"And Just Like That..."

 

     And just like that, the year of 2021 is over.  O-V-E-R.  If I was a "betting woman," I would wager my entire 403B savings on the idea that most of us are grateful to not only see another year, but to put these last couple of years behind us.  On the flip side, many people during the "pandemic life" have experienced unimaginable joy.  Engagements, marriages, babies galore and that leaves me wondering..."What is wrong with me?" 

     I am continually blissful about another sunrise and another sunset.  I am relieved and joyful to have a life that will never, EVER be perfect, but it works nonetheless.  However, I am one of those people who will always want more. For too long, I have entrenched myself in routine.  The past two years have given many a comfort in having a routine.  I have been enjoying the moments of peace and quiet.  I have enjoyed being "still."  Now, NOW, I am beyond done with that.  I want to take up the trumpet!  I want to sing Broadway showtunes at the top of lungs in front of my kids at school each and every day until I drive them to do their classwork!

    I want to live without fear without getting "pandemic sick." I understand that the "inevitable" will eventually happen to me and everyone else for that matter but NOT now, not under these conditions.  I have too much to do. We all have much to do.  I say in 2022, we never stop. Let's never stop planning an let us never stop experiencing the joy of our passions.  What most of us need is passion.  I have noticed on social media that some have more than others and you can hardly blame them for moving forward in spite of the pandemic fears looming each and every day.  Our human behaviors have changed permanently I am afraid. I fear that we will never embrace our need for that human connection that we have been so used to before Covid.  Or perhaps that is my own personal fear. 

     Perhaps in 2022, I will cease to be afraid.  Perhaps in 2022, many of us will be less afraid and embrace each other again.  Maybe, just maybe, I will enjoy the sunrise and the sunset even more than I do now.  Both are equally significant as we age and as we plan for more.  More sunrises, more sunsets, give us strength and give us comfort.  We all need comfort. To think otherwise means none of us have learned a blessed thing during this difficutl time.

     And just like that, I am out of ideas for 2021.  I have, like others, put my best foot forward and now it is time to embrace the unknown year of 2022.  Every year is unknown until we start living it.  Once the champagne glasses are empty and ball has dropped, we need to get back to passion.  How about...we get back...to...passion.

     P.S.  "King, Happy New Year husband!"  You are loved more than what makes you comfortable. 

     

With a Conscience - "The Price of Being...Nice"

 

         It was fairly ingrained into my head growing up, that the most important thing you could give anyone was kindess and empathy.  I remember rescuing a friend on the playground in first grade.  Another girl, a severe bully, threw her down on the playground and began grinding her beautiful hair into the concrete.  I jumped on her back and threw her off my friend.  To this day, I do not know how or why I mustered enough courage to do that but I did and at 60 years of age, I remember it like it was yesterday.

        My sister Jen, has told me that it will never be in my nature to be nasty or confrontational.  My other sister, Jojo tells me, "Find a way to use your voice."   When I am in front my kids at school, I tell them, "Find a way to be kind."  I tell them, "Life is way too short for hateful nonsense.  Remember you are human and so, so are the other kids you go to school with and face each day."  Why is kindness such an issue?  

      There are many days where I simply hate the human race for its insensitivity and its lack of awareness.  Why are so many people on such a short fuse?  Even before this horrid pandemic, which covers our faces and prevents the true, obvious vision of our feelings, we were on a trajectory of anger first, consequences later.  The consequences of hate and anger are too severe and long-lasting these days for us to fully recover from the pandemic.  We need to remember who we are.  We have the capability to love.  We have the capability to heal too.  Of late, my concern is how can we progress from what has been obviously painful? 

      80 years ago, our country was attacked at Pearl Harbor.  We entered World War II as a result and it is amazing that those who are still living and remember being there, are gentle, kind men who simply did what they needed to do.  They did what there were compelled to do.  When there are interviewed, there is no hate expressed.  Perhaps the lesson here, in healing, is in the bravery we must find.  Perhaps rather than fear, which creates hate, we need to find courage.  We need to face our fears and help others.

      I believe fear is the catalyst for most of the unrest we see socially.  The fear comes from not understanding that, "This too shall pass."  The fear escalates from not being heard.  We need to listen more.  We need to care more.  Those that do, find the ultimate reward.  They are no longer afraid.  They embrace.  They are willing to subsitute kindness for fear.  They see the logic in that simple realization.  I pray for more logic. 

With a Conscience - "What I know...Now"

 

     The older you become, the more death becomes a closer and closer reality.  I am sorry for being so morose but this is a fact.  Each year is a blessing.  Each year should produce more gratitude. This past year, I have attended the wakes of many lost lives and the one take away from each of them is that these individuals lived incredibly full lives.  Age had absolutely nothing to do with their death.  It had everything to do with how they conducted their life while living.

     You can not be sixty years old and not reflect on the choices you have made and the work you have done.  It has always been about choice.  When you go to bed each night, and you think about the day, think about what really happened.  Think about how you have treated yourself and others.  I have known so many who have faced cancer, and other debilitating health issues and they survive.  They survive because they have purpose.  They love. Boy do they love!  They face their issues with faith and with a strength that leaves me in awe.  Purpose gives us strength.  Purpose gives us a will to live.  When you have loved, you have reached a goal that many run from and many avoid. To love, means you have become beyond brave. This is our purpose as human beings. 

     Death brings peace.  I have yet to see that not be the case.  BUT, it is the faces of those who have loved, still living, that have to face that loss and find a way to face and cherish their memories of those they have lost.  This is often not an easy task. There is guilt.  There is a feeling of helplessness.  There is an emptiness that for most will always be felt no matter how much time is passed.  This goes for anyone and anything (pets too)  that has meant anything to us.  Grief is real.  Grief is the wakeup call that makes us realize we will not live forever so we had better follow our dreams and get busy.

