer

Today should have been my Wednesday Spring Things feature, but something else is on my mind. 

A former New York State Senator from our area passed away yesterday afternoon from prostate cancer.  He was 63.  He represented our area for years and was in the news for years.  A county official, meantime, has been battling lung cancer for several years.

In mid-April a former co worker passed away, from breast cancer.

This post is originally from May of 2014. And if I was to update it, it would contain even more sad news.

Since I blogged this, the person whose news caused her friend to break a lunch date with me passed away, as did the friend I gave the "Ugly Stepsister of Cancer" essay link to.  The person who broke the lunch date got her own cancer diagnosis in late 2014 (in remission). And now, a family member of my former walking companion is, in turn, taking that walk with cancer.

When will it ever end?

The Ugly Stepsister of Cancer

While I would love to blog about spring today, there is something going on that I need to blog about.

White Hyacinth in my Front Yard 2014

But first, a picture for my blog readers to enjoy.  In the language of flowers, hyacinth can mean consistency.  Or, it can mean "I'm sorry, please forgive me."


Last week, I got an email from someone I had a lunch date with.  She had been in communication with a woman she knew.  That person had "a cold that wouldn't quit." Finally, the person sought medical help.

It wasn't a cold.  It was lung cancer.  And before that woman could blink twice, she was being put into hospice care.  Her family called my friend and told her the woman was asking for her.

It was, needless to say, overwhelming. What do you do when you go to the doctor and find out you have something you never expected?  Well, my friend broke her date with me (good for her!) and went to her other friend - one who is suddenly making the acquaintance of the Ugly Stepsister of Cancer.

I decided to go to the library, now that I was without a lunch date. I found a wonderful book there, written by a local (well, from Ithaca, but Ithaca is only an hour from where I live in upstate New York) breast cancer survivor, called "When Your Life is Touched by Cancer". The author is Bob Riter. 

Yes, the author is male and is a breast cancer survivor.  Yes, men get breast cancer.  And, in fact, my spouse is at risk due to his family history.

There is one cancer that Bob Riter, who has worked with cancer patients as the executive director of The Cancer Resource Center of the Finger Lakes, calls "The Ugly Stepsister of Cancer".  It is lung cancer.

Lung cancer patients bear a burden no other cancer patients bear.  They find themselves required to explain their cancer, over and over.  "Do you smoke?"  "Did you smoke?" they are asked when they tell others of their cancer.

If no (which is the case of someone I know who has been battling lung cancer for over two years),  the patient has to explain that yes, some 15% of people who get lung cancer never smoked.

If yes - well, it's your fault.  No support for you!

Why, ever, would we EVER want to blame someone who has cancer for their cancer?  But my friend has been through this, and now my friend's friend will have go to through this, too.

Also, last Tuesday, I gave four trees to a work friend who lives out in the country to plant in honor of a late neighbor,who died while I was on vacation in April.  I can still remember the day he told me, matter of factly, that he had cancer, and how he was trying to make his peace with it.  (And no, I won't describe "his battle", because that's another thing Bob Riter talks about.)

Finally, last Tuesday, my mother in law found out that her cancerous tumor is dead, but she still needs testing to make sure the cancer didn't spread.  And, meanwhile, she has bills coming in.  She's elderly, she does not have boundless energy, and she asked us to help investigate some of the bills.  She seems to be falling through the cracks of help. Wrong cancer. Wrong place of residence.  Wrong wrong wrong.

Cancer has been on my mind a lot lately.  So what I did was....email Bob Riter.

And he emailed me back!

What a marvelous person, and the people of Ithaca, New York are so lucky to have him in their lives.

He gave me some starting points with which to help my mother in law.  And, he recommended that I give my friend with lung cancer a copy of the "Ugly Stepsister of Cancer" essay. He's generously posted it online for any of us to read. (To my friend,  I'm sending her the essay.)

If you have cancer, or have a loved one or friend with cancer, I highly recommend this book.  It is a treasure.  It covers so much, in simple language and in easy to read bites.  Bob Riter has thought of everything.  Well, everything but the line of Hallmark cards I'd REALLY like to see, but that's a blog post for another time.

And now, I hope I don't have to talk about cancer again for a long, long time. But, sadly, I know that is not going to happen.

Spring Memories

Strange, what brings back memories.
Here in Binghamton, New York, nature is gearing up. 

My Mom loved lilacs.  Their fragrance reminds me of her.  She died in her 40's.  I've been able to see so many more springs than she did.

