Sunday, February 21, 2010

Leaving on a Jet Plane


So we are going to Tampa on Tuesday. Although I should be thrilled at the prospect of fun in the sun for a full 8 days, I have my usual mixed feelings. First of all I do not like to fly. It is difficult for me to contemplate the fact that I am flying in thin air in a tightly contained silver tube (a very heavy silver tube at that) at the total mercy of someone else. What if I decide I need to get out of there? Once those doors shut and the wheels leave the ground, there is no turning back. You are in there for the duration.
I am also a great worrier. I worry about all the people I am leaving behind at home. What if they get sick, what if they need me/us? This is how I was raised. # 1 - I was taught never to trust anything mechanical and # 2 you are not safe any place but home. But you know what, I'm going to be 65 in less than a month and I think it is time to let go. I shall relax, I shall trust the people who have maintained the plane and the pilots who are flying the plane and I shall believe that my loved ones at home are capable of taking care of themselves while we are away. This is probably one of the best things I can do for lent since it requires great discipline on my part and is a tremendous challenge.
The best part of the trip for me is spending time with people I care about while we are away. Actually I will be seeing my cousin, Sharon, on the beach in Clearwater, visiting our friends from Albany who now live in Sarasota, visiting my cousin, Tom, who lives just outside of Tampa and even getting to have dinner with my brother, Charlie, and his wife Ellen as they arrive in Florida the day before we leave to come home. Ellen loves the Yankees and will get to see 3 games while she is in the area. I like baseball too, but being an old Brooklyn Dodger fan, it has to be anyone but the Yankees for me.
Got to pack.
PS. By the way, isn't it ironic that I'm scared silly to fly and my better half has his pilot's license.
Mary Beth

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Double Standard


Why is the Bachelor permitted - excuse me - I should say encouraged- to spend the night in the "fantasy suite" with several young women whereas the contestant (a woman) is thrown off the show for demonstrating a bit of interest in one of the producers? Not that I believe in this type of promiscuity for either sex but talk about double standards!
Watch her explanation on Monday night at 8PM on ABC.
MB

Thank You, Aunt Maureen


My Aunt Maureen

A few years ago when I was in Florida visiting with my Aunt Maureen she said to me:
Mary, are you going to say something nice about me when I die?

She knew I had a reputation for giving eulogies and I guess she wanted to make sure that she had me lined up. Her request came out of the blue and I was a bit surprised, but I said:

Sure, Aunt Maureen, I’ll say something nice about you.

And then we went on to discuss a bunch of other things. Aunt Maureen was a greater talker. She liked to ask questions, and to discuss things like religion and politics, medications and medical conditions. She loved to get a heated discussion going; she had her father, TJ’s DNA. The more controversial, the better she liked it. No subject was off limits.

I remember as a young teenager, I was sitting in the back seat of the car with Aunt Maureen and out of the blue she brought up the subject of underarm hair – Can you imagine? I wanted to crawl under the floor mates. I was maturing and developing underarm hair and I was totally ignorant of that fact that basic hygiene for young women involved shaving under one’s arms and applying a bit of deodorant. Poor Aunt Maureen was a captured audience in the back seat of the car with me on a hot and humid summer day and she decided that the situation called for a little action on her part. I learned a simple yet valuable lesson that day because Aunt Maureen was not too shy to speak up. Thanks, Aunt Maureen, I’ve been wearing deodorant ever since.

Many of Aunt Maureen’s nieces and nephews remember her in her role as Mrs. Homemaker. Donna Reid had nothing on Aunt Maureen. She had amazing skills in the kitchen, but better than that, she actually invited us kids into her kitchen to participate in her creations. We were allowed to put our fingers into the pie, curl up the crust and make it our own. We were encouraged to decorate the Christmas cookies ourselves even if the outcome was less than perfect. She could have gotten her tasks done a lot faster and with half the mess without our involvement, but she patiently and joyfully shared her time and her skills with us. These were such delightful experiences. I wonder if she had any idea at the time that by sharing her cooking and baking talents she was creating these wonderful memories for us. Thanks, Aunt Maureen, I’ve been cooking and baking ever since.

An invitation to dinner at the Marski’ was an eagerly anticipated event. There were certain signature dishes that you came to expect. Remember Aunt Maureen’s special beets- they had sugar and vinegar in them and had to be cooked just so? And can’t you just smell the roast cooking in the oven and see the potatoes being mashed?