     You can not be 60 years old and not wonder how much time is left but what I need to add to that thought is, we can also ask ourselves, "What's next? What else do I want to do before I am unable?" The answer to that is we need to follow our hearts.  We need to feel that fear and do "it' anyway. Fear stops us from doing so many things.  I dare say, that will not be me.  I hope it will NOT be any of you.  

"School Daze" - For My Teacher Friends

 ‘A good teacher is one who makes himself progressively unnecessary.’ 

–Thomas Carruthers

     For teachers, the month of September is a lot like facing the holidays for some.  Actually, there are two types of teachers...Those who look forward to the school year and those who do not. Anxiety breeds all kinds of behavior that we may not have seen or experienced in those we know.  Like the holidays, there are those who look forward to them and those who dread them.  All of the reasoning is sound and this is the truth.

     What all teachers have learned within the past year and a half is that nothing is definite and alhtough planning is an altruistic endeavor it has proven to be not unrealistic during a pandemic.  Teachers are the last to know as most of the public has been.  There is just no planning during a pandemic.  The question is, "Should there be?"  

     There has not been one teacher that I have spoken to who has not expressed their anxiety and their worry about their students and everyone else in their immediate circle.  Where has the lack of regard for human well-being gone? It boggles my brain to think that so many Americans are ignoring what would logically appear to be reasonable and sensible. We have already sacrificed so much, and lost so much. This includes our time.  Time with our loved ones; time with our colleagues; time with our friends...You can not get time back.  Time is not refundable.  When you are fearful, time is irrelevant.  Fear makes us unaware and it takes aware what is rational.

     No doubt, many of our kids will return to school operating at a deficit and their anxiety and their excitement will be prevalent.  We will take it slow and we will take it one day at a time.  It will be more important to be consistent if not patient.  We need to be kind and patient with each other too.  We will be covering for each other.  We will be yet again, stepping up and doing what we are required to do.  We need to forgive the inconvenience and embrace our good fortune that we are healthy and we are vital and we are who we are.

     If I have learned anything over this past year and a half is that love matters.  If I have learned anything at all

it is that the pandemic brought out the true colors of those around me and society in general.  September is coming.  Our plans, such as they can be, are in place and the commaderie of those who understand, is sealed.  Wear the mask.  Love....

     

"Say It Isn't So"

 

    You can not have gone through nearly a year and a half of a pandemic without taking some time to assess everything in your life.  I know now that I was driven totally by fear.  Perhaps we all were and I know I certainly was. Every decision, every move was cultivated by the fear getting sick or watching a loved one become sick. The fear sadly, is still with me.  People have said that I am a fairly resilient person but I wonder if that still holds true given the new normal I see around me.

     When the only things you have done is go to the supermarket and the gas station, life becomes infinitely smaller and less complicated.  Routines are changed and nothing is really the same.  What remains the same are the feelings and the emotions we have for those we love.  That does not change.  No one wants to see someone they love get sick.  There have been discussions after discussions regarding vaccines and I can tell you that just like public education, our health is NOT political.  Getting a vaccine with the rarest of exceptions is our civic responsiblity.  Wearing a mask is a civic responsibility.  We do these things out of love for our families, our friends, our colleagues and those who we have not yet met.  

    I hate masks.  I will be wearing them in the fall when school starts to be sure but I hate them.  The full human being behind the mask is never truly exposed.  It is as though, the mask is another excuse to hide our truth.  But here's the thing...We do not want to be responsible for someone getting sick because we were too selfish and too inconsiderate to do what is morally and ethically appropriate.  Again, politics has NOTHING to do with our health.  Our health, our well-being, our joy for living rests on doing the right thing now.  NOW... meaning NOW...until the virus understands that we are not going to give in to stupidity.  We must not give in to  political rhetoric.  If one passes away from COVID, no one is paying to attention to politics but they will be asking themselves, "Why or how? What could have been done differently? Why was I so stubborn?"  

     My musings are based on 17 years of teaching and working with a public that has been incredibly generous, gracious and appreciative of everything that I have tried to do for their children.  I am beyond fearful for my students, their famiies, my colleagues, their families, and of course, my family.  Returning to school in September is going to be beyond fearful...It is vitally important to express that now.  It is the truth.  We can argue all the politics, discuss all of the myths, but the real truth is that no one wants to die needlessly.  No one wants to become ill when the solution is fairly simple.  I do not understand why that is such a hard pill for some to swallow.

     

"The Visit"

As I pulled into the parking lot of my mother's nursing home , I suddenly became overwhelmed.  Today...today's visit, would be different.  I have written about my parents in previous blogs.  None of those blogs did either of them justice. How can you possibly encompass all of the emotions,  and the realizations that can surface with one or two blogs?

Mom's nursing home has finally freed up its visitation. Visits are now, no appointment necessary.   The pandemic has dictated and continues to dictate every part of our lives ( "Making an appointment to see your mother???  Really??" ) but for now, today, I was back to "normal" and able to see her.  Protocols in place I waited nearly an hour before they would bring "Mickey" out to see me.  "MOM!!!!!!!" I said, as the extremely tired looking attendant rolled her towards me.  It is still difficult for me to accept that the woman who danced on Jones Beach, made apple strudel, apple pies, homemade bread, hiked the Appalachian Trail, made fabulous dinners each and every night, is now confined to a wheel chair.  "You are no longer  in denial, Claude," I said to myself. 

Mom has a hearing aid which works to a certain degreee but I bring a dry erase board because sometimes she can not always make out what is being said. Every accommodation possible has to be made when it involves love.  Mom was so excited to see me. "Claudia!!!"  Why do mothers always know which strings to tug at your heart?  How do they do that? I have asked that question over the years, time and time again and the answers always vary.

