What are you doing New Year's, New Year's Eve?

I don't think I ever really liked New Year's Eve. I'm not exactly sure why. I've tried to figure it out over the years but I've never been able to get to the bottom of it.
I sigh a sigh of relief when the day is over.
I don't like the countdown to midnight.
I don't like the hugging and kissing. Not that I don't like hugging and kissing at other appropriate times; I just don't like the way it is done before and after midnight on New Year's Eve. It's much too staged and not what I consider the normal or spontaneous expression of affection.
There are also way too many other expectations attached to New Year's Eve.
When you are a kid, you expect to stay awake until midnight, even if you are very tired and would rather go to sleep. You might be exhausted but you just stay awake anyway to prove that you can stick it out.
When you are an adolescent, you expect to be invited to a teenage party. If- God forbid- you haven't received the coveted invitation, you are mortified. And never in a million years would you let on that you were home all night with Mom & Dad.
When you reach "dating age", you expect to have a date for New Year's Eve. If it gets too close to New Year's Eve and you haven't yet been invited out for this very special date night, you begin to panic. Apparently, it is the disgrace of the century not to have a date for New Year's Eve. In fact not only are you expected to have one invitation but rather you are expected to have a "thousand invitations" :

"Maybe I'm crazy to suppose

I'd ever be the one you chose

Out of the thousand invitations you'd receive"

Even the song tells you what to expect for New Year's Eve. Could all these expectations be the reason that I don't like New Year's Eve? Or, is it something else altogether. Could it be that I have to say "good-bye" to the old year? Typically I hate to say, "Good Bye".
Or could it be fear of the unknown? Who knows what lies in the year ahead? "Only a fool would say".
Could it be the outrageous, over the top celebration and the confetti, balloons and noisemakers? Sometimes it seems incongruous to celebrate in such an extreme manner when life might be falling apart around us or the reality we currently face in our lives doesn't match this crazy carnival.
I think I could tell you what I was doing and who I was with every single New Year's Eve from the time I was an adolescent. And I wonder, what is it about New Year's Eve that warrant this type of memory?

Photo of Merrilee & my Dad was taken Dec. 31, 2009 at our home.
Mary Beth

Christmas Eve at Christ Our Light Church

Don't you just love to see the Nativity scene, regardless of how it all actually happened? There is something so moving, so special about it for me. I am transported back to my childhood and my youth and all the Christmases that have come before. I love it. What can I say? I hope you found the joy and peace and Spirit that is Christmas. And I hope that Love abides with you throughout the New Year.
Love, Mary Beth

The First Snowfall of the Winter

This is my nephew, Marty's, favorite little ditty about our dear hometown.
"I don't know
but I've been told
that Albany is mighty cold!"

He loves to tease me about the weather up here in the Capital District.
But I heard that this past Sunday into Monday, his hometown, i.e., Long Island, had blizzard conditions that dumped 20 inches of snow in the area. We, on the other hand, got a mere 6 and a half inches of the blustery white stuff. Now, I'll have to create a little ditty of my own to share with him about the "beautiful weather" on Long Island.

Interesting thing about snow. The older I get, the less I like it. Even so, it is still hard for me to resist the beauty and majesty of that first major snowfall of the season. For a short time the drab, leafless landscape gets magically covered by a sparkling, pristine white blanket. Traffic stops. Stillness and quiet take over. For an enchanting moment we are held in a mystical embrace of peace until the inevitable digging out must begin.
But when your 5 years old, this delightful day continues on perfectly as cherished memories are created.
Mary Beth
PS. I took the photo of Connor today while he played in the snow in our backyard.

Recipe for Rita O'Donnell Fries' Cream Puffs

The Puffs

1 cup water
1/2 cup butter or margarine
1/8 tsp. salt
1 cup sifted all purpose flour
4 eggs

Combine water, margarine and salt; bring to boiling. Add flour all at once, stir rapidly over heat until mixture forms ball and follows spoon around pan. Cool slightly. Beat in eggs, one at a time; beat well until mixture is smooth and each egg is blended in. (Meanwhile pre-heat oven to 400 degrees). Spoon 8 even mounds about 3 " apart onto ungreased cookie sheet. Bake 45 to 50 minutes. Cool and slice in half (creating a top half and a bottom half).

