Chilled to the Bone

I worked on the NYS DOH Nursing Home Complaint Hotline Friday and it was a slow day. Better to be slow than hear too many horror stories about the care in nursing homes across the State. Also it is always nice to see my old friends on the Hotline – they are a nice bunch of people.
The last call I received before leaving for the day was concerning a 65 year old man who had had a stroke (aka a CVA or Cerebral Vascular Accident). He was aphasic (unable to speak) as a consequence of his stroke and his cognitive abilities were impaired. Believe me, when you are one month short of your 65th birthday, you don’t like hearing this kind of story. It does however give me more incentive to get on my treadmill and follow my cardio-fit diet a bit more closely. See, working once in awhile has its benefits.

On Saturday Bob and I took our grandson, Connor, to his ski lessons at Maple Ski Ridge. The slops were practically empty and only 3 out of 8 kids in his class showed up for the lesson. Can’t say as I blame them. Considering the wind chill, the temperature was about 10 degrees below zero. Connor didn’t bat an eye. Typically the kids sit out in the snow and have their mid-lesson break of animal crackers and water but this Saturday the instructor brought them inside the ski lodge for snack. I’m sure they wanted to take extra care to avoid any cases of hypothermia. Connor’s class is just one of many classes and it is amazes me to see all these tiny people moving around on skis. I guess four and a half years of age is a good time to begin skiing. Connor seems to love it and in spite of the sub-zero weather hung in there for the entire hour and a half lesson. But Connor's Mema isn't as resilient as her grandson. Even though I stood outside in this bitter cold and watched my dear, sweet grandson for most of his lesson, it was a mighty struggle.
I succumbed to the temptation of an indoor hot chocolate break and a couple of bathroom excursions. Near the end of the lesson, I caved and left Bob all alone to wait for Connor's dismissal. I could no longer feel my toes and my fingers felt like icicles. I ran back to the car and struggled to get the car door opened. My fingers were so cold I could hardly maneuver my keys even though all I needed to do was click the lock open symbol. Finally, I slid into the front seat and took in the beautiful sun streaming through the car windshield. The car felt wonderful to me. It blocked the bitter wind and it was pleasantly warm after having sat directly in the sun for two hours.
Eventually, Connor and Bob walked back to the car hand in hand. Connor was all smiles and no worse for the wear. I had packed a lunch and we ate and visited in the car on the way back to Diane’s house. I noticed Connor’s hands were toasty warm. Mine were still freezing. It took me the rest of the day, the rest of the evening and far into the night to finally warm up again. I now have a much better understanding of the resiliency of youth and what it actually means to be chilled to the bone.
Mema Mary Beth
PS Connor is the little guy in the big white helmet