The woman in the wheel chair wanted her daughters to be college educated. My touring with an Actors' Equity theater troup at 14 was and I quote, "Over my dead body." That was the first time we butted heads.  The second, when I failed my driver's test.  I needed more practice.  She wanted to hold on a little longer.  Maybe it was because I spent my first days after being born in an incubator...Maybe it was because I was born five weeks early, and placed in an incubator at five pounds that Mom had this inherent, continual need to protect me or at times "over protect" me.  

It has never been easy for me to make decisions.  I transferred to three different colleges before receiving my Bachelor's degree in journalism. Two years later, after realizing that local reporters only made five dollars and hour at that time, I decided to substitute teach and well, I was hooked and went back to school for a teaching certification.  My mother could not have been happier.  She was even prouder when I received my master's degree with honors.  When your parents are proud of you, those feelings last.  They never leave you.  I told her the single most important thing..."I have no regrets Ma...Not about becoming a teacher, not about anything I've done."

When you are witness to the aging of your mother and father, you are also facing your own mortality.  As they age, you look at your life differently and ask yourself, "How do I want to age?  How do I age gracefully, peacefully?  How do I do all of the things I want to do before I can not and how does one prepare without it being obvious?"  My mother never answered those questions so we did, for her safety and her health.  

It was time to leave and I looked up at the attendant who would bring Ma back to her area and nodded trying not to outwardly cry. "Bye Ma," I said.  "Stay out of trouble..."  We leaned in to each other and kissed and hugged.  "I love ya Claude," she smiled.  

It was a long ride home. This had been the visit I had dreamed of for months. Now matter how much in denial I have been, I see now that again, I am my "Mother's daughter."  However, my terms will be and are, much different than hers.  What I am grateful and thankful for is that she is now unequivocably proud of her daughters.  "Life is complicated," Ma would be the first to tell anyone.  It can even be cruel but the single most important thing to remember is that "WE ARE LOVED." 

"The New Tired..."

 

I do  not know about all of you, but I have been feeling a new kind of tired and I am not sure whether it is a tired due to a major reset in my thinking or a tired due to well, just being tired of the worry over the last year and a half.  I suppose it really doesn't matter because tired is tired is tired...

With the isolation demanded by most of us over the last year and a half,  you cannot not help but find solice in the peace of your home, your family and your friends, even if you aren't able to see them as much as you had hoped.  Some people, I have discovered are less afraid than I am or have been.  Hopefully, I am not alone in this on-going need to still build a system of protection given our circumstances...and I mean ALL of us...We must remain vigilant.  Being overly protective makes everyone tired.  It is part of "adulting."  

I think I plan my activities more than I used to do.  Everything I do, results in a plan.  This is so NOT part of my DNA.  I never planned for anything.  More importantly, I never worried about planning anything either.  I threw "caution to the wind."  How incredible that at this stage in my life, everything has changed.  Every move, every decision is now thought out and planned with the least amount of consequence.  Decades ago, I would neve have thought to live my life like that.

Over the last year and half, I have gone through two pairs of walking sneakers, countless pairs of sweats and t-shirts.  It became incredibly important to walk at my local park, in the fresh air, safely reflecting on my fears for all of us.  I walked so I could take a short reprieve from absorbing all of the fear that was in my head and surrounding me.  I stopped watching the news.  I knew what I needed to know as I saw the awe in my conversations with family and friends.

I do get comfort from those who are stepping out and rediscovering their world again. I was able to safely hug my mother for the first time in almost two years and I am grateful for all of the protocols that are in necessary. I am slowly getting to that place where I accept the tiredness I feel. I accepted the tiredness of getting vaccinated. That was after the fear of sitting in a chair for 15 minutes wondering if I would have an adverse reaction.  I take naps. I sleep in later and find a new strength to do what is appropriate for my body, my mind. The loneliness I have felt this past year has turned into a new awareness and a knowledge to plan for my future.  Maybe plans or planning isn't so bad after all.  Maybe, plans, albeit loose and subject to change, keep us from losing everything that is important.    

"The Borderline Illiterate"

It is so unbelievably ironic that I live approxiamately four to five miles from my old high school.  On most of my errands, I pass by the school and I can not help but go back in time, a time in my life that still remains part of my reality each and every time.    

 1976-1977. I was in tenth grade.  Relieved to have lived through ninth grade without a scratch or embarrassing incident, tenth grade was going to be a breeze.  That is until geometry class and English class.  Geometry with Mrs. Long was a welcome diversion to English class with Mrs. Petty, believe me.  The irony was that English was foremost always my favorite subject.  So much so that I had set my sights on going to a school of journalism somewhere and becoming a reporter.   I was forever writing.  Each and every day my passion remained and each and every day, I attended Geometry class twice a day so I would pass the state exam.  Mrs. Long let me bring my lunch to the second class.  

On one particular day, I was not exactly focused.  I was chit-chatting with my friends in English class, happily ready for Mrs. Petty.  We opened our grammar textbooks and I began my day-dreaming.  As if on cue, Mrs. Petty asked me if I knew the difference between a phrase and a clause.  There she was, this petite, husky-voiced woman, impeccably dressed each and every day, waiting for my response.  I looked down at my textbook and well, I answered incorrectly.  "It was a CLAUSE!!!!  You idiot," I said to myself.  At that moment, Mrs. Petty looked at me and said "Well, I guess we have a border-line illiterate in our class."  My friend behind me, burst out laughing.  I did not think it was funny.  I lowered my head, held back the tears, mortified, embarrassed.  I wanted to vomit but luckily I had not eaten my lunch yet.  Besides, I refused to give up the cinnamon twist donut I had had for breakfast.  