When lilacs bloom, dogwoods (a native to our country) are not far behind.  This tree will be stunning in a few days (especially if the sun ever shows its face again).  Meanwhile, this spring, we visited Charlottesville, VA not long after their dogwood festival - what beauty.

Sorry about the blur

Teaming with lilacs for a perfect trifecta, an Eastern Redbud (also a native tree).  Again, this is just a taste of what the tree will look like in a few days.

One of my aunts, who passed away years ago, loved redbuds so much.   The streets of where she lived, Iowa City, Iowa, were lined with these beautiful trees.

There are other flowering trees in Binghamton right now, but their pictures will have to wait for tomorrow.  Because today, I think of my loved ones who were once part of my life, and who no longer are.  They live again each spring, as sleeping trees and bulbs come to life.  Before they leaf out, they remind us that beauty is fleeting.  They remind us that life is meant to be enjoyed, one day at a time.  But don't take too long - if you wait until it's too late, you may never get another chance.

Thank you, spring.

Since 1898, incidentally, thousands of people have visited Rochester, New York (about 2 1/2 hours from us) for its annual Highland Park lilac festival. Over 500,000 people are expected to visit during the 10 day festival this year, which starts on Friday.  And, in another memory, there

But for me, the festival of spring starts right here, at home.

What does spring mean to you?  Beauty? Allergies? 

Music Monday - One Hit Wonders

In honor of the month of May, I will continue my Music Monday feature cut short by the Blogging from A to Z Challenge (except for May 9, which is a "reflections" day on that challenge).  I am hoping it doesn't turn into a musical obituary, which had seriously had me thinking of discontinuing the feature. 

Yesterday, listening to a solid gold music station on a satellite music service called Sirius XM, I heard an announcement of a new, temporary, radio channel called Onederland.  It's purpose - to play only One Hit Wonders - artists who only had one hit (I am assuming, defined as only one hit that broke the Billboard Top 40).

This definition is, by definition, somewhat fluid.  Some artists have one hit in one country, and many, in another. (I suspect that Onederland is using United States one-hit wonders). Or, you can have artists crossing over from another genre where they were more popular, or even from another field altogether, such as Richard Harris.

Note, I am not a "music blogger": if you are, and you disagree with any of these, I welcome your comments (or additions of your favorites).

Do you have any favorite one hit wonders?  I have a number.  And, if you need help remembering, here is one of the many lists available on the Internet.

My all-time favorite One Hit Wonder - MacArthur Park, as sung by actor Richard Harris. (I also loved the version by Donna Summer. I just love this song. Period.).  I played the 45 I had of this song almost to death (and it was probably amazing my father didn't commit homicide, either - he must have heard each rendition in our small apartment).

King Tut, sung by comedian Steve Martin.

The instrumental "Telstar" by The Tornados.  It's one of my favorite instrumentals, along with this one:

Chariots of Fire Theme - Vangelis.

All Right Now - Free.

Reflecting a one hit wonder crossover by a group that had a number of hits on the R&B charts, this was their only top 40 on the pop charts: O-o-h Child by the Five Stairsteps.

Finally - bringing back memories of my childhood in the Bronx, a borough of New York City, two come to mind:

Gun Hill Road - Back When My Hair Was Short.  This was released in 1972, when I still lived in the Bronx, off of -yes, Gun Hill Road.

White Plains - My Baby Loves Loving (because I also lived just off of White Plains Road).

Do you have any favorite One Hit Wonders?  Please feel free to share.

Small Spring Miracles

Perhaps, here in upstate New York on a dreary May Day, we should be depressed.

I'm not, though.

Granted, spring did not start out the way it usually does. 

Trees started blooming weeks before they should have.    Then, an arctic blast of air came through, dumping up to four inches of snow in rural areas around Binghamton.  At my son's house, it got to -6F.

The early spring became the Dawn of the Dead (blossoms). 

We despaired at seeing the dead magnolia blossoms, the forsythias that never bloomed, the dead cherry blossoms so majestic a day or so before, and, most of all the apple trees (we are in a major apple growing area). Those trees just stood there.  Nothing happened.

But below the surface of those seemingly dead trees, something was happening.

Second spring.

So now, I bring you....Second Spring. A small spring miracle.  Perhaps "miracle" is too strong a word, but, to me, it isn't.

A new day has dawned.

Not too many apple blossoms (perhaps we'll get a sparse crop, if anything), but the trees are blooming.

County courthouse, downtown Binghamton NY, April 27

Spring has returned.  You know those dead magnolia blossoms?  Live blooms are opening, almost a month later, next to the dead ones.