The French Custard Filling

1/3 cup sugar
1 TBLS. flour
1 TBLS. cornstarch
1/4 tsp. salt
1 and 1/2 cups milk (I used whole milk)
1 slightly beaten egg yolk
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 cup whipping cream, whipped

In saucepan, combine sugar, flour, cornstarch and salt. Gradually stir in milk. Cook and stir until mixture thickens and boils; cook and stir 2 to 3 minutes longer. Stir a little hot mixture into the egg yolk and then return it to the hot mixture. Cook and stir till mixture just boils. Add vanilla; cool. Beat smooth; fold in the whipped cream. Put approximately equal amounts of the french custard into the bottom halves of each puff and then cover each puff with the top half of the puff. Lick the bowl!

The Chocolate Icing

1 ounce of unsweetened chocolate (or semi-sweet chocolate chips). I used the unsweetened squares.
1 tsp butter
1 cup confectioners' sugar and
about 2 TBLS hot water

Melt 1 ounce unsweetened chocolate square and 1 tsp butter over low heat. Remove from heat; stir in 1 cup confectioners' sugar and "about" 2 TBLS hot water. Beat until smooth. Put some of this delicious chocolate on top of each cream puff and refrigerate the puffs until serving time. Make only for special people whom you really, really love. Eat cream puffs with a big smile on your face and absolutely no guilt in your heart.
Mary Beth

Cream Puffs

I could be doing so many things today - the day before the day before Christmas- but instead I spend my day making Cream Puffs. I just had to do it. I was was driven, compelled. I can't explain why. Making cream puffs is very time consuming but the end result is to die for. My mother use to make Cream Puffs when Father Godfrey or some other very special guest was coming over for dinner. We, her family, were thrilled when we saw the Cream Puff mess all over the kitchen because we knew what was coming.
It is a three step process; first you make the pastry, then the delicious vanilla cream filling and then the decadent dark chocolate topping. It is all made from scratch and by the time you are finished there are pots, pans, bowls, sugar, mixers, spatulas,and chocolate all over the place. Chaos reigns but it really doesn't matter. Seeing the Cream Puffs sitting peacefully on the shelf in your refrigerator makes it all worthwhile.
Did you wonder who my very special guest is that rates these extraordinary Cream Puffs? I guess when it comes right down to it you could say that today I was making them especially for my own dear Mother.
Thanks Mom, You were right there in the kitchen with me today!
Love, Mary

Advent Thoughts

I was at Eucharistic Adoration last night and while I was there I was reading something by an author named Ron Rolheimer. I found his ideas concerning Advent so interesting and meaningful that I would like to share them with you.
".....in every cell of our bodies and in the very DNA of our souls we ache for someone or something that we have not yet known, ache in a way that leaves us dissatisfied and restless inside our own skins. Our lives always seem too small for us. Moreover - and this is the key - this is God's doing.
The fire inside us comes from the way God made us, namely to crave the infinite and to be dissatisfied with everything else until that love is consummated. Thus, the fire inside us will never be extinguished simply by attaining the right partner, the right job, the right set of friends, or the right recognition. We will always be on fire.
When St. Augustine says, "you have made us for yourself, Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you, " he is, of course, pointing out why God made us this way. It is a guarantee that we will never be satisfied with anything less than the infinite and the eternal".
Some interesting thoughts, don't you think?
Mary Beth

The Joy of Believing

Oh what joy there is in believing. The best thing about our trip on the Polar Express was watching our 5 year old grandson, Connor, interact with Santa. It was priceless and indescribable. As Santa walked down the aisle of the train, Connor caught his eye and without a word, spontaneously leaped from his seat and up into Santa's outstretched arms. Santa hugged him and Connor hugged him back. Before I knew it Connor was back in his seat and the moment was over. It happened too quickly to catch it with my camera but it is a memory emblazoned in my mind forever. God, it was marvelous!
Mema Mary