I could not wait to get out of her class.  The bell rang and I ran out of the classroom and went to my locker.  I fell apart in tears into the door of my locker trying to figure out what I had done that was so horrible.  She knew I wanted to be a writer.  She knew I valued her opinion.  I had respect for my teachers. All I wantted to do was to go home but I knew well enough that my mother would insist I finish the day.  In the 70's, teachers had their say and the ownership of their classes, plain and simple.  I did not go to my guidance counselor.  I did not go to an administrator.  I made it to the end of the day and came home and told my mother.  "I'm never going to become a writer! EVER!" I cried.  "Forget writing.  Forget it all."   My mother let me cry and gently reminded me that I should not give up.  "Borderline illiterate...I'll show her," I told myself.

11th grade came soon enough and Mrs.Petty was behind me. I finished high school and evenutally ended up becoming a local reporter and then, as fate would have it, a teacher.  At the age of 42, I was officially a teacher and not just any teacher, an ENGLISH teacher and there has not been a year that has gone by that I have not thought of Mrs. Petty. There is not a day in the classroom that I do not think about every word that comes out of my mouth.  The words that come out of our mouths have a profound effect on the people that respect us.  I learned that at the age of 16.  I realized growing up just how important the words from those we look up to have on our passions and our drive to be "someone special."  I spent years searching for that kind of validation. Mrs. Petty wasn't the last person to discourage me or tell me I was not capable. However, I can thank Mrs. Petty for making me a teacher.  I can thank Mrs. Petty for an education far beyond a clause and a phrase. 

"Dear Children of the Universe" - Part Three

 

No quotes today.  There just is not one appropriate quote to explain how each one of your teachers, your parents, are feeling right now.  You have finished the MOST difficult school years in history.  AND...if you have studied history, the last pandemic we suffered through was in the early to mid 1900's.  You, my dears have made history.  Because you have made history, you need to do the following:

• Be grateful and show gratitude - Show gratitude for the education you received.  Show gratitude to your loved ones.  They may have not always been able to help you with your math homework but they want the best for you and you should honor that by passing each course.
• If you want to survive in this world, you need to work even harder now.  We are all operating at a deficit.  All of us...From this point on, you need to plan for a future that will allow you to survive on your own, fully employed and independent despite the circumstances because that is what strong people do.  They persevere.
• Wake up!  None of you should have failed one single class.  Your teachers designed the curriculum so that you would succeed. They took into consideration every single variable.  Some of you went missing in action.  Why? I will forever be haunted by the very fact that those who disappeared did not see that value of their academics.  You chose to fail instead of ask for help.  You chose to fail because you saw no way out.  The question of "Why?" will always haunt me.
• For those who succeeded during this extremely difficult time, thank yourselves and treat yourselves well.  You worked so incredibly hard.  You pushed through the negativity and the anxiety and you are very close to building a better future and a better world. Why does this matter? YOU, are all responsible for what happens next.  You need to put food on your tables.  You will have mortgages.  You will need to hold down a job and take direction from a superior.  You should view success as something very personal.  It's called "pride."

Lastly, here is a true confession.  Anxiety and fear are real emotions.  As your teacher, those emotions were felt each and every single day of this school year because I worried about each and every one of you.  Life is all about choices.  We can either choose to give up and hide or not.  The alternative however, will provide you with so much pride and so much strength you will never, ever forget this time in your life.  The day I graduated from high school was so emotional.  I knew it was the last time I would be protected by my teachers.  Your teachers protected you and I bet you did not even notice. So, "Children of the Universe,"  this year ends like no other.  It will be like no other.  Our fears and our frustrations were all legitimate and now, now we have to process where we go from here.  The summer is here.  Jump in a lake, a pool.  Get outside and be ready to come to school in the fall, ready to take responsibility for yourselves and your success.  

"My Gray Hair"

 

         The very first person I ever remember with gray was my Grandmother Maria.  Grandma Maria kept her long hair and every morning, my mother would braid it and wrap it in a bun just the way she liked it.  My mother did this for her until the day she passed at 98 years of age.  It never occurred to my Grandma to complain about her gray hair.  In fact, I never heard her complain about anything except when Mom wanted her eat and she would say quite emphatically, "Mickey, you gave me too much but I cleaned my plate!'

     Gray hair has been subtlety surfacing on my head since my forties.  I remember waking up and looking in the mirror, putting on my makeup and just stopped and looked for what seemed like an eternity.  Gray hair.  From that moment, I estimate that I have spent hundreds and hundreds of dollars covering those "hairs of wisdom."  They were as I call it,  the "change of seasons." Dark brown hair, blonde hair, red hair, highlights.  It was not until this past year that I watched so many women my age, whom I loved and respect embrace the gray.  They surely embrace the gray.  They are active.  They are healthy and the gray hair hasn't changed one single mindset that they have.  They are brilliant.  They love.  They argue.  They are social and they travel.  They are grandparents or soon to be grandparents.

  

     For myself, I fought the gray.  I was in denial that I was actually aging.  Aging was not in my plan.  I was the youngest of three and I wanted to stay "young."  I looked at my world with brand new eyes each and every day.  Life is funny though...after a few losses and heartbreaks, disappointments, gray hair did not seem like such a terrible thiing. In fact, I now see it as a true badge of honor.  Honestly, I look at this past year with the truth, the realization, that "older" means "better."  "Older" means that we have the power to make decisions that provide us peace.  Gray hairs deserve peace.  Gray hair deserves respect.  We have earned our right to say what we mean and mean what we say.