Songs and Sayings

Well a rare thing happened last night. I actually slept straight through the night- just short of 8 hours. And believe me, at this point in my life, this is truly unheard of. So this morning when I woke up, I luxuriated ( is that a word?) in my bed for awhile. As I laid there enjoying this extravagance some thoughts started flowing. I said to myself, Why not write in your Blog in the morning for a change? And so I shall.
I was thinking about how certain songs and sayings have glued and cemented certain events and people into my memory. For better or for worse whenever I hear a certain song or a certain saying, I remember that time in my life and more importantly the people connected to me at that point in my history. There are so many stories tied to each of these songs or sayings that I would be doing them an injustice by trying to cover them all in one Blog entry. It would be impossible to do it anyway, so I won't even try. Rather, as I recall a particular song or a particular saying I'll share some of the stories that this song or saying brings to mind.
For example, these two songs - Sixteen Candles, and Your Sixteen, Your Beautiful and You're Mine - came out at an ideal point in my life - at the time I was turning sixteen. Now is that perfect or what? How did they know I was celebrating my 16th birthday that year? Even today after 49 years, if I happen to hear the song, Sixteen Candles, I am slow dancing once again with a guy from Brooklyn (not my choice) the night of my Sweet Sixteen party. Right now I can't even remember his name ( I remember it later as I write), but it was my party and I was the guest of honor and I was just coming of age and it was a special night for me. See all the things that one little song can do for you.
I had invited a crowd of people to my Sweet Sixteen birthday party much to my parent's chagrin - Mary, how can we possibly fit all these people in our house?, they say when they hear the number of people I've invited. See, even back then I wasn't as organized or didn't think things through as well as I should have. I guess I just assumed it would all work out somehow. Anyway, my Mom and Dad and I scurry around town looking for a room large enough to hold this number of guests. We traipse through a few bars with rooms for rent in the back only to be turned away when they hear the event is a Sweet Sixteen. Back then we also didn't have catered affairs in fancy hotels when one turned 16. At last, we end up at the YMCA on Jamaica Avenue at the bottom of Snake Hill in the Cypress Hills section of Brooklyn. The room on the second floor of the Y is available the night we need it. The price is bearable, the room is big enough and there is no liquor to worry about. So, my parents rent the room for me, God Bless them. I buy a modest (remember this is 1961)blue dress (pretty color) for the big event and my Mom and I start to plan the food (all homemade - no caterers). The day of the party I go to a hair salon (very rare for me) and have my hair done up in a french twist so I can look old and sophisticated.
--> (What was I thinking!) I even purchase one blond curl and attach it to the front of my own hair. I am in my glory. I remember certain things about that night.
The contingency of guys that came from the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn were a bit older and a bit wilder than the people I typically hung around with. I hear that Williamsburg is quite classy nowadays. But my party took place way before the neighborhood underwent a revival and back then when you heard that someone was from Williamsburg, you knew they were tough. I met this group of older, wilder "men" sometime in my 15th year when James, the Leader of the Pack, happened to be visiting his married sister who lived up the street from my home on Interboro Parkway. My friends and I had taken a walk one day and James and a couple of his buddies were on the lookout (think boring time at married sister's house) and "realed us in". Anyway, I became casually acquainted with this exciting crowd of " older men" and decided to invite them to my Sweet Sixteen party. They showed up in a rather large group (guys like this are typically toughest when in a big crowd), and I became a bit nervous. Although they were initially relatively well-behaved for tough guys, at some point during the evening I realized that they had stashed some beer somewhere accessible and were slowly getting loaded. I can't remember every last detail but I do remember a couple of my friends and I convinced them that this party was way too tame for them and perhaps they would find more excitement elsewhere. So they left early. The only wild thing that I remember happening that night was toilet paper rolls being unrolled into steamers out the windows. But I can't even remember if it was the tough guys that did it. Somehow it doesn't seem like their style. That night I also learned that guys did the choosing and the girls were only given the opportunity to say yes or no. Tony, one of the wild guys from Williamsburg, choose me for his dance partner and "girlfriend" that night and although it was a definite "no" for me, I wasn't given the choice of who to pick in the first place. Why is that? Don't worry, I still had fun anyway and after that night I never had to see Tony again.
Mary Beth

The Day Goes Too Fast

I have so many things I want to get done each day and then I literally run out of energy. I guess when you are almost 65 years old this starts to happen. I still wonder how Hillary does it - being Secretary of State and traveling all around the world, etc. I can't even keep up with the ordinary, every day activities. Plus, I got a call today asking me if I'd like to work this Friday on the Nursing Home Complaint Hotline. I said yes, but the days I work I really don't have an ounce of energy left for much else.
Tomorrow I will work a bit on the Class of 1965 Power Point as I'm too tired to do it tonight. I just put together a Web Album with photos from my weekend with cousins Sharon, Susan and Jack. That was more tiring and time consuming than I expected because I wanted to write an explanation on each picture in order to preserve a bit of the history that Susan shared with me. Also I don't always know the most efficient way to do things and oftentimes I take much longer than the average person to complete a task. Oh well, as Bob often reminds me, Life isn't perfect. I wish, however, that I was a bit more perfect than I am. I also wish I had a bit more energy and a bit longer day.
MB

To Be or Not To Be

I have been a member of the Mohawk Chapter of the DAR(Daughters of the American Revolution) for some time now. My mother was very much into genealogy and had researched our roots back to pre-Revolutionary times. In the process of her research, she was extremely excited to discover that one of our ancestors, Amos Northrup, was the Aide de Camp to General Washington. A few years before she died, she convinced me to drive her to Stevensville, PA to look for Amos Northrup's grave even though she had no other details and wasn't even completely sure this was the town where Amos was laid to rest. As we drive through the main road of town, we see a cemetery right alongside the road. Stevensville Cemetery the sign announces. Should we stop here ?, I ask my mother, thinking that it might make more sense to have a little more information before we go on a wild goose chase. My mother says, Of course we should stop, and at her insistence I stop and park in the grass alongside the cemetery. It was a quite a large cemetery for a rather small town and as I look out the car window at row upon row of tombstones, I announce loudly and with exasperation, this will be like looking for a needle in a haystack. She completely ignores my statement and I know there is no way in hell that my mother is going to agree to leave that spot. So, I take a deep breath, say a prayer for patience and another one to St. Anthony, and exit the car. (For those of you who may not know St. Anthony, he is the guy in charge of finding anything that is lost.)
I say to myself, Please St. Anthony come around, Amos Northup's grave is lost and can't be found as I step onto one of the many path between the rows of gravestones. I am expecting to be in that cemetery all day and all night long looking in vain for some guy who has been dead for over two hundred years. Nonetheless, this is my mother and I know her pretty well at this point in my life. I know she won't give up without a battle, so I figure I might as well begin the long, drawn out search. As I start walking in the uneven grass I look down at the first tombstone and there at my feet and before my very eyes is none other than dear old Amos. Is this a miracle or what?, I say to myself. My mother grins from ear to ear; she is so excited she can barely contain herself.
Now almost 20 years later, as I struggle to decide whether or not to resign my membership in the DAR, I remember my mother's determination, I see that excited smile and I hear her say, Of course you should be a member.