...and they are blooming.

A handful of forsythia blossoms, as the plants leaf out.

Spring has returned.  And you'll forgive me, dear reader if, full of spring, I blog about it for the next few days.

There is nothing like a small spring miracle.

Zaidman #AtoZChallenge

So, what is a Zaidman, and why am I writing about it?

It's not a thing - it's a person.  It's Z time - time for the letter Z, and the end of the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.

Today's post is a tribute to eyesight.  We take it for granted, but not everyone is granted eyesight.

Some of you may have seen the video of a baby in Seattle with a rare eye condition.  A video camera catches the minute little Leo, being treated by an eye specialist in Los Angeles, has special glasses put on his head and his first experience with seeing clearly.

It's not the first time I've seen glasses like that, though.

Earlier this month, my spouse and I sat with my mother in law in the office of Dr. Gerald Zaidman, an eye specialist in Westchester County, a suburb of New York City.

As we waited (and waited) for my mother in law to be seen by Dr. Zaidman, we saw a number of patients called in ahead of us.

One of them, a toddler, had been playing a game on a tablet before she was called. She was holding it right up to her nose. Her mother (I assume it was her mother) sat with her patiently.

Another little girl, perhaps a preschooler, announced to the entire waiting room "I love all of you!" as the staff smiled.  One offered her a lollypop.

One of the patients was a baby, and he was wearing glasses that looked like the glasses little baby Leo was wearing.  I could only imagine what that baby, and his parents (both accompanied him), had already been through.  I overheard the mother tell the person sitting next to them that their baby would have his next cataract surgery in three weeks.

As for that long wait - Dr. Zaidman had handled one emergency already, and was being called away to another one.  He is obviously in great demand.

Too many of us take our sight for granted.  I have poor uncorrected vision (I have been legally blind without corrective lenses since around age seven or eight) and used to go annually to an eye specialist at Flower Fifth Avenue Hospital in Manhattan until I was a teenager.  But I am fortunate - my vision has always been correctable.  And perhaps it always will be.  For me, my poor vision only lasts until I can reach my glasses.  But, as I sat there in Dr. Zaidman's waiting room, I thought about my childhood vision for the first time in years- what if I had been one of those children in that waiting room, back 60 plus years ago?

Other bloggers I have read have much greater challenges with vision than I have, and face their challenges with great courage (and, for many, faith in a higher power that helps them to find that courage).  These bloggers, such as blogger Amy Bovaird, are well worth reading.

I hope that the efforts and vision of doctors like Dr. Zaidman and others will eventually make vision challenges a thing of the past.

Thank you for reading my blog during the A to Z Blogging Challenge.   Tomorrow, I return to my normal blogging schedule.

Youth #AtoZChallenge

Youth.  We miss it when we are older, sometimes.  But without our youth, we would not be the people we are today.


Let us return to the late 1970's.  Economically, it was not the best of times.

My husband and I were afraid, along with many others, that the economy was tanking.  Although we were in our late 20's, we found ourselves trying to prepare for a future that was uncertain.  Part of our urge to homestead came from reading a magazine called "Mother Earth News" and deciding we were going to "live off the land". Oh, and by the way, unlike my fellow blogger in Nebraska, neither of us had any relatives that had ever pursued the rural life.  We were fully urban. I was born and raised in New York City.  My spouse grew up partially in Yonkers and partially in another New York City suburb.

Yet, we had dreams of self-sufficiency, of living the "organic way", and Arkansas turned out to be the place where we were going to make them come true.  My spouse was in the Air Force, he was stationed in Wichita, Kansas,  and his enlistment was going to be up in 1980.  We went on an Arkansas vacation in 1979 (about five hours away from Wichita), looked at several pieces of land and bought 34 acres in Washington County, in Northwest Arkansas. It was gently rolling country, which reminded my spouse of where he grew up in New York State.

We moved to Arkansas the day after the attempted assassination of Ronald Reagan.

My spouse on our land circa 1982

Full of youthful energy and ready to try our hand at country living, we lived in Arkansas for five years (four on our land).  It was five years we are both proud of.

We learned skills (especially my spouse) that we may never use again-but one never knows.  We learned what works.  We learned what doesn't work.

Don't ask -it was an Epic Fail

We learned there was courage and stubbornness in us we didn't think we had, along with a rebellious streak.  We learned that failure means only that you tried, and you need to do something different.  (For example, trying to build a house out of hay bales on a stone foundation was NOT the best idea we ever had.)

The experiences we had on the land helped us gain maturity.