     Grandma Maria was a farmer, an amazing cook and in fact, she cooked on and with a wood burning stove.  She never learned to drive.  The things that we deem important, my grandmother could have cared less.  Her long gray hair was a sign of her natural ability to accept life as it had been given to her.  Her dried, cracked hands, the sign of hard work and of course age, were the reminders to us that life was not easy and well, never will be.  However, she found joy in us.  She celebrated my college graduation with a glass of wine and told us all of the story of how she had too much wine one time, while still in Austria and rolled down a hill!!!  I believe that was the only time she drank, until my graduation.  I loved her. 

     So here I am, embracing my culminating gray hair.  I had been dreading it and through this pandemic and everything that has had entailed, aging does not seem so bad...It is not the curse I thought it would be. I am reaching my peace.  I have nothing else to prove to anyone or anything. I want to embrace my age not be afraid of it. Take me or leave me.  My grandmother was the most upright, honest woman.  With every gray hair, I hope she's proud of  the gray hair I feel I have earned.  There's more to do.  There's more the grays want to say.  Stay tuned.....

"What the heart learns"

 

     When I was younger, I foolishly thought my heart was always in the right place. I could never see my wrongs or for that matter, recognize other people's faults.  The trust was always there and so was the enthusiasm for well, just about everyone and everything.  What I have learned this past year...sigh....or more is that there are no straight lines to anything.  

     As I have aged, I see now that anything linear or seen as linear can be very disappointing if not dangerous, particularly to our mental health.  Trust means everything.  Along with trust, we begin to understand that nothing linear makes us entirely fullfilled or happy.  We have to embrace the twists and turns.  In fact, to not expect those twists and turns is a recipe for disaster.  No matter how are we try, we can not plan for every single, life-changing, life-altering situation.  This is why I have completely stopped planning.  To over plan, means that at some point we will be disappointed.  My disappointments are far and few between but they are indeed part of my experience.  I followed the straight line and recently, got very tired of doing so.  

     Perhaps, it is a sign of aging but I have become increasingly aware of how much I have learned and how much I appreciate peace.  Being amongst the living means, there are always lessons.  What the heart knows at this stage in the game is that there is no rhyme or reason to what happens to us.  Things just materialize and they evolve and before you know it, you are looking at a lifetime of stories.  Along with the stories should come wisdom but sometimes that is not the case and we are back to square one.  Recently, I feel as though I am back to square one.  The pandemic has made me see very clearly that we live in a bubble, and then, last year, the bubble burst...for each one of us.  We were left to look at our lives, our world differently.  We had to learn to adjust to limitations that we had never have had to experience.  In the beginning, I did not adjust well.  I do not know about anyone else but fear has made me a recluse and in my reclusive state, I was learning more about myself than I ever had in my life.

     I learned to let go.  I learned to take a stand for myself even when there were people who challenged my need to do so.  I forgive them.  I will not leave this world with regrets and so, I have none.  I have learned what the true definition of the word patience means and now that I do know I want to pass the true defintion to you.  Patience equals true love, honesty, no secrets and above all of those things, patience means growth.  I am hoping that all of us have grown less judgemental and more compassionate.  I am  hoping that those people who remain in my life, will remain and if not, may their journey be one of happiness and peace. 

     The pandemic has taught me that not everything can be perfect or should be.  Perfection is unattainable.  Perfection is crazy.  I would rather be "less perfect" and happy than beating my head against a wall trying to be perfect or measuring myself up to others and their standards.  I have my standards.  I have my expectations and they work for me...Now.  Not always...but now, now they do.  So get ready world...there is about to be a lot more honesty and lot more truth coming from just about everyone.  I just hope, I just hope that love is part of the truth.

     

"Sisters...Sisterhood"

 

         I am the youngest of three sisters by seven and eight years. When I was little, we sung in the bath tub to the Supremes.  They showed me the star of Bethlehem on Christmas Eve.  When I was sad, they sang "A Dream is a Wish Your Makes" from Disney's "Cinderella." 

     They pretended to "fry" my goldfish!  (True story!!! ) Of course, I was four or five years old and of course, they were pranking me with their boyfriends,  but regardless of the difference in age and the endless challenges of "sisterhood," and families,  my sisters and I, different as night and day, know the value of our bond.

     Since the pandemic, our affairs and our togetherness have been fewer sadly.  But we have hiked outside and we have talked outside and lately, all I can think about is that they had just as huge a part in raising me as my parents did.  When I was a kid, they took me everywhere.  Movies, parties, camping, travels far and wide have been a part of our history.  Our relationship has taken us to New York City, Boston, Boulder, Flagstaff, Stamford, Minneapolis, Phoenix, and parts of Montana, South Dakota and North Dakota and yes, Rhode Island.   

     We are different.  My sisters are incredibly industrious.  They were Girl Scouts.  They learned to sew, knit, crochet and cook from my mother and my grandmother.  I adopted some of those skills (They excelled!)  but headed in an entirely different direction then they did.  It was writing, theater and and an endless need to perform that carried me.  Still to this day, I think about how my sisters would take the stories I had written to school with them to show their friends.  They came to see me on the stage when they could. They understood my trajectory, even when I did not.

    They raised their children with an incredible courage, that I have would never experience in my own life.  I never missed having children because my sisters let me scoop up theirs any time I wanted or could.  I believe that is one of the main reasons I became a teacher.  I loved my nephews and niece so much that I wanted as much time with them as we could manage.

     Today, we can get together and speak freely.  We have witnessed grief, loss, fear, and pure joy and happiness.  We have danced, tipped a few beers, played pool and watched my father beat all of us at cards, laughing until it hurt.  We have played at the beach, hiked and celebrated so many milestones and...all in our own individual way.  As the youngest, I was in awe of them growing up.  They were princesses to me.  They exhibited grace, beauty and a freaking fabulous sense of humor!!!