The Fabulous Five

Sharon dropped me off at my house at a little after 2PM today. Our trip to Easton, PA. to visit our cousin, Susan, was truly an excellent adventure and I have many tales to tell you about the weekend. But, right now I want to tell you about something else instead.
This evening Bob and I went over to Anita and Bruce's house for a special birthday dinner for our friends, Rose and Anne. Rose and Anne were both born in January and Anita and Bruce were kind enough to host a get-together. Before dinner the "Fabulous Five" stood around the kitchen sipping wine and reminiscing about how and when we first met each other. Rose, Anne, Jean, Anita and I have been getting together for many years to celebrate each others' birthdays and more importantly our friendship. A few years ago, we decided to let the men in on the deal, if they promised to behave themselves. They don't always behave too well, but we invite them most of the time anyway. Actually they can be quite a lot of fun when they misbehave.
I met Jean in September 1976 when we first came to Albany. We had moved from Binghamton, NY to an apartment on Commodore Street when our son, Brian, was a few days old. A wise friend who had relocated from Downstate to nearby Massachusettes advised me that I'd better meet some people before the snows started flying or I'd be alone in the house all winter and would very likely loose my mind. For several days after moving I peaked out between the curtains and noticed that at approximately the same time every afternoon all the young Moms in the neighborhood would congregate on the street as they watched their kids ride up and down the block on their hotwheels and tricycles. After watching this pattern for a few days, I rehearsed my lines many times - Hi, I'm Mary Beth and this is my son, Brian - before I finally mustered up the courage to grab my baby, leave the house, and walk up to a young woman holding a little boy of her own. This young woman happened to be Jean and the little boy was her son, Paul, and that day was the beginning of an amazing friendship and the start of the Fabulous Five.
Mary Beth

Going on a Trip

Cousin Sharon and I are leaving shortly for Easton, PA for an all girls weekend at cousin Susan's house in Easton, PA. This is very exciting for us since we only recently reconnected with Susan in Sept. 2008 at the O'Donnell Family Reunion. Prior to the Reunion we hadn't seen each other in close to 60 years! Back then Susan and her family lived on Putnam Avenue in the Bushwich section of Brooklyn and our families would meet up in Highland Park (which was just up the block from my house) for Friday night picnics. I remember we would usually have tuna fish sandwiches with sliced tomatoes because it was Friday and you weren't allowed to eat meat on Friday's back then. We didn't care what we ate because we were just so happy to be sharing some fun together. The weather was nice (or else we wouldn't go) and the adults were in a good mood because there was no work the next day. I am certain I will have some great stories to tell you when I return as we have a heck of alot of ground to cover.
Wisely, Susan's father relocated the family to PA before the Bushwich section deteriorated. Nowadays, though, I hear that Brooklyn is the place to be and little tiny condos go for a million dollars or more. Who would have guessed.
Sharon rang the bell. See you later! Mary Beth

Where Are You From?

You would think that after being an "Up Stater" for 35 years I would no longer be asked the question, Where are you from? It happens all the time, yet always takes me by surprise. Is my accent still that pronounced? I don't notice it at all. But then again, I can pick up a "Down Stater" from a mile away. As soon as I hear that familiar sound, I feel right at home. I guess it's true, you can take the girl out of Brooklyn but you can't take Brooklyn out of the girl. Even though I absolutely love living "Up State" and wouldn't trade it for the world, my heart was born in Brooklyn and my roots dug deeply into its' soil. I played stick ball in the street and potsie (aka hopscotch) on the sidewalk. I traveled on the Jamaica El and Atlantic Ave. buses. As a little girl I even did some dancing at Nellie Cook's Dancing School on Broadway in the Bushwich section. Cousin Sharon went to the same dancing school and after class we would laugh and sing together, Nellie, Nellie with the pimple on the belly. My mother didn't drive so we would walk together to Broadway. She would wheel my little brother in his stroller and strangers would ask, Isn't he too big to be riding around in a baby carriage? The nerve of them! Didn't they ever hear of polio? I learned then and there that people should just mind their on damn business. I watched Don Drysdale through binoculars (he was cute and I was an adolescent) as he pitched a game at Ebbet's Field. I played spin the bottle at a teenage party in our plain, old, unfinished basement. And on one balmy June evening I even experienced my first real kiss outside, under the stars, on a Brooklyn street. I was 15 and the guy who walked me home had just graduated from high school. He stopped a few doors from my house and actually asked me if he could kiss me. I said yes and after that he asked for a second kiss and I said yes again. Then he took my hand and we continued walking to my front door. He was a gentleman and it was a nice first kiss.
Brooklyn was a fine place to grow some roots.