In Woodhaven there was a little table that sat up against the wall. It was only about 2 feet wide but when you unfolded it, it would open up to into this huge dining room table that could fit a mob. It was a pleasure to be a part of this noisy mob. These times were wonderful times and Aunt Maureen was at the very heart of them. As I grew older I realized the tremendous amount of work required to host these large family dinners, but Aunt Maureen was so organized and so good at it that she made it look simple. Thanks Aunt Maureen, for teaching me these skills.

Aunt Maureen, the second child of Margaret and TJ O’Donnell, was born on Nov. 16th 1918. She grew up in the Bushwich section of Brooklyn and as she matured she developed into a tall, slender, and very attractive young woman. As a matter of fact, as my father tells the story, she was so attractive that Maureen almost became my mother! At some point in their youth, my father, Charlie, invited Maureen out on a date and she agreed to go. They went to the Planetarium. On the way home, they went into the wrong side of the subway and only discovered their mistake after the fare had been paid. There was no way to get to the other side without crossing the tracks so they had to come up out of the subway, cross the street and pay a second fare. I guess this did not impress Aunt Maureen because it does not appear they had a second date. Valentine’s Day was right around the corner and my father, trying to be a diplomat sent two Valentine’s cards-one more expensive card to Maureen and another “token card” to her sister, Rita. After a week or so meticulous Maureen, not wanting to clutter her space, threw her Valentine’s card out. My mother, on the other hand, who didn’t like to part with a thing, retrieved the discarded card from the trash. The next time my father was invited over to the O’Donnell house for dinner, Maureen and Rita informed him of the switch and as they use to say in the olden days, my father’s goose was cooked. The sisters had spoken.

This switch worked to the advantage of Mr. Joseph A. Marski who married the beautiful Maureen Adele O’Donnell on September 6, 1943. Good thing for Tom, Jim & Laura & their offspring too.

Like the rest of the Coleman- O’Donnell Family Aunt Maureen loved to visit the country. As a young child, Maureen’s mother, Margaret would spend the summers with her children at her own mother, Hannah’s home in Pennsylvania. The O’Donnell children were thrilled to leave the heat and congestion of the Brooklyn city streets for the wide open spaces of this tiny little hamlet known as Friendsville. There were plenty of kids to play with because Maureen had something like 36 first cousins who resided in the countryside around Friendsville.

So on one fine spring day many, many years later, my cousin Sharon and I decided to take the O’Donnell sisters for a little tour of the countryside that they loved so well from their youth. We all piled into a rented van and headed towards Friendsville. Now, mind you these sisters have always loved each other dearly throughout the years. Even so, just try putting 7 women in a van together for three days – each with their own agenda - and see what happens.

If you think the women on the TV Talk show, The View, get into some hot topics and some really heated discussions, you ain’t seen nothing! When I tell you that all Hell broke out inside that van, I’m putting it mildly. I needed a meditative retreat and some heavy drugs to get over that mini vacation. Nonetheless I learned an interesting lesson from that life experience. And it is this - Love conquers all. I do not remember a time in all these years when this family was ever estranged from each other. They certainly did not agree on everything; they certainly were outspoken with each other about their own opinions, they might even raise their voices and at times would argue “to beat the band” but they never once parted ways and they never withheld their love each for the other.

Life was not always easy for Aunt Maureen.

She had her share of heartache – losing two of her siblings before their 30th birthdays must have caused her great sadness.

At times throughout the years Maureen also suffered with physical and emotional pain. She did not give up easily and she remained steadfast and faithful during these periods of personal struggle.

She took the Serenity Prayer to heart and did her best to live its’ precepts on a daily basis.

Maureen was a caring daughter, a considerate sister, a faithful spouse and a loving mother. And, she especially loved becoming a Grandma to Chris, Erik, Jennifer, and Timothy. She really became excited once again when she reached the status of great-grandparent and could brag about the newest additions to the family - Gavin and Shannon.

Even though her health had been failing for quite some time, Aunt Maureen made it to the ripe old age of 91. Erik, I think your Grandma tried her best to keep on living. And, I’m sure it had a lot to do with a promise she made to you years ago when you were asking her about death and dying and you said to her: “Try hard not to die Grandma.” That request meant a lot to your grandma – I know because she told me all about it.

Interesting thing, even now, as we mourn the loss of her bodily presence among us, I believe that she really isn’t dead.

I believe she was and is a spiritual being just like the rest of us.

Maureen was on a human journey that lasted from 1918 until 2010. But because she is a spiritual being -first and foremost- her journey isn’t over. No, Maureen’s spirit remains in our midst and surrounds us still. I know she will be especially close to her beloved family whenever they need her the most.