     Now that we are older, I see  how valuable it was to watch them growup first!  I had that advantage and perhaps could have used it that knowledge even more so in my youth. The day they left the house for their own journeys, I felt a loss like no other. That no longer matters today.  They are two of the strongest women I will ever know.  They worked incredibly hard and well, we all have enough shoes to last us a lifetime!!

    I honor my sisters and am so grateful for what we have and who we are.  Life is series of episodes.  Some are blissful and wonderful.  Some are not.  My sisters and I have seen it all.  Sisters have an unspoken language that transcends any difficulties or arguments.  We can thank our parents for insisting that no matter what...family matters.  I love you Jen. I love you Jojo. You're my big fat sisters!  Always. P.S. You are not fat...but you did pretend to fry my goldfish...last word. The goldfish thanks you!

"Spring Break"

 

                    It was nirvana today.  The temperature was 60 degrees...almost.  The air was crisp.  This may just be the first day I have felt normal in over an entire year.  I have done exactly what was asked of me this past year.  I have stayed sequestered.  I have social distanced.  I have worn my mask.  I have in short taken the pandemic seriously.  There were no free rides.  I played by the rules because I did not waiver nor did I make excuses.  John and I did not venture out to restaurants, or go out and party with friends. It has been a year of playing by rules none of us were prepared to follow, let alone write.  

                  I wake up at 5:30 in the morning, and boot my computer up, prepare my school agenda and get ready to meet the screen of "alphabet city" kids who absolutely refuse to be seen.  I worry.  Some of my kids are literally disappearing before my eyes and no amount of phone calls or emails seems to improve the emptiness they are feeling.  The emptiness I feel, wondering if I am doing enough to give them what they deserve...an education.  I wonder about their families.   I wonder about their parents.  I know that some are struggling and some, not all, but some, have disappeared like their children have.  But the most important thing I have realized this spring is...I do NOT want to disappear.  I refuse to disappear.  My students have come too far for me to hide.  How I wish they would understand that you can not hide and succeed.

                Because I teach remotely, this makes me vulnerable and it makes me an "outlander."  But, I am forcing that issue.  I am not an "outlander."  I watch, listen and act accordingly, just as I always have.  I do as I have been instructed to do.  I reach out to parents.  I reach out to my kids.  I have to agree that sometimes, my lessons are not a Broadway song and dance but sometimes, sometimes, kids need to learn the basics because they are not paying attention to the basics.  They are ignoring them.  "Rest assured kids, that I am indeed present and will not give up on teaching you."  I just wish you would stop hiding. I wish you would embrace the world regardless of the circumstances.

                Since 2007, my heart has been in the right place as a teacher.  I have never felt as though I was an expert though.  I will never be an expert.  There is no plan book detailed enough to prepare anyone for what has been witnessed these last two years.  Spring has arrived however, and everyone, EVERYONE needs to take a break.  We need to find our kindness and our understanding.  We need to find our patience and our strength.  We need to remember to walk awhile in someone else's shoes before we can judge.  Or...should we judge at all?  

                 I can not wait to stop wearing a mask.  I can not wait to see a Broadway show and shop at Macy's and go to their shoe department.  I want to have a luxurious dinner with all of my closest and dearest.  I can not wait to begin a new adventure.  With spring, comes change and I see that change is just around the corner.  We are getting closer and closer to healing the wounds as long as we are courageous enough to understand that we all have a part to play in this history.  History defines how we walk to the future.  Our education, our ability to learn, will set the course for the kind of world we want to see.  With a break in mind, I hope we all have the opportunity to breathe and embrace.  It all goes by too quickly.  Find your spring and feel the need to love.

"Age Defying Gravity"

 

     With less than a week and half to go, I will be facing another decade.  I will be 60 years of age.  Some may not think that is a huge deal but I am looking it at as a huge milestone.  To be truthful I like the word...60.  It has a much better ring to it than other numbers have had.  20, 30, 40 all had their moments but 60 sounds comforting.  The other decades were about "people pleasing" and proving myself on a much to regular basis.  Earlier decades caused me to take life too seriously and although that has been a difficult thing to manage admittingly...60 means bringing an end to fear.  I hope.

     This past year has been fearful for all of us.  But the year I was born, 1961, I became a "baby boomer" and the following happened:

•  American civil rights movement: Freedom Riders are arrested in Jackson, Mississippi for "disturbing the peace" after disembarking from their bus.
• Apollo program: President Kennedy announces before a special joint session of Congress his goal to put a man on the Moon before the end of the decade.
• Alan Shepard makes the first U.S. Space Flight.
• Niagra Falls starts producing hydroelectric power
• Construction of the Berlin Wall begins.
• The Peace Corps is established by President John Kennedy.
• The first electric tooth brush was introduced by General Electric.
• I was born...March 2, 1961 at 12:29 a.m.  The youngest of three daughters to Edward and Malvina Taschler, born at Vassar Brothers Hospital, Poughkeepsie, New York.  I was born a week early, which I might add set the tone for the rest of life...good, old-fashioned impatience.  
  

        Approaching 60 years of age, makes all that more determined to do more if I only knew what that "more" was.  Planning only gets you so far and then life has a way of taking you in another direction.  What I hope for is to be much like my grandmother was.  Strong, chopping wood in her 90's.  Not that chopping wood is on my agenda, but she never stopped until...unti she stopped.  She was 98.  If only I will be that lucky.  Actually, luck probably had nothing to do with Gramma's longevity. She kept busy, ate everything that was home grown.  She was a farmer.  Everything she cooked was home made and never processed.  She loved her home and the land she lived on and she loved her family.  When Ma brought me home, I was five pounds literally,  I spent the first days of my life in an incubator.  (No wonder I feel uncomfortable in small spaces.)  Ma, as she tells the story, brought me into Gramma and said, "Maria, she's so little! What will be do?"  Gramma looked at my mother and said , "We'll keep her Mickey.  We'll keep her."

