The Secret of Life

“Each day, and the living of it, has to be a conscious creation in which discipline and order are relieved with some play and pure foolishness.”

__May Sarton, poet

I have been taking care of my grandson for the last five days while his parents enjoy a little vacation. 

At just short of two years of age, my darling grandchild is at that joyful time in life—old enough to navigate and engage in conversation, yet still innocent and unspoiled by the world around him.

Each morning he starts the day by waking up laughing and calling for “Nana,”  and his good disposition continues throughout the day. 

His joyful attitude makes me laugh and play and forget about the issues and concerns that ordinarily seem so significant.

When he returns home to mom and dad, I’m going to miss him in many ways, for many reasons.

 

Ode to Spring

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant. If we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome. 
                                                            —Anne Bradstreet (1612?-1672) US poet 

 The weather today is so beautiful.  It’s envigorating to walk outside into the sunshine minus the burden of heavy winter coats and boots. 

I am definitely ready for some warmth and prosperity after enduring a long winter of adversity.

YEA SPRING!

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The Wonderful World of Children

“A baby is God’s opinion that the world should go on. ”

 ~Carl Sandburg

I spent the weekend in Long Island where I attended a family christening.

In the tradition of good Irish Catholic families, this christening was filled with children of all ages, shapes and sizes.  As a result, it was a crazy, fun filled weekend of laughter, diapers, temper tantrums, big hugs, mushy kisses and constant movement.

It’s been a long time since my children were tiny tots and one tends to forget all the work that is involved with being the parent of a youngster.

We also tend to forget the true joy of being alive and having nothing more important to accomplish than eating, playing, and sleeping.

After spending a weekend in that world, life seems pretty good.

Home

“Home can heal.  There is healing in home.” 

–Maya Angelou

 

It’s been a stressful week for all of us in the Western New York Community. 

The good news for me is that at the end of each day I get to go home and close the door on outside stresses and settle into my own little world filled with peace and comfort.   

I bought my house 11 years ago this June.  It’s a great old farmhouse set high on a hill.  From my wrap around porch you can see Lake Erie, and on a clear day, Sherkston’s sandy beaches. And there are wonderful gardens all around.

As a writer I find inspiration in my home.  And that fact will become well known this Sunday when I, along with four other artists, are featured in the Buffalo News Special Home Decorating Section.

Nicole Perodotto earned the byline on the 5 profiles of WNY artists who draw inspiration from their  homes.  The interview process with Nicole was fun, and the photo session that accompanied the interview, with photographer Sharon Cantillion,  was even more of a blast.  I ended up posing in my fire engine red bathtub…..a photo op that I later slightly regretted…..especially when I heard that the editors were considering that picture for the cover!!

Thankfully, another artist’s photo was chosen and I therefore have escaped the public harassment that undoubtedly would have accompanied such a landmark event!

Anyway, I am most blessed to live in my home.  It’s a special place that has truly defined my life and, as Ms. Angelou notes, helped me and many others to heal and be happy.

 

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Non Violence Began With Her

“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred…let me sow love.
Where there is injury…pardon.
Where there is doubt…faith.
Where there is despair…hope.
Where there is darkness…light
Where there is sadness…joy.”

-Prayer of St. Francis

I don’t usually include prayer in my observations, but in trying to comprehend the senseless murder of Sr. Karen Klimczak, the words of the prayer of St. Francis came to mind.

While I did not know Sr. Karen personally, from all reports she was a truly blessed woman who literally gave her life to the cause of peace in Buffalo’s inner city.

Her death is a tragedy on so many levels, the most overt being the murder of a citizen in our often titled, “City of Good Neighbors.”   Additionally, Sr. Karen was the organizer of Hope House, a residence for former prison inmates, and also a moving force at the Bissonette House, another inner city resource for those in need.  Her determination to care for and serve those often shunned by main stream society made her an invaluable member of Buffalo’s community.

However the fact that this woman was the one responsible for the “Non Violence Begins with Me” campaign that spawned signs carrying those words across lawns in Western New York and even as far away as Albany, truly speaks to her impact as a woman dedicated to peace and love.

Sr. Karen was undoubtedly an instrument of peace during her life.  The only ray of hope in her tragic death is that it may somehow serve as a renewed catalyst of peace throughout the WNY community, as she so desired.

 

Sister

[Previously Recorded, Podcast below]

"She is your mirror, shining back at you with a world of possibilities. She is your witness, who sees you at your worst and best, and loves you anyway. She is your partner in crime, your midnight companion, someone who knows when you are smiling, even in the dark. She is your teacher, your defense attorney, your personal press agent, even your shrink. Some days, she's the reason you wish you were an only child." — Barbara Alpert, author I am an only child. The one thing I have always wished for, relative to my solitude, is a sister. To try and self fulfill my wish, I have continually found ways to connect with women who have given me all the wonderful gifts that Barbara Alpert describes in her check list above.  Like today for instance…I called a girl friend of mine who is living with breast cancer.  The last six months of her life have been all about doctor's offices, prescription medications and chemotherapy.  And yet today when we chatted, she deflected conversation about her life and instead insisted on knowing about mine. So I told her about a job offer I received this week that is a high-paying step up the professional ladder.  Her enthuastic response to my good news was so amazing. She noted my talents and abilities and celebrated the fact that I was going to be well compensated for my work. And when I hung up the phone I realized there couldn't possibly be a better sister than this women is to me.  