So today as we accompany Maureen Adele O’Donnell Marski’s body to its final resting place, Let us continue to honor her by remembering:

Her smiling face and her welcoming ways; her generous nature and her classic sense of style.

Let us remember how beautiful she looked when she got all dressed up for those special dinners at Hansen’s Hotel on Lake Oquaga.

Let us remember her voice and special laugh as we picture her sitting by the phone in her kitchen talking to her sisters. .

And let us honor her and remember her and follow her example by making her prayer our prayer too:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen. --Reinhold Niebuhr

Love, your niece,

Mary Beth

PS The photo at the top is not the one I was looking for but due to my disorganized photos I have not yet been able to find the one I wanted to use. When I do I will change the photo.

Make Things Better


In case you ‘re wondering why I haven’t had many Blog entries lately, Connor has been off from school this week and except for Monday, President’s Day, his Mom has had to work. Therefore, we have been watching Connor every day since then and it takes a lot of effort and energy to keep him occupied and stimulated. I worked full days on the Nursing Home Complaint Hotline on Tuesday and Thursday so Bob was Connor’s primary caregiver on those two days. Connor absolutely loves his Papa and visa versa. He can get Papa to do just about anything, sometimes much to my chagrin. They play typical “male” games such as horsy where Bob gets down on all fours and Connor rides on his back; pirate sword fights (using foam rubber swords- they each have their own sword) and gun fights using foam bullets (Diane swore Connor would never have a gun- I’m not sure what happened to that resolution). Their activities are typically loud and boisterous, and they can be rather nerve racking for the female bystander, i.e., me. Although Connor likes his “stay at home days” and we love having him with us, by the end of the day we typically do have not an ounce of energy left for anything else.

Yesterday we coaxed Connor to take a nap and we took a little rest along with him. We have a big king sized bed so the three of us can take a rest together. Typically Bob falls right to sleep (I guess he has a clear conscience), Connor fall asleep second after touching my face, holding my hand and wiggling around the bed for awhile. I lay there awake listening to Bob snore, Connor breath and the thoughts running through my head. I guess it still helps to lie still and rest even if I can’t fall asleep. Diane picked up Connor right after work; he was thrilled to see his Mommie and insisted he be brought home immediately.

At 6PM Bob & I went to our Church (Christ Our Light – our new cool name) for the first of this Lent’s Soup & Salad Suppers. In the car on the way over to church I realized that I was feeling rather depressed and anxious. When I arrived at the supper, someone I knew from church said kindly, “Hi, how are you doing”, and I immediately burst into tears. How embarrassing! I don’t like this trait about myself and I wish I had more control over it. When people are kind, it makes me cry even more – Why is that? When my body and spirit need to cry, the sorrow and tears well up and overflow like a broken dam. Bob looks over at me as if to say, now what? I guess after 38 years of marriage and a year and a half of dating, he knows how I am. I tried to get into the Ladies Room before too many people could see me in this deteriorated state. Even after I cry in the stall, blow my nose, clear away the tears and the redness from my eyes, take deep breaths and deliberately change my train of thought, I burst into tears again. Finally, after much effort, I am ready to exit the bathroom and come back to the supper. I get busy getting salads and bread and soda for my Dad and myself and this activity diverts my attention. I also pray that no one will approach me with too much kindness. Finally I am able to stop crying.

After the Supper, we go upstairs to the Church proper for a prayer service, and one of Fr. David’s marvelous homilies. Then we come forward to receive the cross of ashes on our foreheads as the minister says, “thou art dust and to dust thou shall return”. I don’t like this saying at all. A couple of years ago when I was one of these ministers, I was given the option of saying something like: “come back to me with all your heart” in place of the dust to dust statement. I chose this option in a heartbeat. Don’t we all know quite clearly that we are going to die – why rub it in. I thought it is all about living each moment to the fullest rather than wallowing in the mud. Nevertheless, Fr. Dave gave a wonderful message – he talked about relationships and developing a deeper relationship with God as the real purpose of Lent. He even stated that he wasn't "giving up" anything for Lent. Take some time to read and meditate and get to know God better. Make things better for yourself and for all the people around you. Love your neighbor as yourself. Now that is a philosophy I can relate to. I feel happier already. It makes me feel so much better to know that God does not want us to suffer.

Monday, February 15, 2010

"....mourning and weeping in this valley of tears".