My spouse and I would both have been different people without this experience.  We are who we are, in part, because we did what we did.

So, almost three years ago, we embarked on the ultimate nostalgia trip- returning to Arkansas nearly 30 years after we left it, to see how it had changed.


Somehow we and Arkansas moved towards each other in the nearly 30 years since we left, and we've met in a strange and unexpected middle.


Northwest Arkansas has grown tremendously over the past 27 years.  Just from 2000 to 2010, the population grew 71%.  Where there was once rural land, huge shopping centers stood.  It made me dizzy.  Literally.

During the visit, we decided to go back to our land and see what had happened in the nearly 30 years since we left.  After about 15 miles of the nearly 25 mile drive, it was almost like time had stood still.

The roads were back down to two lanes.  Farmers drove slowly.  The traffic lights disappeared. Round hay bales stood in the fields.  Cattle grazed.

We went through Canehill, an incorporated place that could have been great except for the United States Civil War.   Several historic buildings (in ruins)- the remnants of its former history as a college town, and a ruined mill, can be seen if you know where to look.  We did know, even though we had never bothered to investigate its history when we had lived near there.  It somehow all came back to us.

From Arkansas State highway 45, we made the turn into the tiny unincorporated hamlet of Morrow.

We passed what used to be the Morrow Cash Store, a true general store. (We didn't go in).

Then, we turned onto the road where we lived.  A little of it is paved now, but most of it is still unpaved.  Just like when we left.

So let me tell you what we found on our former land. 

We had two sets of married couples as neighbors.  One of the men (we had found this out right before we left) died in late 2012 and the other man died several months before we made our visit (August of 2013.)  We had not kept in touch with one at all; for the other, it had been many years.  As far as I can tell, both women are still alive here in 2016.

The house of one of the neighbors was gone  - absolutely no trace of it, or his barn.  No foundation, no nothing.  As of 2012, the other neighbor was still living where they were living when we were their neighbors. I don't know if she, as a widow, was still there in 2013, but her trailer was there.

The cabin my spouse built with the help of one neighbor's eldest son - gone.

Faded picture of our chickens circa 1983

Our chicken house - gone.

Our geese, possibly in 1985

The peach tree we had planted - gone.  My roses.  My flower beds. My herb plants.  Gone.

Our garden areas - gone.  Our raspberries - gone.
 
The people living there had two dogs who ran after our car, and no trespassing signs at the driveway entrance made it clear they would not welcome a visit (which we weren't planning to do anyway, but I did want to get out and walk on the road.  I abandoned that idea quickly.)  

Spouse drove up the road a bit, turned around, drove down the hill and left, as I took pictures.  When we had cell phone service again, I sent pictures to my son back in New York on a device that didn't exist when we left - a smartphone.

At the time, I said we would never come back to Morrow.  There was no need.  Only ghosts of our past remained, and we let them go.  They flew away in the hot, late August, breeze, dust in the wind.

For many of the homesteaders of the 1970's, I suspect what happened to us also happened to them. Some succeeded.  Many didn't.  But they took what they learned back to the city, and changed our country.

Although I will never say never, I still don't think I will ever return.  But it does make me sad that I will never be able to walk what was once my land, ever again.  My youth must stay in the past where it belongs, along with all the other sand that has flowed through my personal hourglass.

 So are the days of our lives.

"Y" day on the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.

X-Ray #AtoZChallenge

When I was ten years old, I would play outside after school in good weather if I didn't have too much homework.  (That's what we did before the Internet and video games.) In the fall of 1963, I was doing a lot of roller skating.

In 1963, roller skates were a heavy, clunky affair.  They were metal skates (four wheels each) that you locked onto your shoes (using a skate key) and away you rolled.

On a Friday afternoon in late October, I was skating with friends when suddenly I was on the ground.  I had tripped on a sidewalk crack.  Coming down, my right skate slammed down on my left leg, just above my ankle.

I couldn't get up. It hurt.  It hurt a lot.

I was on the grounds of the housing project in the Bronx where I grew up.  A friend ran to get help from the housing police.  Two policemen came, and, holding a nightstick between them, one policeman on each end, I was boosted up and carried to the elevator of my building.  They delivered me to our apartment, where my Mom was cooking dinner.

Medicine isn't what it was like 50 years ago.  In some ways, that's bad.  In other ways, it isn't.

My Mom called our family doctor and he came right over. (Doctors still made house calls in those days).  He examined the leg, declared I had a bad sprain in my ankle, taped it up, and instructed me to walk on it.