Hello Again

Well, I guess you thought I died. No, I did not die, rather I have been very busy living. On November 6th, my siblings and I hosted a big birthday celebration for my Dad. He turned 95 years old on November 2nd and we decided it was important to mark this momentous occasion in a special way. 125 people showed up to honor "the man, the myth and the legend". It was a wonderful weekend. Since many of the guests came from quite a distance, we secured a block of rooms at the Albany Airport Hampton Inn & Suites and the party went from Friday afternoon until Monday morning. The main event- cocktails and a sit-down dinner and a special presentation ("This is Your Life, Charles A. Fries, Sr.") prepared by grand-daughter, Diane Buchner, as well as a special visit from Marilyn Monroe - took place on Saturday afternoon at the Italian American Community Center. We had marvelous get-togethers the entire weekend but it also took a lot of planning and work. I expended so much energy in this area, that I didn't have an ounce of energy left to devote to writing.
But since something is missing in my life when I am not writing I have returned to my Blog to get me going once again.
Mary Beth

One of the Lucky Ones

My brother, Marty, my cousin, Glenn and Me - circa ~ 1952 or 53

My cousin, Glenn, was a fireman in an engine company in the theater district in midtown Manhattan. He drove the Hook and Ladder. As fate would have it, his house was one of the first to respond when disaster hit the World Trade Center.

At age 50, Glenn was a senior member of his company. Not too long before 9-11, my husband and were down to Manhattan to see a show on Broadway and we decided to take a short walk over to Glenn’s house to say hello. Typically the doors are left wide open and the men stand around joking among themselves and checking out the ladies who happen to be passing by. Glenn wasn’t there that day but the younger guys on duty were more than happy to laugh and socialize with the family of one of their brothers. They teasingly asked us “So, you’re looking for the old man? When I answered, “wait a minute, he’s not that old, I use to babysit for this guy”, they took this bit of information and squirreled it away as ammunition for later. It was obvious to us that they were a close knit bunch of guys who loved to taunt and mess with each other. “Don’t worry”, they said, “we’ll be sure to tell him you stopped by to see the old man.”

We left the firehouse with a smile on our faces and a bounce in our step. These young, handsome, cheerful and robust bunch of guys had that kind of effect on you

.

On September 11^th Glenn was on his last day of vacation. Shortly after the planes hit the World Trade Center, he and all the other off-duty firemen from his house were called into work. Assembled and waiting for their assignment, one of the men got up the courage to ask the question that was on everyone’s mind, “Was anyone from our house lost?”

The answer came in one simple, previously innocuous word, “everyone.” Yes, everyone from Engine Company 54 who happened to be on duty the morning of September 11^th 2001 was gone -15 men in all.

Then they started to ask about the men in surrounding firehouses. What about the guys from this Company and that Company? How did they make out? All at once, the innocent word “everyone” became a horrifying sound. This word which they heard over and over again was a reality too painful to believe. Almost all the houses in the nearby communities had lost all the men who were at work that morning. Glenn readily admits the information they were hearing was too shocking to fully comprehend.

At 1AM that night, Glenn and the other men from his fire station were down at “Ground Zero” digging through the rubble, desperately hoping to find some of their brothers alive. As dawn approached the full impact of the devastation came into focus. 50, 000 desks, chairs, file cabinets, and computers, as well as the steel and concrete of the world’s most majestic pair of skyscrapers were reduced to white ash and unrecognizable rubble. Surrounding buildings had massive gapping holes containing fires that were still burning furiously. The area was promptly labeled, “Ground Zero” - terminology previously used to describe the devastating destruction caused at the very center of a nuclear attack. Throughout that night and the days that followed, the firemen went through their motions in shock and disbelief, trying desperately to deny the reality of death.

(to be continued......)