There is a prayer at the end of the Rosary - the "Hail Holy Queen", that has this rather dramatic line in it - "To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve, to thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears."
I felt the meaning of those words for the very first time in late October 1951 as I knelt in the living room of a 5th floor walk up on Linden Street in Brooklyn. The family gathered at Marie O'Donnell's apartment in an attempt to support each other through the most excruciating pain imaginable. I remember knelling with the rest of the family as they cried and recited the rosary together. Marie had just received the horrendous telegram confirming the news that we all dreaded (since no one had gotten a letter in many days) that her husband, First Lieutenant Joseph T. O'Donnell, had been killed in action in Korea on 13 October 1951. He was 29 years old and the father of two little girls at the time of his death. He was Marie's childhood sweetheart and the long-awaited, only son of Margaret & TJ O'Donnell.
I was only 6 & 1/2 years old when we prayed that rosary together in 1951 but I learned without a doubt what it meant to be mourning and weeping in this valley of tears. I began to understood that life is filled with sickness and pain and that sadness and death are unavoidable. I also learned that we need to celebrate the special times, and make the most of every moment together.
This past week has zapped my energy. My dear little grandson, Connor, had a wicked case of gastroenteritis and I was far from brave when I saw him looking so ill. You would think I'd be braver, considering that I am a nurse . But I am not brave at all rather I a real coward when it comes to such things. My daughter, on the other hand was great. She is a wonderful mother and kept calm and collected throughout the entire ordeal. I am happy to report he appears to have made a complete recovery. It is taking his Grandma a little longer to recover!
During this past week, the day after the big snow storm , we also went to Long Island to honor and celebrate the life of my mother's sister, Maureen. Along with Maureen's son, Tom, I prepared and delivered a Eulogy for my Aunt Maureen. Although it was an honor and a privilege for me, it brought up so many memories that it left me wiped out emotionally. After the services, we went back to my cousin, Laura's, ( Maureen's "baby") home and we spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening reminiscing. Possibly, if anyone is interested, I'll share a copy of my memories of Aunt Maureen in a future blog. Hopefully we have had enough mourning and weeping for awhile.
By the way, this is one of the reasons I like to do positive things "for Lent" rather than look for more ways to suffer. I think human beings suffer enough without looking for specific ways to suffer more. Just my opinion.
Mary Beth

Monday, February 8, 2010

When the Moon Hits Your Eye Like a Big Pizza Pie


Although I don't have a drop of Italian blood in my veins, I have a really wonderful Italian Uncle, by the name of Nick. On Saturday we went to the Miller Ridge Inn in Jericho for a luncheon to celebrate Uncle Nick's 95th birthday. I have known Uncle Nick my entire life. He is the oldest one of the Three Musketeers. My father met Nick at Brooklyn College when Nick and Joe were in an Italian class together and Joe introduced my Dad to Nick. Joe, by the way, is my other Italian Uncle, a guy my father met in his Junior year at Bushwich High School in Brooklyn. Uncle Joe is the youngest of the Three Musketeers and my Dad is sandwiched in the middle. The three of them have remained steadfast friends for all these years. As far as I'm concerned they have a rather amazing friendship. Can you believe they still talk to each other on an almost daily basis?
In the 1930's Nick lived on Staten Island and commuted by bus, ferry and rail in order to attend Brooklyn College. Later on, Nick asked my father to be the best man at his wedding. My father traveled by public transportation to New Dorp on Staten Island for the wedding (this was a rather long journey from East New York, Brooklyn back in 1941). When the bus seemed to stop at every single corner and my father realized he was in danger of missing the entire ceremony, he jumped off the next stop and vaulted over backyard fences to get to Nick and Dots' wedding on time. He arrived at the church as they were pinning up my Dad's tuxedo on Nick's 16 year old nephew.
Throughout my childhood we would get together with Nick's family almost every Saturday night. It was always great fun. The adults would play cards and drink red wine mixed in cream soda (I hear this is called an Italian highball or something like that). In 1950 Nick bought a brand new cape cod- style home and moved his family from his first apartment in Brooklyn out to the wide open spaces of Floral Park. Initially there weren't even sidewalks this far away from the city. When you visit Floral Park today, it's hard to believe that at one time it was the far extension of civilization. Us kids- Nick had three and Charlie had four -were pretty much left to our own devices, which was fine with us. We had great fun having wild Spauldine ball fights down in the basement (boys against the girls) and would find plenty of other creative ways to occupy ourselves while the adults played cards. Sometimes we would watch a TV show called the Hit Parade where the stars of the show would sing the top 10 songs of the week. I remember singing along to songs such as How much is that Doggy in the Window, Mr. Sandman Send Me a Dream, and When The Moon Hits Your Eye Like A Big Pizza Pie, That's Amore. It certainly was a different time; I guess it was, in many ways, a time of innocence.
Later in the evening, Nick and Charlie would go pick up a pizza. The pizzas were really authentic and well-made but these were my first experiences with pizza pie and I it took me awhile to acquire the taste. We would have to make sure that we finished eating before midnight so we could receive Communion the next morning. These evenings flew by and soon it would be time to get into our pajamas, and pile into the back seat of the car for the ride home. I remember how cold it felt going from the warm and cozy house out into the midnight, winter weather. But as I sat shivering in the backseat I'd be comforted by the thought that next Saturday, we would be doing it all again.
Happy Birthday, Uncle Nick. And by the way did I ever tell you I love you.
Mary Beth