I walked on it all night, even after the leg became swollen.  The pain got even worse - so bad I can still remember it today.  But I was a dutiful little girl and did what I was told.  I didn't even try to wake my parents. 

In the morning, my parents took one look at my leg and took me to the doctor's office.  I ended up being sent to the hospital for x-rays.  They revealed I had fractured my leg in three places.   I was put in a heavy plaster of Paris cast, from just past the tips of my toes to the middle of my thigh.  Two months of being taught at home by a teacher sent by the district, missing a field trip to the UN and the game show Concentration, and no Halloween trick-or-treating that year followed.

And yes, my cast became covered with autographs and various words of wisdom scrawled in magic marker by the other neighborhood kids.

Thank heavens for those x-rays, which allowed the doctors to know what had happened.

I think of my childhood as being a museum piece.  Playing outside, the black rotary phone my Mom used to call the doctor, the doctor who made a house call, the lack of immediately ordering x-rays for me...it seems like something that happened long ago and far away. 

Like sands through the hourglass, so are the Days of our Lives.

"X" day for the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.  Only two more days to go!

Wichita Lineman/When Musicians Cry #AtoZChallenge

This has been the annus horribilis of musicians.

So many have passed away since the beginning of this year.

My father in law was a musician.  He never became famous, but he loved music and played several instruments.  Besides playing in a band, he gave guitar lessons as a second job while supporting a wife and their four children.  The brother of one of his then-young students was the realtor when my mother in law sold her house in order to downsize last year.

I, on the other hand, never have taken a music lesson.  I play no instruments.  I sang in my elementary school choir for two years, but I never pursued singing.  I do, however, enjoy listening to music.  

This week, a music legend in the United States Prince, passed away.  Musicians all over the world mourn loss of one of the most talented musicians of the 20th and 21st century.   But unlike other artists I've paid tribute to during the run of my Music Mondays (which may or may not return after the Blogging from A to Z Challenge concludes Saturday), Prince kept tight control over his music.  There are only a limited number of videos available on You Tube.

Not so for singer Glen Campbell, who turned 80 last week.

With tremendous courage, 80 year old country singer Glen Campbell  shared his five year battle with Alzheimer's with his public.

Here, he gives an interview.

No more interviews will be given by Glen Campbell - we are told he can no longer speak. He no longer knows what a guitar is used for.   He is in the seventh and final stage of Alzheimer's - where the person forgets how to eat, and can no longer tell that he or she is thirsty.

Alzheimer's is one of the most feared illnesses - there are other dread diseases but they don't take away the essence of us - what makes us us - our memories, our delights, our ability to enjoy family and friends - the way Alzheimer's and other dementias do.

None of us know how much longer Glen Campbell will be with us.  So, as an early tribute, I wanted to post my favorite song of his:  Wichita Lineman.   

As you listen to this song, imagine a lonely lineman, up on a pole on a deserted stretch of highway (I lived, years ago, in Wichita, Kansas and Wichita Fall, Texas, so this part is easy for me), wanting so much to be home.

Sometimes, the simplest song conveys so much.  Glen Campbell knew how to sing it.

When he passes, and it is only a matter of time, millions will miss him, just as millions miss Prince Rogers Nelson.

How many more talents will we lose this year?

"W" day on the Blogging from A to Z Challenge

Valentine #AtoZChallenge

Valentines Day - each February 14, we are supposed to think of the ones we love. Nowadays, too many times, it is a commercial, "Hallmark" moment. (For those outside the United States, Hallmark is a famous maker of greeting cards, among other things.)  But during wartime, relationships of love become fragile.  Times are uncertain.  Bad things happen.


Several months ago, after relocating my mother in law, who is now in her late 80's, up here to be closer to her and other family in our area, we were hanging pictures back on the wall of her apartment after the move.  There was a picture that my mother decided not to hang.

It was a picture of a soldier, most probably taken during World War II.  But something made her want the frame.  We disassembled it, and found a letter, a note and another photo.

The note reads "A Valentine.  To the most wonderful girl in all this world.  May never another Valentines Day pass that we are not together. A kiss for you and a kiss for me maybe two or three million."

"Love, Stanley", the note concluded.  This, the photo we found, was a photo of Stanley.  The girl who was his valentine was my spouse's aunt.

And yes, they both survived the war, and married.  They moved to Tuscon, Arizona, had children, and farmed garlic among other things.  I met them once, in the late 1970's, when my spouse and I visited Tuscon.

Both Stanley and his wife are now deceased, like so many of "The Greatest Generation."

Like sands through the hourglass so are the days of our lives.