If Only Women Ruled the World…..

 ”If women could go into your Congress, I think justice would soon be done to the Indians.”

–Sarah Winnemucca, Native American Paiute activist (1844-1891)

As I write this blog, a five foot tower of tires sits along side the portion of the New York State Thruway that runs through Native American reservation land.

The tower of black rubber has already been drenched in gasoline and is ready to go up in flames with the drop of a few well placed matches.

The purpose of the threatening tire tower is to protest the New York State Government’s proposal to collect sales tax on cigarettes sold to non-Native Americans on reservation land.

This ever simmering war seems so ridiculous to me on a number of levels, the most basic of which is the fact that we humans continue to consume a product that is a proven carcinogen.

But back to the quote of the day, Sarah Winnemucca was a leader of her people at a time when white women were not included in any decision making process, no less the world of politics. 

And my recent discovery of Sarah makes my experience with a Native American Woman from the Tonawanda Reservation even more sad, in comparison.

I wrote a book last year entitled, Chicken Wing Wisdom.  It’s a collection of true life stories about women in WNY who have taken their innate sense of wisdom and their food traditions/heritage and made a difference in their lives and our world.

One of my goals for the book was to include women of diversity by all definitions of the term.  So obviously, including the story of a Native  American Woman was high on my list.

Finding such a women was not overly hard.  There are great food traditions among Native Americans and several wise, accomplished women who are working to continue those traditions among their people.

Unfortunately, the woman who I contacted, and who was absolutely perfect for the book, was not allowed to interview with me. 

It seems that she needed to obtain approval from her tribe elders ( men) to tell her story. Based on what they claimed has been long running poor treatment by the media, they refused her request to be featured in the book.  Even after I offered them complete editing abilities.

The woman in question was most disappointed, as was I.  And even now I continue to think that had we women been left to our own devices, we would have created a wonderfully positive story about this Native American Woman and her dedication to maintaining her ancestor’s tradtions and heritage.

And further, the story would have entered the WNY mainstream and allowed for a better understanding of a different culture and way of thinking.

Call me crazy, but I believe that kind of connection is exactly what helps to bring a greater understanding between diverse groups of people….and can even help topple a five foot tower of rubber before it’s set aflame. 

Family Bowl A Thon

“Having a family is like having a bowling alley installed in your brain.”

-Martin Mull,actor/comedian

I chose this quote today because this morning I woke up to a ringing telephone …it was my father calling from Florida.

We are not particularly close…he calls once every few months. But as he is approaching his 80th decade, he’s found the religion of family. 

So this summer he’s decided to come for a one week visit…and of course, I offered for him to stay with my husband and I.

Here’s the bowling alley part….my brain feels like a ten pin set-up and this seven day stint with my dad is the bowling ball rolling with dead aim.

Some of the “pins” are grounded in family and tradition, obligation and love, no matter what.

Some of the pins are definitely anchored with feelings of abandonment and what’s this visit all about?

And that tough to nail ten pin in the back corner…well that’s all about the generational connection between my father and my grandson that can happen during those seven days, if I can encourage it and allow it.

The question is how direct will his aim be and which pins will take the biggest hit?

 

 

 

Freedom and the American Way

“We also have to increase our representation of women at all levels…that includes male members moving over to empower women.  Remember the majority of people in Ireland today are female.”

–Gerry Adams, President Siin Fein

I went to the Buffalo Irish Center last night to hear Gerry Adams speak.  Instead I experienced something that as an American Citizzen I never expected.

At noon time yesterday, Mr. Adams was in Washington D.C.  sharing lunch with President Bush.

Around 5p.m. last night, he was being detained by D.C. airport officials as a possible terrorist.

Now I realize that Mr. Adams is a controversial figure who, it’s suggested, can be linked to IRA actions.  It was none the less stunning to realize that someone of his international stature could be prevented from moving freely in a country founded on personal freedom and human rights.

It was also a little scarry to think that if that type of incident could happen to someone like him, what could happen to an everyday person, like you or me?

 

…And May The Balance of the Day Be Yours!

“May there be a generation of children on the children of your children.”

—Irish Toast

 Today my daughter and I will continue our long running family tradition of frequenting  a fine WNY Dining Establishment for a taste of corned beef and cabbage and some fine Irish music.

 This is a routine that always adds to the enjoyment of our family’s St. Patrick’s Day Celebration.

What has made this tradition even more meaningful is that my grandson, my daughter’s son, now accompanies us. 

We first brought him with us last year, as a baby all wrapped up in green sleeper and blanket. 

Now this year he will toddle into the joint wearing his  Irish woolen cap and shamrock sweater.

And may the tradition continue with the children of his children …