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Sad News

When we arrived home today after an overnight trip to Long Island, we received the news that my Aunt Maureen had died. Aunt Maureen was my mother's younger sister. My Mom was born in 1917; Maureen in 1918 (they're an Irish Catholic family- the babies come close together). Aunt Maureen was 91 years old and had recently broken her hip and was not doing very well. Last night she died in her sleep in a nursing home in Florida. It was getting harder and harder for her to communicate and I guess it is safe to say her quality of life wasn't the best. Nonetheless, it is difficult to say that final good-bye. Bob and I are going to Florida in a week and a half and we were planning to visit Aunt Maureen while we were there. I haven't seen her in quite some time and I was looking forward to seeing her again. Obviously, it was not meant to be and I would not have wanted to extend her suffering just so I could say good-bye.
One of the first things that came to mind when I heard the news was the joyous reunion in heaven. I pictured Maureen being greeted by her sisters, Rita, Anne and Dorothy and her brother, Joe. Her husband and her parents are there too so she won't be alone. It made me feel better to sense that she was immediately enfolded in the arms of people who loved her. She deserved nothing less.
We'll be heading back to Long Island on Wednesday to participate in the celebration of Aunt Maureen's life and support her children as they bring their Mother to her final resting place.
A long time ago Aunt Maureen kind of laughed and said to me, Mary, will you say a few words for me when I die? Although I am not exactly sure how it happened, over time I had gained the reputation of being the eulogist of the family. So today when my cousin, Tom, mentioned that, if I wanted to, I could say a few words at his Mom's service on Thursday, I remembered Aunt Maureen's request. Her words came back to me again and today I answer her,
Aunt Maureen, it would be my honor.
Your niece, Mary Beth

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Betrayal



My sister, Meg, and I went to a matinee at the Capital Repertory Theatre in Albany this past Sunday. It was a spur of the moment decision prompted by the $20 side seats special offer. As members of the Fries family we learned early on not to pass up a bargain. Besides, it is a very small theater and basically every seat in the house is a good one. It was nice to spend a little time with my "baby" sister. Even though we live only about 5 minutes from each other we don't get to see each often enough to satisfy me. Meg, being almost 10 years younger than me, still works a full time job. She is also a wife, Mom, cook, cleaner, exerciser, Yoga student, artist, etc. so she is a very busy lady. So when I heard I could have her all to myself for a couple of hours, I jumped on the opportunity.
We enjoyed the play, Betrayal. It was the story of a love triangle that entangled a married couple and their best man. Robert's wife, Emma, has an affair with Robert's best friend, Jerry. Jerry comes on to her and she succumbs to his flattery and attention. I found the human dynamics very interesting and Meg and I talked about it on our way home in the car. The main feeling I was left with after hearing their story was the utter futility of this type of situation. No one wins; everyone is damaged. In the end, no matter how exciting it might appear initially, it is just not worth it. My discussion with Meg, eventually led me to the subject of Tiger Woods and cheating. Having spoken to a lot of different women on the subject, I seem to be one of the few who might actually be willing to forgive Tiger's infidelities. If I was his wife, I believe that I would be able to forgive him. I'm not stupid and I would want to know more of the details and circumstances before making a final decision. I've also been told to be careful what I say in front of Bob, i.e., don't give him any ideas! Believe me, I am not stating my viewpoint in order to give Bob my permission to cheat on me, rather I'm just saying I wouldn't automatically give up on our relationship just because he had sex with another woman. I feel it is foolish to leave a relationship in anger without first trying to understand why the infidelity happened in the first place. You might end up regretting it for the rest of your life. My Catholic School training led me to believe that sins of the flesh were the most horrendous sins of all. But, as one of the young ladies (Riso) in the movie, Grease, sang , "there are worse things I could do". People cheat for many reasons and although betrayal of trust is painful, I believe there are worse things you could do.
Call me crazy.
MB