V Day in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.

U.S.S.R - #AtoZChallenge

The Union of Soviet Socialistic Republics.  The U.S.S.R.  The Soviet Union.

How many of you remember that country, which hasn't existed in nearly 26 years?

It was a large part of my childhood.  Fear of the U.S.S.R followed us every day of my young life.  Duck and cover drills, because the Soviets had "The Bomb", and they couldn't wait to use it on us. 

To this day, hearing the sirens calling out our neighborhood volunteer fire department make me cold and scared for a quick second before I reassure myself that the sirens aren't air raid sirens announcing the atomic end of the world as we know it.


In October, 1962, we nearly did face nuclear war.  I wonder how many children are taught about the Cuban Missile Crisis in school.

Or, if the Soviets didn't bomb us to a crisp, they would impose their evil Communist system on us.  The theme of my A to Z Challenge is Days of Our Lives and we came so close to all of our lives ending in October, 1962.  It's sobering.

Hatred of the Soviet Union got personal for my family, because my grandfather had immigrated from one of the countries the Soviet Union had swallowed over.  He was escaping pogroms in that country.  I'm told he was evading a forced draft into the army, which would have almost surely resulted in his death.  My parents hated the U.S.S.R and all it stood for.

Now years later, the U.S.S.R. is a historical footnote for my son, who is in his mid-20's.

One of my favorite pastimes is finding magazines from the World War II and Cold War era (especially World War II). This was a nice find at the Ithaca, NY library book sale in 2009, my first year of blogging.

The Ithaca, New York book sale, held twice a year, is one of the largest in the country.  They usually have some boxes of old Life, Look and other older magazines.  Sometimes they are musty, but they are always a treat for people like me to read.  The next sale is in May, and I hope I can make it up there.

The original post can be found here.  To quickly summarize:

At a library book sale several years ago, I found a little treasure - the March 29, 1943 "Special Issue USSR" with a picture of Joseph Stalin on the cover.

My inner historian reminded me that at this point in time the U.S.S.R was our ally (against Hitler).  I paged through the magazine and saw this article "Red Leaders. They are Tough, Loyal, Capable Administrators". Not exactly the, er, party line I would hear in my growing up. Other articles praised the accomplishments of the Soviet Union, and even the accomplishments of the Russia of the past 1,000. years.


To my Cold War amazement, there was even an article "The Soviets and the Post-War" subtitled "A Former Ambassador to Moscow Answers Some Perplexing Problems". The author is one Joseph E. Davies, who famously supported the Soviet government even back in the 1930's, before we became allies.

One question asked of Mr. Davies was "Is Russian determined to pursue the cause of world revolution?" His answer began "In my opinion, no."

Seven years later, in the Joseph McCarthy era, this article may have been unprintable. The story of Joseph Davies is quite interesting, if this article is accurate.

For anyone interested in history, this was a great find.

Do you remember the Soviet Union?  Duck and Cover?  The Cold War?  Do you like old magazines for their glimpses of a world now gone?

"U" Day in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.

Homemade Non Dairy Chocolate Pudding

It's time for me, a person not known for her cooking skills, to entertain her readers with my cooking adventures.

Back in the 1960's, when I was growing up, I had to take a subject called "home economics" (home ec, for short).  Meanwhile, boys got shop classes. Although I failed home ec (and I wasn't the only one - see the comment from fellow blogger Sue McPeak in another post)  - yes, I really did fail it - I took home some nice recipes from the cooking part of the course.  One was for homemade grape jelly (yes!  I learned to make homemade jelly in New York City) and another one was for homemade chocolate pudding.

Thank you, home ec!  Because now, with my need to increase my calcium intake through food, I've discovered non dairy nut milks, and puddings have become one of my favorite desserts.

Interestingly, I've found that the nut milks (almond, and cashew) don't work well with commercial instant puddings.  The puddings don't thicken.  Nut milks do work with commercial cooked puddings, so I've learned to make the cooked puddings. 

There's just one problem this week.

For me and others of the Jewish faith, it is Passover, an eight day observance when various foods (many grains, legumes, and a number of other foods) are fully or partially banned from our tables. One banned food is corn and items made from corn.  So commercial pudding is out.  Well, there is commercial Passover pudding mix, but the one time I had it - Yuck.

It's time for homemade pudding. 

Um...not so fast.  One of the key ingredients of home made pudding is cornstarch.  Time for research!

After some Internet searching and an experiment, I came up with this recipe.  The recipe needs to be perfected, but it's a good start. 