94 Year Old Man Returns to College

My Dad came over for dinner tonight. I could see he was really excited when he stepped into my kitchen. As I was finishing the last of my meal preparations he said,
Mary, you wouldn't believe the e-mail I got today from Ralph Thomson (please note: the name has been changed to protect the innocent) . Do you remember him; he was my colleague from Queens College?
My first reaction was I wonder who died although I didn't say it out loud. (After all my Dad is 94 years old and colleagues are getting scarcer and scarcer these days). I didn't have to wonder too long. He eagerly pushed his prize into my hands and rapidly started explaining. Ralph had forwarded him a Google website where he could enter an address and be almost immediately transported there.
Mary, it's amazing; you get a 360 degree view and you can even look up and down the street. You just wouldn't believe it. You can almost see in the windows.
Ralph had sent him the site in order to show him the rather dramatic changes that had taken place at Queens College since my father retired in 1976. As my Dad proceeded to show me the pictures he had printed off the website (my Dad prints and saves everything), he explained that the area which was once an open field is now filled with dorms. Also, new buildings stand where old familiar ones use to be. They even renamed one of the buildings, he said, sounding a bit disgusted. Since this particular change seemed to be the most distressing to him, I questioned him some more about it. He told me that the building was originally named after the guy who hired him and then he adds, I bet he is turning over in his grave.
Nonetheless, this virtual tour of his old stomping grounds, seems to have meant a lot to my father. My father started working at the College when it first opened in 1940. He hasn't been to Queens College in many years and the visit there today appeared to make him happy. So much so that after he finished visiting the College he proceeded to go to our old house in Brooklyn. He looked up and down the street, walked up the driveway and around to the backyard. It sounded like fun to me; I'll have to do it myself sometime soon.
And while I'm at it I'll have to thank his friend, Ralph, for making my Dad's day.

A Gift

Yesterday on the ride home from Binghamton I noticed that the snow was just about gone. Up here in the Great Northeast we sometimes don't see the bare ground from late November until early April. Stubborn, soiled, white spots might even hang on here and there until May.
In one way it felt good to see the bare ground again; in another way the earth was a bit too bare and the landscape looked colorless, dreary and depressing. So late last night when I stepped out the front door before heading up to bed I was moved by the beauty and stillness of the huge, fluffy snow flakes falling all around me. The ground was already sparkling white and I stayed for a moment and took in the slendor of this new creation. I thought about how this magnificant scene had just been created so easily and in no time at all. I also thought about the fact that no matter how much human beings tried they would never be able to make this happen. I felt like I had just been given a gift without the least bit of effort on my part.
Mary Beth

Some Things Are Just Too Heartbreaking

I would like to share certain things in my Blog because I believe they are the most meaningful and important things that we all share as human beings. But I can't because what I want to share is much too personal and too heartbreaking at the moment. Let's just say when someone you love is suffering and feeling lost, your heart cries for them. You want so much to make it better for them but nothing you say or do can make it better. Your hands are tied, it is out of your control, you feel powerless. You can only hope and pray and wait. My guess is that every parent has had this feeling at some point or another. You have a certain dream for your child and then that dream seems to be shattered and there is nothing- absolutely nothing - you can do about it. Your child - whatever his/her age- is suffering and in pain and you have to stand by and watch helplessly. Oh sure, you can offer advice and encouragement and even physical and financial support but no matter what you say or do, you cannot make it better.
One time I heard someone express this thought:
When we have a child, we are in essence consenting to allow our heart to walk around outside our body for the rest of our lives. Wow, isn't that the truth!
Mary Beth