The Pool Felt Good in All That Heat

What a Marvelous Weekend

We met the newest member of the Family this weekend. My brother, Marty's newest grandchild, Ryan Matthew, was upstate visiting with us from Friday until Monday along with his Mom & Dad & brothers, Christian & Nolan & his sister, Addison. We also hosted my brother, Marty and cousin, Meredith, so we had a very full house and a hectic but wonderful get-together. My niece, Shannon and her little girl, Emme, were also up visiting but they stayed at my sister's home nearby. I wish there were more hours to the day and more energy in my body. I wish I had more time to write but people are way more important than writing, don't you think?
As my friend, Mary Ann says, Love Ya, Mary Beth

Rescued By You

When I was drowning in my sorrow

You reached out and grasped my hand

It would have been easier to pretend you didn’t see, to walk on,

so you could enjoy your day

Instead you chose to stay

When I was drowning in my grief and my eyes were filled with torment

You looked into them nevertheless

You were willing to share my pain, to bear my cross, to hold on to me,

‘less I slip under and drown

When I was drowning in my despair and my breath was lost in tears

You hung on to me for dear life

When I fell back into the swirling darkness

and my vision blurred and my hearing failed me

You became my eyes and ears

This is the miracle of life –in the midst of my drowning,

You risked drowning, too

simply to save me

What words would ever be adequate to thank you sufficiently?

None I know, but yet I feel the need to try

When things became too difficult to bear and my grasp weakened,

It would have been so much easier for you to let go of me

and allow me to be covered by the pain

Instead you held on to me all the tighter

When I screamed out in anger, others said, “Ingrate”, “Go ahead and drown”

Again you offered a patient, steadfast hand

And there were those who felt I had sufficient time to mourn

You too might have felt I was a little weak

I should have been brave enough and strong enough to get on with my life

Yet you refrained from giving me advice and your silence was a blessing

When others left to get on with their many chores

You supported me and let me hold on to you still

You knew I wasn’t quite ready, and

You loved me enough to save me from drowning

There are no words with enough meaning

to adequately express my thanksgiving and gratitude

But may you be blessed with the knowledge

that you were instrumental in saving my life,

pulling me through, rescuing my spirit

Thank you for holding my hand, bearing my pain, and sharing my sorrow.

St. Joseph's Church is Closing

It is with great sadness that I announce the closing Mass at St. Joseph's Church in St. Joseph's Pa. The closing Mass is scheduled for this Sunday, July 18, 2010 at 3PM. The celebrant will be a priest named, Rev. Gregory Reichlen. Following the closing ceremony there will be a Buffet Dinner at St. John Neumann Hall. Cost for adults is $12, ages 6-12 - $6. and under 5 is free.
The phone # is 570- 553-2288 and the website is www.ourparishcommunity.com
Bob and I are unable to attend but encourage any family members who are available on Sunday to attend in the name of the O'Donnell Clan.
This Church has been the spiritual home of the O'Donnell Family since the early to mid 1800's. If you remember, John and Mary O'Donnell ( the grandparents of John, Frank & TJ O'Donnell) came over from Tipperary, Ireland in the 1830's and in 1847 they bought 55 acres of land in St. Joseph, Pa from Caleb Carmalt (thus the name Carmalt Lake). They had 9 children - the 5th child born on 18 Sept. 1847 was Thomas, father of John, Frank & TJ O'Donnell. Thomas married Annie Clark who came to the US from County Longford, Ireland when she was 6 weeks old.
So as you can see St. Joseph's Church in St. Joseph, Pa, has long been a part of our history.
I have to say that I think I made sure I was busy on the 18th simply to avoid the sadness. Maybe others in our family are braver than me! I hope so.
Love, Mary Beth
PS. If you go to the closing Mass, please stop by my mother's grave (Rita Mary O'Donnell Fries). She is buried in the cemetery next to the church (her grave is near the back of the church). She would love to see you. She is buried next to her grandparents, Thomas and Annie Clark O'Donnell). Annie Clark's parents (my great, great grandparents) are buried nearby.