     60 years seems like an awful long time but now I understand just how quickly it all happens.  One minute you are 14 wanting to be all grown and independent and free and the next minute, you are approaching 60 with your husband curled up watching television and thinking that this is really all you ever wanted.  Of course, the very thing that keeps me going, is I do in fact need and want to do more.  Life is busy.  Home is busy.  Teaching is definitely busy and sadly, I am doubtful few believe me when I say that but it is true.  I am grateful that I still have the same energy I had 14 years ago and to find the strength to handle what my teacher friends and I handle each and every day.  Even more significantly, I realized that it is acceptable to be tired.  When you are tired, you need to just stop and heal.  Stop and heal.

     I try to find comfort in aging by walking and writing and loving those who are in my life.  60 has made me grateful for my health, my well-being and my stubbornness to continue.  I am stubborn.  I think that is why I was born a week early.  I couldn't wait to get started on my journey, complicated and beautiful as it is.  At 60, I know that I have handled the heartbreaks, the joys and the disappointments and I am sure there will be more...hopefully.  Like the day I was born, a week early, I do not want to miss one damn thing.  I will not leave this life without joy, music and gratitude.  I promise everyone that.  I promise myself that!

     I will be counting down the days until March 2, 2021.  I am each day, one day, closer to another decade of change and adaptation.  Know that those who are in my life, even at 60, are loved and cherished.  No one is promised a single thing.  The grace of aging, means that we find joy and we find gratitude in what is right in front of us.  Maybe...just maybe, this will be the year I stop coloring my hair...or not.

     

"Ya Can't Draw Love From A Stone"

 

King and I celebrated our first Valentine's Day in February of 2004.  17 years ago.  There were chocolates, wine, flowers, dinner and lots of emotion. Until 2004, I had not celebrated a single Valentine's Day with anyone other than my family.  Truth.   The comforting thing about your 40's however, is you begin to realize that if you are standing on your own two feet, Valentine's Day will come and it will go and you will survive.  But I I wanted to fall in love.  I wanted that connection.  I just did not understand how to see it, feel it, know it.

When I met my husband, John King, I was not prepared for what I was feeling. What I did know is that I could no longer run away from what I denied myself for most of my life.  I realized that very first night that we met, that I deserved to be loved.  More importantly, I deserved to be loved in the most honest of ways.  In the time we have been together, love has evolved.  Love is far from perfect.  It will never be perfect.  There are times when we will absolutely, never be at our best and then again, we will be.  When that happens, the world becomes a much different place.

Sometimes, we have to accept the absurdity of love.  Love requires patience.  Love requires kindness and yes, one has to listen.  Relationships fall apart when the listening stops.  This is the painful process relationships go through and sadly, not everyone will stay in the game.  

At 59 years old, almost 60 years old, this is what love means now:

• Love means acceptance of imperfection.
• Love means having a sense of humor...always.
• Love means risk...a huge monumental risk.
• Love means mutual politics...and religion.  You have to see eye to eye.
• Love is messy.  Love is dealing with anger and frustration and again, acceptance. 
• Love is an almost visual connection of two souls.  It really is that simple.  
  

If I had to live anything in my life over again, I believe that the one thing I would have done differently would have been to open up sooner to the idea of love.  But, and this is a HUGE BUT...Nothing would replace the bravery and the risk King and I both took getting together and making a committment to each other.  Love equals committment.  Love is risk.  

On Valentine's Day, what I think about is the sacrifice and the longing of those I know who look across and have no one.  But let me tell those who are alone, find joy.  Love comes in its own sweet time, not before that time.  Love will hit you like a ton of bricks and leave you speechless and remember, love...helps you get your speech back.  Your voice will change but it will become stronger if it is right for you.

Spread your love for those you love.  Do not waste another moment pushing it aside because of fear.  The years go by very quickly and if you have the opportunity, love without hesitation.  If the hurt surfaces, move past it and know that you are capable of loving again.

Happy Valentine's Day.!!!

"Snow Blindness"

 

     I am presently looking out my bedroom window and the snow is falling so intensively,  you can hardly see our pine trees or our pond.  Everything comes to stop when there is snow storm.  I like that.  I love it when I am forced to become still, and focus on on the quiet and the peace the snow generates.  There was a time when I had to drive in all kinds of snow storms to get to work.  The record I believe for one commute, was four hours from Westchester. I am extremely grateful that the snow has been kind to me through the years.

     Each of my winters becomes more and more reflective.  The snow forces us into action.  Eventually, we have to get outside with our extra layers and move the remains of Mother Nature's cleansing.  Snow cleanses.  The purity and the stark white haze remind us how vulnerable we can really be.  We are not omnisicent.  We have to slow down our speed and let nature perform as it should.  Nature has more control than we care to admit.  It demands our respect or we proceed at our peril. Snow teaches us to be humble.  Snow teaches us patience and to be mindful.  

     As with most things, snow does not last.  It remains until the sun decides it is time to  nurture the earth for another spring.  When there is a heavy snow storm, I stop everything.  I like that.  There is that feeling of safety and warmth watching the snow cover up all the barren trees.  When it snows, I feel that sense of purity and gentility the snow creates.  My husband fills the bird feeders the appreciation of our "bird friends" is beyond satisfying.  Snow makes us take care of others.  It brings us a focus we forget we have at any other time of year because we are forced to be still for a time...at least until we have to shovel or plow.