Ana & Juan Pedro

How exciting! At 4:15 PM Bob went on his computer and noticed that Ana & JP were on Skype (Did I spell that correctly?) We had a wonderful conversation with them and could actually see their sweet little faces the entire time we talked. If I remember correctly they weren't even married the last time we saw them and they've been married for 10 years so you can understand why I was so excited to see them again. Since they live in Madrid and have 3 little children, traveling is a bit more challenging for them. We didn't get to see the kids tonight; it was 10:15PM in Spain and they were already in Dreamland. Ana & JP were enjoying a little down time together before retiring for the night and it felt like we were right there in the living room with them. Now that we have this Skype thing up and running (actually Bob has it up and running, I just pop in at the last minute) we hope to have many more visits together in the near future. It will be wonderful to meet their kids in person- so to speak- the next time we connect up. The weekends will probably work out best given the 6 hour difference between NY and Madrid.
We first met Ana when she was 15 years old and came over to the US as a summer exchange student. Right away we knew she was unique. She was wise beyond her years, so friendly and outgoing and fluent in several different languages. We connected immediately even though she wasn't even our exchange student and was actually staying with another host family.
We kept in touch over the years and on one visit to the US she brought along this great young man, Juan Pedro, aka JP. Ana is no dope, she found herself a good one! If I'm not mistaken I think she found JP on a basketball court. Anyway our whole family took to JP immediately and definitely approved of Ana's selection. Marriage was in the cards and in no time Ana & JP were wheeling a baby carriage. They are both wonderful people and make a great couple. It is a pleasure to know them and we are so excited about meeting the kids, albeit for the time being over Skype. Do you have any idea how many times I thank God we said "yes" to hosting a Spanish Exchange student? It has opened a wonderful world of love and friendship for us. Thank You, God.
Mary Beth

30 Seconds

It's almost 1AM and I am wide awake. I was in bed very - and I mean very - early tonight. I read from 7:30PM and turned off my light at 9 o'clock. Can you believe I was even too tired to write? Bob was already sleeping soundly. Boy, aren't we the exciting couple!
Today's trip to Manchester with cousin, Sharon, was lovely. It is amazing how much two women can talk -all the way there, all the way back, all through lunch. The only time we stopped even a little was when we were down to the serious business of shopping. Although all in all I would call the day a big success, on the way from Greenwich, NY to Manchester, Vermont I got us seriously lost. We drove on some pretty desolate roads, up and over a few minor mountains as the snow swirled around us, ever faster and faster. It was what you might call an adventure. Sharon had recommended we take the usual route from Greenwich to Manchester, a route she knew, but no, I had to go the faster route. With the help of a couple of local fellows at a Pizza joint in Salem, we eventually made it back to the Equinox Hotel. By the time we arrived, we were good and hungry. By the way, in case you are interested, the food was excellent. It is a great place to have lunch - cosy atmosphere, a roaring fire, and attentive Waite staff. If you are ever in the area, make a point to stop there.
At this point you may be asking yourself, what does all this have to do with the title,
30 Seconds ?
Basically, as I mentioned above, I am lying in bed wide awake, when visions of today's lead story start filling my head. How devastating! Sometimes words don't do justice to a situation and this is one such instance. Devastating doesn't begin to describe the horrors that occurred as a result of a mere 30 seconds. After watching the news report for awhile after dinner and seeing the extent of human suffering currently blanketing Haiti, I had to turn the TV off. This is one time when a pristine, crystal-clear, large screen TV can be a disadvantage. Everything is so vivid and real. This is a reality that I would much prefer to be an extravagant Hollywood production. Isn't dire poverty enough for one country to bear without throwing in an earthquake on top of it. And, did it have to occur in the densely populated capital of Port au Prince? Did it have to be a 7.0 on the Richter Scale? It does make one wonder and question the meaning of life. It brings to mind the age old inquiry, "Why God?" Like the rest of you, I am familiar with a lot of the answers that are typically given; I've read Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People, etc., etc., but tonight as vast human suffering stares me in the face, and fills my mind, I can't help but ask the question all over again,"Why God?" So far the only solace I feel is the fact that it appears the worldwide community is coming together to help with human suffering rather than for the purposes of war.
Mary Beth

Annual GYN visit

Today I had the appointment that every woman just loves, the annual GYN exam. I am sure all the women out there know exactly what I mean. Anyway it is over - hopefully - for another year. The reason I even mention it at all is because the Doctor said to me: "My goodness, you don't look 64". I wanted to kiss her! It made my day. I guess it doesn't take much to make me happy nowadays. My previous GYN doctor was an older Korean man; he was an interesting character and I went to him for years. It is a little awkward getting re-established with someone new especially when this someone new has to relate to such a delicate and initimate area of one's life. Next week comes the bone density test and the mammography. The latter is something else that us women anticipate with baited breath. Well enough of this nonsense.
Tomorrow should be alot more fun. I will be having a great adventure with my "oldest" friend, cousin, Sharon. We will be celebrating her 65th birthday with a trip to Manchester Vermont and lunch at the Equinox Hotel. I am sure we will also fit in a little shopping during our outing. I have known Sharon since I was born and we are related so she can't loose me. I absolutely love to tease her about being older than me - a whopping 2 months older. Actually Sharon was born on New Year's Day. I never envied the date of her birthday. Imagine this -everyone is exhausted from the holidays and hung over from New Year's Eve and then it is your birthday. What a jip, to have your birthday lost in the confusion of the night before. Anyway, back to the all important point that Sharon is older than me - during the years that we were growing up together in Brooklyn she liked to brag about the fact that she was older than me but she doesn't say a word about it now. All kidding aside, I am grateful that these two couples (her father & mother and my mother & father) made love around the same time, conceived two female offspring which in turn allowed us to share a lifetime of friendship and love. Thanks Mom & Dad, Uncle Joe & Aunt Marie
Mary Beth