Busy but Happy

Well, a lot of people are asking why I have not written lately. I do miss writing, but I have not had an extra moment or ounce of energy to write. The summer is like a merry-go-round around here. Great fun, but spinning and you need to hold on to your horse or you might fly off. This is the time of year when family visits and it is great but there are sheets and towels to wash and food to buy and meals to cook and cakes to bake. My Dad turns 95 years old on Nov. 2nd and my siblings and I am planning a big celebration. A week later my nursing school class (The Class of 1965 of St. Vincent's Hospital School of Nursing, NY, NY) is coming together to celebrate our 45th anniversary. I have been gathering my classmates together as best I can and am working on creating the name tags and a power point presentation (really a slide show/history). So I hope you will forgive me if I take a bit of a hiatus.
Then again, I do have some writing (already written) that I would like to share with you. It just won't be perfected but maybe you can help but offering some suggestions on how it can be made better. Also there are some writing already created that are very personal but possibly I can change the names to protect the innocent and at least I will have something to share with you.
See, I feel better already taking a few minutes to write again.
The photo at the top was taken at Camden Yards, home of the Baltimore Orioles. We recently went there for the weekend to hear my nephew, Mike, sing the National Anthem and God Bless America. Can you see Mike amidst the crowd? In the photo above he is standing on top of the Baltimore Orioles dugout singing God Bless America at the 7th Inning Stretch. You have no idea what a high this was for us!
Praise God for such moments! Mary Beth

Scared

Nurses make the worst patients! Have you ever heard that? Well in my case it is definitely true. I have been having some pretty significant GI symptoms and was unable to ignore them any longer. Just last week I went to a Gastroenterology Group and was seen by a Nurse Practitioner(NP). I was told this is the new paradigm - you see a NP so as to free up the MDs to spend most of their time in the procedure arena. I think it is more lucrative. I was not a happy camper and made a big fuss even though the NP seemed very competent. I figured I made an appointment to see a Specialist and waited almost a month for the appointment only to discover I was being seen by a Nurse Practitioner instead. Since I would have had to wait another month to see the MD, and my symptoms were bothersome enough that I felt I couldn't wait any longer, I decided to settle for a phone call with the MD to confirm that he agreed with the Nurse Practitioner. He said he agreed with her and since I agreed with her also, the decision was made. Tomorrow at 10:30AM, I'm scheduled to have an Endoscopy. I'm not looking forward to swallowing a tube and mini-camera and I'm really scared to find out what it is that is causing my symptoms, but what else can I do? I'm not the bravest person in the world (major understatement) but I am trying to get through this as best I can. I guess the older we get the more of this stuff happens. When I was young, I remember hearing about all the old people and their many symptoms, illnesses, diagnostic procedures and surgeries. I remember being totally oblivious to fact that it might ( if I was lucky) one day be me.
Wish me luck. I will tell you how I make out.
Mary Beth

Wow! I was asked to carry the Cross before Mass

Can you believe it! On the feast of Pentecost, I was asked to carry the Cross (actually the Crucifix)and lead the priest and the acolytes up the aisle for Mass. What an honor. Coincidentally, some friends of mine from the church were recently visiting at our house and we happened to comment that it appeared that only men were being asked to carry the Crucifix up the aisle before Mass. Then we got on the topic of the role of women in our church. We were sharing our frustration over the fact that women have been so terribly suppressed over the years. Change is long overdue, don't you think?
I felt like it was the perfect time to share the words of my dear friend, Mary Jane, and so I ran upstairs to find a poem that she had written a few years ago, shortly before she died. I recited the poem to my friends and they listened attentively. I think that they might have even smiled in understanding.

" I Will Tiptoe"

Introibo ad altare dei
Ad deum qui laetificat juven tutem meum
I will go unto the altar of God
Unto God who giveth joy to my youth

So began the ancient words of the Tridentine Mass

I am 12 years old
I am a Catholic schoolgirl
I have known Latin since I was six

My soul hunger and my very life feed on
Novenas benediction Solemn High Mass Gregorian chant
The rosary and Stations of the Cross

Daily after school I visit Jesus
Lonely in His golden tabernacle
Amidst the flickering red votive candles
My head shrouded
By a lace mantilla

Darkness falls early that November
I am astonished when my father
Who volunteers as the church sexton
Asks me to turn on the church lights

Could it be he does not know the rules?