The original recipe used almond milk, coconut sugar (which I didn't have in the house), vanilla extract (what I had in the house contained corn syrup, another no-no) and cocoa powder.  I had both regular Hershey's cocoa and something called black cocoa.  I decided to use the black cocoa to intensify the flavor.  Finally, the recipe used cornstarch.  I decided to use Kosher for Passover potato starch.  Based on my spouse's cooking experience, I decided to use less potato starch than the cornstarch called for, as potato starch has greater thickening quantities.

So, drum roll, I present to you, my dear readers, something you don't have to be Jewish to enjoy:

Homemade Non Dairy Chocolate Pudding (Makes 4 servings) (sorry, metric readers; you are on your own)

Ingredients
2 cups almond or cashew Milk (I used cashew)
1/2 cup and 1 tablespoon cane sugar
4 tablespoons black or regular cocoa (both should work fine)
3 1/2 tablespoons potato starch (or 4 tablespoons cornstarch) either will work
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (I didn't use but I think it was needed)

Method
Place almond milk, sugar, cocoa powder, potato or cornstarch, and vanilla extract in a saucepan over low heat.   Stir together until thick and smooth.  Take off heat and immediately pour into 4 small serving bowls.  Let cool.  I served it with raspberries on top.

(This is what the mix looked like before I stirred it.  The black cocoa, which is an ultra-Dutched cocoa (all the acid has been neutralized) is dark.  You can use it here instead of regular cocoa, but do not use it in any recipe that needs acidity, such as a recipe using baking soda.)

And that's it! 

The completed pudding

When I make it again, I will use a tiny bit more thickening agent, as it seemed a tad bit watery, but that was my only complaint.  If you make it, I invite your comments.

Tomorrow, back to the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.

This (is) The Time #AtoZChallenge

In October of 2011, over a month after a historic flood hit much of the part of New York State where I live, I wrote this email to a friend.

As my regular readers know, my neighborhood of Westover, near Johnson City, New York, was one of many neighborhoods impacted by a massive flood caused by a record year of rain, capped by two tropical storms in a couple of weeks time - Irene, and then Lee.  Meanwhile, this past week, Houston has also been hit by historic flooding.  I want to tell the people there "it will be a hard road, but you will recover."

This email is intensely personal to me, but I wanted to share it with you for "T" day in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge. My theme, after all, is "Days of Our Lives".

"There was a thick fog this morning, and I took a walk through some of my Westover neighborhood.  The lights of the BAE restoration diffused into the fog and dimly lit our neighborhood. For the first 2 1/2 blocks, everything was normal.  These houses have electricity.  Halloween decorations glowed in the dark, orange and green.  And then I hit The Other Side.  Turning onto Main Street, I peered down the streets of the other half of my neighborhood.  Dark, with few cars parked on the streets, no decorations glowed there.  No one was home.  No one has been home since September 8, 2011.  Only the thick fog keeps me company.

I didn't look to my left, towards the Johnson City Y.  It is still closed.  It was flooded, and reopened, but then, last Saturday, a fire hit.  Right now the estimated reopening date is November 4.

On the BAE side of Main Street, restoration employees arrive to begin their daily shift.  The crowds of day workers who did the initial muck-out and waited in lines on Main Street to check in at a tent are gone, and the relative silence is eerie.  There is still a lot of equipment there, tents, and people smoking cigarettes before their shift begins.  Here, the lights glow almost like day through the fog.

The future itself of BAE is in doubt, but they continue to clean up the property in the meantime.  

I walked on Main Street along the BAE property.  On the other side of Main Street, the flooded side, Westover Plaza, stands empty.  Lights glow in only one store, an Aldi, which has been totally remodeled.  They are moving groceries into the building and I expect their reopening will be announced soon.

I stood at the fence in front of the front entrance of BAE, and a song from the 80's popped into my head.  I don't know why, because this is not how I usually behave, but I suddenly sang out the song in my mind.  It was a  Simple Minds song called "All The Things She Said":
(I probably shouldn't be quoting this without permission but, in the Year of the Flood, I take this liberty)  These may not be the exact words but this is what I sang in the fog:
"She said, this is the time
She said, this is the place
She said, this is the place* my heart wants to be"

And then I started my day."

*the actual lyrics say "space", but that morning, "place" seemed so right.

Here is the music video, if you are interested.  

My neighborhood is somewhat restored, with the vacant, flood ruined houses (mostly) demolished.  And it's still the place my heart wants to be.

Now, the "BAE property" itself is being demolished, one of the last steps my neighborhood needs to be whole once again.