H1N1

I'd like to write something profound and exciting but once again it is almost midnight and I am getting tired. Besides, the day was rather mundane. Full but mundane nevertheless. Then again at my age, mundane can be OK.
Yesterday Bob and I went to the local High School to get H1N1 flu shots. I guess they can't get rid of the stuff now so they're giving it away for free. How could we resist, we love free stuff! Just ask my brothers-in-law, they'll tell you how much we like free stuff. Anyway, we weren't the only ones who were interested in free shots. The line wrapped around the entire gymnasium and out the front door. It seems everyone in the town of Colonie wanted something for free. In truth, it appeared to be very well organized and we were in and out of the place in about an hour.
Both my daughter and my father were signed up for the vaccination also but they decided that they didn't want to go. Honestly, I understood how they felt as I was on the fence myself given all the publicity the H1N1 Swine Flu vaccination has gotten. Being a nurse, I don't really trust medical interventions especially prophylactic type interventions. Why ask for trouble? Why inject some foreign substance into your body when you are feeling fine? But then again I have had the flu. Actually I had the flu twice in my life and I don't want to feel that sick again anytime soon. So I overcame my fear and stepped forward when they called my name. I hope I made the right decision. Tonight there is a mild soreness in my upper left arm but otherwise so far so good. Good Night, and may all your decisions be good ones. Mary Beth

Paper Heart

We rented a movie tonight called, "Paper Heart". Bob wasn't too crazy about it but I found it interesting and thought provoking. It was a documentary about one of my favorite subjects - love. I am still baffled by love, even at 64. Since I believe love is the most important thing in life, I am continuing my quest for understanding.
I question things all the time; it's just the way my mind operates. For example, my friend met her husband in the 7th grade and pretty much loved him from the start. They dated all through high school and married when she was 18. They are married for 47 years and are still in love with each other. So much for the advise not to marry too young. Why is one person ready to marry at such a young age whereas the thought of marriage scares the hell out of someone else? How does this happen? Why does this happen?
And what exactly is love anyway?
What about the people you love who die? Where does the love for them go after they are gone? Unconditional love, now that's a topic. I think the closest thing to unconditional love is the love between a parent and a child. Unconditional love is a rare and priceless gift. There are so many things I took for granted when I was young, gifts like unconditional love. As I get older I realize I should have treasured them more. I try to treasure them now. In general though I have always loved people even when I don't always like them. People are generally wonderful even though most of us are "wackier than hell" ( Grandpa TJ O'Donnell's terminology). Throughout my entire life my favorite activity, by far, has been visiting with people. I never needed or wanted fancy nightclubs or entertainment, I just wanted to be with people.
Some of you must have ideas to share about love or will I have to continue to search for understanding on my own.
Love Makes the World Go Round, Love Makes the World Go Round.
Mary Beth

My Best Friend from High School

Last night I spoke with Linda. Wow, she sounded great. I had not spoken to her in years but her voice and her fantastic laugh were exactly the same. She was my very best friend in high school and probably the most important thing that happened to me in my four years at Our Lady of Wisdom Academy. Not that OLWA was a bad school because it wasn't. It is just the fact that my attendance there was based on fear.
What could I possibly mean, you ask yourself.
So here is the story - I was one of two girls in my 8th grade class at St. Michael's School in East New York, Brooklyn to have been accepted in the Catholic Diocesan High School for girls, Bishop McDonald. It was considered a great honor and it was completely tuition free. It was also considered prestigious and had a reputation of having all the top notch teachers from the entire area. There were nuns of many different orders doing the teaching; and it was perceived as having a more liberal philosophy. But - and this was the decisive but - the school was located in Downtown Brooklyn and required a subway ride into the "bowels" of Brooklyn. My father would have no part of it. He saw dangers lurking all around and did not want his little girl to disappear beneath the streets of Brooklyn. By this time in my life I had already had enough years of fear drummed into me so I didn't even fight the decision. Sad, huh? I would go instead in the opposite direction and take the Atlantic Avenue bus into Queens to attend Our Lady of Wisdom Academy with my cousin, Nancy, who had started at OLWA a year earlier. It was assumed that Nancy could "protect" me and show me the ropes.
I have always regretted that I did not take that other path into the excitement and dangers of Brooklyn. I still believe that Bishop McDonald was the correct choice for me but FEAR pushed me down another roadway. It was just one incident of many where fear interfered with my life decisions. I still battle the fear enemy to this day. Nonetheless, I met Linda and if I had gone elsewhere to school I would not have met her. Thanks Linda, for being such a special friend at a crucial time in my life. We all need a special, loving, funny, kind friend when we are 13 years old and Linda was all that for me!
Mary Beth