But Daddy
I can't go beyond the Communion rail
You know
Because I am a girl

Daughter
The lights have to be turned on
And there are no boys
No boys to do it

And so the job falls to me....a girl
To fulfill the honor and duty I owe my father
I will dare to enter the Holy of Holies

The nuns are allowed to do it
Care for the altar clothes
Arrange the flowers
Scrape dried wax off the candle holders
For they are the Brides of Christ

I will do it because Jesus is my friend
I will turn the lights on for Him
Even though feminine flesh defiles the Holy of Holies

I will break sacred tradition
Going back thousands of years
Back to Moses and the Arc of the Covenant

I will figure out how
To least offend God by my presence
First I will apologize to God
For being a girl
Then I will remind God
There are no boys
No boys to do it

Opening ever so reverently the gates
I will step across the barrier to the sanctuary
I will hold my breath
If I do no breath I will be invisible
And lest my feet desecrate the sanctified area
I will tiptoe
Across the Turkish carpet and Italian marble floors
Before the tabernacle

I will tiptoe
I will tiptoe
I will tiptoe
And light up the Church

by Mary Jane Sassone Jarkowsky, 2002

Thanks, my dear friend. Your poem is great. May we, women, continue to light up the church. And, may our feet rest securely on its' floor.

Why I Am Still a Catholic

I had some really awful experiences in Catholic School and yet I am still a Catholic. Some people have asked me why. First of all let me say that honestly Catholic School wasn't all bad. I had some good experiences, too. But the main reason I am still a Catholic can be summed up in the following description of why I wanted to remain a Eucharistic Minister when our Church, St. Francis de Sales, merged with another Church, Our Lady of Mercy. When we became a new entity known as Christ Our Light Catholic Church each Eucharistic Minister was asked to submit a statement as to why he or she wanted to continue being a Eucharistic Minister. I know there are problems in the Church just as there are problems in every human endeavor. I guess that is why we are called human rather than divine. In spite of everything that has transpired, the statement that I submitted should give you a pretty good idea of why I am still a Catholic and plan to remain a Catholic.

Being a Eucharistic Minister is the most important thing I do in my life.

It is an extension of who I am in my daily life - One important way that I nurture my family and loved ones is through food and sharing around the table.

Eucharist is the primary reason I am Catholic.

I feel Christ’s presence very strongly as I share His most precious Body and Blood. I feel love for each and every member of the congregation as they come forward to receive Christ in the Eucharist. This is not because I am the sweetest, most loving individual in the world or because I always have loving, positive thoughts about everyone. Rather, it is because God creates this change in me as I share Him with the other members of His Body.

I am also encouraged by the fact that so many other members of both parishes are Eucharist ministers too. I can only guess and hope that it is because that they realize the centrality of the Eucharist also.

It is a tremendous, awesome honor to be a minister of the Eucharist. Although I am absolutely not in any way worthy, nevertheless I hope I can be a Eucharistic Minister for the rest of my life.

Mary Beth Buchner

PS. The photo above was taken of me on my First Communion day in early June 1951. I refused to open my mouth when I smiled as I was missing my front teeth. I was stubborn even as a kid.

I received my First Holy Communion at St. Michael the Archangel Church in the East New York section of Brooklyn, NY. I had just turned 6 years old three months earlier (March 9th) and I was a student at PS 76 at the time. Back in those days, once a week we left our Public School early in order to go to the Catholic School for religious instructions. It was referred to as "released time" since we were released earlier that usual from school. I remember that one day the nun in my "released time" class called me up to the front of the class so that the priest could ask me questions. Since I was younger than most of the other kids they wanted to see if I was ready to receive my First Holy Communion. I remember that this nun and this priest seemed very kind. The priest asked me if I knew who I would be receiving when I was given the host. I was very clear about who I was receiving then and I am very clear about who I am receiving now. Plain and simple, this is all the reason I need to remain a Catholic. Honestly what better reason could there ever be?