Bradford Pears in front of BAE in process of being demolished, April 21

 I see a new day rising.

Spring #AtoZChallenge

It's Spring!  It is time to rest, then renew, reboot and return to Spring.

My theme for the Blogging from A to Z Challenge has been "Days of Our Lives".  What more is a part of our lives than the beauty of nature?

Especially on a beautiful spring day.

Spring is the season of renewal.  Of returning.  One by one, here in upstate New York, the plants are waking from their winter Sleep. This year, however, there was a major problem.

Mild weather caused them to wake up too soon.  When a blast of unusually cold weather came through, blooms died.  It looks like we won't have much in the way of forsythias or cherries this year.

But other plants and flowers are Springing out after their winter rest.  Spring renewal has begun.

A white hyacinth in the "golden hour" before sunset.

Barrenwort.

A daffodil on my front lawn.

Creeping phlox in nearby Binghamton, New York.

And, of course, tulips.

Finally, in front of a factory building being demolished, Bradford Pears in bloom.


Nature can be dangerous and unpredictable (thinking now of those suffering through the aftermath of floods in Houston and earthquakes in Ecuador and Japan, among other recent tragedies) but when it decides to show its beauty, nature shows its other Side.

"Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives".  Let us spring forward and remember that every day is a chance to show gratitude for the good things in our lives.

"S" day on the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.

Royalty and Renegades (of Funk) #AtoZChallenge

This has been a fantastic A to Z Challenge so far, but there is more to come.

"P" day was the day of the New York State (where I live) Presidential Primaries - blogging about it was a natural.

Today, "R" day, is the 90th birthday of Queen Elizabeth II of England.  Whether you feel the British monarchy should continue, you have to admire a woman who works as she turns 90-and works hard.

The letter "R" also Reminds me of something else: growing up in a city housing project in New York City, at about the time that the hip-hop music genre was born.  Its birthplace, in a different housing project, on Sedgwick Avenue,was perhaps two or three miles from where I was living.  I blogged more about that here.

I don't regret growing up in a city housing project, although I could wish I was living somewhere else for the last few years of my childhood and coming of age. Sometimes, I was filled with Rage.

In some ways, I identify with the song "Renegades of Funk".

The original was released in 1983 by the former warlord of a gang called the Black Spades.  For years, he has gone by the name of Afrika Bambaataa. with his group Soul Sonic Force.

Where I lived in the Bronx was part of the Black Spades territory.  I admit no love for this gang, but their transformation from a street gang to a musical force is something worthy of study. It's not something that happens every day.

Quoting some of Afrika Bambaataa's lyrics:

" Now renegades are people with their own philosophy
They change the course of history
Everyday people like you and me
You know they have their secret notions
And time is endless motion..."

Could I ever hope to be a renegade?  In some ways, perhaps, the years I homesteaded in rural Arkansas may have been my speaking out my "secret notions".  Because, even as I grew up in a small Bronx apartment in public housing, I dreamed, one day, of being able to garden and to even have the freedom to decide what color to paint the interior where I lived.  You see, we didn't even have that right back in the 50's and 60's.

 I heard, on the way home yesterday, a cover by a group called Rage Against the Machine.  Note that the lyrics are not identical.

Do you ever feel you are a renegade?

"R" day on the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.

Quilts #AtoZChallenge

Love and chocolate.  When did the two interwine?

For Q day in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge,  I wanted to blog a little bit about quilts.  I've never made one (I am not a sewing person) but I love quilts.  I have pictures of quilts that have been displayed, from time to time, at our local public library.  I so admire those who have the skill and patience to make them.

One of my earliest memory is a comforter on my childhood bed.  It had a zipper on it.  One day, I decided to be curious and unzip the comforter.

Inside was an old quilt, tattered.  I never did find out the story of that quilt and what it may have meant to my mother.  She sewed when she was younger but by the time I had conscious memories of her, rheumatoid arthritis had set in.  It robbed her of the ability to use her hands for fine work.

I've never learned to quilt, and I admire those who quilt.

From time to time I feature the photography work of a friend I call "my guest photographer".  This quilt was made by her sister, who lives over a thousand miles from here.  I post these pictures with her permission.

I love this quilt because its subject is my favorite substance in the world - chocolate.

Chocolate is a girl's best friend.  How true!

I'm no quitter, either!

Chocolate is what I must have.  No matter if it's a chocolate covered strawberry, or a chocolate covered pretzel, or even a cup of hot chocolate, my day is not complete without a piece of chocolate.

How about you?

Written for "Q" day in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.