The Class of 1965

Here is an update on "The Class of 1965":
I have put three of our original groups into collages and I need to get feedback from my classmates regarding the rest of the groups.
I have started to research the history of the years we attended SVH Nursing School (1962 until 1965). It is amazing stuff. I had forgotten what an interesting time period this was.
I looked at where we all came from in order to attend SVH
I have started to get the slides together in my head.
I am excited over this project and hope to create something that will be meaningful and exciting to the Class of 1965.
Mary Beth

Retirement is Not Boring

There seems to be so much to do. I never understand people who think retirement is boring. I have a checklist in my mind and sometimes I even jot down items on a To Do list which is really a better idea because I'll get to the end of my day and then remember that I forgot to do something very important. I did three miles on the treadmill so that takes about 50 minutes and if I re-start some weight resistance exercises (vital to help prevent bone loss) there goes about hour and a half or more of my day. Then there is time spent eating breakfast, reading the newspaper, making the bed, deciding and preparing the evening meal, talking to friends on the phone, sending birthday, get well, or sympathy cards, etc. Now there is time spent writing in my blog. There are the routine jobs such as laundry, cleaning toilets, vacuuming. Some days I attend Mass. Some days I go out to lunch with a friend. Some days I clean up to get ready for company or clean up after company has been here. I try to spend a little time reading.
Which reminds me of the fact that last year I took a course offered by our local library called, Love and Forgiveness. It was a very interesting and worthwhile course and it was completely free. Since I live right down the street from the library and the title intrigued me I couldn't resist signing up. The course was several months in length and all the participants were loaned six different books (brand new at that!). Each month we would read one of the books and then come to the library on the scheduled night and discuss the book as it related to the subject of love and forgiveness. The discussions were led by a young, bright, female professor from a local college. I really enjoyed the course although we just scratched the surface of this extremely complex subject, i.e., love and forgiveness. Interestingly, even though the discussions were held in the evening, most of the participants were women and most of the women were older - close in age to yours truly. Anyway, I guess the reason I went off on a tangent and brought this all up is the fact that I believe that love and forgiveness are tremendously interesting subjects and I would love to hear what other people think and believe about these intangible things. In our course discussions we talked about such things as brotherly love, parental love, romantic love, unconditional love, etc. We talked about forgiveness after someone inflicts physical and/or emotional injury on us. We talked about forgiveness after cheating and betrayal. So, what are your thoughts about love and forgiveness? Or should I be a bit more specific? Mary Beth

The Class of 1965

I have committed to compiling a history of the Class of 1965 of St. Vincent's Hospital and Medical Center School of Nursing, 158 West 12th St., NY, NY. and I will use my blog to keep me focused and energized in this endeavor.
In life, when we make decisions regarding which paths to take and which paths to leave untraveled, these decisions frequently have amazing consequences. One path leads to another path and then a turn in the road leads to another path, and on and on - all stemming from the initial decision.
In 1962, as a senior in high school, I had been accepted to St. John's Hospital on Queens Blvd. in the LI City/ Flushing area. I had been measured for my uniform and my parents had paid the acceptance fee. Then, I received notification that I was accepted at St. Vincent's Hospital School of Nursing in lower Manhattan. My Mom said something simple like,
Mary, I think you should choose to go to St. Vincent's as my cousin, Genevieve, had some experience with St. Vincent's and it has a very good reputation.
Thank You Mom. I always considered this decision one of the best decisions I ever made in my life. So tonight, in earnest, I will begin the story of the Class of 1965.
MB