When I am out in the cold, I wake up. The cold makes me sensible. Everything slows down and the cold reminds me to be warm or "warmer" to others and to myself.  The snow used to make me fearful.  Now I embrace it and understand that although I am watching winter, spring is not that far away and it is the winter and the snow that makes everything else possible.

    

"Fear and Courage...Courage and Fear"

 

 

     As I approach another decade milestone, I can not help but think about how many moments I have either been incredibly fearful and...fearless.  By the time I got through all of my reflections, I was beyond exhausted.  

     I was definitely afraid the night of my ninth grade dinner dance.  Mom had made me a flowered dress with all of my favorite colors.  It had flowers; pink, blue, and white flowers and there was a bow in the back.  It had a scoop neckline too.  She curled my hair and I got to wear mascara.  That dance was by far one of the scariest moments of my life; it was my first date.  I went and faced the truth about high school. The date was a disaster, heartbreaking but moments such as those are fleeting.  It ended as quickly as it began and although my heart was broken, I did have the courage to move forward.

     The next fearful moment  was graduating from high school.  It was an anxious moment for my parents to be sure.  I was the last to go through high school.  I was anxious because well, I could not wait to begin my life outside of Hopewell Junction.  I was leaving the area.  I was going to college and that August after I graduated high school, my parents drove away from the dorm room with me in their rear view window.  I was in tears but they never saw those tears. It was all up to me now.  Those first two years, I met two of the most important friends I would ever have in life and we are still friends and we still value what we have built and have over the years.  I finally graduated years later, basically because I was afraid of what I really wanted for myself.  I wanted a career in acting.  I did the next best thing and became a certified English teacher.  Talk about fear...walk into a classroom of 30 teenagers, and they recognize fear, like sharks know the smell of fresh meat.

When I got my first legitimate role and had to walk on stage and say my lines, I thought I was going to vomit.  I was beyond nervous because I wanted to be excellent.  I wanted to make the audience laugh.  I had an intense fear of failure.  I suspect that most people's fears stem from that very thing, failure.  From failure comes courage because when we fail, our worst fears come to fruition and we end up surviving. I find it interesting how those scenarios turns out for most of us.

The most significant fear I have to date was getting married.  I know no other act of courage then getting married.  Why?  Getting married is the most significant act of trust a person can give to another.  'I accept you.  You accept me."  Love is scary.  Love is courage.  Love is real. Sometimes it can be ugly.  Sometimes it takes your breath away to the point were there will never be enough oxygen to sustain yourself.

The idea of death or the act of dying is filled with fear.  When someone's health fails and we know they are passing, we watch in amazement at their courage.  For some reason it is the act itself that eventually provides a sense of courage in us.  We move forward and keep the departed close and the fear turns to courage and then turns to everlasting love.  The most amazing thing is we are then forced to rely on others to help us move beyond the pain.  We all need people we can trust to get us through the struggles.  Let's not forget, they are being courageous as well because they are watching us struggle.  I would equate the facing of death to that of facing a birth too.  LIfe changes at birth.  Life changes with the death of those we love. With the young, the fear is that of wanting to protect them.  We can not protect them forever.  At the appropriate time, the young must leave and they must sustain themselves.  Letting them leave is where the courage lies.

We have no courage, if there is no fear.  I can not count the number of times a fear surfaced and I was afraid to lose.  It has been the fear of losing that has dominated most of my life and now, now as I approach another decade, I can recognize the importance and the result of having both.

"Champagne Wishes and Caviar Dreams"

 

Hello 2021!!!!  Remember us? The human race?  You know the human race who has been trying to juggle their sub-conscientious, pre-occupations mixed with thinking of loved ones and all of the things we would have liked to have done but did not because...?  Let's change all of that. 

I have tried to convince myself of so many things in the past year... 

"I did not really need that extra slice of pizza." 

 "Really, really, I am fine.  Just let me soak in the tub another 20 minutes." 

 "I really should not have that extra glass of wine...but ok."

"Who needs people?  I mean, I'm only around them 100 percent of the time."

"Back to the tub..."

But 2021, here is something you do not know...I have become more tolerant, more patient and less worried about what I can not control.  As much as I would love to have control over every single aspect of my life, that is a "mission impossible."   In fact, I think the people who scare me the most are the people who behave like they have everything under control.  They are beyond organized and strive each and every day for perfection.  It is an impossible task to maintain a high level of perfection.   Now, on the flip side of this rationale is we can never ignore hard work and diligence as a key to a better life and we shouldn't be bitter or jealous of those who strive to work hard.  In fact, bitterness, resentment and anger are all part of the mantra we should be dispelling.  These are the emotions or the behaviors that should hopefully disappear in 2021.

Speaking of disappearing...I would guess that many of us have felt as though we have disappeared in a sense.  We have covered up and stayed away from those who are closest to our heart out of love for the sake of their health and ours.  Then...January 6, 2021 showed us that we have more to learn...sadly or in fact, we haven't learned a damn thing.  Why?

This is 2021 folks.  We can choose whatever political beliefs with a free conscience.  We can support politically, those values that we comfortable in following.  But violence? Insurrection?  The death nail was the Confederate flage being brought into the very place that supported the equality of all in this country.  The Civil War was the result of a democracy that eventually came to its senses.

Today, noone can afford to be invisible any longer.  The task at hand for all us living in this country is to now to right yet another wrong, visibly witnessed on the news.  The desecration of the one building that holds our freedom and the laws of our land in its hands is nothing more than criminial.  We do not have to agree with each other politically but we do have maintain control of our impulses and respect the law.  The law...those written ideals that protect each and everyone of us.  The laws that maintain civility and allow for peaceful debate.

So 2021, here we are, tempting fate and working very hard to remain optimistic in the midst of a quagmire of doubt.  We must watch our physical health, seek to look after our mental health and when all else fails act out of love.