Simpler Life

In yesterday's Times Union Newspaper (Albany, NY) I came across the following fact:
"The National Association of Home Builders reports that in 1950 the average new single-family home was 983 square feet. By 2004, the average square footage had grown to 2,349 square feet".
Is it any wonder that things were simpler in the 50's? You couldn't be bogged down with too much stuff because you wouldn't have the space in your house to store it. And to think, couples typically had much larger families. Especially Irish Catholic couples! You wouldn't think twice about sharing a bedroom with one or more siblings. I remember that being wonderful fun. My parents even let me paint the 8 by 9 foot bedroom that I shared with my baby sister the darkest purplish-blue you have ever seen. We never had any decorating magazines at 62 Interboro Parkway.
When I went to Nursing School and didn't have a roommate for awhile I dragged my mattress down the hall so I could sleep in the room with a couple of my friends. I didn't like sleeping alone since I had shared a bedroom my whole entire life. The next day, the sh__ hit the fan when the housemother found my my mattress under my friend's bed. I had left my mattress there as I intended to sleep in Gerry and MM's room every night until they found me another roommate. The nuns made a big thing out of this finding. If I remember correctly, they even sent me to speak with the psychologist. I think they thought that I was gay and they wanted to nip in in the bud. Surprising they should feel that way since my Nursing School was in the heart of Greenwich Village. I did get another roommate pretty quickly and after that all was well again.
Back in the 50's the whole family made due with one bathroom. Only the wealthy had more than one bathroom. When you have only one bathroom you don't have to clean three. Wow, what a pleasant thought.
So the moral of the story for me is that I will make a conscious effort to simplify my life in 2010. Goodbye excessive stuff, goodbye clutter. I even have a couple of friends who have offered to help me since they know this is not an easy challenge for the daughter of the Junkman. We didn't have a huge house when I was growing up but a lot of my schoolmates lived in apartments so I felt lucky . In spite of a relatively small home, (I have no idea of its square footage but it was a railroad flat design with two stories - bedrooms upstairs) my parents threw out NOTHING! Never, ever. At 94 years old, my father's e-mail address contains the word junkman and rightfully so. This apple doesn't fall far from the tree. But ask me again next Christmas and I will tell you that I am once and for all clutter free. Except of course for the sentimental things!!
Mary Beth

The Christmas Tree Came Down Today

My brother and his wife (more like my sister) left for Long Island at 12 noon today and even before they left I started to take down the Christmas Tree. Since they are such close family, they do not consider this kind of behavior rude.
I almost always let out a sigh of relief when the Christmas Holidays are over. It is not that I don't like Christmas, it is simply that it is all too much, similar to eating too large a portion of a rich desert. Every year I try to simplify Christmas but I never quite get there.
I think I have a pretty good handle on what is important to me about Christmas. The older I get the more attached I become to the concept of the newborn Christ Child and the hope that this special birth implies. I believe that Love was born at Christmas and this brings me hope and peace. I love getting together and spending time with family and friends - that is the part of Christmas I really love. I like seeing the lights that people put up on their homes. In the cold and darkness of winter these lights seem to shine all the more brightly.
There are, however, a lot of things about the holidays that make me sad. It seems that everyone is suppose to be happy and festive and this makes sad occurrences even more depressing. We actually attended two funeral services over the holidays. It doesn't seem right that someone should die during the Christmas holidays. People who are feeling sad are surrounded by people who are in a party mood and this just doesn't seem right to me. It's nobody's fault, but just not right.
I fill up with tears every time I hear the song, "I'll be Home for Christmas", because it reminds me of the year that Uncle Joe O'Donnell was killed in action on Heartbreak Ridge in Korea. We received the news of Joe's death in late October 1951 and that Christmas was a heart breaker for the entire O'Donnell family. "I'll be Home for Christmas" had special meaning that year and it still has special meaning for me whenever I hear it.
Sixteen years ago, my sister and brother-in-law had a little boy, Joseph, in early December. He was born prematurely and only lived for 24 days. I always think of him as the December Child as he lived for most of the month of December and then died the day after Christmas. I didn't feel much hope that year. Anger was my predominant emotion. I threw the Christmas tree out the back door and smashed some of our ornaments on our back patio. The Christmas miracle we had been hoping for didn't come to pass. I guess we will always think about little Joseph during the Christmas holidays.
So it seems that being together and having others to share are joys and our sorrows is what Christmas is all about. This we can do all year long so that every day will be like Christmas.
May you have people who love you to share your joys and your sorrows throughout 2010.
Mary Beth

The Midnight Hour

I am feeling badly that I have neglected my Blog but it is now midnight and I need to get some sleep so I will have to neglect it a little while longer. I have been "blogging" myself to sleep every night as Christmas and New Year's Eve are so full of emotion for me. Every night I "write and write and write" in the notebook in my head, if only I could get it into the computer. Tomorrow, I promise to get back to writing in earnest. In the meantime, I want to wish you all a marvelous 2010.
Mary Beth
PS. I appreciate those who sent me encouraging e-mails. Thank You.